Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.

Na-tion

a large body of people, associated with a particular territory, that is sufficiently conscious of its unity to seek or to possess a government peculiarly its own:

I like Hetalia.

Like a lot.

I guess the appeal lies for me in the idea personifying nations. In a sense, it's almost like summing up whole a group of people into one. These personifications... or Nation People if you will, can have moments of awesome... like America declaring his independence. Or they can crash and burn, kinda like a Russian jumping out of an airplane without a parachute.

No Russia, snow does not provide enough cushioning to soften the impact of falling from over 10 000 feet in the air.

I'm just saying.

Back to my point, this whole idea of having nations "personified" is brilliant. I mean really? You definitely have to give some credit to Hiramuya for coming up with it. Only thing is...

He didn't.

Wait! Wait! Before you scream mutiny and command your legions of yaoi-drawing-fanfiction-writing-fujoshi friends to come and attack me, hear me out!

Nation People do, in fact, exist. In other words, yes, hamburger-eating fail!heroes, lecherous Frenchmen, and psychotic Russians do live on the same Earth as you and I. That's right! It's not just in your perverted dreams...

Or was that just me?

Anyways! Before I start off with my tale, perhaps I should tell you a bit about myself. I know you're just dying to hear about a self-insert like myself. Yes, you know you all secretly like that.

Well, let's see: I am from... uh, what's that place's name again? I am a (hormonal) teenage girl and... I can be quite philosophical sometimes. Yup, that's about all you need to know (for now). Now that wasn't so bad was it?

... was it?

Now! Onto to the story (sorta):

One of the advantages of going to a Liberal Arts School is that no matter who you are, you can find a group to chill with. Being me, I ended up with anime-manga-yaoi-obsessed-blood-gore-sex-weird-visual art students ; all of whom have one or more of the above words apply to them.

So... there were a few of us who liked Hetalia.

A lot.

Our conversations would usually go something like this:

Me: DIDJU GUIZ READ 'GIVING IN' LAST NIGHT?

Hetalia Friend #1: OMFG SO AMAZING... Russia...was like...

Hetalia Friend #2: -hyperventilating from fangasming-

You get the picture.

Oh, yes, please forgive any shameless promotion of fanfictions I promote during the course of this story. Actually, scratch that, I'm doing all you authors a favour... now update.

Anyways! Getting back on track; this whole thing started when I was at Parliament Hill with my parents. For those of you who don't know (but should) what that is, the Parliament buildings are kinda where Canada's government is. It's these old(ish) buildings which are kind of pretty; they have green roofs and stuff... you know what? Screw that. Go Google it yourselves.

It was late July and a very, very humid night indeed in our delightful nation's capital... yes, there is such a thing as humidity in Canada. My parents and I were walking along this pathway, right along the cliffs which overlooked the Rideau river behind the Parliament Buildings. Being my adventurous self, I had wandered ahead of my parents to look at my favourite statues on Parliament Hill.

The Parliamentary Library loomed overhead of me as I left the path and started to cut across the parking lot in order to reach the Eastern Block more quickly; for you see, that was where my beloved statues lay. On grass again, I swerved through some trees and around the statue of Elizabeth II until I caught sight of my five lovely ladies.

"The Famous Five", if you don't know (but should), were these five bad-ass ladies who fought to get women recognised as "persons" in Canada. Nellie McClung, she's my personal favourite... and yet another thing you should google. Anyhow, these statues are just of them all sitting around, having tea, looking at official documents, and being generally bad-ass.

So, yeah, I was standing in the centre of those statues, ogling at them, and thinking my female-empowering thoughts when I noticed something rather... peculiar.

How should I describe this?

Well, not far off in the distance, there this guy leaning on a tree, talking on his cell; that was the normal part.

No, the weird part was the fucking miniature-sized polar bear beside him that was standing on its' hind legs and pawing at the man's pants.

And that gravity-defying curl that kept bouncing up and down certainly couldn't be considered normal either.

So I was like:

"Gah... wha...? Ca... na... da? Real...? Wha...?"

The speed of my mental faculties at that moment became equivalent to that of a snail. Then everything sped up and my head was working in overdrive. Actually, no, the only part of me that working at all was my inner fangirl.

So, naturally, deciding not to observe the basic courtesies of personal space and privacy, I crept closer to the person who I thought was Canada, until I was in eavesdropping distance.

Like I said... total respect for privacy.

His voice was unsurprisingly soft, however, it seemed to carry much further than one would expect. Much to my advantage.

He seemed to be very preoccupied with whoever he was talking to on the phone.

"Al... no... my birthday was two weeks ago."

A pause.

"No, I'm not mad at you! What would make you think that, eh? Just because you have repeatedly forgotten my birthday for the past 143 years, despite the fact that our birthdays are only a couple days a part... And, while we're on that subject, I don't want you sending me your recycled birthday cards anymore," ... "No, I do not care if it's good for the environment, Al! No one wants a birthday card with somebody else's name on it that's been scribbled out with Sharpie and then rewritten with their own name on it! It's thoughtless and rude and shows a complete disrespect for the person! Blah blah passive aggressive blah Canadian rage blah."

If there had been any previous doubts in my mind that this was Canada, they had been totally wiped away.

While Canada was berating who I now presumed was America, I was peering out from behind the statue of Nellie McClung while making inexplicable grasping motions at Canada with my hand; I think I must've looked like Belarus after seeing Russia come out of the shower naked. But could you blame me? I had just witnessed a passive aggressive rant of win! It was like... oh my god, you don't even know.

Then, something happened. To be specific, my parents happened.

"What are you doing -insert daughter's name here-? We're going!" My mom yelled. Did I mention she yelled?

Canada whipped around, stared at me, and somehow he knew. I think it's a telepathic thing that Nation People have with their citizens. Or maybe it was just because I was looked a little bit too much like suspicious pervert lurking around late at night. Either way, he knew.

"Al, I gotta go... yeah, I'll call you back." The cellphone flipped shut with a clack. Then was there silence.

And suddenly, a very serious Canada was coming towards me and Nellie McClung didn't look she was going to be able to protect me. I felt like that time I was seven and had purposely dialled 911 on a Bell Payphone to see what would happen; small and guilty.

So I did the exact same thing I did when I was younger: I ran.

"Al? Yeah... we got another one."

Author's Note:

Yes, I inserted myself into the Hetalia-verse. Please don't kill me! Instead, leave me reviews!

A big thank you to my beta, crackberries, for her help in making this less terrible than before.