Get out, have to get out-there! The door! Hands reaching, fumbling, turning-locked! No, it can't be locked, no! Open! Try again, maybe a miracle will happen-but the clicking continues, the door won't budge, it's coming closer, it's almost here, maybe running will save….no! It's too close! The door must open!

It opened to let people in, so why not out? Why not? The handle won't turn….turn damn it! Turn! It's right behind me! It's right-

Rumor spoke of a deserted house, roughly three hours away from where the nations met. The nations had never given much thought to it; it was situated high up in the mountains, rumored to be haunted and abandoned, the original owners long forgotten. Besides, they had wars and trading agreements and such to sort out amongst themselves. As far as any of the nations knew it could very well be nothing but rumor-but that didn't stop them from exploring, not once they had heard the rumors.

"It's really here!" Feliciano shouted, running up to gaze upon the building. It was a large, rambling thing, at least three stories tall and looking more like a church than a house with its white walls and golden roof. Feliciano smiled and laughed at it, ecstatic that it existed. Even the marks of age on the building could not shake his happiness at finding that it was real.

"I never thought we'd actually find it, I believed it to be just a rumor," Kiku murmured, looking at the building. It was beautiful in an old, forgotten way, with peeling paint and a courtyard full of weeds instead of stones. The trees that framed it seemed to lean away from it, as if they couldn't take the expansion of humans into the heart of their forest. It made the rumors of a haunting seem almost possible, the way even the forest seemed afraid of the house.

"Such a desolate place," murmured Gilbert, smiling as he looked at the building. "Not bad. Not bad at all." The Prussian seemed excited at the thought of the haunted house, seeing it as a challenge that needed to be won-and one that was quite famous, if even the nations had heard of it. Kiku smiled slightly at him, dark eyes emotionless, and Ludwig sighed in annoyance.

"Not very interesting, though," he commented dryly. The German had only agreed to the three-hour hike up the mountain because both Kiku and Feliciano had said they wanted to go-and now that they were here, all he wanted was to turn back. The house was interesting enough, but not so much so that he wanted to waste the whole day exploring the old thing.

"No, not very interesting," Kiku agreed, moving so that he was standing on one of the few stones not covered by weeds in the courtyard. "Maybe we can just look at it from the outside and then return to the conference building?" His tone was hopeful; he too had no want to go crawling around in an old building, not if there was the slightest chance any of those rumors were true-

"But we went through all that trouble to find it!" Feliciano said, turning pleading eyes upon his two allies. "It would be such a waste not to go inside! Can we please? Just for a little while?"

The other nations paused, considering-while none of them, besides perhaps Gilbert, wanted to go explore the house, the Italian had a way of persuading people. It was with a heavy sigh that Ludwig spoke.

"Just for a little would be fine, I believe."

The inside of the house didn't seem as run-down as the outside did. The floor was made up of a light-colored wood that seemed to glow with summer warmth beneath their feet. The walls were as white-possibly whiter-than the walls outside. The foyer split into three hallways; one going right, one going left, and one going straight back that was flanked by an impressive staircase polished from years of use.

Windows streaming light lined the corridor, though they were placed high up near the ceiling so that the nations could not see out of them. Looking around, the rumors that it was haunted seemed silly, at least to Kiku. Haunted houses were usually darker.

The nations looked around, different emotions on their faces. While Feliciano was grinning happily, taking everything in and exclaiming over the beauty of the old house, Gilbert and Ludwig looked around warily, as if expecting it to be a trap. Kiku smiled to himself as he examined the building.

"It's much cleaner than I thought it would be!" exclaimed Feliciano, running a hand down the paint on the wall. Kiku nodded his agreement-the place seemed well cared for, with barely any dust to mar the simple beauty it held.

"Can we leave now? I am sure the others are wondering where we went," Ludwig said, a bit nervously. Kiku looked at him, bemused at the bigger man's discomfort, while Gilbert laughed at him.

"What's the matter, West? You scared of the house?" he asked, violet eyes gleaming with mischief. Ludwig looked even more uncomfortable at his brother's questions.

"We really should leave now," the younger German said, quietly but with a tone of authority and, Kiku noted, a hint of panic.

"It's not as if there are any ghosts," Kiku said, hoping to reassure Ludwig. "We mustn't forget common sense just because of some rumors. After all-"

CRASH!

The entire group jumped and turned to look down the hallway where the noise had come from. Feliciano leapt away from the wall he was near and went to stand near Ludwig, eyes wide with surprise and fear. Gilbert's cocky grin disappeared, Ludwig looked even more anxious, and even Kiku felt his heart beating faster. After a few seconds of silence, Kiku let out a sigh and moved down the right-hand corridor, towards where the sound had come from.

"Careful, Japan!" warned Gilbert, not sounding quite so confident. Kiku tilted his head in the albino's direction to show that he had heard.

"Don't worry; I just want to see what happened. I'll be right back," he reassured the Prussian and, well, the rest of the group too. Breaking things mean people, he told himself, and he went off down the hallway, his light steps the only sound that could be heard, the others watching him go with baited breath.

Down the hallway on the left was a large, dark door; he turned the handle curiously to find it locked. One of his hands grasped the handle of his katana, a brief thought of simply cutting the lock flitting through his mind before he dismissed it. If, indeed, there were people here, than cutting through doors would be a rather rude thing to do. Not to mention walking into their house unannounced, but it was a bit late to correct that.

There was another door at the end of the hall, and when Kiku tried the handle he found that it opened. He glanced back towards the other nations, only now noticing how long the corridor was-they were out of earshot and, although he could see them, did not seem as if they would be able to arrive quickly if he needed help. Shrugging slightly, he turned and walked through the doorway, right into-

-a living room. The floor was darker here and made in such a way that it reminded Kiku of his traditional house. To the right of the Asian was a small entertainment area, with a couch, loveseat, and rug all in white, and a flat screen TV on top of a small table. Kiku ran his hand along the back of a loveseat-it was made of incredibly soft leather, he noted. Not wanting to get the pristine white rug dirty with his muddy boots, he turned to the left side of the room.

Another door was set in the left corner, in dark contrast to the light green wallpaper that was on the walls. Kiku strode over to it, past a low table surrounded by cushions, and tried the handle only to find that this door was locked as well. Sighing in annoyance, he turned to look at the kitchen that took up the rest of the room.

The counter was made of white marble, and held a sink, an oven, and a stove. On the wall was shelves stocked with different ingredients, though a quick glance showed that many seemed to be expired, completely useless, or in some cases, mythical, if the box labeled "Unicorn Horns" was to be believed. The refrigerator was no better, containing only some old milk and vegetables.

It was the plate on the floor next to the counter that drew the Asian's attention. He knelt down and reached a hand out to run a finger along one smooth edge before reminding himself that he had to be careful-porcelain such as this plate was made of was usually very sharp when broken. But it meant that whoever-or, Kiku told himself,-whatever had broken the plate only a few moments ago had not been eating. The plate was as pristine as if it had just been taken out of the box. It made Kiku worry-even his porcelain dishware, set away and only used at the most important of dinners, showed signs of wear and age. It seemed impossible that this dish looked the way it did.

Standing up, he glanced around warily for a few seconds before walking calmly out of the room. He didn't want to leave the others for too long, both for his sake and theirs.

He couldn't see them when he left the room, but he assumed they had just moved to sit on the stairs or some such thing. It was only as he drew level with the stairs that he realized, with a sinking feeling of dread, that the other three men were not where he had left them. Did they leave after all? He wondered, briefly, before dismissing the notion-two of them were his allies, and even though he and Gilbert had never talked much, Kiku doubted that the Prussian would leave.

Then where had they gone?

"How regrettable," he murmured, looking around. Deciding to go outside-they were probably waiting in the overgrown courtyard-only to find that the door to leave was locked. Kiku stared down at the handle, confused as to why it was now locked. Surely he would have heard someone if they had told the others to leave?

It opened to let others in, why not out?

Kiku turned around sharply, eyes wide and heart racing, suddenly sure that there had been someone behind him, whispering to him in a panicked voice, trying to reach the door, to escape. But there was no one there, nothing but the sunlight and the mysterious house he was now, it seemed, trapped in.

After a few seconds to calm down and think, Kiku decided that exploring the rest of the house was the most obvious and logical choice-if the door out was locked, than the others were still inside, somewhere in this old and forgotten building. With that in mind he set off into the house, this time moving straight back, past the staircase.

The corridor took a sharp turn to the left a small ways after the staircase, and Kiku relaxed at the sight of a pair of traditional Japanese rooms. He entered one, careful of the paper walls, and let out a breath he had been unaware he had been holding as he took in the familiar surroundings.

He carefully examined the two rooms, making sure to be respectful of the obvious care that had gone into decorating and maintaining them. The tatami mats covering the floors of the rooms seemed nearly new and were carefully laid down so that every inch was covered; the wardrobes in the back of one room held carefully pressed clothing that smelled of lavender and mothballs. The other room had several shelves and drawers and a plaque of Japanese calligraphy, though nothing else of importance. Kiku turned to return down the hallway to the foyer when another door caught his eye. Set in the same wall as the stairs, it had somehow missed his notice the first time around.

It was, as he had come to expect, locked. Not all that disappointed this time around, Kiku headed back to the foyer, glancing up the stairs as he passed them. Nothing up there but darkness, he thought, noting the shadows that gathered at the top of the steps.

This time he turned down the last corridor he had not already explored, the one heading to the left wing of the house. As he walked he glanced around himself in an almost nervous way, losing a bit of his calm confidence the Japanese rooms had given him as he went, his footfalls the only sound in the entire building. It seemed as if everything was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen, waiting for something to happen to him.

He passed another doorway; another three-second check told him that it too was locked. This time he was frustrated-how was he to find the others if all the doors were locked? Frowning slightly, he turned the corner staring at the floor.

Something is there…

He jerked his head up and stopped short as he caught sight of something moving. Something with dark skin, and tall, taller than anything had the right to be while it still walked on two legs…

Click.

No, there was nothing there-gone, now, was whatever he had just seen, gone with the sound of a door locking. Kiku let out a shaky breath, eyes wide as he stared down the length of the hallway. After a moment he shook his head as if shaking away bad thoughts and started down the hallway again, though much slower this time.

"What…what was that just now?" he asked himself, his English heavily accented in his distress. Had he truly seen that…thing? Or was this place playing tricks on him, his mind warping the world because of some rumors and the pressure of being left alone?

"I'm just tired, that's all," Kiku murmured in a vain attempt to reassure himself. In this empty, sun-warmed house, the words rang false, something that the Asian nation did not fail to notice. It set him even more on edge, his fingers flicking in nervous imitations of swordsmen's stretches. He advanced upon the door at the end of the corridor, the first door he had seen that held panels of frosted glass in the dark wood. Cautiously he placed his hand upon the handle and tried it, to his enormous relief it was locked. Had it been open he would have had to enter the room, and if he hadn't been seeing things, than there was something in there he'd rather not meet, not right now.

His heart calming, he turned to the right to the other door. This one did not fill him with such a sense of horror-it was the same dark door as the other ones he had encountered in the house. To his surprise, it was unlocked, and he warily stepped through to find himself in a bathroom.

The bathroom floor was made of white and pink tiles, the walls painted the same white as the hallway. Divided into two parts, the first part held a sink and a rack full of towels and soap, the second part held the toilet. Kiku saw no bathtubs, showers, or showerheads; he assumed this must be the guest bathroom.

Giving the room a last glance, Kiku left and returned to the foyer. The bathroom seemed like nothing important, unless one needed a bathroom. Now, he realized, he had explored everywhere on the first floor. His gaze was drawn to the stairs, dark eyes falling upon the darkness that swallowed the top steps. I have to go up there. Taking a slight breath, he started to ascend, fingers shaking as he gripped the worn railing.

For a few seconds the shadows were all around him, and then he was through, on to the second floor. It was much like the first, with high windows letting in the summer sun and golden wood floors gleaming against the bright white walls. Kiku took a few moments to look around. A single hallway stretched to both wings of the house in the back, while another hallway led to the front of the house. A pair of doors, identical to the ones downstairs, were set in the hallway in front of him. Hesitating, he turned to the door to the right, and was mildly surprised to find it unlocked.

It opened in to a bedroom. In the corner near the door was a single bed, simply done up in white sheets and a single pillow. A cream-colored rug covered a large part of the wood floor, Kiku carefully stepped around it so as not to get it dirty. A desk stood in one corner, though on inspection from the Japanese it showed that there was nothing in the desk. The bookshelf standing next to the desk held schoolbooks-a set of the Encyclopedia Britannica, several textbooks, a copy of The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

Setting a physics textbook back on the shelf, Kiku turned his attention to the drawers next to the bookshelf. Whoever had inhabited this room had a liking for flannel sweatshirts and dark pants, the entire set of drawers seemed to contain nothing but those clothes.

Next to the drawers, in the corner, was a door. It seemed to be made out of fabric in much the way that a paper door was made, though Kiku noted that the fabric was loose and pulling, it was obviously too thick to stay attached to the frame. Pulling gently on it, he found that it wouldn't budge. Odd, he decided. Shrugging, he tried the door again, this time pushing, but still nothing happened.

It may just be for decoration, he mused, leaving the bedroom. He walked to the other end of the hall, where there were two doors, one of which he had missed during his first glances. He tried one, but it was locked. He sighed and turned across the hallway to try the other door. This one was unlocked, and he warily entered the room to find another bedroom, this one much larger than the last. A nearly identical bed sat in the same corner as the last room. There was something laying on the covers, though, and with his curiosity rising the Asian strode over to see what it was.

"This is….Germany's whip?" he murmured, brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it doing in a place like this?" The discovery of the German's personal, and rather worn, weapon disturbed the man. Especially since there was no other sign of Ludwig or anyone else having been in this room in days. Looking around nervously, he tied the whip to his belt. I will return it when I see Germany again, he promised himself.

The rest of the large bedroom seemed uninteresting compared to that. Another bookshelf, with much of the same books on it, another set of drawers. And taking up half the room, another cream-colored rug, this time with a white leather loveseat and a flat screen TV. Kiku glanced around the room but decided that there was nothing else worth looking in to.

Fidgeting nervously, Kiku walked as quietly as he could to the front of the house. Another dark door, once again locked. Passing the staircase and noting that it went up another level, there was another pair of doors. The first one he tried was unlocked.

Another bedroom. The same exact bed, the same books on a bigger bookshelf. Kiku was starting to get rather worried by this place-it seemed that each room he went in to on this floor was only slightly different, though different enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his heart beat faster.

He gave the room a quick once-over, avoiding the TV and loveseat, which had been joined by a dark wooden coffee table in this room. The drawers and wardrobe against one wall held nothing but mothballs and a few satchels of lavender-scented fabric.

Sighing shakily in nervous frustration, he left the room and tried the door directly across the hall. It was locked. For every open door a closed one, he thought, smiling in a sarcastic way. On a whim, he headed back to the smallest bedroom, the first one he had gone into. He felt drawn to the fabric-covered door, and he ran his hands carefully over the heavy fabric, wondering how he could open the door.

Click.

The door opened-and out fell Ludwig, face pale and eyes wide.

"Germany!" Kiku exclaimed, relieved to have found one of his companions. But the bigger man did not reply, did nothing but shake in terror. Kiku, growing frightened and concerned in equal measures, helped Ludwig into a sitting position against the wall.

"Germany, where are the others?" he asked, softly, as if lowering his voice would snap the German out of whatever terrible thing he was experiencing. Ludwig did not respond, did nothing but sit where Kiku had moved him, his whole body trembling, his eyes unfocused and staring at something that was not there. Kiku watched him shaking; his dark eyes full of concern tainted with the fear that whatever had happened to the blonde man would happen to him. Standing, Kiku pressed a hand to Ludwig's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"You look…shaken," he told his ally. "I'll go get you something to drink. Stay here." Kiku moved away, glancing back over his shoulder once. Behind Ludwig the door loomed, opening into blackness that seemed to draw the eye. Kiku paused and wondered if he should close the door-but helping Ludwig seemed more important, and the others may be in there. The light from the room may help the others find their way out, Kiku rationalized. He didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but after the sunny hallways and rooms, the darkness beckoning from behind the doorframe scared him, scared him more than an enemy army on the battlefield.

There are no rules here, Kiku thought, leaving the room. Nothing except the need to escape.

With that, he went back down the stairs to search for a working tap.

The kitchen was an obvious place to look. Moving quicker and quieter than he had the first time, he walked past the white entertainment area and the table and into the kitchen. A few moments spent looking in the cabinets revealed some glasses, he took one that wasn't too ornately decorated and turned to the sink. He fiddled with the tap for several minutes, desperately hoping that they would work. But not a single drop of water came out of the faucet, no matter how he tugged and turned the knobs.

I'll just have to look somewhere else, he told himself after trying desperately to get water to come. With a rush of insight he remembered the bathroom-maybe the sink there was working? He took off down the hallway, walking fast and hoping he wouldn't have to take water from the toilet bowl, though if the tap didn't work, he just might have too…

He reached the bathroom and quickly started trying the tap. To his relief water came out of the faucet, he quickly filled his cup.

"Thank god," he breathed, turning the faucet off. "At least this isn't broken."

He raised the glass to his lips, deciding that he should drink a glass of water too-hopefully it would help calm his fraying nerves. But something made him pause. The way the water looked, clear and pristine, and how it smelled, like old, musty grass and animal fur, did not match up. He lowered the glass, suddenly not wanting anything to do with the water, and poured it back down the drain.

Ah, but Germany needs water, he reminded himself. He refilled the glass, resisted the urge to smell the water, and left. Maybe it had just been because the faucet hadn't been used in a while that the water had smelled like that. He quickly returned to the small bedroom where he had left Ludwig, careful not to spill the water on the way.

Ludwig was right where Kiku had left him, still trembling against the white wall and staring off into space. Kiku sighed, worried to see his strong ally in such a state. Ludwig always exuded a calm confidence that made it hard for other countries to challenge him. Kiku walked over to the German and held out the glass of water.

"Germany, I brought you some water. Drink it and try to calm down," Kiku said in a soft voice that brooked no arguments. To his immense relief Ludwig took the glass and started to drink the water, gulping it down as if he had just spent days marching in the desert.

No, stop!

For a second Kiku wanted to take the water back, stop the other man from drinking it-it was all wrong, it smelled wrong it wasn't water-

No, it's just water, it's okay.

Besides, it was too late-the German had already drained the glass. Kiku watched in relief as the bigger man stopped shaking and calmed down, his eyes focusing on the here and now instead of in the then and there. After a few minutes Ludwig stood up, only the slightest tremor in his fingers betraying how bad he had been just a short while ago.

"Was that really water?" Ludwig murmured, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"Judging by the color…probably," replied Kiku. Ludwig tilted his head at the smaller man, not quite sure if he was joking or not.

"I see," he finally replied, deciding to let it go. "I'm sorry for falling apart like that, Japan. I feel much better now, thank you."

"That's good to hear," Kiku replied smiling faintly. "Do you know where the others are, Germany?" Ludwig ran a hand through his slicked-back hair and sighed.

"I'm….not sure. We were running for our lives….and those two went in different directions. I think," he said, shaking his head at the memory. "I'm sorry, just give me a moment to pull myself together." He leaned back against the wall, hand reaching for a pocket that Kiku knew used to hold cigarettes-something that the Asian also knew that Ludwig would not find.

He must be rather shaken to forget he quit months ago, noted Kiku.

"All right. I'll go search for the others. Please, try and get some rest," Kiku told Ludwig, gesturing to the bed on the opposite side of the room.

"Sorry," Ludwig said, giving up his search for a cigarette. Kiku simply stared, unused to the German apologizing for something. "Oh, by the way, I found this when I was running from….when I was running. Maybe it can be of some use to you, Japan." Ludwig reached in a pocket of his coat and drew out a key-an old skeleton key, made of tarnished silver-and pressed it into Kiku's hand. With that, the German man turned and went back through the fabric door and into the darkness, shocking Kiku and stopping the thanks he was about to say.

Why go back there when he could rest here?

But not to worry-now, at the very least, he knew where someone else was. He studied the key in his hand, wondering where the German had found it and what door it unlocked. Shrugging slightly, he put it in his pocket and turned to leave.

I'll leave him alone now. I have to look for the other two.

He left the room and descended to the first floor, deciding to start the search for the lock the key fit there.

After trying several doors, he was back to the door near the kitchen. He had skipped over that door in favor of trying the doors near the bathroom first. As he slipped the key into the lock, he knew he had found the right door. It unlocked with a

Click

and swung in on its hinges. Holding his breath, Kiku took a few hesitant steps inside, letting his eyes adjust to the slightly darker environment.

Something is there.

Something tall, something not right, something that wasn't supposed to be-

No, it was just the shadows.

There was nothing there, nothing but a slighter darker shadow in a room of shadows that seemed to swirl and move. Kiku let out the breath he had been holding and cautiously advanced. Out of the gloom rose several bookshelves and he realized that he must be in a library.

The books ranged over all different subjects and periods and nations, he saw copies of old Greek stories and several new manga and poetry from America. He pulled several books from the shelves, noting that even the older books bore no wear and tear as he would have expected them too. He carefully replaced them back on the shelf, making sure not to disturb the books too much.

Kiku turned to survey the rest of the room and noticed a table hidden in the corner, tucked behind the bookshelves. He walked over it and ran a critical eye over the books scattered carelessly across it-pages were torn and dog-eared, passages were highlighted or in some cases blacked out completely. It looked like a madman had been trying to write a research paper on something.

And, sitting on a wooden plate, was a single rice ball. Kiku stared at it a few seconds before smiling and pocketing it, making sure to carefully wrap it in a handkerchief first. It seems that we are dealing with a Japanese ghost, he thought to himself. He continued to search through the books and paper on the table, wondering if there was some sort of clue or pattern to it,.

Something is there.

Kiku jerked his head up, dropping the book. Something was there. And he wasn't imagining it, not this time-no, it was really there, grey skinned, long-necked coming towards him-out, have to get out, have to-there! The door! He fumbled with the handle, hands shaking, eyes wide. Locked! How can it be locked? The key-I have the key-where did it go? The key-it wasn't there, wasn't in his pocket, it must of fallen-it's right behind me, right-

His katana! He turned, unsheathing the blade and cutting up at the thing. He hit, but only barely-look at it's eyes, it's eyes, too big, not human-and the thing snarled and attacked back-claws, they hurt, attack before it attacks!-and he slashed again, the blade easily cutting flesh-it bleeds black, black like the shadows, what is this thing?-and, quick, before the thing could hurt him again, he called upon years of practice and-now, do it now!-cut once more.

The thing retreated, leaving him shaking, his left arm cut, his military jacket ripped. Key, have to find the key, before it comes back, he reminded himself, flicking black ichor off his blade. Wincing, he rolled his shoulder to move his wounded arm and then set off into the library, blade at the ready. The feeling that he was being watched only grew stronger as he quickly went over the room, looking for his key. It's still here, just watching, waiting until it can attack again. He found the key next to one of the bookshelves in the back corner. Relieved, he nearly ran back to the door. He fumbled the key into the lock and stepped out into the bright hallway, eyes watering in the sudden light. He quickly checked to make sure that the door behind him was locked, and then he slipped the key into his breast pocket.

"I have to find the others soon," he said, leaning against the wall. "Before they find that…thing." He slid down so that he was sitting against the wall and carefully began to look after the cut in his arm.