Night 55: M21-30 Hallway
Dinner was just as unappealing as lunch had been. A plain, tasteless gruel that had the same consistency as okayu without any of the flavor. If it were up to him, he would have flavored the broth, maybe topped it with pickled plum or green onions. He would have preferred salted salmon on top, but that was a luxury now. Worse than the taste was the color, an odd pink color that convinced him more and more that this place had to be somewhere in America. Only America could make such strangely colored food. Although...the taste was more like England's cooking, only less burnt.
When the silence started on the intercom, Japan put down his spoon. And when the silence turned into static, he politely covered his ears, waiting for it to end. This new person didn't seem to believe in the chimes he'd just recently grown accustomed to, but Japan wished he would use them. The static grew unbearable and he pressed his palms harder against his ears until - suddenly - the noise vanished. Shaking his head slightly, he looked up at the speaker and frowned to himself as the man on the other side spoke.
What he had to say sounded ominous indeed.
Even more so when he considered that this wasn't some game, but real life or some strange approximation of it. Japan still wasn't sure what to believe when it came to the Institute. Was it a mental hospital? A military prison? Some weird cosplay LARP where the people were real? He was still hoping for the latter, but every moment he spent here took that one remaining ray of sunlight away from him.
With a heavy heart, Japan got up from his desk and eyed the metal box that he'd found in his room. He had an inkling of what it was as it reminded him of military trunks and so, very cautiously, he crept over and pried the top open. What he saw both took his breath away and caused his blood to run cold. He hadn't seen the uniform since he put it away over 50 years ago and now here it was, pristine as the day he'd first put it on; none of the rips, tears, stains and patches anywhere to be seen. Was this a joke? Was he supposed to put this on? He had no other clothes, but this?
Pushing the lid from the box, he reached in and pulled the uniform jacket out. It was just as he remembered... But he couldn't wear this. It was a symbol of his country in its darkest hour. And yet...
Japan pulled the outfit out and looked at it, frowning. Not now. He folded the pieces back up and was about to put them back into the box when he suddenly changed his mind. Pulling the pillowcase from his bed, he stuffed the clothes in there along with his flashlight. Maybe he could use the fabric for something else. Italy would have made flags out of it, but he made flags out of everything. Perhaps he could use it to carry things. Somehow. Whatever the use, it was something familiar from home and it meant this place knew who he was beyond just "Honda Kiku."
Bowing to his roommate, Japan headed out the doors, not entirely certain where he was going for the night.
[For Prussia]
When the silence started on the intercom, Japan put down his spoon. And when the silence turned into static, he politely covered his ears, waiting for it to end. This new person didn't seem to believe in the chimes he'd just recently grown accustomed to, but Japan wished he would use them. The static grew unbearable and he pressed his palms harder against his ears until - suddenly - the noise vanished. Shaking his head slightly, he looked up at the speaker and frowned to himself as the man on the other side spoke.
What he had to say sounded ominous indeed.
Even more so when he considered that this wasn't some game, but real life or some strange approximation of it. Japan still wasn't sure what to believe when it came to the Institute. Was it a mental hospital? A military prison? Some weird cosplay LARP where the people were real? He was still hoping for the latter, but every moment he spent here took that one remaining ray of sunlight away from him.
With a heavy heart, Japan got up from his desk and eyed the metal box that he'd found in his room. He had an inkling of what it was as it reminded him of military trunks and so, very cautiously, he crept over and pried the top open. What he saw both took his breath away and caused his blood to run cold. He hadn't seen the uniform since he put it away over 50 years ago and now here it was, pristine as the day he'd first put it on; none of the rips, tears, stains and patches anywhere to be seen. Was this a joke? Was he supposed to put this on? He had no other clothes, but this?
Pushing the lid from the box, he reached in and pulled the uniform jacket out. It was just as he remembered... But he couldn't wear this. It was a symbol of his country in its darkest hour. And yet...
Japan pulled the outfit out and looked at it, frowning. Not now. He folded the pieces back up and was about to put them back into the box when he suddenly changed his mind. Pulling the pillowcase from his bed, he stuffed the clothes in there along with his flashlight. Maybe he could use the fabric for something else. Italy would have made flags out of it, but he made flags out of everything. Perhaps he could use it to carry things. Somehow. Whatever the use, it was something familiar from home and it meant this place knew who he was beyond just "Honda Kiku."
Bowing to his roommate, Japan headed out the doors, not entirely certain where he was going for the night.
[For Prussia]