Hetalia Domination

~Two~

Excitement rushed through me. Then fear. If the country had lots of land, they would be a pinch harder to defeat. I kept on guard. They seemed to be up above.

If they drop on me it's instant game over.

No one will remember me.

A rustle from the right. It seems they have moved.

No one will be able to remember me.

A silence. They didn't move. I did the same.

I don't want to be history. I died for nothing. I would not be remembered. For as long the Earth lives. For as long my fellow countries breathe.

They were going to strike soon.

I grit my teeth. I want a normal life.

Whoever put us into these games...

My knuckles turned white from gripping the knife so hard.

Damn you.

In pure rage I flung the knife into the trees where I heard the last rustle, disappearing into the leaves.

It didn't fall back down.

I waited for a moment.

Someone dropped to the ground. I crept closer. Their face was on the dirt and leaf floor with the knife embedded deeply in their skull, blood trickling down to the dirt. But even without their facial appearances I recognized him.

Netherlands.

Rage soon turned to regret. I fell to my knees.

"I'm so sorry.." in a soft whisper.

It happened every time I killed someone. I just can't let them go. And I knew it was about to start.

The sky faded to a white. I stayed on my knees. The trees, clouds, even the sun. Slowly covered by the white. Soon it will cover everything, and dispose of his body. An idea jolted to my mind. Before everything in my sight turned white, I grabbed his faded blue and white striped scarf from his limp neck. By now the lights covered everything. I held on to the scarf, tears rolling down to it. After a moment I opened my eyes.

I still had the scarf.

Green trees. Blue sky. I looked down.

No blood stains. No Netherlands.  I pulled out the crumple map and located Netherlands.

It was now named (country name).

I still haven't found any food yet. Or fire wood. Sighing I hugged the scarf and wandered deeper into the woods. I didn't want to come back to home base.

Korea still doesn't believe me. No one does.

All three of them think I'm crazy.

What's the point of even trying now? I've been trying 2 years, ever since the first country died.

But why me? Why do I remember the ones? Do they want me to go through the pain? The pain of remembering their deaths?

I needed some time. I ran farther away from home base, wanting to be alone. I glanced down at the scarf again.

Not sure what came to me. I just felt like I needed to keep it. To hold on to them. I was a bit surprised that it didn't go like the rest of him.

I must have wandered for hours. The three must be worried about me. It's already noon time.

But they can manage themselves. I'm pretty sure they can get their own fire wood and food.

In that moment, I spotted a white blotch out of the corner of my eye.

White lights? Again?

Usually the lights come every 3 months or so. Some stupid country probably attracted attention. The sorrow came up my spine again. Maybe the countries are becoming more aggressive. Tucking the scarf under my arm I pulled out the map once again, scanning it to spot any words shifting. The lights became brighter. I squinted under it and tried to read the map. Too late. The white lights covered everything for a moment.

A pause.

Then, as quick as it appeared, it was gone. Everything was back in color. Holding up the map again I checked for the changes.

A lump went up your throat. My eyes stung with tears and arms shaking, almost losing grip.

Korea.

I whirled back in the direction I came from. A large shield of smoke was clouding up, around the area of home base.

I didn't stop to see what country that killed him. I threw the map on the ground, stuffed the scarf in my arms and ran, not thinking about my health condition.

I sprinted across the forest, unflinching as the branches whipped my face and the leaves scraping my feet. The smoke became more visible.

Faster. I pushed on as fast as my feet could carry me. Eventually I burst through the forest and into the clearing.

Fire.

Everything was on fire. The tent, the supplies, the whole clearing. Eyes stinging, I called out for the others.

"Denmark! Lithuania!" I shrieked. Hoping for a response.

I made out a frantic waving of the arms on the other side. Navigating through it I ran around the fire, some stray flames burning my legs. There they were.

I came closer and saw Lithuania and Denmark had evacuated to a tree near all the fire. Crashing straight into them I gave a weak punch, tears falling from the pain and sadness.

"Why?! Why didn't you save him?!" I screamed over and over again.

Through their ashed buried faces the two of them looked at you confusedly. I kept punching them.

"This wouldn't have happened! We were supposed to help each other!" I shrieked.

But there was no point in shouting at them now.

He was gone. Still sobbing I quietly sunk to the ground, watching the flames as they started to die down.

~~~

A few hours later all that was left were ashes and splintered wood. There were tears still on my face. Lithuania and Denmark didn't speak. I slowly got up, set the scarf aside, and walked into the damage, looking at everything. I stifled a cough as the smoke rushed into my lungs. The tent was now reduced to a burnt shred of cloth. The weapons made over the years were no where to be found. I desperately examined the scene, looking for something, anything, that would show that Korea was here. There were some odd lines, and I crept closer to examine what it was.

Right in the center of the ash pile, there was something written, in shaky lettering made with weak and dying hands. I stared at it.

I always believed you

I sunk down to the ashes and cried.

And at that moment the world seemed to have fell silent.

Why didn't they save him?