#dansez

With a hiss, the doors to Medbay slid open. Japan peered through the door, surveying the space in front of him. The first thing he observed was that the lights were completely turned off. That was … weird, but everything seemed kind of weird these days. Breathing in, he was immediately met with a strangely metallic smell. It felt nostalgic (almost too nostalgic), but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

He sniffed yet again. Now a stench like flesh and waste combined plagued his lungs, with a sickly sweet smell to top it all off. A feeling rose up in him, a feeling that he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t have even come here. But he wasn’t going to back out now that he abandoned everybody else at O2.  Cautious not to make too much noise, Japan slowly placed the bright yellow boot down on the marble tile. Ironically, it echoed throughout the entire room with a loud thump. "スイス," he whispered, taking a second step. "I'm here. Y-you can come out now."

Nothing came in response. No mumbling, no snoring, not even breathing, only silence.

Japan caught sight of the faded outline of a desk situated at the corner of the room, then assuming that Switzerland probably just fell asleep at her desk again. Assumptions definitely, no, did not express the fact that he in denial. He wasn’t denying the possible fact that she was probably injured, or dead, or worse. That was the exact opposite, right? That wasn’t denial, right? This wasn’t denial in the slightest. Right?

The desk started to glow automatically as he stepped near it, almost making him jump. There was a stain on it, popping out amongst the light like blood in water.

Japan couldn't see much with the scratches blocking his line of sight, so he peered closer to the stain on the desk. He narrowed his eyes, hunching over to press a small button, placed on his left glove. His interior flashlight flickered on, providing a bit of sight to his scratched visor.

A bloody handprint was smeared across the edge of it, trailing off onto the floor, and leading to a dark corner in the back of the room. Because of course it was. Japan stiffened. The silhouette of, well, something lay at that corner. Some other stuff was pooling next to it, but he couldn’t see enough to identify what it was.

"White? スイス?" Japan stepped, now closer to that thing. The damned visor wouldn’t let him see anything, even with the flashlight on. He fumbled for the button on his visor, finally pressing it and opening it with a swift click.

And then he saw-

---

If he’d hadn’t become some highly esteemed samurai; he would probably be rotting in jail.

If he’d hadn’t become some noble, he would probably be dead.

If he’d hadn’t become an astronaut for MIRA, then maybe fifteen countries would still be alive.

You will see right through him; maybe mentally, maybe physically.

He will see old friends, new friends, and some ex-friends.

But, there will be one, who is not like the others.

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that he wanted the best for everybody.

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that everything went well and safely.

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that everyone cared about him.

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that he stayed home.