Hi, this is the author speaking! I came up with the idea to write a story like this a couple of months ago, but never really started since I'm trying to finish another story of mine. But I wanted to get this out while I still had the inspiration, so I hope you enjoy it!

~MayBird321

(A/N) Human names are being used.

May 13th, 1948

Spain

Antonio patted the heads of several children who hung around him as he walked off towards his tomato fields. Whistling a nonsense song, he wasn't watching where he was going and tripped over another child. Brushing himself off, he picked up the crying boy.

"Ssh Diego, fusosososo!" he said cheerfully, smiling at him. The child blinked, looking at the Spaniard through teary green eyes. Antonio chuckled as he brought the boy inside, grabbing the basket of tomatoes by the door. The child had turned up several hundred years ago, only to disappear around the 17th century. Of course he knew why... But he was just happy to see him appear again. While he wasn't sure of exactly who he was, he had an idea. Sephardim, the people who had resided in his country for centuries. But those were simply people, whereas him... The boy hadn't aged a day. He had to be a country, but which one? And another thing, the child looked just like a younger version of him! Not that he minded...but it was strange. The Spanish nation hummed absentmindedly as he walked, before a loud booming noise was heard in the distance. Both males looked up in surprise. The sound didn't return.

"That was strange, eh Diego?" Antonio muttered, before realizing the boy was gone.

"Qué?" he murmured, confused.

Germany

Ludwig sighed as he stood over the grave of another fallen soldier. Kissing the tulip in his hand, he placed it on the mound. This had been his routine for the graves he had come across; graves unmarked by tombstones or names. His people. The humans who had been drafted into war by his insane leader. Ludwig had sworn his loyalty to the man, but if he had known it would have turned out like this...The blonde shook his head. It was too late for such thoughts. Already, he was among the most hated nations for being such a large part of the war. He would have to live with it. Walking along the path to a memorial, he spotted a half-dressed boy standing there, tears flowing down his pale cheeks. Ludwig recognized the boy sadly, the swatsika burned into his right shoulder gave him away. The remainder of the people that used to live there, the Ashkenazim.

"Jakob." he said quietly, causing the boy to turn to him. The boy's eyes hardened as he looked at him, his blue eyes full of hate. "I-I'm sorry for what I did to you." Ludwig walked closer, swallowing nervously. He looked down at the child, who didn't answer. Before he could say another word, a loud boom was heard in the distance. Another bomb? The German pulled out a gun, while the boy tensed beside him. He turned to tell him to run, but the child vanished before his eyes.

"W-what?"

France

"...And that is how we cook the crepes!" Francis said, flipping the thin pancake over over. The boy beside him nodded as he watched, blue eyes staring at the crepe. Picking him up, the French man moved him to the table, where he deposited the pancake on top of the ever-growing stack of them.

"Bon Appetite!" Francis passed a plate of crepes to the child, who started to eat. He smiled as he watched boy eat, ruffling his blonde hair effectionately.

"Ah, you look so much like me Jacques." he proclaimed, causing the little boy to pause and look up at the French man. He smiled, causing the boy to laugh. The little boy reminded him somewhat of Canada, before Arthur had taken him away. But now he had another child to keep him company. A loud booming noise was heard outside, making both of them look up.

"Strange." Francis muttered, turning to look back at Jacques. He frowned as he saw that the boy had disappeared. "Huh?"

Ethiopia

Yusef rubbed his eyes it tiredly, as he started looking through his baskets for food to cook. "It is almost time for dinner, and I haven't even begun." Looking outside, he saw a little boy riding on top of a cow as the laborers made kept the plow steady. He giggled as the cow's hips turned from side to side, therefore turning him side to side. After the plow had reached the end, the laborers detached it and handed the cow's rope to the child. Taking it, the boy led it behind Yusef's house to tie it with the others. He came inside, to see the older man cooking. "Go wash your hands Yaekob," he said without turning around. The boy ran out, before returning shortly after. Yusef placed two plates of couscous and beef on the table, before turning to the boy. "Let us eat-" He was interrupted by a loud booming, which cause both of them to peer out the door. There was no sign of a bombing. "Weird." he murmured, before realizing that the boy had disappeared. "What?"

England

The British man stared at his opponent, poised at any moment to strike. The other male stared back, confusion in his bright green eyes. Leaping forward, Arthur attacked an imaginary attacker, striking and blocking shots that were supposedly aimed at him. A small boy watched him, excited as the sword in the Brit's hand shone in the afternoon sun. After a few minutes Arthur stopped, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"That was quite a workout!" he said, smiling. He turned to the child, and held out the weapon.

"Want a go Jacob?" The boy furrowed his brow, which like the older's was quite impressive, before shaking his head.

Arthur laughed as he picked up the boy. "I thought so. Let's get some tea!" A few minutes later, the man was blowing on a steaming cup of Earl Grey. Handing it to the child, he sat back to drink his own tea. A booming sound made him pause mid-sip, a confused look on both of there faces.

"Is Alfred using those bloody firecrackers again?" he wondered out loud, before a crash to his attention. Where Jacob had been, a teacup was smashed on the floor amidst a puddle of tea. "What in the world?"

A tiny country in the Middle East

Jacob landed on the dusty ground with a thud. Standing up, he looked around to see many more little boys in a crowd. Some of them were pale like him, while others were as dark as the hot chocolate he occasionally saw Arthur drink. Walking over to a Hispanic looking boy, he tapped him on the shoulder.

"Pardon me, what's your name?" he asked.

"Me llamo Diego!" the boy responded cheerfully.

"And what about you guys?" Jacob asked loudly, turning to the others.

"Jakob! Jacques! Yaekob! Yakov! Jeppe! Yagop! Giacomo! Jakub! Yakup!" various voices rang out, a bevy of languages clashing. The boys looked at each other, confused. Removing their shirts, they looked over other. Same burn scars and sword wounds, same swatsika burned into their right shoulder. How those wounds came to be, most didn't know, but they all had the same ones.

"Who are we?" one boy asked aloud, as the others chimed in. "Who am I, might be more precise." another ventured. The boys nodded in agreement.

"I know who we are." One boy waved his hands, getting the others attention. "I've been here a long time, so I know. At least, I think I do. We're-"

"You are Yisrael!" came a loud voice, startling the group. Turning, they saw an old man walking towards them. Stretching out his hand as he walked, he touched each boy on the head as he passed by. "I am Yaakov, your namesake. My name was changed to Yisrael!" The man looked over the boys, a stern look in his eyes.

"Yisrael you once were, and Yisrael you shall be again." The boys nodded in amazment, not noticing the slow change coming over them. Their skin tones started to lighten or darken to an olive complexion, and their hair changed to a dark brown. Eyes changed to a forest green, with specks of blue, brown, and gold evident in shining eyes. One by one the boys started to fade, as a tall person appeared in the midst of them. As the last one vanished, a teenaged boy sat in the dust of the desert.

"I...remember." he murmured, looking over his body with growing wonder. "I'm a country."

"Yes, you are. Yisrael, Yaakov Ben-David." The boy walked over to the man, standing before him.

"It's been a while since I've been a country." Yaakov said, smiling.

The old man smiled as well, before turning to walk away. "You will face many more trials." the man said, continuing to walk. "Those scars will only increase. But you will stay strong." He disappeared, leaving the teen by himself.

"I see." Yaakov turned and started walking towards a tall building in the distance. "First order of business. Start getting my country back in order."

Hi! This is another author's note(sorry for being so annoying!) I was originally planning to have America in this listing as well, but since the transfer of American Jews to Israel is more recent, I didn't include it. Also, they don't have a cool name like Sephardim or Ashkenazim. Just...American Jews. Yes, all those quiet little boys are the Jewish population in various countries. I only picked a few since the list goes on and on, but the list(barring France and England) included Sephardim, Askenazim, and Beta Israel. While I probably should have used Russia or Poland to represent the Askenazim, Germany played such a big role with them...I decided to use him instead. I included the other two for their significant Jewish population during WWII. That's all! Please review, it makes the author happy!

Edit: Has changed Ethiopia's relationship with Israel. The Beta Israel were outcasts of that country, running from torture and other horrible things. Making them seem all cheerful isn't accurate. I apologize if I offended any fellow Beta Israelis...I'm a jerk.