Homeless (a Hetalia Fanfic, Book Three)

Chapter 28~!

"Are you sure you want to go alone?" Vale asked cautiously. "You can take another person with you if you want, Greece."

The cat-loving, sleepy nation of Greece shook his head, his brown hair swinging around his ears. "I'll be fine, I think."

"If you're sure," Vale replied, placing the earring in his palm. "Don't lose this, okay? It's your only quick way back."

"Okay," he said, nodding once and clutching the jewelry in his fist. Vale instructed him on how to use it, and a moment later he was gone.

Now, Turkey had been noticeably older than Greece before his untimely death. No one had gotten that strange 'feeling' such as the one Japan had received, so everything here was being assumed and hoped for.

'I hope Turkey really is a child instead of just nonexistent.'

'I hope Turkey is alright...'

'I hope W.O.R.L.D. didn't get to him yet.'

Without much of a shortcut location to go to, Greece envisioned a spot near what he knew would be a fairly good place to start: the Galata Bridge. Upon arrival in the shadows of an apartment building that had a clear view of the bridge, Greece stepped out into the light and began to walk rather quickly while his eyes searched for a toddler with dark hair and possibly a white half-mask. All the while, his thoughts wandered to strange little places.

'If Turkey really is a little kid again, it would almost be like when we were younger, wouldn't it?' Herakles asked himself, his hands shoved into his pockets. The earring was still clutched in his fist, just in case he was too slow to notice a pickpocket sneak up and grab it. The chance of that was low, but with something this important, it was best to err on the side of caution.

'When we were younger... Like, when he was the Ottoman Empire and he took me over...'

With a mellow start, Greece's footsteps paused and he contemplated this new revelation. "If he's a little kid again, I could take him over...!"

On the bridge, the sound of music cut through Greece's foreboding monologue and gave him a little bit of a rhythm to his pace, which he was prone to doing whenever he heard music. There was no outbreak of sudden dancing, however; his mission took precedence, just this one time.

"Wait... drums," Greece said to himself, and he started making his way down the length of the bridge. The source of the music sounded like it was coming down that way. "Maybe he's...?"

A circle of people had formed around the duo playing drums and the mandolin, respectively. Three people appeared to be the center of attention, however, and the third person was short and dancing!

After circling the crowd a bit like a hawk, Herakles found an opening and took it, pressing his way forward until he was in the innermost ring of spectators. There, he had the best vantage point for seeing who it was.

"Oh, Θανκ γοοδνεςς," Greece sighed. The child, for it really was a child, was tiny enough to be a new nation. His face didn't bear a white half-mask like Greece expected, but he had seen beneath Turkey's mask before and would recognize him anywhere, with or without it. To seal the deal, a little fountain-like ahoge sprouted from just above the nape of his neck, which Herakles glimpsed when the boy spun around as part of his random but enjoyable dance. (Thank goodness)

This was definitely Turkey, beyond any doubts. Because he knew that Turkey wouldn't want to stop dancing for any reason, Greece waited until the melody was over and the performers asked for tips from their audience. Turkey laughed like the little boy he was and stopped dancing, but not without a flourishing bow that earned him a smattering of applause from the crowd.