Hi! This is the first story I will be publishing in and I hope you enjoy it! Please review for any comments or corrections needed to be fixed. Thank you!

I do not own Hetalia.

"I shall return."

A lie? A promise?

She had been there.

The horrible Death March. The never ending steps. The hunger, pain, scorching heat, exhaustion...the blood.

Soldiers and captives, American and Filipino alike, were forced to keep on going or they were killed. Shot in the head, the heart, anywhere the Japanese wished. Some were beheaded. Even if they even dare to fall behind, they were beaten. If they died on the journey, the corpses were left to rot until the trucks came to pick them up like trash.

The others became ill. Some harassed. Does being a Prisoner-Of-War mean you deserve this? This was too brutal and she'd be surprised if they weren't monsters under their masks. Her stomach would churn, and the bodies, the violence, made her sick.

But she had to continue on. People suffered. She knew it. She felt it. It was all her fault. She couldn't save them. Her own people. America's own. A stray tear fell from her eye, her aching feet dragging across the ground.

Days passed, she had been beaten and mistreated repeatedly by the soldiers but she didn't stop. Blood stained her clothes, she didn't stop. The sun, once a symbol of hope and new beginnings, was dull as it rose from its hiding. The sky was washed in colors of despair.

They were dead. Thousands upon thousands.

The nation glances at the loyal and brave allies that were left. There were wounds on them. She could feel how hungry and thirsty they were. How they longed to see their families again. Their eyes became dull but there was still some sort of light that was till present. It was diminishing.

Bile rises up to her throat but she swallows it. She'll never let him get away with this.

Another day. Another death. Another scream. Another life. Another goodbye.

She couldn't take it anymore. All the pain she and her country was experiencing was tolling on her too much. The last thing she could see and hear were the shock and the sudden loss of that light of hope in their eyes. Darkness swallowed her.

" Piri! Gising! Gising!"

Someone is calling her. Perhaps a prisoner with the same fate as her, she doesn't know. Distant screams of guns, marching and people, her people were heard. People were dying. She is laying on the ground, probably a mess of teared clothing and blood.

All of her strength had been drained by all the torture and trudging and she can't find the will to move. She felt lightheaded. She is being shaken violently by small hands, as if the person is panicking. She was panicking too. She couldn't do anything, not even open her eyes. Her heart was broken, all those lives... But those hands, warm and soft strong were urging her.

Until...a scream tears through the silence and the hands were ripped away from her .

"No! Bitawan niyo ako! Piri! Please! Never lose hope! Live for us Inang Bayan!"

An audible kick. Groaning. A man yelling in another language. No. Stop. Don't hurt him.

"Shizukani! Ban'yamuwoezu!"

The prisoner keeps screaming out words that the Japanese considered as poison.

A click of a gun. Time slows and she could feel every breath, every second. NO! A trigger is pulled. A bang. The sound of a lifeless body dropped on the ground. Something is digging its way in her heart and it hurts. Guilt? Grief? Did it matter? She wants to cry.

Someone died, everyone was dying.

She feels hands pull her limbs and she is harshly pulled up. Forcefully making her walk, she opens her eyes. She could make out figures and blurs but they slowly became clear.

A prison. A cold metal cell. They throw her in without care, and she feels the impact on the cold stone floor. Clenching her fists, she forces herself to sit up. After all that horror, she knows how far this would be from over. Only, she doesn't know how long it will last.

Tears prick her eyes, slowly starting to fall faster and faster.

"Patawarin niyo ako..."

A laugh. Sadistic.

"Tanoshimimasu."

I shall return- a promise made by Gen. Douglas MacArthur before escaping to Australia from the Japanese and that he'll come back once again to aid the Philippines.

The Bataan Death March- was the forcible transfer from Saisaih Pt. and Mariveles to Camp O'Donnell by the Imperial Japanese Army of 60,000–80,000 Filipino and American prisoners of war which began on April 9, 1942, after the three-month Battle of Bataan in the Philippines during World War II. About 2,500–10,000 Filipino and 100–650 American prisoners of war died before they could reach their reported death tolls vary, especially among Filipino POWs, because historians cannot determine how many prisoners blended in with the civilian population and escaped. The march went from Mariveles, Bataan, to San Fernando, Pampanga. From San Fernando, survivors were loaded to a box train and were brought to Camp O'Donnell in Capas, Tarlac.

The 60 mi (97 km) march was characterized by occasional severe physical abuse. It was later judged by an Allied military commission to be a Japanese war crime. (Source: wiki/Bataan_Death_March)

Translations:

Gising- Wake up

Bitawan niyo ako- Let go of me

Inang Bayan - Motherland/ homeland

Shizukani! Ban'yamuwoezu- Be quiet! There is no hope!

"Patawarin niyo ako..."- Please forgive me

"Tanoshimimasu."- Enjoy