My first Hetalia story :)
The young girl shivered uncontrollably, wrapping the blanket closer around herself. She was already bundled in two bright neon pink coats, three pairs of socks, a pair of thick mittens, and four sweaters. Still, the wind blew right through her, freezing her to the spot. Snow, crisp and a deceivingly beautiful white, fell from the dark and cloudy sky.
Her home was nothing like this. Yes, it did get rather cold now and then. But never, ever like this. This was winter's winter. How could anyone live here? The child wondered. She bit her lip and did not feel it. Almost her entire face, in particular her nose, along with her fingers and toes had gone numb. A wave of fear washed over Miss Nella Penney; panic clawed at her stomach. Why was she standing here in the middle of nowhere? Willing herself to move her creaking limbs, the girl took a few shaky steps forward. The small pile of snow that had collected atop her head tumbled down her back, silently joining its other snowflake buddies on the ground.
Wearily, she walked and walked and walked, further into the snow-covered land. It was really rather unfortunate, however, for if she were not in such a predicament, Nella would no doubt be thoroughly enjoying this experience. Snow like this was gorgeous, rare where she came from. Each snowflake was different from the other, yet so perfect in its own way. On the island they were difficult to catch, being so small. Here she could easily gulp them down like water. If the child could have, she would have laughed. She spent a lotof time around water.
Step, step, step. Trudge, trudge, trudge. The snow crunched beneath Nella's too-large boots. Slowly but surely it became increasingly difficult to even lift her foot a few centimeters off the ground. With her energy almost completely drained, she deeply considered for a moment to simply give up, there and then. Falling to her knees in the snow in the middle of nowhere, curling her numb little body into a ball, and dying. No one would find her. No one would ever find her. The snow would cover her body like a blanket in no time. When it finally melted, the polar bears will have eaten her up.
Nella would be no more. She had been a colony for a long, long time. She never truly felt the feeling that she belonged to anyone. (Well, she technically belonged to Mr. Britain, but he didn't pay much mind to her, nor her to him. In reality, she stayed as far away from the scary, mean hoser as possible.) She had only just recently finished growing, reaching her unassuming and final height of 5'1". Nella knew her borders, land mass, population, all of that stuff. But right now, at this moment, on this cold day at the end of March, she was alone and she would die alone.
The very moment the small girl was literally about to fall over and die, a small squeak startled her out of her wits. Her green orbs darted eyes darted around wildly until they came to rest on a certain spot. There, a few feet away, was a pair of big, shiny, black eyes. The black contrasting against the white made her wonder how she did not notice it from farther away, it being so blatantly obvious. Nella squinted, and upon closer inspection she could decipher the eyes were attached to a head, which in turn was attached to a body. A chalky, fat body that blended in so perfectly with the environment, she never would have noticed it if not for its eyes.
It squeaked again, moving closer. Slightly frightened, the girl took a step back in return. The squeaky thing yet again came nearer; yet again, she moved away. This strange charade went on for a substantial amount of time, until the white piece of fluff spoke. It said, "Who are you?"
At the sound of the fluff ball speaking, Nella became light-headed, woozy, and nauseous to the point of faint. As expected, (though it is not true she didn't try to stop it) the little colony fainted dead away.
The girl woke up, her body uncharacteristically warm and tingly. Before anything else, she stretched out as she always did after a nap. If you could classify whatever had just occurred as a nap. What really just took place? How did she get here?
A flurry of emotions, unanswered questions and possible outcomes overcame poor little Nella. Perhaps she had died out in the snow, and now she was in heaven. (She had her doubts, though, about where she was going to end up when her end finally came.) Wherever she was, the child was certainly comfortable enough to be in heaven. She curled in to a ball, snuggling into the warmth, accepting of her fate.
We also must remember Nella Penney practically defined the word, Adaptable.
Weary, yet by some means content with her current situation, she yawned, flinging her arms into the air. Her left hand came into contact with something smooth and squishy. A soft, "Ow!" was uttered by someone other than herself. The comfy surface she had been resting on moved.
It moved.
This is when the panic, the truth sunk in. Nella, blind with terror, head spinning, simply did all her body would allow- rolled over onto her back. With a thud she landed on the floor, but did not on a cloud or on snow as she anticipated. Just a floor. A fluffy, bright red carpet. Nella gasped, scrambling to her feet. Alas, her little body was beyond worn out, and she could not even get to her knees. She merely lay on her back, breathless, trying desperately to comprehend what was happening.
A face loomed over her. Her vision was so blurry Nella could not identify the individual. The person bent down, causing Nella to unwillingly flinch. The voice was calming, kind; the arms that lifted her up were strong. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you," they said.
"Wha?" the colony choked out, tears unintentionally welling in the corners of her eyes.
"It's okay, eh?" the voice said in an incredibly soothing tone.
Weakly, she grunted as she strained to sit up, trying to get away from the unknown impending doom. Before Nella Penney could get anywhere, however, one arm slid underneath her legs, and another behind her back, gently lifting her off the (somewhat comfortable) red carpet. Giving up, knowing the fight would be useless, the girl simply let the arms hold her as she took a few seconds to get a grip. Self-talk, she believed the word was. It could either be positive or negative. This was a neutral situation; that is, neither positive nor negative. This person has had the chance to hurt her, and they have not. Why would they now?
The person whom the soft arms belonged to gently rocked back and forth on their heels, as if attempting to lull her to sleep. The girl finally mustered the courage and looked into the face of the squishy being.
Their face was round and happy; like cookie dough. Blonde hair sat atop their head like a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Kind, summer sky blue eyes sparkled from behind a pair of glasses. Their lips were in a straight line as they hummed a tuneless song.
"Who are you?" Nella asked as respectfully as possible, trying to keep the tremor of fear in her voice steady. They did not look threatening by any means, but you never knew, did you?
"Hello," they said cheerfully. Nella's hearing had greatly improved over the last few moments. The voice was no longer fuzzy; it was as clear as day. "I'm Canada," they replied, voice soft as anything she had ever heard.
"Canada?" she whimpered.
"Yes. Who are you?" Mr. Canada glanced down at the girl in his arms and smiled welcomingly, wanting to put the shivery thing at ease. It was a sweet, pure smile. A smile like that had never been aimed to her before.
"Newfoundland," she whispered, wiggling a little bit, at last at last at last feeling safe.
Mr. Canada took the hint and leaned over slightly, carefully depositing the colony located by his Eastern coast onto the bouncy couch he would curl up on with his pet polar bear and watch movies with on every Friday. "I thought so. You smell like Newfoundland."
Nella sighed in relief. Allowing a small smile, she questioned, "Like fish?"
"Like the ocean."
"Oh. How did I get here?"
Mr. Canada took a seat beside her. He sat close, but not too close. He could tell he had scared her enough already. But if he hadn't snuggled her, her poor little fingers would have fallen off! "Kumajiro found you when he went out to play in the snow," he told her.
Nella looked around the small little house. The walls were painted happy colors of baby blue and cake mix yellow. There was a shelf piled with thick books she greatly wanted to get her hands on. Her eyes soon fell on the little fluff ball she had encountered earlier, back in the biting cold of the world outside this home. "Is Kumajiro thatthing, Mr. Canada?"
"Yes he is." Nella swore the country bounced a little in excitement.
"Who are you?" the polar bear asked cutely, looking first at Nella and then his master.
He sighed loudly, making Nella giggle. "I'm Canada, the guy who feeds you."
"Aww," Newfoundland said.
A serious look suddenly clouded Mr. Canada's once jovial features. "Why were you out there, Newfoundland? You could have asked if you wanted to come over. I could have picked you up."
That was an amazingly good question that Newfoundland didn't truly have a proper answer to. "Thank you. But I wanted to do something for myself." She fiddled with the fraying sleeves of her jacket, avoiding his gaze. "Do you understand?"
"I do."
"I'm glad," the child said, even if she didn't completely believe him. She took off a layer of clothing and held it in her lap. Despite the heat in the little house, she was still quite cold, thus keeping the rest of her attire in its place. An important thought struck her. "Oh, we haven't shaken hands yet." She unsteadily held her hand out towards the nation, reminding herself it was the right, not the left. Mr. Britain had let her know that plentyof times. "I'm Newfoundland, Nella Penney."
Mr. Canada took her tiny hand in his and shook up and down. Nella marvelled at the difference in size. His hand totally swallowed hers up in that grip. "Canada. You don't have to call me Mister or anything. You can all me Matthew."
"Okay, Mr. Matthew."
"Just Matthew is okay," he softly admonished.
"Matthew," the girl said out loud to get used to the feeling if it on her tongue. "Nice to meet you," she said, deciding she liked Matthewvery much.
"A pleasure." Just then, Matthew leaped to his feet and excitedly inquired, "How about some pancakes? Would you like some pancakes?" Not waiting a moment for an answer, he dashed off around the corner.
"Okay," she mumbled. Raising her voice, she said," Um, Matthew?"
Canada's head popped around the corner in a rather comical way, curl bopping. "Eh, what's the matter?"
"It's just…" Her voice faltered, not exactly knowing how to put this statement. "I'm not used to calling countries by their real names."
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. I...whenever I talk to Mr. Britain, he's just...Mr. Britain." Newfoundland could not stand the country! He was terribly tall and looming, dreadfully frightening with his eyebrows, scones, and loud voice. He never cared much for her, either. He had no problems giving her up when she wanted independence. Then when the Great Depression rolled around her reluctantly took her back. Newfoundland has belonged to Britain since then, but there was the real purpose of all this trouble. He didn't want her and she didn't want him. Joining Canada seemed to be her only option left. Her people were getting impatient-they wanted change, as did she.
"Well, don't worry about him." He waved her over. "Eh, come here."
Nella, still a little weary, silently agreed and with hesitance made her way over to the kitchen. Canada grinned and gestured. The room was tiny but almost a sickly roomy. "It's not much but its home," he announced, pointing for Newfoundland to take a seat on a maple-leaf shaped chairs.
She sat down.
Matthew made pancakes.
As this went on, he chatted and chatted and chatted the colony's ear off. All the while, the wonderful scent of maple syrup filled the cramped quarters until it became dizzying. Nella ran her finger across the wallpaper, which was decorated with tiny maple leafs. (What did you expect?) She then turned her attention to the snow outside. It had ceased falling by this point. "You have to promise me you won't do that again," Canada said as he sat a gorgeous plate of pancakes drenched in syrup in front of Newfoundland. "It would be so easy just to turn into a Popsicle out there, eh?"
The child's appetite quickly left her. She waited for Matthew to take a seat across from her before she began. The entire well-being of Newfoundland depended on this. The vote she had held not long ago was unanimous-Newfoundland wanted to be a part of Canada. America had tried to snatch her up, of course, but the very thought of being joined with that loud, almost as scary as Britain country made her positively sick. "Canada…" she began quietly. "I was w-wondering…if-if it's okay, um…Is it okay-"
"Oh, forgot to ask," Canada interrupted with a horribly goofy grin. He laid both hands on the table, causing both stacks of pancakes to teeter slightly from the weight, and leaned closer to Nella. As he spoke, the smell of syrup washed over her face. "I'm looking for a tenth province. Do you have any suggestions?"
Nella's face lit up like the sky on his brother's birthday, as did Matthew's. He knew straight from the beginning what this was all about. There had been numerous rumours about Newfoundland for the past few years. It was only a matter of time until she came to him. And he would gladly accept with open arms.
However, he did not expect it to go over with the small colony fainting in a snowstorm, being found by his polar bear, keeping the frost bite away from her hands, and then sealing the deal over pancakes.
Alas, here they were.
Newfoundland once more held her hand out for a shake, but instead Canada lifted a pancake up with his fork. The colony, (well, province) followed suit. The syrup dripped onto the table but neither seemed to care at the moment. Canada and Newfoundland smooshed the pancakes together, Matthew happily declaring, "Welcome to Canada!"