Author's Note: Been wanting to write this.

Summary: After being referred by his uncle, Arthur Kirkland began traveling as a researcher to study and investigate these peculiar human-like beings called 'Nations', the embodiment of present-day countries. But, it seems he has become a subject of interest of his research subjects. USUK, Human-England!

The Research Project
研究プロジェクト

One

"One order of two-piece pancake meal with hash brown and regular coffee – enjoy!" the waiter said, in an almost mechanical tone – which wasn't abnormal as he'd been told to say those words for a hundred times – before thrusting the paper bag onto Howard's hands. He gave a brief nod before handing the bag of food to his brother, rolled up his window, and drove off. Arthur, his brother, peered inside the paper bag and made a face of disgust.

"This wasn't what I had in mind when you said breakfast," Arthur complained. The greasy oil of the food had seeped into the paper bag, creating dark stains that stuck on his pale fingertips. He lifted his hand, but Howard shook his head.

"Don't you dare wipe that oil at me, Mum taught you better," Howard warned, and his brother only stuck his tongue at him and wiped his fingers with his handkerchief. Arthur grimaced on how this carefully sewn embroidery of his dear mother was reduced to wiping fast food filth. He set the bag aside and drank the coffee, straight. Realizing that the contents were hot, Arthur shivered and leaned left and right before rolling up the window. But, he ended up swallowing the coffee instead.

Arthur groaned and coughed in pain, and Howard only rolled his eyes. He drove the car onto a slow halt as he came across New York's terrible traffic, and he rested his arms on the wheel as looked at the unblinking stop light.

"Who knew my little brother would end up working in the United Nations. Mum would be proud," Howard said.

Arthur rolled his eyes as he uncapped his coffee and blew. "Bless her soul," he said, in between breaths. "But, technically, everything was uncle's idea."

"Which wouldn't have worked if you weren't the little British Einstein," Howard replied. "Give yourself some credit. They don't just accept people to work for them, especially when they're recommended by a high-ranking staff by the British Government." Then, he paused and listened to the loud hymns of the car horns. "But, honestly, I'm so proud of you. You're going into far heights, in places I, myself, couldn't reach. It almost feels like you're leaving me."

"Ugh, stop being sentimental. It's just 7 in the morning," Arthur bemoaned. "But, I'm not going anywhere, alright? This is just a temporary; soon, I'll be back at England before you know it." He muttered. He pulled his pancakes from the paper bag and settled it on his lap. "I won't be able to handle this poor excuse of food, anyway."

Howard chuckled and drove when the light turned green. He stopped again when the light turned red, only before the pedestrian crossing where a number of people wearing business suits crossed without a care. On the horizon, the UN headquarters gleamed like a lighthouse guiding their boat to their destination, standing like an almost impenetrable castle of steel and glass.

"Look, Arthur, it's the place," Howard said. "You made it."

Arthur nodded. He took a bite from his pancakes as he stared at the concrete building in front of him, which would've melted with the other skyscrapers in the area if not for that universal blue symbol. The sight gave him a warm sense of pride and excitement, as if he will be entering into a private world.

Howard turned to him. "Ready for your first day at work?"

The image of his mother flashed before his eyes. Her tired face, her warm smile. How peaceful she looked on her bed, even though she would never achieve the dream she has yearned for so long. Arthur took another bite of the pancake, chewed it rather loudly, and swallowed. Now, he felt a sense of honour. "Bloody hell I am."

Arthur Kirkland stepped out of the car, carrying with him his backpack and the cup of coffee that almost burnt his tongue. He and his brother, Howard, bid their good-byes before the latter drove off, to the British Consulate where he is temporarily staying. As a government agent, Howard had been tasked to escort the United Kingdom's Representative to the four-year long research project undertaken by the United Nations Trusteeship Council. And, from the thousands of applicants that applied for this job, he, a fresh graduate from the University of Oxford, was chosen.

Downing the last remnants of his coffee, he threw the empty cup at the green biodegradable can and marched towards the entrance. He looked like a College student with his get-up, and the reason that the guards let him in was the I.D. that was attached to his shirt. He walked at the reception, bid a good morning to the receptionist, and asked where the General Assembly for researchers was located. After quick instructions and a pass, Arthur caught an elevator that almost closed and stood beside employees who paid him no heed. Other than that person who glanced at him, confused him for someone else, and looked away. One by one, the people went down on their floors, including the man who gave him a glance – from that small name tag clipped on his suit, his name read 'Mauricio'.

At the 40th floor, the elevator stopped. Three beeps sounded and a voice announced: 'You have reached a restricted area. You will be transferred to the unrestricted areas in 10 seconds.' Arthur placed the pass on the red blinker just below the floor keypad, and the speaker made a series of beeps that sounded like a sound of approval. 'You will now be transferred to the Penthouse area.' And the elevator geared into motion. After a few rounds, the elevator slowly halted and dinged. He entered into a wide room of white walls and bay windows, in which Arthur can see the expanse of New York City. It was a beautiful sight, but he had no-one to share its urban beauty in the room.

Unsure of what to do next, he sat on of the seats at the corner of the room. It was too hard and smelled of old leather. Nonetheless, he chose this quiet moment to sit back (on this ridiculously uncomfortable chair) and observe the room. It was just a plain, white-walled room with clear white tiles, as if this room was newly furnished and void of any human footprint. His only way back to the ground floor was the grey elevator door from where he came and left to it was a staircase leading to, perhaps, the rooftop. To his left, wooden French twin doors stood like ancient gateways – the most outstanding object in this room. Arthur wasn't so sure if he was supposed to go inside, but the receptionist gave him specific instructions not to enter rooms without his agent, who, Arthur thinks, was not a very punctual person. Then the doors opened, revealing a woman of slender build and tan skin.

"Good morning, you must be Arthur Charles Kirkland the II?" the woman asked as they both shook their hands in a pleasant courtesy. "It is my pleasure to meet you. My name is Isabella Garcia, and I will be your agent for the rest of the program."

"Likewise, Ms. Garcia," Arthur replied, but Isabella shook her head and insisted to be called 'Isabella'. Arthur took that as a mental note, but added a 'Ms.' before the name so as to be polite

"The other researchers are waiting at the other room. Please follow me," she beckoned, and Arthur was finally allowed to enter the room. There, he was greeted with a lobby painted with warm, accented colours of brown, red, and yellow, and a hallway that stretched forward. They trudged onto the hallway, passing by paintings of different leaders and landscapes before they entered into another room, on which three figures sat around a small table. The smell of tea wafted through Arthur's nose, and he suddenly felt a little homesick. Isabella gestured for Arthur to sit down.

As Arthur settled down on his seat, his seatmate – a tall fellow with pale skin and dark hair of a 4x3 cut – leaned onto him. "Hey, name's William, a psychologist. From Prussia. You can call me Will, but if other people ask from where I am, just tell them I'm from Germany," he said, extending a hand in which Arthur mechanically shook. "Where are you from?"

"England," he answered, slightly confused to where Prussia was on the map. "I'm Arthur Kirkland, an anthropologist."

William gave an approving nod. "That's cool. We don't have that many anthropologists in my country."

"I see," was the only thing Arthur can reply before another woman entered the room, gracing an air of authority. Her white suit clashed with her dark skin, making her stand out more. She smiled. "Greetings, researchers! My name is Giselle Hoare, Director of the Trusteeship Council. Before I begin my formal introductions, may I know from which governments have you been sent by?"

"I come from Japan,"

"America,"

"Germany,"

"United Kingdom…" answered Arthur.

"I see," Giselle said. "Well, from now on, you shall be representing your countries in a top secret research project collaborated by the governments of the world and the United Nations, itself. In this room right now, you are forbidden to mention the contents of your investigation or the things that I will say in this room. Legal penalty will be given to those who violate the agreement, and will lose the protection of your governments henceforth. Is that clear?" As the minutes go by, it seemed that Giselle sounded more of a military commander rather than a UN director. "Good. First and foremost, I am not the director of the Trusteeship Council – I am a director of the UNSU, the United Nations Special Unit. This is a special and top secret unit under the United Nations that caters to the services related to your research subjects: Nations."

No-one spoke a word. Arthur was figuring out if the Giselle, the director, made a mistake when she said the word 'Nations.'

The Polynesian girl who told that she came from America spoke. "Nations? Like countries?"

Giselle nodded, looking as if she had grown accustomed to the curious and surprised reactions of people. "But, not in the way you expect," she said. "For centuries, our very own nations, the land we walk on, have been personified into human beings. The only difference they bear from human beings is that they feel what their citizens are feeling and can live for so long as their country remains as a country – they're practically immortals. These personifications have been working alongside governments for years, giving support, advice, and aid that their wisdom can provide. Who knows, they may have walked alongside with you here," she looked at the agent. "Isabella, please hand them the files."

The woman whom Arthur followed started giving out manila folders. Inside was a thesis unmistakably labelled as 'Investigation on the Birth and Death of Personifications of Nation-States' with the names 'by: Albert Einstein'.

Ignoring the silence between the researchers, Giselle continued. "This is a thesis by Albert Einstein himself, with the financial contribution of Howard Kirkland, a former spy of the Secret Intelligence Service of the United Kingdom. During the war, Howard Kirkland convinced Albert Einstein to partake on a study concerning the origins of these personified nations and reasons behind their sudden disappearances. However, the study was not completed because of Mr. Einstein's death. The thesis has been hidden in the archives for years, as ushered by the governments of the Allied Forces, but was reopened when, on 1999, just before New Year's, the personification of England, also known as United Kingdom or Great Britain, suddenly vanished. Up to this day, he was never found.

"This created a year-long period of national emergency in the UK, though it was hidden from the public. This caused other countries to ponder about the sudden disappearance of a personified nation and the reasons behind it. It had been a common knowledge that the personified nations reflected the state of their nations, and disappearance meant dissolution of the country. Though, the UK is clearly not a dissolved country and there are some interesting cases brought forth that suggests that this rule might not apply to everyone. The extent of the impact of the nation's disappearance is unknown, but this has prompted the governments of the world to re-open the investigation. And your governments have chosen you to lead this project," Giselle explained. "Are there any questions before I move on to the project details?"

Will, unfazed from this heavy load of information, raised his hand. "How do we know this isn't a prank?"

Giselle gave Will a kind stare. "Because, darling," she began, like a mother explaining to her child why he should obey her rules. "Your governments have personally recruited you, sponsored you, and handed you to our care. Either this is all true, or President Putin, one of the program's main sponsors, loves joking around. Which one do you think it is?"

The answer was very obvious, and there were no questions raised afterwards.

The first thing that came to his mind when Director Giselle told their specific tasks was that he needed to go to his brother and rethink his life choices. But, he couldn't do that. It had been made perfectly clear that he cannot abscond if he didn't want to embarrass his country or leave his country's whereabouts unknown forever. All Arthur can do was swallow the daunting task given to him and perform what he can. And part of that is excusing himself to the comfort room, so he can have a few minutes to regain his thoughts. Director Giselle seemed to notice this and allowed him to go.

In the men's washroom, he stood in front of the mirror, looked at his left and right, and crumpled at the sink. "What in bloody hell did I come into?" he asked himself, running his fingers into his hair. "Oh my Lord, my country is missing and my grandfather is working with Einstein," he ran his hands on his face. "And Einstein is part of this, this – " he made gestures with his hands which words cannot express. He breathed deeply and stood up. "I hope they're paying me a fortune after this," he muttered. "But, Jesus, this wasn't what I exactly signed up for."

Bending over the sink, Arthur washed his hands and his face, trying to rid the stress marks over his face. By the time he raised his head to the mirror, an image of a child wearing a sailor's uniform appeared behind him, staring at him with curious blue eyes. When their eyes met, a surge of panic went across their backs. Arthur immediately turned at his back and verified with his own eyes that this child, an 11 year old boy, was actually in the most guarded rooms in the whole world. And he even dared to look surprised.

He was the one who spoke first. "…England?"

"Arthur wasn't sure how to answer, or if he should answer. Nonetheless, he spoke. "Y-yes, I'm British. Are you British too?" he asked, finding comfort in the accent of the boy's voice. "Why are you here? Are you lost?" But, the boy didn't pay attention to what Arthur said and quickly became angered.

"Where the heck have you been? Don't you know that I had to live with Sweden and Finland for 10 years? It was nice, and they cooked good food, but YOU'RE MY GUARDIAN! You're supposed to look after me!" the boy screamed. "But I'm an independent nation, of course. Don't get me wrong!"

Arthur blinked. He was quickly getting unfamiliar with the situation at hand. "I think you're mistaken me for someone else," he said, placating. "Let me call on – "

"Whatever!" he said, dragging him by the sleeve with a power unknown to a child. "You're late to the meeting! You have to tell everyone you're here so they can stop worrying and talking about what to do with you all day! It's been irritating!"

Before Arthur had the guts to push the boy and run away from him as far as he can, they stopped behind two wooden doors. The boy pushed the doors as he casually entered, pulling the confused Brit into a Conference hall of a 100 men and women, all arguing and throwing papers at each other. The scene reminded England of Wall street and Director Giselle's face flashed in his mind. Without even the feeling of bashfulness or shamelessness, the boy breathed deeply as he exclaimed. "HEY GUYS, I FOUND ENGLAND!" And all of the people quieted down and turned at him, eyes in the perfect shade of colour and brightness. Then, it clicked to him.

He spoke "I'm not – " But, it was too late; he was trapped inside the embrace of a man not older than him. His spectacles pressed uncomfortably against his shoulder. "Where the hell have you been!?" he asked, but the way he pressed his face on Arthur's neck, it came out muffled. "You've been gone for 23 years and you never said a word to anybody! I thought you were dead…" then it was followed with. "I miss you." It was too much to bear.

As the man lifted his face to meet Arthur's, the man's face was filled with hope and joy. But, Arthur wasn't mirroring that. Arthur looked apprehensive and scared as an foreign entity in a sea of unfamiliar faces and an atmosphere born from a misunderstanding. "I'm not England," he spoke. "You've mistaken me for someone else."

The man shook his head. "No, no. No-one could have those ridiculously thick eyebrows but you." He insisted. "Come now, Iggy. Don't be weird."

"I'm not England," he said, raising his voice. "I'm not a country, like you. I'm human."

"That's not true, you're – " Then the man stopped, looked at him, and unlatched his arms around him. He took a few steps back, looking at him with a pained betrayal that Arthur almost felt sorry for the man. "…England, right?"

"No. My name is Arthur, a researcher, and," he paused, choosing his words carefully in front of the nations of the world. "I'm here to investigate the disappearance of the personification of England."

Hope vanished in the man's eyes, and Arthur almost felt sorry for him.

Author's Notes: To be continued.