Bakutalia

By: Aubrie1234

Dear Readers, my first Hetalia crossover! I just got the idea for this a while back, like what if all the countries had their own bakugan and such? And this came to be! Also, I'm going to use real bakugan for the most part, but they may have extra abilities and Gate Cards, owned by me, their G-Power will be different, the amount of G-Power they gain from the cards will be different, and even if they don't evolve, I am going to give them an evolution! You'll see what I mean once this story gets farther along. And one more thing: To me, America is different when he's alone than when he's with the countries, so don't flame me. Anyway, here's the story, so I hope you like it!

America trudged along, hands in his pockets. He was having a horrible week, as far as he could tell. Monday: World Meeting, but no one would listen to his ideas. Tuesday: Iggy kicked both him and France out of the island nation's house for a reason he couldn't quite remember. Wednesday: He had invited Japan to a video game marathon (where he would surely beat Japan), but the Land of the Rising Sun had been too busy. Thursday: He had just wanted to have a relaxing time in Times Square, but then found Russia stalking him and had to hole up in his NY apartment for the rest of the day (f***ing commie...). Now it was Friday, and America guessed that today was only going to get worse, if his week was anything to go by.

Usually, he was an optimistic person, but when you've had such bad luck in succession, it was hard to stay that way. However, he was not to be deterred, and he headed to Paley Park. It wasn't as famous as Central, but more relaxing and wasn't far from Central. If any of the countries had known he was going to a park to relax, they would have instantly thought of Central, but they would be wrong almost always. Yes, Central Park was amazing, had great music, and he would visit sometimes, but America actually preferred solitude and quiet, which was why he chose Paley.

Upon arriving, he chose a nearby tree to sit under, putting his bag beside him. If he was going to relax, then he would also do paperwork. He loved to have fun, yes, but he was also a working country, unlike what most thought. He was punctual and worked almost endlessly, his only times to relax were World Meetings, his early morning exercise, and his time to himself after dinner. He smirked to himself slightly as he thought of what the other countries would say if they knew he worked.

'Bloody git, why didn't you tell me this? If I knew, then I'd certainly give you more paperwork!'

'America-san, maybe you should relax more...' Despite England and Japan being good friends, America knew they'd have contrasting views on the subject, and he was pretty sure that France and Canada would have the same reactions. However, America wasn't sure with the rest of the world. This made him frown.

He knew who his only friends were, and it was a bit disheartening. England, France, and Canada were family; Japan was his best friend; Italy was also a great friend, and America was one of the few who could put up and even match the Italian's personality (he would have probably agreed with Japan); even though he and Russia learned a bit about each other during the Cold War, America still had no idea of the country's feelings when it would come to something like this; China was one of his biggest trading partners, but he wasn't sure if they were friends or not (it was hard to tell sometimes); Germany and Prussia were more of a mystery to him, as Germany had been his enemy twice in recent years and Prussia, like France, had helped him during the American Revolution (he wasn't quite sure if he should call one a friend, one a foe, or call them both friend or foe. It was hard, as he didn't want to offend either of them); Cuba, he was quite sure, was his enemy, but they could be civil as long as Canada was in the room. The rest of the world he wanted to be friends with, but barely knew them.

America sighed, putting down his paperwork and leaning back, closing his eyes. He always said he was the hero, that he could stand up to anything; he was a forgiver, as he believed more in the 'forgive and forget' saying than most would believe; he was a patriot, and that was a unanimous agreement; he was generous, as he would help those in need. Rarely had he hated anyone, with the exception of one person. He had hated Japan and Germany for a while after WWII, but had forgiven them; it took longer with Russia, but they made amends; he only disliked Cuba, he never really hated him; and there was some dislike-bordering-on-hate with England for quite a while, but they also got over it.

But he wasn't a hero. Even though he said he was one, he still turned his back on others, and he asked for help. He realized he wasn't a hero a long time ago, but he always wished he was one. The only time he ever admitted it, willing or not, was during 9/11. That was a very dark day for him...

Yes, he was a forgiver, but sometimes, it took a while to forgive. Germany, England, and Japan were examples of that. He had forgiven them after everything that they had done, both to him (England and Japan) and the world (Germany and Japan), but it had taken a while. There were still two things he couldn't forgive, however: Terrorism, and his past.

Being a patriot meant he had immense pride in his country; most other nations did, too, but he was more of a patriot than others. He always had a great sense of it, but it always became stronger after certain sad events, such as Pearl Harbor and 9/11. He knew that people became united when they were threatened, and he knew that his people, though they were split much of the time, could unite when they had one common threat, one common goal, one common anything.

The other countries always criticized him for not giving them enough help, but he always ignored it because he knew that they only wanted more out of him. Everyone was generous to a fault, and he was more generous than others. However, no one seemed to understand how much help he was giving them. It was sort of like donating blood to a vampire: you give them some, but they only want more. He just wished they could see how generous he was being.

Finally, there came his past. There were parts of it he loved, parts of it he disliked, but there was just one thing he absolutely loathed about it: the Civil War. He was a free nation now, equal to all, and yet, he still hated how his early years were. He had immigrants coming from all over the world during the 1800s, and yet he still had slaves. He wished that he hadn't had to almost be split in half, but he was. And then came the personification of slavery, of the South, of all the horrible things he had done: Confederacy.

Confederacy, or Conrad (his human name), was one of the two things he truly hated. The real Confederacy, the country, he didn't hate, it was only the personification. And yet, with how much he had hated the embodiment of the evil of America, he couldn't bring himself to kill the South. He never really understood why he didn't when he had the chance, except for one thing.

England had shown a new book series from his country, called Alex Rider. America read them all, but the 9th book touched on his suspicions of why he couldn't kill Confederacy: Conrad looked exactly like him, and killing him would have America feel like he was killing a part of himself. He told himself that he was a hero, and heroes didn't kill the bad guys. Except when it was necessary, or by accident. But America still couldn't have done it. He wasn't cold-blooded, he didn't have the heart to do it. And now, thinking about Conrad, it made America wonder where the South was now. He hadn't seen him since their last fight, at the end of the Civil War, and he wondered if Confederacy had been killed or faded away. However, he knew that wasn't the case, as he would have felt it if it had happened. No matter how hard he tried to wish it was true, that he was wrong, he knew of one thing that would get rid of the South for good: he had to be killed by America's own hands, or at least by another country. It was the only way, he was unfortunately sure.

America wasn't sure how long had his eyes closed, but when he opened them again, all he could see was darkness. He blinked, rubbing his eyes a bit. Still dark.

"Don't tell me that night fell already!" he cried, but his voice sounded muffled, almost like it was being covered up as soon as it left his mouth. He looked around, turning his head, but still couldn't see anything. He stood and began to walk, wondering what had happened and where he was. The darkness around him was unnatural, and America couldn't even see himself!

It seemed to go on forever until America came across something. In the distance, he could see some sort of light. Hope renewed, he began to run towards the source and soon could hear sounds. Sound like those that fire could make.

As he came closer, he slowed his running to where he was walking when he was almost to the light. From what America could see, it looked like a giant, colorful bonfire in the darkness, and seemed to chase it away. All sounds were clear here, everything was bright and jovial. And yet...it still felt somewhat sad and oppressive.

America continued to walk closer until he was almost up against the fire. Strangely, he felt no heat from it, only a sad sort of happiness, like when you left a friend to live a better life. He knew how that felt, especially after the Revolution; he had been happy to be free, yet sad at breaking England's heart. Curiously, he stretched out his left hand to touch the fire. Again, he felt no heat, and it seemed to play with his hand, where he chuckled.

"I bet you're lonely out here, aren't you?" he said aloud, though he knew the fire wouldn't answer, "You're the only light out here, keeping away the darkness, but you're sad because no one is here for you. I know the feeling. I've had to go through something like this before, when I was younger. It was one of the saddest times in my life, but I got over it because I kept thinking towards the future, towards hope. I won't say I've never felt bad, like the darkness was trying to swallow me, but I made it through those times because I had friends to help me. Do you want a friend?" It was a strange question to ask when he knew he wouldn't get an answer, but he did anyway. To him, it almost felt like the fire had a mind of its own. What surprised him the most was what happened next.

"Yes."It came into his mind, sounding like a child's whimper. And yet, he didn't pull away.

"I can be your friend. My name's Alfred F. Jones, or America. Do you have a name?"

"No." it said, "But I don't like it here. I want to leave."

"I can take you home with me, if I just knew how..."

"I have an idea..." Before America could do anything, the fire swirled around his outstretched arm and trailing down, going into his chest. He gasped at the sudden inviting warmth, the giddy happiness, and the overall hope it gave him. It made him feel like he could get back on his feet no matter how many times he was knocked down. He loved the feeling. However, some of the fire stayed behind and began to form into things. There was a ball, four cards, and a strange gauntlet-like thing around his forearm. As he collected these, the fire around them disappeared, but the darkness didn't cover them. It seemed the darkness was just as scared of these things as they were of the fire. Except, when all of the fire was inside him and gone from the objects, the darkness seemed to rush in.

It was like it tackled him from all sides, especially at his chest. It clawed at him, pounding his chest like it was a door blocking the darkness from the fire. But there was no pain. No matter what the darkness did, there was no pain. Like the stubborn nation he was, he defended himself, fighting against the darkness, but he couldn't hit anything. It was like there was nothing to hit. He then realized this was what the darkness wanted; it wanted him to wear himself out. However, he was not about to go down so easily.

Empowered by his willpower to keep fighting against the darkness, even if he couldn't hit it, he felt something like a door open inside him, and the fire from before rushed in, warming him, giving him new strength. The darkness backed away at this, and this time, he could actually hear it screaming; screaming in fear, terror, pain. He could actually touch it, and he wasted no time in tearing it apart, destroying and killing it. He would admit he took no pleasure in this, but that he was glad he was protecting a friend, like a hero, and the fire was helping him as his friend.

Eventually, he fought all the darkness away, but he still couldn't see anything around him except for a glow. It was red, and it surrounded him like an aura. When he closed his hands, they became covered in fire, but it didn't hurt him. Seemed the only thing it hurt was the darkness. And, thinking of weapons, the fire transformed into whatever weapon he thought of. It was amazing, but he knew this power wasn't his, it was the fire's. He allowed it to rush out the door, draining him from all that it had given. He felt very weak from it, but was glad that the darkness wasn't around him. Somehow, he just knew it wasn't there, even though he couldn't see it and he really couldn't see anything else.

He knew from when he exercised about when he should rest, and he was too weak to do anything, really. All he could do was rest, but with that maniac darkness around, he couldn't try it. But when he laid down, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep an eye out; he was much too sleepy. Before he slept, one more thought came into his mind from the fire.

"Thank you, Alfred..."

His eyes shot open as he gasped, sitting up. America was back in the park, and the sun looked like it was setting. How long had he slept? Was that only a dream? Moving his arm, he glanced down at the extra weight on it and knew he was wrong. The strange red-and-white gauntlet-like thing was still on his arm, and in his hands were the black cards and the red-and-yellow ball. Also, something felt...different about him. He felt the same way he had when the fire had given him powers: giddy, warm, and hopeful. He felt like the hero he always said he was.

Putting the cards down, he took out his phone to find many text and phone messages from various people, mainly his boss, trying to find out where he was. Boy, was he going to get chewed out... Yet, he didn't feel all that worried about it. It was like the fire had given him his sense of eternal optimisim back, though he doubted anyone would believe his story.

Turning his head to his other hand, he opened it up to examine the ball. To his surprise, it opened on its own. It looked like a miniature red dragon with yellow highlights.

"Hello." it said in a boyish voice, similar to England's except deeper, "My name is Leonidas."

"What are you?" America asked. With everything that happened that day, he thought he shouldn't be surprised.

"I'm a Bakugan, and also the guardian of Pyrus Energy."

"That flame..." America murmured.

"Yes, that flame was the Pyrus Energy." Leonidas nodded, "I was created as not only a guardian of it, but also for you, Alfred. When you absorbed the energy like you did, you became more of a second shield for it."

"But, how do you know my name? What's a bakugan?"

"I know your name because the flame told me, after you said it first." America nodded as Leonidas continued, "As for bakugan, it's a long explanation, but I'll gladly tell it. Bakugan are creature from another dimension, known as New Vestroia, which was originally Vestroia until it had to be reunited. Every bakugan is one of six attributes: Pyrus, Aquos, Ventus, Darkus, Haos, and Subterra. I am Pyrus, the attribute of fire."

"Aquos is water, Ventus is air, Darkus is darkness, Haos is light, and Subterra is earth or, more specifically, under earth."

"Smart." Leonidas said. America smiled.

"Thanks, and may I call you Leo? I think it would be better than just calling you Leonidas all the time." Leo nodded.

"As I was saying, every bakugan is one of those attribute, and there are some that can actually change it during battle. Every attribute is either strong or weak against another one, such as Pyrus, for example. Pyrus is strong against Darkus, yet weak against Aquos. In the original Vestroia, there was a world for each attribute, but now, New Vestroia is a shared world for us all."

"And the Pyrus Energy?"

"Yes, that. It is one of the six Attribute Energies. They are the energies that really give each attribute their strength. I, along with five others, was given the energy by the Six Legendary Soldiers."

"Who are they?"

"They are six ancient bakugan who protect the core of our world, the Perfect Core. It used to be the Infinity Core and the Silent Core, who represented the pure good and pure evil of everything. The Perfect Core is also what changed Vestroia into New Vestroia."

"What about these?" America pocketed his phone and picked up the cards, which had designs on the other side.

"Those are Ability Cards and a Gate Card, which is thicker than the Ability Cards." Leo flew to America's shoulder so the nation could use both hands to spread out the cards, "The Gate Card is what you throw out at the start of a battle between bakugan. It allows us to become our normal forms and can change the rules of battle or give us G-Power."

"G-Power?"

"It's our version of energy. The Ability Cards work the same, basically, but can be used more than once, unlike a Gate Card."

"Alpha Blast, Alpha Flight, Nipping Strikes..." America read the titles of the Ability Cards before reading the Gate Card, "Leonidas. Why does the Gate Card have your name on it, Leo?"

"It's called a Character Card. Character Cards give double the G-Power to whatever bakugan it represents instead of the usual amount, such as myself, for example. You activate this Gate Card while I'm out on the battlefield, and I get double the amount of G-Power while my opponent only gets the set amount." America nodded in understanding before checking his phone. His eyes widened before putting both the cards and his phone in his pocket and jumping up, also grabbing his bag and making sure all of his work was in there.

"Man, I never realized how late it was! I need to get home!" He began to run and Leo hung on to his shoulder.

"Alfred, may I ask why you're running so quickly?!"

"My boss will kill me if I don't! I never called him today and he, along with some of my friends, are worried about me!"

"Why don't you just call them?" That made America stop in his tracks.

"Oh, right." His hand hovered over the phone, though, as he turned to Leonidas, "Leo, no one except me knows about bakugan or about what happened in my dream, okay? So don't go talking around people. Also, when we get home, I've got my own secrets to tell you." Leo was about to ask him what sorts of secrets he had, but America was already dialing away, and even from his other shoulder, Leo could hear the yelling America was getting from the phone. He felt sorry for the poor American, but he had no idea what he was about to get himself involved in...

Ta-Da! First chapter of the new crossover story! What do you think? R & R, readers and reviewers!

P.S.: Also, I DO NOT like to cuss at all, so if I do in my stories, I cover it up. So, if you want it in there, in all its glory, I WILL NOT DO IT.