Zubicu- a Hetalia fanfic.

Chapter 1

I run down the path, dipping down side alleys and praying that I don't get lost along the way. There's a clear route from mine to China's house that I normally take, but there is another way as well through side alleys and hidden passageways, which I take now. It's longer, of course, but it mean I'm constantly hidden in the shadows where nobody would dare to look.

As soon as I enter my house after what seems like an age of running down the route, occasionally doubling back over my path in case they use dogs to track me, I slam the door behind me, making sure the temporary lock is on it. Not bothering to stop or even pause to catch my breath, I bound up the stairs to my room, grabbing my satchel as I pass, and run into my room to pack. I only take what I need- hygene products, clothes, a torch, lighter, matches, a blanket, a small pillow, and some other things. Once that's done I slide down the banister rail along the stairs to get to the bottom floor again rather than wasting time and energy going down the stairs, running straight into the kitchen.

I race over to the fridge, and grab a load of meat, along with some kituna. Wrapping them in clingfilm I stuff them into my bag. I close the fridge and go to the cupboards, taking out other ingredients, including some kitchen knives from the knife rack. I examine them before putting them away in a protected pocket on the outside of my satchel, making sure the handles are sticking out, but not noticeable. They're not the best, but if I'm in a tight spot and need to use them they'll buy me enough time to get my swords, and weaken the opponent enough to make my job easy.

I put them all into the satchel and sling that over my head so the strap rests on my shoulder and the bag is on the opposite hip, before running to the medicines cabinet. Taking out some boxes, I take out burn medication, stuff for cuts, things for bites, plasters and bandages, and put all those in the satchel before closing it and pulling the clip down over the lock, pressing until I hear the satisfying click that tells me it's locked.

Walking to my storage cupboard, I pick up two swords, my two favourite ones. They're like katanas crossed with cutlasses, so they're quite heavy, but I've practised with them so much I find them easy to use and very light. They were given to me when I was a chibi, and now I won't part with them. Since I've now reached the age where I stop growing and aging- 20 for me- I now don't need to change them, and they're actually the perfect size for me.

I look around. Quickly, I take my war belt and put it on over my clothes, then slip the sheaths into the belt and carefully clip them into place, making sure to get them in the right slots, before sliding the swords into the sheaths. As I walk out of the cupboard I stop only to get some proper throwing knives, which I put into some other slots in the war belt. Pulling the tough leather flaps up over the blades so they're covered and won't dig into my thighs by accident when I'm walking or running, I make sure the belt's tight before walking to the door.

I smile as I begin testing everything, twisting and turning to test the comfortableness of everything, before nodding in confirmation that it all works. I don't dare speak out loud in fear that I'll give away where I am; I'm now very close to the door, and if someone's standing outside, perhaps waiting for me to get out, they'll be able to hear me and might bust in early, catching me off guard and rendering my weapons useless before I even have time to react.

Stopping by the door, I slip my brown leather boots on. They're ideal for running and the amount of walking I'll be doing as over time they've moulded to my feet and now allow me to move in whatever ways possible with little resistance, but protect my feet from whatever gets underfoot. With a flick of my brown curly hair I sweep out of the door and set off down the route I planned. It leads into the woods, going north.

I'm hoping to skirt around the edges so I don't have to go through the parts where all the stories emerge from. They say people go in there and never return. I may be a country, but I'm not taking chances with that. I'm going to try and get out of the forest on the other side before I do anything else. Once there, well, I haven't really planned beyond that. I guess I'll just be finding my own way and hoping to find refuge somewhere.