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Kumajirou never truly minded sleeping outside, seeing as he grew in the wild, but he had gotten used to sleeping indoors with Matthew while they remained in Francis’ residence. That, though, was no more for they now lived in Arthur’s residence and the Englishman refused to allow the animal inside, ignoring Matthew’s tears with little difficulty. He had taken Kumajiro by the waist, much to the bear’s discomfort, and placed him in the back of the house while Alfred had attempted to distract his distraught brother.
“It’s a wild animal,” Arthur had stated, “No way in hell is it entering this house.”
So, as a result, he remained in the backyard, huddled beneath a small bush of wilted white flowers. Matthew, he knew, sleep in the room in the back of the house, on the first floor. He knew this because the small nation had crawled out of a window and joined him by the flowers, falling asleep promptly after. He lay curled up halfway on the bear’s back, with his legs tucked beneath his thin nightgown and his feet covered with (now dirty) white socks. Soon after, it had begun to drizzle, and the bush did not prevent the droplets from landing on the two, promptly wetting them both from head to toe in a matter of minutes.
“He’d surely get a cold,” Kumajirou thought to himself as he attempted to nudge closer to the child who shivered slightly. Despite his protests, Matthew had refused to re-enter the household without him. Kumajirou laid his head on his front paws and stared forwards, surveying the gloomy garden. A bricked path led through a small sitting area and towards what appeared to be a maze made of tall bushes. The bright and dark colored flowers seemed to wilt under the rain’s increasing downpour.
Kumajirou’s ears perked as he heard a string of curses from the slightly opened window. He craned his head up to see Arthur opening the window all the way and leaning out. Kumajirou, wanting Matthew to be returned inside for the sake of his health, used his paw to shake the bush. Arthur’s eyes immediately caught the two. He frowned and his eyes sharpened, appearing like two emerald daggers. Kumajirou watched as Arthur went back inside, shutting the window.
For a moment, he believed the nation had intended to leave Matthew outside, but after a minute or so, he heard quick footsteps approaching them. Kumajirou blinked his coal black eyes against the rain as he looked up at the Englishman, who hovered about them with a bright candle in his hand. Matthew, although he shivered tremendously against the cold, seemed unbothered in his sleep. Arthur crouched down. Placing the candle down, the metal holder somewhat protecting it from the rain, he picked Matthew up carefully and held him to his chest. Arthur looked at Kumajirou, who had made no movement to stop him. Kumajirou smiled in his mind as Arthur growled under his breath and placed a hand to his own cheek.
“He’ll do this again, won’t he?” Arthur asked, clearly referring to Matthew’s escapade.
Kumajirou nodded, much to Arthur’s dismay. Kumajirou, although he held the gift of human speech, felt no need to convey his words to Arthur. All he wanted to say could be told in his movements. The Englishman seemed to be thinking deeply, but after a moment he quickly picked Kumajirou up by the back of his neck, with only little care, and held him close to his face.
“You shan't ruin my rugs nor my funiture, understand?”
The bear nodded again, shaking himself from the Englishman’s grip and landing on his paws with a small thump. Arthur sighed, and picked up the candle as he rose from his crouching position. Kumajirou followed the man as he walked to the front of the house swiftly and wiped his muddied shoes on a door mat. Kumajirou quietly wiped his muddied paws somewhat clean and then shook himself from the rain, causing his fur to stick out in out spots.
“Well, at least you know your manners…” Kumajirou heard him mumble as he pulled the front door open.
Kumajirou followed the Englishman to Matthew’s bedroom and sat silently on the floor. Arthur replaced Matthew’s wet clothing with dry ones as he mumbled about how he could have fallen ill and then tucked the sleeping nation into bed. With a small smile gracing his lips, Arthur turned to Kumajirou and nodded his head towards Matthew.
“Well?” He questioned in a whisper. Kumajirou, catching his idea, hopped onto Matthew’s bed and curled up against the child’s side. Arthur rubbed behind his ear slightly and left the room promptly, blowing out his candle as the door shut. Kumajirou closed his eyes slowly as he moved into a comfortable position, adjusting as Matthew swung a sleepy arm over him. And as the rain pattered on the outside ground, Kumajirou finally got some sleep.