(Reader x Aph Japan and Gerita) The Gerita Project

Chapter 3

Fishing through the sea of instant ramen packaging, biscuit crumbs, screwed-up slides of paper and nanoblocks, (y/n) thoughtlessly groped around the embarrassing remains of a tidy bedroom in search of the fourth pen she had used that night. A disheveled Kiku knelt beside her, enveloped in the moss-green covers of his beloved futon, swatting his chin with the tip of his pencil.

From 2:36, he had lost the will to write in English and had resorted to pouring out all his brain juice in his own meticulous, intriguing language, with his overpriced calligraphy set, then later stewing up the piece of paper and tossing it in the vague direction of the bin.

All the while, various j pop songs where played, and melted into the background by the chatter of the sleep deprived pair.

"In any case, starting a war and shooting Lud or Feli in the face is a little too risky of a situation for them to realise their love for each other, so that's off the table" (y/n) concluded, abolishing a paragraph on the paper before her, "perhaps... we could try something less elaborate...or life-threatening."

Japan's head shot up in surprise, then proceeded to glance at his recent handiwork and reduce it to a paper ball.

"I agree."

"Then what can we do? If we make the date too date-like, they might think the date is a date...and flip out or something."

Japan sighed in defeat, "I suppose so. We don't want a repeat of Buon San Valentino again, do we?

(Y/n) shrugged, turning he'd face to face Kiku' s, "well, I think it was because of this that made Germany realise he has a crush on Italy."

"Yes but he- wait, what?"

Smiling in mock oblivious bliss, (y/n) produced a surprisingly, yet somewhat expectedly manly-looking journal from under an unfinished box of Mikado, immediately causing Kiku' s jaw to drop. "I-is... is that-" he pointed at the leather-bound book, his whole arm trembling," w-what I th-think it is...?"

"You'd think that Lud would hide it better, huh," (y/n) mused, "I only needed to sneak into his room when he was asleep, hack into his phone, find the password for the safe- ah yes, and it took me half an hour to find the safe in the first place- then open the safe without setting off an alarm, then escape without being eaten by a dog." She revealed a disfiguring bite mark that sunk deep into wrist, "the last task was a bit...well..."

"Oh my word! I'll get you a bandage straight away!" Kiku blurted out, switching from his usual calm composure to that of a overprotective father in a blink of an eye. Before (y/n) could protest, Japan was already darting out of the door in search of a first-aid kit. (Y/n) sighed, and turned her attention to the large hardback journal in her hands.

He obviously wanted to keep whatever was in there a secret...she pondered, feeling the inescapable wave of guilt which finally caught up with her. Too bad it didn't come earlier, she thought as she flipped to the latest entry:

18/5

Events: None, in particular
Weather: Mild throughout the day, slightly drizzle around 4:30

"Well, this is going to be fun," (y/n) uttered, as Kiku diligently and precisely enveloped her arm in the long bandages, somehow exceeding in multitasking and reading the diary along with her.

It's been five days since my 'realisation', and I must say, it hasn't made life any better for me. Today, I managed to trip Italy over and sprain his ankle, so I had to carry him home, much to my chagrin. If I had experienced this just a week ago, I bet it would be half as awkward. But now, I find it difficult just being in the same room as him. I've long since forgotten how to handle him, if that's really what I used to do in the first place.
And yet, he's always there: in reality, or running around in my mind. At some point, I know that my boss will chew me out for getting distracted and leaving my paperwork undone... but I can't even imagine what punishment I'd receive for developing non-professional affections towards my allie.

They sat in near silence. Silence broken by muffled sound of a singing vocaloid.

"Non-professional...affections..." Kiku repeated, huddling closer to re-read the entire diary entry to confirm the theory brewing in his fujoshi mind.

"Daww, such nerds!" (Y/n) squealed, spazzing on the floor like an electrocuted toddler, excitedly gasping and breathing out 'Oh my Hima papa' continuously- oblivious to Japan's pleas for her to calm down.

Finally, he reached his last resort and pinned her swiftly to the floor by her shoulders. His still emotionless face hovered mere centimetres above hers as a mocking example of the pure opposite of her current flustered state. As if she was worried her voice would anger him somehow, (y/n) dryly whispered, after some time of seemingly interminable awkward silence, "I-I-I think we should ask someone e-else did their opinion on the s-s-situation, you know...like F-France, maybe...?"

Japan, as if this was an everyday situation, removed his hands from her shoulders, enveloped himself in the sheets of the futon again, as if he where a villain in a movie popping his collar, and replied, "yes, that sounds like a good idea- I'll call him in the morning then," with a voice as smooth as velvet.

In her admirably tranquil nature, (y/n) thought, 'WHY THIS, WHY NOW, KIKU? MY BONES ARE LITERALY SHAKING AND MY BLOOD FEELS LIKE FLIPPING LEMONADE!' As she lay, a blushing mess, on the equally messy floor, unaware of Kiku' s concealed, devious smirk.