Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/N: This takes place after WWI.


Alfred sat on the porch of his summer home in Kansas City. Congress was taking one of their infamous summer breaks. Of course, this was following the end of the Great War, so many felt it was well deserved. President Wilson had willingly given Alfred his own short vacation. As a nation, these vacations were rare, simply because a country was always moving and there was always something for Alfred to do, or to alert his boss about at least. On those rare occasions that he got a break, he was grateful. It was a time for him to be one with his land and interact with his people.

He sighed as he felt the breeze brush his bangs out of his face and cool off his forehead. If he said so himself, it was absolutely perfect out, a rare day. He enjoyed the sound of birds chirping, the hum of cars and carriages (for those behind on the technological curve). He yawned and leaned back in his chair, ready to take a good long nap.

Unfortunately his nap would barely last a minute before being rudely interrupted by an obnoxious yeller.

"How dare they reject me! I was perfectly qualified! I'm passionate! I'm willing to work! It's ridiculous!" Alfred wearily blinked and frowned.

"Oi! Get over here!" he yelled, agitated. The poor man froze, having obviously not been aware of how loud he was...or aware that there were people around. He grimaced when he noticed Alfred's presence. Wearily he made his way up the stairs to the blond's porch.

"Er...I'm sorry, I wasn't aware there were people around," he apologized, clearly regretting yelling in the first place. Alfred took the time to take in his appearance. His hair was disheveled, probably from running his hands through it angrily. His black hair was cut to a respectable length and he was clutching a folder tightly. He couldn't have been older than 19 or 20, tops.

"That's not why I called you over. Call me crazy, but I'm curious, what happened?" The man blinked, and opened his mouth before closing it again. He hesitated for a few more awkward moments before he finally spoke.

"My job application got rejected at the local newspaper." Alfred sighed sympathetically.

"That really sucks," he said. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Alfred spoke again. "Want to come in for a sandwich or something and tell me about it? I've had my fair share of awful days." The man blinked, obviously surprised at the offer.

"I don't know, I mean, my brother's waiting for me..."

"Come on, it won't take that long. Plus it'll prolly make you feel better. I've seriously had some pretty bad days." The man looked like he wished to say something, but he didn't and instead followed Al into the house. Alfred lead the man to the kitchen where he prepared a quick drink for the two of them. "Are you a journalist or something?"

"Er, uh, no." He chuckled nervously. "Well, I was actually hoping for a job..." he hesitated. "...in the art department."

"Eh? Like drawing or something?"

"...Sort of. I kind of wanted to draw political cartoons and such. I love drawing, and thought for sure I'd get the job." Alfred grabbed a couple of glasses to pour the freshly made orange juice into.

"Really? That's fascinating!" The man pursed his lips before speaking again.

"Would you like to see my portfolio?"

"Of course!" Al took a sip from his glass, and grabbed the folder that the man had brought with him. He tentatively opened it, fearful of any small scraps of paper falling out. He glanced through the worn pieces of paper with a small smile. He occasionally laughed at the accurate depictions of his boss, England's boss, and Germany's boss. "Your drawings are really good. I can't see why you got rejected."

"I think it's because I don't have much of a name," He admitted.

"Phooey! You shouldn't be rejected from a job just because you don't have a good name! I do wish I could help you, but I doubt my opinion would convince the company otherwise."

"Thank you, sir," the man replied.

"You know what you've got to do now?"

"What?" He leaned forward, eager to hear the advice of Alfred.

"You've got to beat them!" Al said forcibly.

"At what?"

"Their own game! You've got to get more successful than them! They make hundreds, you make thousands! They make millions, you make billions!" The man laughed.

"I don't think it's as easy as that."

"Sure, there's some hard work and stuff involved in there, but I bet you can do it!" Once again, the man pursed his lips.

"Well, actually, another artist and I were thinking of starting a business of our own, but I have no idea how well it will do or if we'll even go through with it." Alfred frowned as he finished off the rest of his orange juice

"Remember, in this country you can try and fail as much as you want. So even if the business doesn't do well, you can try again and again and again until you get it right. There are thousands of opportunities waiting for everyone, sometimes a lot of them aren't even visible to you until you open your eyes." The man looked up, surprised at how much older Alfred sounded. "You may've gotten rejected by the newspaper, but maybe doing political cartoons isn't what you're destined to do. Maybe you're meant for something else." The man stared at Alfred with wide eyes.

"Well, you know those movie theaters?" he asked excitedly. He wasn't quite sure why he was telling this man he had known all of twenty minutes about this, but it just felt right. Alfred smiled and chuckled.

"You wanna be a movie star?"

"No," he replied curtly. "I think the movie industry's gonna be big, real big. Even bigger than it is now. The industry keeps growing too! Why just a few years ago, they were saying it'd be impossible for a movie to go on for more than thirty minutes. Now look at movies today! They're lasting hours."

"So you wanna direct movies?"

"Sort of. I'm not sure what I want to do, but I think it's animation that's got potential."

"Animation?" Alfred asked. He himself had been to many movies, but none that were animated. Even the animated movies he had heard of only lasted for twenty minutes or so before production cost got high.

"Yes! I honestly believe it has the potential to be a show stopper! There are certain limitations that you have in film that are just totally impossible to do, even with camera tricks. But with animation, potentially, you have the ability to do everything and anything...so long as you can draw it."

"You really believe all of this, don't you?"

"Of course!" He cried out enthusiastically.

"Well then, I bet you can do it. A lot of things that seem impossible are the things that eventually come to fruition. Heck, I bet one of these days we'll even reach the moon!" The man rolled his eyes. As if. "This country was founded on innovation and whatever ideas you have I bet'll be successful," Alfred declared. He took the glass of the man's long forgotten orange juice and placed it near the sink. "I think I've taken up too much of your time, sorry for that." The man smiled genuinely. Despite not getting a job today, he felt inspiration and motivation to work as hard as he could to achieve his dream.

"No, it's fine. Though I best be going, my brother's probably wondering where I am." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "Thank you for listening and thank you so much for the encouragement."

"It's not problem. Here, I'll lead you to the door."

"Thank you, again, but I'm afraid I never caught your name." Alfred blinked.

"How rude of me. I'm Alfred Jones."

"It was nice meeting you, Alfred. My name's Walter. Walter Disney."


A/N: Walt Disney, creator of the Disney Corporation, before dropping out of school drew patriotic cartoons depicting people in World War One. He dropped out of school at the age of 16 to join the army, only to be rejected due to age. He would then join the Red Cross, where he drove ambulances in France before the war ended. He returned to Kansas City in hopes of becoming a cartoonist or ambulance driver, only to be rejected. He and another artist, Iwerks, developed the Iwerks-Disney Commerical Artists company...which failed.