I recently got into HetaOni (and Hetalia itself) and it's really good. For those wondering, HetaOni is a fanmade story in an RPG format. You can see it on Youtube. It's slow at first but picks up later on. I recommend watching it first before reading this, due to the possibilities of spoilers. I wrote this story on a whim so I apologize for it being so short and drabble-ish.
Soldier of Time
So much blood…
Lives continue to fade away…
Mistakes were still being made…
No one was listening…
How much longer must he endure this? Just how much longer?
Long ago he had discarded his white flag, a major surprise to everyone around him. The usual, upbeat aura he emitted was far gone. His smile was no longer coming from his now shattering heart. The smile was only painted on him, a mask to conceal the overwhelming pain.
Why weren't they listening?
How many times had he traveled through time? How many times had he witnessed his friends dying before him? He had lost count. His honey-colored eyes would overflow with tears at the sheer amount of mistakes leading to each murder. His heart was cracking under the pressure.
Please, you all have to leave this place.
They would shrug off his bizarre behavior as nonsense. They would split up, despite his warnings. Wasn't the number one rule of being in a haunted mansion staying together?
Germany… Japan… won't someone please listen?
No matter the efforts, he would see them all in their pools of blood. He tried desperately to get everyone out, even the Allies. He just wanted them all to be alive… One by one each nation would fall... He glanced down at the journal that was gripped tightly to his chest. Printed on the cover was a name.
Italy Veneziano
He was now broken, an aching soul; a slave to time itself. He was forced to witness his fellow nations perish indefinitely. A vicious cycle that would refuse to shatter, like the fragile glass of a mirror. He would reverse time, fix the errors, safely traverse the halls… only for his hopes and efforts to be slapped away, reprimanding him for another failure.
I don't want to lose you… not again…
He couldn't bare the repetition. It was now becoming too much. At first, he was the only one who made it; the sole survivor. Who would've thought that someone as cowardly as the Italian could narrowly escape death? Even Italy himself couldn't believe it. He had managed to flee, but at the cost of his friends' lives. They had protected him and paid the ultimate price.
I want to protect them all…
He won't rest, not until everyone was safe and sound out of that mansion. He won't give up, no matter how many time loops he had to go through.
I don't want to see any more blood spilling… Please… let me succeed… for once…
He felt he may snap at any given moment. He had seen many deaths unravel right in front of his eyes, like loose string being yanked away from its spool. The shrieks and screams of his own voice echoes in his mind in recollection. His shouts were reminders of his failed attempts; mocking him and toying with him endlessly. Hope was slowly waning. It was now turning into a thin line of thread, unable to pass through the hole of a sewing needle. But the Italian still trudged onward. His heart pounds with reassurance and fear. If he were to slip up again… If he were to take another false step…
No. He would continue. He had to. He silently promised everyone, especially himself. He'd whip up some pasta once they returned safely. Anything was better than spending another second in this deathtrap of a haunted mansion. Italy prayed for normalcy, some sign of hope that would actually go in his favor.
I won't give up… Not yet…
For once there would be no surrender.
I'll save you all.
He would go down fighting to his final breath, for the sake of his friends.
For he was the soldier of time.
