Disclaimer: We do not own anything here except for the idea. All right goes to the original Hetalia creator! We sincerely apologise if anything here may be incorrect as we just started Hetalia and are nowhere near done. Also the author for this story is Diadem! But Dragon helped a lot…. (No, I actually did not do much.) (Stop lying) Credits ALL go to Diadem for the awesome story! Dragon gets credit too.
Steps of the Cat
It was another idyllic day at Austria's manor house, and once again, Austria sat in front of the grand piano, with his eyes boring into the blank music sheets.
He sighed; it was late in the afternoon, and he had still yet to have composed a measure or even a single note. Stifling a groan, he banged his head on the keyboard. His muse seemed to have left him completely. Perhaps, it had gotten lost just as he, himself often did.
"Would you please stop sighing and grumbling?" said an irritated Hungary, gazing up from her book. "You are ruining a perfectly fine day. If you really can't find any inspiration, why don't you just look outside the window in the gardens?"
Once again sighing, Austria strided over to the window. The sun was shimmering outside with fleecy, white clouds adorning the sky. It was indeed a halcyon and beautiful day.
In the gardens, he spotted Chibitalia playing and frolicking around with a tiny calico cat. Little Italy was having a great time; he was skipping and bouncing around the lovely flower beds, chasing the equally skippy cat around. "Just as if they were dancing," thought Austria.
A delicate butterfly fluttered down and past them. Intrigued by it, both the petite child and cat hopped and skittered, following the butterfly in hopes of catching it.
Austria quietly observed them prance and flit around, chasing each other in the warm sun. He gave out a humoured chuckle as Chibitalia accidentally stepped on the poor cat's tail, causing it to screech out and spring into the air, twitching madly. The child tried to apologise by picking the cat up, but the frightened cat lurched out of his arm, skidding onto the path.
The small child pouted for a while, then brightened up as he chased after the runaway cat. "Both Italy and the cat's movement do resemble a dance in a way," speculated Austria, "either like a flea hopping or a cat skipping. I wonder…"
He paced back to his piano and pulled out a blank music sheet, dipping his quill in the inkwell, he hesitantly composed a few notes. Then, as the thought dawned upon him, he started scrawling intensely onto the sheet. He did not notice Hungary's amused face.
It did not take long for him to write out his new piece — in fact, the newly composed music was only a page long. However, as he played the piece, his fingers tickling the ivory keys, he soon began to make variation after variation, each one with a different mood and key.
He played one of the variations in an imposing minor, but then decided that it didn't suite the piece. He played the next variation in a happy major, full of grace notes, turns, mordents, and trills.
When he was satisfied with his work, he rushed out of the room, calling out Italy's name. Hungary once again watched him stride swiftly out of the room with an amused glance and turned back to her book with a soft smile.
She looked back up as Austria carried a puzzled Chibitalia back into the room. He set the child down on the piano seat and handed him the music sheet with the original tune. "I composed this little piece for you," he stated, proudly smiling. "Really?" Italy shrieked in glee and reached out for the sheets.
"What is it called Mr. Austria?" "It's called Der Flohwalzer," he answered back. "The Flea Waltz?" inquired Little Italy. "Yes," he smirked back, "the Flea Waltz, but you could also call it the Cat March or Polka if you want to." Looking pointedly at him, he added teasingly, "You could also call it Neko Funjatta, or I Stepped on the Cat." Both Chibitalia and Hungary giggled at that.
"It sounded like a bunch of donkeys running around, so I would say Szamárinduló, or Donkey March?" added Hungary. Austria shot her a look. "You have a really…. unique… imagination… You are taking this naming idea a little too far." "Well, you were the one that started it!" Hungary retorted back and stuck out her tongue, while Austria rolled his eyes.
"Well, I wrote this little piece for you, and I want you to try playing it. The tune and melody are simple and repetitious, so you should be able to play it without difficulty. Now, shall we?" After checking the key signature and the time signature, Little Italy placed his small hands on the black keys.
Tentatively and gradually, he started to play. At first, Italy's rhythm was slightly off. However, after some gentle coaching from Austria, he soon began to improve. Austria pointed out Italy's mistakes and reminded him of the staccatos and accents, which Italy eagerly fixed and learnt "Italy, be more confidant; being shy would mute the quality. The piece requires a slightly style in playing. See the staccatos and the accents on those notes?" Austria chided impatiently.
Italy tried again, this time, with more confidence. The small frisky tune filled the room, full of accents, staccato, and the occasional tenutos. By his third time around, Austria joined him on the piano, and the piece became a duet.
Austria's hand was set an octave higher, and a different yet repetitious tune joined the original melody, blending in perfectly. The two spent the rest of the afternoon playing the piece and making variations of it.
Days passed, and Chibitalia was fixated with the piece. Whenever Austria was not playing the piano, Little Italy would rush to occupy it, and he would play the tune, occasionally daring himself to go faster and faster. Hungary really was starting to get sick of the song.
One afternoon, Hungary came into the music room, searching for them, once again, the tune of Der Flohwalzer greeted her teasingly, announcing that Chibitalia was in the room. "Italy, that shouldn't be the only song you know how to play. Can't you play other songs too?"
"But this one is realllyyy fun! I can go a lot faster now!" he chirped back. "Just ask Austria to teach you other songs. Songs other than this one," she groaned, and added, "Speaking of which, where is Austria?" Italy gave out a giggle as he pointed to the opposite direction, where Austria could be seen, sitting in front of his desk.
His head was on the table top, and his hair was sprawled across it. He was currently glaring at the wall next to him, though Hungary was pretty sure that this had nothing to do with the poor wall.
"What happened this time?" she asked the grinning child next to her. "Mr. Austria can't think of any other inspirations to compose. Again." Hungary groaned, and walked up to him.
"Austria, stop glaring at the poor wall. What has the poor thing ever done to you? Are you stuck again?" she asked, and received a weak nod from him. With a sigh, she suggested, "Why not write a duet piece for two instruments? Maybe we could play one with you next time. I haven't picked up an instrument for quite a time… Or Italy could play with you."
Austria's head shot straight up, and after a moment of consideration, he once again started scribbling madly on the crumpled music sheet. You could literally see the light bulb turning on above his head. Amused, Hungary and Chibitalia laughed once again. It was another typical day indeed.
A.N.: Thank you for taking time to read our story! I love writing about Austria. *cough* More like, I love writing about his piano… His piano is brilliant! "Der Flohwalzer" is one of my favourite pieces, though I always knew it as "Cat's Waltz". (I am currently transcribing the piano duet piece for "Der Flohwalzer" on MuseScore) What other titles do you know for this piece? Please tell us what you think of this story!