A/N Yeah, I still don't own Hetalia
"Yes, my fellow nations, if we use Dark Magic, we will be able to immediately stop global warming!"
There was silence for a moment as some countries *coughcoughrussiacough* obtained intrigued expressions at Britain's proposition but of course America had to open his eternally irritating mouth, thus shattering the longest peace that had happened in the meeting thus far.
"Dude, I think a giant hero would work better than your imaginary magic crap."
Britain sent one of his signature 'Oh no, all the color in my eyes has disappeared' glares right at America, but there was no response from the younger nation. Britain looked unsure of himself, and, as the color in his eyes returned, went back to his lecture.
Canada sighed. He had been waiting for his turn to present his perfectly reasonable idea for and end to global warming—a steam turbine attached to Britain's head ought to end all energy problems—for at least 10 meetings, but as usual, nobody noticed him. Well, not quite nobody…
Canada glanced at France out of the corner of his eye. His older brother was the only person who ever paid him any attention. Sure, it could be useful at times (when he was especially mad at America he would just steal Russia's scarf and watch America be blamed), but more often than not it was frustrating.
Canada slowly returned his gaze towards Britain. He looked as though he was wrapping up his presentation. Wait… no, he was just setting up a double pentagram, evidently to prepare a spell. Canada sighed and sat back, his inner self curious as to whether this would really work.
"I shall now turn on this television that shows the state of the atmosphere. You will have proof that my spell worked when you see that all the fossil fuels in the atmosphere have disappeared."
Britain turned on the T.V. A satellite photo of the earth appeared, covered mostly in red and purple.
"The red is the dangerous fossil fuels in the atmosphere. The purple, especially visible here over Antarctica, is where there are holes in the ozone layer. Please watch carefully while I perform my spell."
Britain began mumbling. Canada stared intently at the map. Was…was the red getting lighter?
"HAHAHAHAHA! Dude, I can't believe you're actually trying that"
America's outburst evidently broke Britain's concentration, as he looked up at the blue-eyed nation for a moment. He then went right back to his spell-casting
Quite a few nations, or rather, everyone in the room, were shocked at Britain's lack of a response. He couldn't possibly be that obsessed with saving the world from global warming, could he? So obsessed that he let comments from America of all people slide without comment?
Everyone was gazing intently at the globe now. If Britain put up with America, anything was possible!
"Magikalpus Fossilitis Dasapertum!" Britain finished, shooting his hand at the television.
Everyone crowded around. The red was, slowly but surely, disappearing! You could see the outlines of continents now through all the red! Country's natural borders were showing up!
Except around North America.
"Britain, dude, what the hell?" asked America
"That's what you get for messing with a former pirate!" Britain responded, "Now your entire continent will be filthy with your fossil fuels until you figure out how to work the magic!"
Ah. So that explained Britain's lack of a response at America's laughter.
"But dude, what about…um…what's his name…that guy with the leaf… Canadia? He never did anything wrong."
Canada felt an overwhelming surge of happiness, despite the fact that his land would apparently be forever polluted. Someone—kind of—remembered him!
"Who?"
"You know, that floating polar bear dude!"
Canada sank back into his state of loneliness. So they just saw Mr. Kamujori and assumed it was him.
"Hey, Canada is a person, you know. Not a floating bear!"
Canada looked up to see France defending him
"Look towards the bear" said France. "Do you really not see a person holding it?"
The other nations looked towards Mr. Kumajiro but saw nothing.
"Well…" Germany spoke up "There is a piece of hair floating above it. Do you others see that? The one, loopy piece of hair?"
The other nations looked up and began nodding in agreement. France was in shock. How could they look at his little brother and see nothing but a single piece of hair?
Wait… France began getting an idea. Aside from the hair curl and the bear, Canada looked pretty much exactly the same as America. So what if…France made him different?
He grabbed a pen off of the meeting table and began drawing a large, loopy mustache on Canada's face.
"There!" he exclaimed, "Do you not see the mustache on Canada's face?"
"Whoa, France, dude, you gotta tell me where you get one of those pens! They make lines float in midair!"
France mentally facepalmed at America's ignorance, then looked back at Canada with concern. So the other nations really could not see him? Why was it that he could, then? Was it just because Canada was his former colony? But…everyone could see other colonies, like America. France decided to wonder about it later and looked up to see the other countries all leaving, apparently getting bored with a silent, floating polar bear, piece of hair, and mustache, and France thinking for the first time in his life, shocking as the whole scene was.
France watched the other nations leave, and then returned his gaze to Canada, thinking back to his former conclusion. If he made Canada different than America, it seemed the other countries could notice him. This had been made obvious by America's exclamation about the "floating" mustache. An idea began formulating in France's head. He turned to Canada
"Canada, mon cher, would you mind coming with me?"
"Um, sure, France. Where are we going?"
"You'll see" he replied, winking.
A little while later, Canada and France were standing in front of Le cheveux parfait.
"The perfect hair? Why are we here, France?" asked Canada, sensing nothing good.
"It was simply an idea I had. Would you like a haircut, mon cher?
"Not really" Canada began to say, but was cut off by France pushing him into the shop.
Ding! went the bell on the door.
"Hello, welcome to Le cheveux parfait! What will I be doing for you today? Oh, hello, Francis."
"Bonjour, Juliette. Mon ami here would like a hair cut. Make it very short, s'il te plaît.
Juliette looked around France for his friend, but she saw only...a floating polar bear. She stared at it for a full minute before returning her gaze to France. He was looking at her, apparently waiting for a response. She looked back at the polar bear and rubbed her blue-grey eyes. It was still there. Assuming it was some prank—Francis loved to pull pranks—she turned back to him and replied,
"Well…ton ami can come with me, I suppose." She said. Canada put Mr. Kumajiro down on a chair and stepped forward.
Juliette looked at France, wondering why he was not moving. "Come on, Francis." She said, motioning for him to come forward.
France thought, "She must want my beauty advice on what she does to Canada" and followed Canada, sitting down in the chair next to him.
Juliette began combing his hair and asked, "So what did…ton ami want today?"
"As I said, very short, and dye his hair… What color did you want, Ca—Mathieu?"
"Camathieu?" thought Juliette, but continued combing France's hair.
"Um, dark brown would be fine, I guess."
"Yes, dark brown. May I ask why you are combing my-"
France's question was cut off when he noticed a large chunk of hair falling to the ground. He shouted and looked up into the mirror, just in time to see Juliette cut off another hunk of hair. The front of the left side of his head now resembled Britain's haircut.
"Non! Mes cheveux ... Mes cheveux magnifiques ..." France exclaimed, momentarily forgetting how to speak English in his utter depression. This then turned into rage at the quite confused Juliette.
"What? Is it too long?" She asked, cutting off another strand of his blond hair.
"Non! Why on earth are you cutting my hair? I told you mon ami wants a haircut. That is French for 'my friend!' I assumed that since you own a French barbershop, you would know at least some basic French."
"I'm sorry!" Juliette replied, holding up her hands and backing away. "I didn't see anyone with you, so I assumed you were referring to yourself. But," she said, picking up her scissors and smiling wickedly, "I ought to cut the rest of it. You look awful with just the front left side of your hair missing."
France was torn between looking awful because a quarter of his hair was missing or looking awful because he had Britain-esque hair. This was, understandably, a very hard decision for him, as he was used to choosing how he wanted to look beautiful.
France then remembered Canada.
"Would you mind letting me cutting mon ami's hair while I think about it? As you obviously can not see him."
"Um, sure, why not." Juliette replied, handing him the scissors and backing up.
Canada, mon cher, prepare to be amazed.
Juliette watched in amazement as, before her very eyes, hair began appearing. Everywhere that France cut, the phantom of some hair showed up, until there was a somewhat transparent, floating head of very short hair.
"Can you see him now, Juliette?" France asked.
She replied, "Well, I can see a floating head of hair, but it's rather transparent, and that's it. Would you like me to cut your hair now?"
"Would you mind first dyeing his hair and telling me if it shows up any better?"
"Um, sure." Juliette replied, looking disappointed, as she walked towards the back of the shop to get the dye.
After about an hour, Canada had new, dark brown hair, and France had a head of hair that looked exactly like Britain's. Juliette had said that Canada looked like a floating head of dark brown hair, a mustache, and a polar bear now, which probably explained all of the weird looks France was getting as he walked down the street to his next destination.
"Where are we going now, France?" Canada inquired.
"We are going somewhere where I will not be getting weird looks while walking down the street with you."
"Well, where is that?" Canada asked.
"You'll see" France replied, flinching and hoping this venture didn't turn out the same way as it had the last time he had said that.
A few minutes later, France and Canada were standing outside of le salon de bronzage.
"What does that mean, France? I've never seen those words together like that. If I didn't know better, I would swear it said 'tanning salon!'"
"Oui, mon cher, it does."
Fortunately, Canada had no idea as to what this 'tanning salon' was, so he went inside willingly.
France gave a small smile of relief, quickly discarding the handcuffs and whip that he had thought would be necessary to get Canada inside in a potted plant
Once inside, Canada looked around. He saw many mysterious things, but mostly he noticed people coming out of a room…completely tan. This helped connect the dots in Canada's head as to what this mysterious place was. He began backing away.
"No, France. Dying and cutting my hair was one thing, but I'm not getting a tan, too. I don't want to get noticed so much that I would risk skin cancer by doing something like this. Is there really nothing else that you can do?"
France began scowling, regretting leaving the whip out of his reach. He looked back at the plant for a moment, before Canada interrupted,
"What are you looking for?"
"Um, nothing, mon cher, just, um, my sunglasses."
"They're on your head." Canada replied.
France put a hand to his head and discovered Canada was right. Why on earth did he have sunglasses on his head? He took them off and inspected them, looking for any clues as to why they had been there. He then noticed a note:
Sorry for the misunderstanding. These will make up for it, though. So no grudges against me!
-Juliette
France stared at the note, wondering how on earth a pair of sunglasses could make up for the loss of his beautiful hair. He noticed Canada looking at him, and, making a split-second decision, made a spectacular leap towards the potted plant, grabbing the whip, and the handcuffs for good measure. Canada paled at the sight of them and said meekly, "Well, maybe I can reconsider my opinion"
France grinned, but all the color in his eyes disappeared, causing him to look even more similar to Britain. Apparently he realized this, because he quickly altered his glare to another of his favorites, one with parallel blue lines running down his face, as he dragged Canada over to the tanning bed.
"Um, can I help you, sir?"
France looked up to see a person with extremely curly red hair pulled back into a ponytail leaning over him. He looked up from his spot above Canada on the tanning bed, then stood up.
"Hello! My name is Claire. You are not allowed to use the tanning beds without a supervisor. That's me!" she said, clapping once. "Um also, animals are not allowed in the salon, so I will have to ask you to put your polar bear outside. But I can do it for you. Because I'M THE SUPERVISOR!"
France looked at Claire, beginning to get a headache. This girl reminded him a lot of Amérique.
"Well, there is a person holding the polar bear, you see. He is the one here to get a tan, not me."
"Whoa, really! I thought it was just a floating polar bear, head of hair, and mustache!"
France couldn't tell whether or not the girl was being sarcastic, so he remained silent.
"Anyway, your…friend, or companion, or whatever he is needs to put his bear outside immediately. This is a tanning emergency! I've never seen someone so pale in my life!"
"Wait…" France said, a bit confused by the girls comment, "You can see him?"
"Well, he looks a bit like a phantom, except for his hair, but yeah."
"Maybe just his hair made a difference to his entire self…" France thought, not sure what to make of this new development. But Juliette hadn't been able to see him…
France dismissed the thought—he seemed to be doing that a lot lately—and watched Canada's rather pathetic attempts to save Mr. Kumajiro from the clutches of the crazy Claire. Apparently Mr. Kumajiro liked Claire more than Canada, as he was batting Canada's hands away from him and trying to hug Claire at the same time. It was not working out well at all, he was hampering Claire down more than helping her, but eventually they got him outside the door.
"Yes! I told you I can do it! I'M THE SUPERVISOR!"
France held his head in his hands, willing the migraine to disappear. After a few seconds of getting depressed by the lack of the curtain of hair that usually veiled him from the world while he did that, he looked up at Claire and asked, "Can you please shut up? You are reminding me of someone I really do not need to be reminded more of right now."
Claire wondered who this mysterious person was—she thought she was completely unique!—before turning back to help Canada into the tanning bed. She was the supervisor, after all. She fortunately did not notice France standing behind her with his whip, shooting death glares at Canada in the case that he changed his mind, as she lowered the lid.
A short while later, Canada came out, looking almost completely unrecognizable except for his hair curl and clothing. France asked Claire, "Can you see him completely now?"
"Um… well I will be honest, because I'M THE SUPE—"
She was cut off by France shooting her a glare quite similar to the one he gave Canada moments before
"Um… that is to say… He is still a bit ghost-like."
France sighed, dreading the walk to his next, and hopefully final, destination. Apparently he would have a half-visible ghost in tow.
"Can you please call a taxi?" he asked.
"Sure!" Claire replied, picking up the phone and resisting the overwhelming urge to once again yell, "I'M THE SUPERVISOR!"
The taxi arrived fairly quickly, and France quickly gave him directions, hoping to avoid any odd looks from the taxi driver. He could have sworn the driver was eyeing Canada the whole time, and so paid quickly and got out. He again regretted the lack of hair to hide his face behind as they walked into a, this time English, store called, for whatever reason, Store.
Canada stared at the blue letters announcing the name of the shop, unsure of what to make of it. Store named a place that could sell anything. He followed France into a store, hoping it wasn't another venture that would give him cancer when he got older.
Once inside, Canada realized it was simply a clothing store and gave a sigh of relief. Then, realizing what kind of clothing store France would most likely choose, he hesitantly looked at the merchandise. He again breathed with relief upon realizing it was at least mostly…decent.
"So, Canada, I will pick out some clothes for you… and you try them on for me!"
Canada shuddered but was forced to agree upon noticing that France still had his whip. He stood miserably in the corner of the store, near the dressing rooms.
"Hi! Can I help you?"
Canada turned to see a brunette in a store uniform approaching him.
"I'm, I own this store. Why do you look so sad?"
"My brother is picking out clothes for me." Canada replied
"So?"
"He's French."
There was a sharp intake of breath from Elizaveta as this information was revealed.
"Perhaps I can help you. While he is browsing, look around for some clothes you like, and put them in this bag here. I will swap them at the checkout counter."
"Great! Thanks" Canada smiled.
France came back with, unbelievably, decent clothes. Canada was left trying to signal Elizaveta at the counter without alerting France, This failed, as he asked, "Why are you waving at that girl over there? Someone special, non?"
"No! No no, I just met her. I, um, was trying to get us a dressing room! Yeah…" Canada replied defensively.
"A dressing room for us? Oh honhon, you want me in there with you, mon cher?"
"NO!" Canada shouted, the first time he had ever done so. Both he and France looked shocked at this turn of events. France dismissed it and waved over a different salesperson to let Canada into the dressing rooms, which were all locked but they had no one in them. Canada vaguely wondered why—did they think someone would steal the dressing rooms?—but waited for the girl to unlock the room before going inside.
He came out and modeled a few outfits for France, including a t-shirt with the Canadian flag on it and jeans, a tuxedo for formal events, and several more t-shirts, jeans, and sweaters, before France announced that they were going to buy the whole lot.
"What?" Canada protested. "No, France, you can't buy all that just for me!" He motioned at the towering stack of clothes, so high that France's entire face was obscured.
"Of course I do, cher! I can't have let my beautiful hair gotten cut for nothing!"
Canada had to agree with this logic. Simultaneously he realized that, if France's face was obscured, he would have a much better chance of signaling Elizaveta to ditch the clothes he had picked out earlier. Apparently, however, France had installed cameras in the clothes, or something, because the second Canada began walking over to the desk, France asked, "Oh, trying to sneak away and see that girl again, are we? You must stay with big brother France, Canada. She will see you as only a mostly solid phantom, I'm sure."
"But what if I put on some of the new clothes, just for a moment? They would help to make me more opaque, wouldn't they?"
"Well… maybe just this once, because it is for a special someone." France said, winking, as he pulled out some clothes from the pile in front of him. Canada got another dressing room unlocked and unfolded the outfit France had given him.
He gasped in shock as exactly what he had been given was revealed.
Quite short shorts, which Canada realized were the norm for young boys in France, but still, he wasn't that young, paired with some sort of bikini top thing with a Canadian flag on it, the same as everything else he was wearing. Canada threw them against a wall in disgust—he would rather be seen as a phantom than in that—and walked up to Elizaveta to explain the situation. Fortunately, everything went quite smoothly, and Canada rejoined France, his fear of offending his older brother now completely gone.
"Pourquoi ,Canada? Why didn't you wear the clothes I picked out for you? What was wrong with them?"
"You know perfectly well what was wrong with them, France! Now how can I be sure that the rest of the clothes you picked out for me are even decent? I know I didn't try that many on."
France reached up to flip his hair, and then scowled upon realizing that it was gone. "Of course you can trust me, mon cher. I just picked that out for… special emergencies." He replied. "Everything else is something that I would wear myself!"
He noticed Canada still looking mad, and realized that his vow wasn't exactly that great to others, as they thought of him as a pervert who would wear anything. This realization always made him angry, but he hid it as he revised his promise to, "That is, even… Japan would wear pretty much everything in here! And you know how he is about clothing."
Canada decided to accept this as the truth and finally agreed to allow France to check out. Elizaveta looked at him in concern, but he just smiled, trying to say that all was fine now with his older brother's clothing taste. She apparently didn't get the message, as she held up the bag of clothes with a grin. Canada frowned, shook his head, and frantically waved his hands, and finally she put down the bag. France observed him with what looked like mild curiosity, but fortunately decided not to push the matter. Finally, France and Canada exited the store, completely prepared for the next world meeting.
As you can guess, the story now jumps to the next world meeting.
Canada and France entered the meeting room together. Canada coughed, and everyone turned to look at him. Upon the realization that the other countries had heard him, that they were acknowledging his existence, a small ball of happiness exploded throughout his body. He tried to restrain it, in case they had heard something else and were simply looking at him, but it was like trying to stop Italy from eating pasta by offering him British food. It was simply not happening. Canada decided he would rather experience heartbreak sooner than later, so he decided to press his luck.
"Hi, everyone, I'm Canada. I have sat through plenty of your world meetings on global warming without even being acknowledged, so I would like to present today. It is much more reasonable, I must admit, than a giant hero, a shield of white flags, or sending Russia to the sun, so if I could have your rapt attention, that would be wonderful."
Everyone nodded and Canada felt even more joyousness pulsing through him as he held everyone's attention and began presenting his steam turbine idea.
It was only after the meeting that anyone even noticed France. Canada had a hunch as to why this was. He looked far too much like Britain to get noticed.
"Well then, big brother, it's already time to return the favor you did me.", Canada thought, as he began plotting ways to make France as unique as he was.
A/N: And that, wonderful readers, is the end. Thank you for reading down this far! Or, if you just came down here to read the footnote, keep reading until you get this far! It would make me as happy as... something really happy. Maybe a puppy or something.
Anyway, here's the footnote associated with the little 1 after "Elizaveta":
This is not necessarily Hungary. It can be if you want, but it was actually a name requested by a friend, and I'm a nice person (I hope). ^_^ Sorry if there was any confusion!
So! I think I have blathered on enough, so go and read something else! Or get off the computer! Or go feel sorry for poor France with his missing hair! Just do something!
BYE-BYE!