So after a hiatus, I've finally returned to Repotalia because my IRL friends keep bugging me for an update. Besides, I like this chapter. Actually, I like anything that has to do with America and Japan together (BTW, if I do happen to do a main pairing in this fic, it's most likely not going to be Ameripan-which is weird for me, I know). Anyways, here's the next chapter.

Repotalia!: The Genetic Crack Opera

Chapter 3—"21st Century Cure"

Japan opened his eyes and sighed. Same room, same house, same bed. Just the way it'd been for thirty years. For once he wanted to wake up in a futon instead of a fancy four-poster bed. For once, he wanted to stare at the mantel without tearing up.

For once, he wanted to go outside beyond his balcony. The world was different, he noticed, dark and somewhat alluring, and he wanted to know what he could do to make it better.

He sighed again. He needed to get up and stretch his legs. Walking to his closet, he sighed a third time. He wished his guardian had gotten the memo already and restocked his clothes with his traditional Japanese outfits, or at least some casual wear instead of these cyberpunk-slash-steampunk-goth monstrosities that made Japan look like a cross-dressing fool. But apparently that was the new style in modern London, and Japan had to admit, if he was planning on going out, he should look inconspicuous to not draw attention, which meant dressing like everyone else.

Quickly Japan changed into his outfit for the day, which mainly consisted of high boots, a cravat, and jeans with a tulle train sewn at the waistline. He slipped his brother's necklace around his neck, and read the engraving on the back like he always did:

"Even if our countries are different,

our words are different, our blood is different,

I always want to gaze at the same moon as you."

Japan shook his head, grabbed his bag and his secret spare key, and left his room, which was otherwise locked. No one else was in the large manor, it seemed, so he didn't need to sneak around. He found the secret passageway by the empty birdcage and slipped on a gas mask, the fumes inside the passageway too toxic for him to breathe normally. As soon as he reached the tomb, the gas mask came off, and Japan lit some fresh incense he had stuffed in his bag.

"Good morning, China-san," he greeted, bowing to the portrait of his late brother, the once-great China. It gave Japan a nostalgic feeling to visit China, but it also gave him some incentive to walk around instead of being cooped up in his room all day. It'd been like that for thirty years, ever since China and Japan sought protection after all surrounding countries had joined the New British Empire to find the cure to keep their people as safe as they could, and survive rather than die off like a few others already had.

No one could believe the great China was gone, and now all that was left of the country was a barren wasteland. But the epidemic struck China the hardest, with its poverty, pollution, and all. China refused to join the British Empire, and therefore refused any of GeneCo's organ transplants. Without the proper surgery, his people began to die off, and soon the epidemic struck China as well. Japan refused to leave his brother's side, no matter how many times the doctors told him to leave, and eventually he caught the same blood disease that killed China, in a weaker stage. There was no cure yet, sadly, but there was a medication that kept the harsher symptoms under control. Japan selfishly closed off his country from the world yet again and disappeared. If England couldn't find him, if America couldn't find him, then Japan was safe. He would remain neutral.

A bright blue bug crawled across China's grave marker. Japan's eyes widened; this was no ordinary creature. He dumped out the contents of his bag and, with shaking hands, he grabbed his book of insects who could possibly hold the key to curing certain diseases. He finally found the name of the insect, as well as what it could do, and he was right—it could possibly help him. Now if only he could capture it…

By now the bug had crawled in the door. Japan carefully picked up a spare container he'd stuffed in his bag, but as soon as he tried to capture the bug, it had already snuck outside.

Damn, Japan thought to himself as the bug crawled across the graveyard. He needed that bug.

"This will be quick," he reassured himself. "It's in my sight." He cautiously opened the door and crept outside, for the first time in thirty years. "I'll capture it, then run back inside and be back home in time."

Yes! Japan felt satisfaction creep over him as he captured the bug on a nearby tombstone.

However, that satisfaction was short-lived as Japan noticed that British officers and Repo Men were scouring the graveyard meticulously. Quickly Japan hid behind a tombstone and glanced a peek every now and then for the opportune moment to run back home.

That's when he noticed he wasn't alone.

He would have screamed, but the officers…

But wait, those glasses, that hair, those unmistakable blue eyes…

Could it be…?

"America-san?" Japan whispered, kneeling in the dirt as America opened an aboveground tomb.

America turned sharply, as if he were caught by one of the Repo Men. He let out a sigh of relief. "Ah…" He adjusted his glasses and squinted. "Holy… shit, is that you, Japan?" he asked in disbelief.

Japan nodded slowly. "Yes," he replied. "America… what are you doing out here?"

Smiling, America retrieved a corpse from the tomb. "My job," he answered. "I'm the leader of the Underground Resistance, and I have to get money flowing in somehow." He set the corpse down and produced a supply kit.

What was he doing? Japan glanced over his shoulder to see if the coast was clear, but instead saw a poster that boldly stated, "Graverobbers Will Be Executed on Site."

Japan had heard of Graverobbers. They robbed tombs and extracted some sort of drug from the corpses. Was that what America had come to? The greatest country in the world… reduced to robbing graves just to keep his economy flowing?

"What happened, America?" he asked. "You were once so great…"

America sighed. "I said the same thing to England once. See what thirty years has done to the planet? Industrialization has crippled the globe," he explained.

Suddenly the loudspeaker was brought to life, making Japan jump. "Enjoy GeneCo's day and nighttime formulas of Zydrate," it announced.

"Nature failed as the empire spread," said America, unwrapping his supply kit.

"Ask a Gentern if Zydrate is right for you," said the loudspeaker.

"And in its wake, a market erected." America's hands ghosted over his supplies, looking for the right tool.

"Buying Zydrate from an unlicensed source is illegal," the loudspeaker warned.

Illegal? America was in the black market now? Japan thought skeptically.

"An entire world built on top of the dead!" America outburst, interrupting Japan's thoughts.

"But what about you?" Japan asked. "If what you're doing is illegal, how is it England has not captured you yet?"

"You can finance your bones and your kidneys," America explained. "But I haven't. I stuck with Zydrate dealing. For every market a submarket grows.

"But let's say you had organ transplant surgery, Japan," he continued, picking up a syringe. "You'd best be punctual with making your payments, or it'll be you on the concrete below."

Japan gulped and covered his eyes as America stuck the syringe in the corpse. "It's quick, it's clean, and it's pure," he said, extracting a glowing blue liquid from the dead body. Japan watched timidly. This was the drug?

America eyed his new vial of Zydrate lovingly. "It could change your life, rest assured," he suggested. "It's the 21st century cure!"

Japan slid forward, mesmerized by the glowing light emitting from the Zydrate vial. He almost forgot about the officers.

America continued, "And it's my job to steal and rob…" He trailed off, and Japan tensed. His friend had certainly grown more eccentric since their last meeting…

"Graaaaaaaaaves!" America exclaimed, standing up. The searchlights shone directly on him as he declared his outrage to the officers.

"No, America, don't!" cried Japan, taking his friend's hand. When America ignored him, Japan covered his ears. "Please tell me this isn't happening!"

America quickly grabbed his supplies and the corpse before dashing. Since the officers seemed to be following him, Japan ran back to the door to the entrance of China's tomb, only to find it shut and locked.

"No, no!" he cried. "It's locked! I can't—"

"Kiku!" America called, only a few meters away from Japan. "Over here!"

Japan quickly complied and dashed to America, who was bashing down a loose brick wall with the corpse's head.

Once the wall caved, America dove in, trying to find refuge for the time being. Japan timidly climbed the wall, disgusted and amazed with the sight in front of him. The room was huge, and it was filled with hundreds of dead bodies. The stench was horrible. Was this what the world had come to? There were so many dead that there was no place to bury them! Japan gasped.

"Jackpot!" cried America, that satisfied smirk on his face. "I could get enough Zydrate to last me five lifetimes!"

"How could you say that, America-san?" cried Japan, outraged. "Look at how mistreated they are! They should have proper burials; they should be cremated! Not this!"

"Japan…" said America softly. "Where do you think all of England's GeneCo organs come from? We need these organs, so the rest of the living world can function. England has turned surgery into a fashion statement."

"A fashion statement?" asked Japan.

"I know what you're thinking," America sighed. "So why care for these petty obsessions? Your designer heart still beats with common blood." He took another syringe and stuck it in one of the newer corpses.

America turned to Japan. "And what if you could have genetic perfection?" he asked. "Would you change who you are if you could?"

It was a probing question. Was it possible with today's technology?

"'Cause it's quick!" America continued. "It's clean, and it's pure! It could change your life, rest assured."

He took the new Zydrate vial and presented it to Japan. "It's the 21st century cure!" he exclaimed.

"This cannot be happening! I have got to get home!" Japan cried, not ready to believe anything America was saying.

America ignored him. "And it's my job to steal and rob… Graaaaaaaaaves!" he shouted.

But instead of the officers finding America, they seized Japan, who screamed. "No! I didn't know!" he tried to explained.

"Graaaaaaaaaves!" America shouted again, trying to distract the officers from Japan, which proved fruitless.

Japan's bracelet beeped. "Blood pressure warning. Medicate immediately," it announced. Japan coughed, struggling to reach for his bag, the officers surrounding him. "Please…" he wheezed weakly. "I didn't know…"

"Let him go," a regal British accent announced over the loudspeaker. Japan was soothed; that voice sounded so familiar…

A figure, clad in a Repo Man suit, began to push some of the other officers away. Japan wanted to get a look at his savior, but the world turned black.

England smiled deviously as he glanced at the large screen before him. Japan had finally come out of his hiding place. And now, England knew exactly where he was….

So the main plot is finally rolling along here. Gah, next chapter is going to be hard; I always have trouble with individual songs.

Next Chapter: "Infected." Russia, Japan's caretaker, confines his ward to his room, and Japan wonders if he'll ever leave his room again.