It rained often at home. And of course, he thought it was beautiful. But then again, his home always was. Japan took great pride in it, and anything that wasn't it was just a disappointment.
But here, this was not his home and he was not happy for it or pleased that it rained or thought it was beautiful because it was just a drab building with grey skies and people of whom he did not care about (of whom were not his children) milling around like nothing.
And here, he was spending his time with Russia of all nations, who was on the side of America, who did not agree with Japan, Germany, and Italy. (Though Italy was an idiot and was pretty much Germany's useless pet.) However, he did not trust Russia. His culture was strange (and not at all like his own) and there was something about the other that filled Kiku with discomfort and wariness. However, he entered the lobby, pace perfect with just the right amount of steps and arms at his side, to see the male near the window. Japan spoke up slowly, voice quiet and words carefully formed.