"Sir England?"
A blond man lifted his gaze from his pile of paperwork and focused on the man who had just walked into his office and addressed him. His guest had an unreadable expression etched on his face, which was rather odd for him as usually he would act rather flustered about issues that he had to raise with him. In his usual formal wear of dress shirt, maroon jacket and matching pants complete with a hankerchief in the pocket and belt, the man's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he waited for the first man's reply.
The man behind the table put down his fountain pen silently and straightened himself, "What is it?"
The visitor reached behind his back and produced a piece of paper. England could see, from where he was seated, splodges of red staining the back of the paper. The visitor proffered it to him, in which England accepted and proceeded to read the contents.
Celebrating Singapore! Our Home. Celebrate Singapore's 48th birthday...
England didn't bother to continue reading as he looked back sharply at the person standing in front of him and grumbled, "What does this have to do with me, you wanker?"
The visitor bowed slightly, "Aren't you going to do something for her? Like get her a present or wish her a happy birthday?"
England scoffed, "As if I have time for that."
"But, she was part of you once..." England shot him a dirty look here. "I mean, she was founded by Sir Stamford Raffles, one of us. She shared with us her resources that we didn't have on our land and helped you in the wars by suppling you with rations. She even give you tips on using spices to preserve. She has taught you a lot of skills that we wouldn't have known because we were too narrow-minded," the man took his stand rather matter-of-factly.
England considered this for a minute, and sighed exasperatedly, "That is true. However, she's no longer my little daughter anymore. She's independant already."
The man smiled, "The more you should congratulate her for surviving on her own for so long, yes?"
England looked out his window, sunlight blinding his eyes, "Maybe..."
After dinner, Japan took his usual seat at the porch and gazed out into the night. The moon was full, illuminating his garden with a mystical ethereal glow. The fireflies played about the grass blades, a continuous click-clack of bamboo hitting against the stone accompanying their fun. He could see Tama pawing at the fairy lights and his mochi self resting on top of a huge log of petrified wood he put there as decoration. Japan smiled, in spite of himself. He enjoyed peaceful nights like this.
However, the serene scene was interrupted by his dog barking and padding towards him, a piece of paper wedged between his teeth. He dropped it at Japan's knees and barked again, tail wagging excitedly. Japan patted his dog's head and reached for the paper, slightly damp with saliva and torn at the corners. He turned it over and found a message, written in bright red.
Celebrating Singapore! Our Home. Celebrate Singapore's 48th birthday with special performances and roadshows with a fireworks display to end the special day in style!
Japan's head cocked to the side questioningly, then smiled minutely. Yes, he rembered her. He took her by force from Britain and made her his own. Smiling as he recalled the pain and suffering he enjoyed seeing in the villagers as they got on their knees to genuflect before him and submitted themselves to him, the nostalgia made him feel all mighty once more. However, at the same time, he couldn't help but also think about how Hiroshima and Nagasaki was badly destructed by atomic bombs and was forced to give her back. Japan's smile faded, replaced by a thin line. If it wasn't for England, she would still had been his...
Tama meowed loudly as the mochi fell off the log and landed on the poor feline with a loud thud. The cat scrambled back on his paws and darted inside, barrelling into the stoic-looking man in the process, sending them flying and landing on their backs with another loud sound. The fireflies dispersed then, scrambling around in all directions trying to find a place to hide. The mochi, startled by the sudden change in the atmosphere, tried to roll as quickly as possible back to Japan's porch as to seek shelter. The ivory-furred dog barked, running towards the mochi and attempted to pick him up to help him in his escape, but in vain as the mochi started to spew unidentifiable profanities at the dog in fear of being eaten. Japan, the man himself, pushed himself up on his elbows, shooing away Tama who scrambled away then, and sat upright again. He sighed exasperatedly.
"Well, last time I heard, she is on her own already. Singapore is already 48 years old," he gazed at the piece of paper longingly, "Such a small country. It is rather hard to believe. Ah, well. I guess I better send her something to wish her a happy birthday..."
"Germany! Germany!"
The dreadful sound of Italy's cheerful voice filled his ears, instantly making his heart sink to the soles of his boots. The slicked-haired blond suppressed a sigh of exasperation and turned on his heel to face the direction of the sound. Sure enough, running towards him with his arms flailing about, Italy's navy top hem fluttered in the wind as the brunette materialised over the horizon, his hair curl bouncing about along with the motion as happily as its owner.
Germany mustered a non-chalant look as Italy approached, "What is it now, Italy? Let me guess; you scored yourself a woman? If it is about that I rather not hear about it," he greeted Italy as soon as the latter opened his mouth to say something.
The Italian shook his head, "Not yet, but I found something really cool!" He reached into his breast pocket, rambling on about how he was on his way to meet Japan to teach him how to make bolognase and he came across the extraordinary when crossing the Asia boundary. It was then he removed his hand from the pocket and pulled out a piece of crumpled paper. He hastily smoothed it out and handed it to Germany, who took it without any comment and read it silently.
Celebrating Singapore! Our Home. Celebrate Singapore's 48th birthday...
"Singapore? Who's that?" Germany questioned thoughtlessly.
Italy gave him a surprised look, "You don't know who Singapore is?" As Germany shook his head, the brunette continued, "She's this really cool bella that Japan brought over once. You weren't there because you were in Africa that time but anyway, even though I only met her for a while, she taught me how to use tomatoes in all sorts of dishes and she even gave me a taste of her own and it's really good!" he smiled widely, reminicising.
Germany nodded, despite himself, but stopped as Italy's smile faded, "But Japan was really mean to her. He made her do all sorts of things while he sits at home and drink tea all day!" He huffed but quickly covered it up with another smile, "But then England saved her so she's okay."
Germany sighed, "Well, good for her to have someone watch over her."
Italy nodded, "Not anymore now though!" When he saw his guardian's face scrunch up in confusion, he explained, "She broke off from Britain and started living on her own. She's doing very well! Last time I saw her she's all grown-up and really pretty, ve!"
Germany smiled and glanced at the creased paper again. Hearing about this "Singapore" really made him have respect for her. As far as his memory goes, he knew she was a small country surrounded by sea. Now, already living for so long on her own and still striving, Germany couldn't help but feel a tug at his heart telling him to congratulate her. He looked up to Italy's open eyes which were twinkling with hope and excitement
"Alright, let's go and wish her a happy 48th."
He groaned as he lost yet another match and threw down his X-Box controller, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. The glass nearly broke under the impact of his heel, making cracking sounds threateningly. However, the blond paid no attention as he tossed into his mouth a couple of corn chips from his popcorn bowl. Munching loudly, he wondered how many times he had failed on that particular stage, cocking his head to the side and raising an eyebrow deep in thought. Probably more than on four hands. He grinned, satisfied with his answer.
He grabbed his remote and pressed the red 'Power' button, the bright screen suddenly turning black. His reflection materialised on the screen; a man with bright diamond blue eyes, tousled tan-coloured hair, ivory-coloured skin and defined body features clad in a sky blue wife-beater and army green slacks leaning back on a light green sofa stared back at him. Smirking, he reached over to the side table and grabbed Texas, his glasses. He slid them on and ruffled his hair as he stood up and walked over to the open window, gazing outside.
It was summer where he was. Bright sunlight filtered through the leaves of trees in his backyard, casting shadows like bacteria spreading on the grassy floor. Flower bushes grew at the base of the tree, coloured vibrantly in different hues of reds, blues and violets. The blond could see small butterflies hovering about the flowers, no doubt looking for sweet nectar to feed on. The wind introduced itself, rustling with the leaves and tipping over the weaker butterflies. The man took in a huge gulp of fresh air, stretching his arms over his head and yawning loudly.
Just then, his phone beeped in his pocket, vibrating against his thigh. Feeling interrupted, the blond reached into his deep pocket, feeling around for the restless contraption. Once he finally found it, he flipped it open and pressed the green flashing button, rubbing his left eye from below Texas' frame.
"'Sup, dude?" he moaned sleepily into the speaker.
"Hi, America," a voice so soft that the receiver had to turn up the in-call volume to maximum emitted from the speaker, "I'm so sorry to call you at this time but I was wondering if you are going to-" the voice became almost inaudible with every word until almost no sound can be heard. The receiver checked to see if the call was still running (it was) and replaced the speaker to his ear.
"Dude, I need you to speak up, Canada. I can't hear you, bro," America spoke, fiddling with Nantucket, a lock of hair that had separated itself from the rest, "Spare me fhe details. Give me the juice."
"Oh, alright," Canada's voice was slightly louder than normal, for which America was grateful for, "I was wondering if you are going to Singapore's birthday celebration. Everyone else is."
Singapore? Oh yeah. The British dude's daughter or whatever. The one when I had to bomb Japan to help him her back. He consulted his calendar, located on his side table. True enough, marked on 9th August, obviously not in his handwriting, was the words "Singapura's Birthday". He turned his attention back to his phone.
"Will there be cake?"
"I guess so..." the Canadian's voice was hesitant.
"I'm in!"
Spain turned around to find Romano already seated in his usual place at the dining table (the head of it), waiting patiently for lunch to be served. Needless to say, he was rather surprised; the younger of the two was actually waiting for his pasta. Spain smiled in spite of himself and forked a plateful of cooked pasta for his so-called 'son'.
He silently slid the plate over to the chocolate-haired man and pulled his cooked paella off the stove, steam emitting from the metal pan. The sweet scent of prawns, cheese and tomato filled the kitchen, instantly crafting a wider smile on the Spaniard's face. He set the paellera down and glanced into the drawers to look for the necessary cutlery. To his surprise, most of them are gone.
"I already got them," an annoyed voice sounded from the dining room, "you hopeless bastard." Spain cringed at this remark. Even though it has been years since Romano started living with him, the guardian still cannot get used to his ward's 'nicknames' for him.
Spain remained silent as he brought his plate, already loaded with the tomato rice, over to the table and sat down to Romano's right, silently wishing that no other nasty remark will be shared throughout the rest of the meal, and picked up his spoon. He skilfully cracked and peeled away the shells of the crustaceans, puttimg their soft shells aside, before digging his spoon into the rice and started eating. The other followed shortly after, mixing the strands with the chunky, tomato sauce before bringing them up to his mouth to devour it.
The Spaniard glanced back into the kitchen through it's doorway, the stong smell of the extra paella wafting into his nose. It was rather a pain to realise that you had to cook paella in large batches when you can only eat less than one-tenth of it. He wondered what he should do with the rest (it'll be a waste if he were to dump it away into the trash) and decided to give it to the children at the orphanage nearby.
Romano, who had been silent all this while, suddenly spoke up, "Hey, I'll be going back to Italy for a couple of weeks." Before Spain could ask why, the Italian put up a hand, silencing him, "Feliciano invited me to some Asian country's birthday celebration, whatever. I'm leaving tomorrow, and you better not follow me like last time, *profanity*!" Romano spat the last word, delighted to see his guardian shudder slightly.
Once he recovered from the outburst, Spain asked, "Asian country? It's not Japan, right?"
Romano shook his head, "It's his 'servant'." He did the quoting gesture with his fingers when hie said "servant".
"Ah, then it's the trader Singapore, right?" Spain shoved a spoonful of rice in his mouth, "She invited me when I went over to settle some trading matters with her. Ah, she's gotten so beautiful since the first time I met her..." Spain's mind went into the clouds.
"Whatever, manwhore. I'm going with Feliciano so you find your own way there."
"Don't worry about me. She's sending me a private jet with a chaffeur so I don't have to walk so far..."
France looked on as he noticed Russia break away from the duo and enter a clothing store. Through the display window, the tall, white-haired man in his usual white coat and matching scarf looked around before heading deeper inside. France blinked peculiarly at the older's actions before hurrying into the store, worried for his ally.
The store the both of them had walked into was a woman's clothing store. Fabric in all sorts of colours showed off under the bright, white ceiling lights. Mannequins, clad in the latest fashion, posed for the shoppers. Rows and rows of hung dresses, tops and others lined the length of the rather rectangular store on racks, waiting for someone to pick them up and try on. Customers lingered around, waiting for their turn to use the dressing room, gazing at accessories or paying at the cashier. There wasn't much people in the store (probably because the store is not very well known) so it was rather easy to spot Russia, who is standing by the cashier, appearing as if talking to an employee of the store.
The French treaded through the dresses and approached the Russian. The salesperson was holding up a red dress with a sort of a tribal pattern by silver sequins. It was a short skirted, no sleeve dress; one would wear it as a top. The sequins skirted the ruffles on the hem and sleeves, twinkling in the light like stars against a blood-red night sky.
"It's a peplum top," the salesperson was saying, "It's just been exported from Greece to all over the world."
France glanced at Russia. His face was unreadable but he could tell that the taller of the two was in thought. France had no idea why he wanted to buy such a top, considering his sisters Belarus, whom the duo feared greatly and probably would not enter her 50km radius, and Ukraine, with boobs too big to fit into even the bottom of the top, would not be the best people to wear it. It was a rare sight but nonetheless, France did not dare ask.
Russia smiled, his furrowed look replaced by his big, careless grin, "It is perfect. I'll take it."
The salesperson nodded and scrambled away. France stared at him incredulously, "Russia, why are you buying that?"
The ivory-coloured haired man turned, vibrant purple eyes met sky blue ones, and smiled warmly, "Oh, it's for a friend. Her birthday is coming soon so I decided to buy her a nice present since she has been so nice to me ever since I met her."
Finally understanding, France nodded, "Well, my friend, I feel that you have made the right choice."
Russia grinned, "Yes. She's having a big celebration so I want you to come along with me."
"Of course I will go with you! I shall be the star of the party!" France announced loudly, sparkles dancing all around him.
However, his happiness did not last long as when the salesperson came back with the dress packed in a bag, Russia reached into France's pocket and fished out the latter's wallet, paying with its contents without any comment.
He watched as the performers leave the stage, happy that the practice run was finished. He got up from his seat and climbed down the steps of the large seating area that possibly have been made for a football match, walking up to the stage which was suspended on the surface of the Singapore River (which was not really a real river, and the stage was secured to main ground by cement, he told himself). He marvelled at the decorations that hung on the rafters, speakers and all the sorts. Huge streamers, metal flowers that stood at 10 times taller than he was and the fixtures of the Merlion stood out among the silver and black, proudly showing off their wonderful colours of purple, red and white. Behind stood the Skyline, the Marina Bay Hotel, the Flyer and the PowerTrees at the Gardens by the Bay, their lights disguised as stars against the night sky. The road that divided the stage from the seating area was loaded with military vehicles that were going to be used on the day itself.
As he approached centre stage, he noticed somebody was standing on a scaffold looking skywards. As he walked closer, he realised that it was a girl clad in white bermudas, white tee and a red, no sleeved hoodie. A pair of headphones hung around her neck, matching her sneakers which were also coloured red and white. A lion snow hat donned on her head, its eyes also gazing upon whatever she was too. Her short, boy-cut black hair swayed along with the gentle breeze.
"Sierra!" he called out.
The girl looked down. Seeing the man approaching her, she waved and jumped down from the metal structure, landing perfectly on her two feet, to greet him. "Hi, PM!"she jokingly called out, running to meet him halfway.
The man smiled, pushing away the fact that she called him PM in his mind, and embraced her warmly, "Hello there. Did you enjoy the show?"
Sierra nodded, "Very shiok, PM! I think everybody will like it!"
The man shook his head. She is using Singlish again. He released her from his grip and laid a hand on her shoulder, "Look at you. You're turning 48 in just a few days."
"Yeah, and I asked a lot of my friends to come and celebrate with me!" she hopped on the spot excitedly, but stopped sooner, "Can right, PM?"
The man chuckled, "Of course, Sierra," he then patted her head, "Well, I'd better be going now. I still have some work to do."
She pouted, "Okay, lah. I go home also; I have homework to do," she then looked back up into the man's eyes, "You coming for the real parade right?"
The man nodded. "Confirm with chop I'm coming," he jokingly said, "After all, it is also my homeland's birthday," he then put on a stern tone, "Make sure to use proper English when you talk to the other countries, okay?"
She nodded, "I know already. Steady lah, PM. I got this."
"Hey, there they are!" America grinned and waved to the approaching figures. The European countries turned to the direction of where the youngest was facing to see the Asian countries walking steadily in a neat row up to them. Italy waved, running towards them, his red scarf fluttering in the wind, with Germany, matching with a white scarf, trailing behind.
China approached his allies, dressed in his normal red changshan and a panda plush in his arms. He raised a hand and greeted his friends with a formal but cheerful, "Ni hao!"
"Hi China!" Words among that lines were exchanged between the Europeans and Asian. England gazed behind China's shoulder to notice Japan being caught up in Italy's arms with Germany yelling at him to put the Japanese down, and five other people walking towards them, each dressed differently but somewhat alike China. He turned back to the latter.
"You brought friends," the blond, plainly sporting a white formal outfit and red tie.
China nodded and took a step back, "Yes, these are my Asia friends; Malaysia, Indonesia, Philippines, Korea and Taiwan." As each name was called, the respective country bowed slightly in response.
Malaysia was a confident-looking man, probably in his twenties, dressed in a red, long sleeved shirt and matching pants which seemed to be made of silk. A large brown cloth with minute gold thread sewn in a antique-like pattern was tied around his waist, secured with a rose bow. Donned on his head was a flat, broad black hat with a large, red jewelled flower brooch on the left side. He smiled widely, placing his right hand on his heart area and bowed again, "Nice to meet all of you. I am glad to meet you on my younger sister's birthday."
Russia raised an eyebrow, "Younger sister?"
He nodded, "Yes. I took care of her ever since she demanded independance from Sir England." Russia and England nodded in sync.
Indonesia was a petite, shy girl wearing the same styled outfit as Malaysia but her brown cloth was designed as a long skirt instead. A similar cloth draped across her torso like a shawl. Pinned in her hair was a plastic replica of purple orchids. She tucked a strand of her long, black locks behind her ear and curtised awkwardly to the other countries.
France laughed, "No need for formalities here, demoiselle. We're all friends!" He then draped an arm ovee the girl's shoulders, "If you want, I can treat you to a lovely dinner and some fine wine I saw at the hotel!" The girl fidgeted under his grasps in response, looking at her friends for help. Russia chuckled at her expression.
Philippines folded her arms, scoffing at the scene before her. Clad in a pair of khaki slacks and a faded white shirt, her striking, dark brown eyes bore holes into the bacm of France's skull. Fitted on her head was a large, basket-weaved hat that stereotype Asian fishermen were known to wear, "Don't flatter yourself, gentleman-" England held back a snort, "Her father left me under my watch so you'd better keep your hands to yourself."
Taiwan placed a reassuring hand on her friend's shoulder, "Let him be. I bet he has never seen an Asian country except for Father China and Step-Brother Japan," she smiled warmly. Dressed simply like China, except hers is pink and longer with a hibiscus motif on her shoulder and a matching brooch pinned to her hair, she patted Philippines' shoulder caringly but warningly. The younger-looking one huffed again.
Korea piped up from behind Malaysia, "Yeah, you're so uptight. We're here to celebrate and have fun!" His white, kimono-like outfit fluttered in the gentle breeze as he stepped out of the taller man's shadow and put his two hands together, covered by too long sleeves, bowing lowly again. His short but unkempt black hair bounced along with the movement, "Annyonghaseyo. Hello, my name is Korea."
Nantucket on top of America's head bounced as a light bulb flickered on in his head, "Hey, dude. You make all those amazing K-Pop music right?"
Korea nodded, "Yes, we are rather proud of it."
America smiled widely, "It's great, man! I love them!" He held out a hand, which Korea returned with a high-five after a few seconds of contemplating.
Just then, Italy's head popped in between Malaysia and Indonesia, "Hey, the show is gonna start! Let's go find our seats!" He waved his ticket in the air.
Germany and Japan appeared from behind the Italian, "We were given VIP seats, right behind Singapore's Prime Minister. Let's go and greet him." Germany suggested, adjusting his scarf, while Japan nodded silently.
The countries nodded and started walking to the stairs that led to the seating area. Along the way, England sneaked a glance at Japan. He was in his usual, white formal wear but added a red rose pin which he had attached to his right shoulder. His solid black eyes met England's emerald green ones, and the former smiled minutely, bowing slightly.
"Nice to see you here, Igirisu-san," Japan recoiled from his bow and acknowledged the Englishman, "Do not worry. I come in peace."
England could not help but chuckle a little, "Me too. We're okay, right?"
Japan was about to answer when the both of them had reached the top of the stairs. It was packed with people, all dressed proudly in red and white, searching for their seats. Some of them had already found theirs and were seated waiting patiently. Some were also taking out packets of snacks and were munching on them. The children waved about small red and white flags. Both of them recognised the flag as the Singapore flag. A cresent moon and five symettrical stars rising into a red sky above a white sea.
France approached the two men, who were gaping at the scene before them, "What's the matter, you two?" he asked, seeing the West and East countries snap out of their thoughts simultaneously, "C'mon, you two. The Prime Minister wants to see you both."
Japan and England glanced at each other, trying to read each other's thoughts. The Prime Minister of Singapore, the country that both of them had sought after for decades, wants to meet them? A moment of silence passed between the two before Japan chuckled and extended a hand.
"After you, Igirisu-san."
Fireworks exploded, their trails of light colouring the pitch black night sky with reds, whites and purples, their loud booming explosions accompanied with lively music from the performance as a mass singing item was being carried out. The audience waved about their flags as they sang along to the music that blared from the speakers, each voice melding into one.
We are one Singapore, one nation strong and free!
With one heart, one voice, we make our history
Japan glanced around at his friends. Everyone was on their feet, waving about their own mini Singapore flags to the rythem of the songs. Italy waved about his enthusiastically, Germany by his right waving his as well to keep his friend happy. Romano and Spain, who had arrived before they did, had their hands on the other's shoulder, swaying and trying to sing along with the music, as if semi-drunk. He glanced to his right. The Asian countries were politely waving their flags along with the beat of the upbeat music, a happy expression etched on their faces. America was jumping up and down excitedly, flailing his flag around, much to the disgust of France and Russia, who were nodding along the music. England was trying his best to ignore the American beside him and was watching the performers and the emcees alike leading the crowd in the sing-a-long.
Japan smiled. Somehow or other, he preferred the Singapore he was seeing now compared to the Singapore when the country was his. He patted England's shoulder, the latter turning to face him with a questioning look screened on his face.
"Your daughter has grown hasn't she?" Japan commented cheekily.
England couldn't help but laugh, "Very fast, I admit."
The two then glanced at the girl that was singing enthusiastically beside the Prime Minister. Dressed in a simple red shirt and white jeans, her face was scrunched up in happiness as she swayed and sang along to the music that had changed into a slower one. Clipped into her short dark hair was a small plastic replica of the Singapore flag, matching the headphones that were slung around her neck, coloured in red and white. The two countries smiled as they watch her wave around her flag proudly.
"Singapore! Singapore!"
Sierra turned to find the countries she had invited swarm all around her and showering her with "Happy birthday!"-s and gifts. She laughed as she accepted each and every one of her visitors and gifts with open arms. Spain and Italy engulfed her in a huge hug, while Russia and France proffered her a plastic bag containing the most beautiful red dress she had ever seen. America and the Asian countries pelted her with so many congratulations she couldn't keep up with the conversation. She felt overwhelmed with emotions that she couldn't help but tear with happiness.
"Thanks everybody, for coming!" she wiped away the crystalline pearls that threatened to flow out of her eyes, "I thought you guys wouldn't come!"
"Are you kidding? You're an amazing person! Why wouldn't we come?" America gave her a friendly side hug, which Sierra couldn't help but laugh at.
"We also have something else for you!" Italy piped up and pointed to behind the girl.
As she turned, she could see a black haired man in a solid white shirt and matching pants with black latches as buttons, a red rose pin on his shoulder being the only striking colour on his outfit and a blond man dressed in a white formal suit and red tie standing side by side holding out a white and red cake. Piped in red on the top of the cake was the words Selamat Hari Jadi Singapura. Candles illuminated the cake with a orange glow.
Sierra's eyes widened in unbelievement. She looked up to the two men, who were smiling at her in a proud and caring way. The countries behind her had already started singing the birthday song and pushing her towards the cake.
"England. Japan-san. You guys came as well?"
Japan nodded, "Yes, why would I miss your birthday?"
Sierra thought for a while, "Because you didn't come for the last 47 years?"
"Really, Japan? That's mean!" Italy whined from behind the said man.
"Well, the both of us have decided that we will attend your birthday celebration every year from now on," England smiled.
Sierra laughed as she blew out her candles, the other countries clapping in the background, "Better keep your word! I'll be looking out for you guys!"
Hey guys! Sorry that I haven't been posting in a while. It's Singapore's birthday today (9 August)! So I decides to write a nice little fanfic birthday present for her. This was such a pain to write, especially because of all the writer's blocks I had while writing this. Oh well, it's over now and I'm really happy I managed to finish this on time!
As you can tell I got really, really lazy at towards the end and it's because I was rushing. It's also Hari Raya Aidilfitri and I spent the entire day yesterday visiting so I couldn't write. Nonetheless, hope you guys like this. Special thanks to English-illiterate for being there for me until the end and suggesting a name for Singapore! Please R&R! Also, if you have any questions regarding the historical references I made (eg. Malaysia's younger sister), feel free to PM me and I'll answer as soon as I can!
PS: Sierra is my OC for Singapore. I did not copy from any other person. The Axis, the Allies, Taiwan and Korea are the only original characters from Hetalia.
Until next time, have a nice day!
~nadiamirah