A/N: This story is set in the world of HetaOni, a Hetalia fan production told in the format of a survival/horror RPG. If you haven't seen it yet, I strongly suggest you do so sometime in the near future. There is a YouTube user known as SotetAG who has all the available parts of the story (up to part 17 1/2) with subs in many different languages if you can't read Japanese... like I can't. To warn you, the story gets rather sad.
For all of you who know what I'm talking about, this story takes place in one of the many loops, but not one that has been seen in the game.
I may or may not continue this, and if I do, this story may end up just being a series of oneshots that take place in the HetaOni universe.
Oh, but I've talked long enough.
The monster recoiled slightly as a thousand attacks slammed into it, but its dull, lifeless eyes continued to stare unblinkingly at its assailants. America quickly reloaded his gun, and began firing mercilessly at the beast's enormous gray head. "Shoot…! This isn't working at all…!" He hissed through gritted teeth. The beast didn't seem to suffer any wounds as the bullets bounced harmlessly off its leathery skin. It took a single menacing step forward, causing America to let loose a loud string of swears.
Prussia stood off to the side, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly and cursing with all of his might. The blade had been shattered when he tried to attack the monster head-on, so all he could do was look on uselessly.
Within seconds, America's magazine was empty. As he fumbled with his ammo, England roughly pushed him out of the way.
"I'll handle this," he growled, shoving his palms towards the beast's monstrous form, "Take this!" he screeched at the monster as his palms began glowing with a ghostly light, "Sectumsempra!" everyone in the room was blinded as magic flashed from England's hands and into the body of the monster. The beast, however, didn't seem at all fazed at this turn of events.
"Sectumsempra! Expecto Patronum!" England's voice roared over the noises of the magic's impacts on the beast's giant body, "Reducto! Reducto!"
"England, stop!" America shouted over the clamor, "You're going to…"
"SHUT UP! I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!" England screamed, forcing his palms forward viciously as magic continued to fly out of them, "Expecto Patronum! Reducto!" The monster stared dully as the bright magic struck it from all sides, illuminating and burning its leathery skin with every impact.
Suddenly, without any warning, the beast struck. Its thick arm slammed into England's body with so much force that the man became airborne for a few seconds. Eyes wide with shock and pain, England sailed through the air soundlessly and crashed into the bookshelf behind him. The impact caused many books to topple to the floor and the shelf swayed dangerously, but did not fall.
"England!" America shouted, running to his friend's aid, "England! Are you okay?" America tried to pull England to his feet, but England stubbornly refused his help. He clutched the sides of his torso and wheezed, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him. His eyes, however, trained on the gray monstrosity before him.
The beast's expression had yet to change from apathy as it took another step forward. America panicked. He immediately raised his gun and aimed, and the air was filled with the loud sounds of gunfire as the young man began shooting yet again.
"You idiot… the gun doesn't do anything…" England muttered, stumbling to his feet, his breath regained. His hand slowly and shakily grabbed onto America's shoulder, "Let me fight it."
"No! You're injured!" America snapped as he reloaded his gun again.
"No I'm not!" England hissed, "You're being an idiot!"
"But… your magic… you could overexert yourself!"
"I won't!" England roared, "America, you don't have to be the hero, let me do this! I'm perfectly capable!" Without waiting for a response, England grabbed the back of America's jacket and pulled him out of the way. His green eyes flashed dangerously as he forced his palms toward the monster, "SECTUMSEMPRA!"
"England… don't…!" America cried out, "You're not the hero!"
England wasn't listening, or perhaps he didn't hear at all. The magic that had only issued from his palms started pouring forth from his entire body, swathing him in a ghostly white light. "I'LL KILL YOU!" England screeched, ignoring his former brother altogether as his eyes locked on the monstrous form.
America watched in stunned horror as his friend seemed transformed before his eyes, "I'll still help…!" America said, though he was certain the other wouldn't respond. He then began firing more rounds at the monster, though it felt as though he wasn't doing anything but making noise and wasting ammunition.
England continued to screech a mixture of spells and swears, even after his voice became hoarse, the magic beat on the monster's body until… a distinctive sound of crackling filled the air. The beast had faded away… it had been defeated.
"It… it… it's gone…" Prussia said, shock and relief mingling in his voice, "You did it… you did it, England!"
England stood motionless as the magic slowly faded from his hands.
America's face brightened slightly, "Yeah… we… we won…"
It was then that England swayed on his feet.
America frowned and approached his former big brother, "England? Are you okay…?"
"Y-yes…" England murmured… and suddenly his legs gave way. America immediately threw his arms around his friend's shoulders to steady him, but it was obvious England couldn't stand at all anymore. America slowly brought him to the floor to allow England to lie down. He placed England's head and shoulders on his lap to use as a makeshift pillow. America frowned as he inspected his former brother's face. It looked too pale…
"England…? Are you okay….?" America asked again.
"I…" England responded hoarsely, his eyes flickering downward.
"England… look at me…" America whispered, "Are you okay?"
The young man's eyes slowly looked up at America, but they were unfocused, pointing just slightly away from America's face, "Maybe… maybe I did use too much magic back there…" he smirked tiredly. America began frowning deeper.
"England… how many fingers am I holding up?" America asked, putting his hand before his former big brother.
England gave a weak laugh, "America… what a stupid thing to do…"
America's expression didn't change, "Tell me."
England's small smirk faded. "I…" he began, his gaze not moving, "I'm sorry…" he whispered, closing his eyes.
"You're sorry…?" America asked quietly.
"I can no longer see…" England said softly, turning away.
"What did you say? You can't see?" America began cursing loudly, "You've gone blind?" America shouted.
"It doesn't really matter, though…" England continued quietly, "I've used up far too much magic now, anyway…I guess you were right…"
"I don't understand…"
"At the time, I was too focused… I didn't realize that I was fueling it with my own essence… now… now I feel it… or… rather… I don't feel it… if that makes any sense…"
"England…?"
"I guess I'm just as much an idiot as you are… I tried playing the hero…" England gave a weak laugh, "…I guess we're not as different as I thought…"
"I… I… what do you mean? What are you saying?" America asked.
"I'm sorry… America…"England sighed, "Sorry for being… a stubborn…"
"England, don't talk, save your strength! We're going to take you back and you're gonna get fixed up!" America cried.
"No… you don't understand. Magic shouldn't be used as recklessly as I had used it… I'm paying the price now…" England said softly, "I think… I think that… the price is too steep for me to pay, though…"
"No… no… don't talk like that…"
"America… just promise me one thing…" England sighed, "Don't go and get yourself killed. Live… live and get out of here… I… I can only wish that I could go with you…"
America picked England by the shoulders to try to look him in his unseeing eyes, "Stop talking like that! You're not going to die! Don't…"
England smiled weakly at his former brother, and then his body went slack.
"No, no! You can't do this, you can't die on me…" America whispered, "Come on, wake up! Stop pretending! This isn't funny… wake up!"
"America… I think that he's…" Prussia began, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" America screamed, knocking the German away, "England! I know you can hear me! Get up! Please! Please, just get up!" he began shaking the lifeless form roughly, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"
"America, cut it out! Screaming won't make him come back!" Prussia snapped.
"No, no, no… why are you such an idiot…" America whispered, seeming not to hear Prussia at all, "Get up… get up… This isn't how it's supposed to work… I'm the hero. I'm supposed to be the hero…" He held his former brother's limp body close, tears suddenly springing up in his eyes, "You're not supposed to die… You can't die... you can't die…"
The door was suddenly flung open and Japan's voice cut through the air, "We heard screaming! What's going…" the man's dark eyes trailed on the young man clutching the lifeless body of his friend, "Oh no…"
"Is that…?" Germany's voice said weakly.
"England…" America whispered, tears flowing freely now, "ENGLAND!"
"He killed the enemy, but he died because he overexerted himself," Prussia explained, looking towards the room Japan was preparing.
Russia looked down, folding his hands together, "I see… that's terrible…" he said softly.
China looked on without saying a word. Anyone can die here… was all he thought. The three were in the hallway, keeping watch if another enemy showed up while the process was taking place. The rest of the countries had dispersed into the two rooms: the one Japan was preparing and the room across the hall from it.
The room across the hall was the room America was in.
America was sitting up against the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest, his forehead resting on his knees. He had spent half an hour punching holes into the wall until his knuckles began to bleed, and after that he completely broke down. Every so often, a muffled sob escaped his throat. He wanted to die… he wanted to die…
Italy soundlessly watched as America cried, but eventually couldn't bear take it any longer. He got up and left the room, crossed the hall to the room Japan was preparing, opened the door quietly and walked inside.
It was filled with flowers.
He took in the sight as harsh wave of melancholy hit his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling as he walked into the room. "They're beautiful…" Italy said softly, picking a flower up and admiring it.
"They're fake…" Japan sighed, "We can't find flowers here… so I had to make them out of paper… thank heaven that there are so many books here, though I don't much like tearing them up…"
He's said that so many times…Italy thought, putting the paper flower down.
"How's this one?" the soft voice of Canada asked.
Italy looked up to see the young man holding up a rather pretty paper rose. Japan smiled sadly at it, "It's beautiful. Good job."
"Thank you…" Canada whispered.
Italy couldn't avoid it any longer. He looked over at the body of his fallen comrade lying in the single bed and felt his heart tighten slightly. Dead. England is dead… He gave a sad smile to the two other countries, remarked how well the preparations were going, and then departed from the room.
"Did you see him?" Germany asked as Italy returned and down silently beside him. Italy nodded, but his eyes never met his friend's. Germany frowned and slowly, awkwardly, put his arm around the smaller man in order to comfort him. Italy shrugged it off, his expression not changing. Germany's eyes widened in surprise. Italy never rejected physical contact...
Slowly, the smaller man put his hand into his jacket and produced an old book with a leathery black cover. He opened it and flipped through the pages.
Italy's bible… Germany thought, Perhaps he wants to do the service…
"I failed again…" Italy whispered.
"What's that?" Germany asked. Italy suddenly stood up, clutching the black book to his chest. He gave a deep, sorrowful sigh and began to walk. "Italy! Where are you going?" Germany called after him.
Italy looked over his shoulder and gave his friend a small, sad smile. "I'm going to make things right."
He walked over to America, kneeled down and placed his hand on the young man's back, "I'm sorry," he whispered. America didn't respond at all… it was difficult to say that he even heard Italy speak. He's so deep in his depression… Italy thought sadly. After a few seconds, he sighed and got back onto his feet, "I promise I'll make this right," Italy said softly, his eyes not leaving the suffering country. A jolt of pain struck his heart, How many times have I promised this…?
His head bowed, he walked past Prussia, China and Russia without telling them where he was going or why. The three watched him leave without a sound, as though something unseen was stopping them from even calling out his name. Perhaps it was the melancholy light in his eyes or the slow, deliberate manner of his steps…but they could tell that there was someplace that Italy had to be, there was something he had to do. It didn't seem right, or even possible, to stop him.
Slowly, Italy made his way down the staircase and onto the first floor… just so that he could be alone. He continued along hallways, walking simply for the sake of walking. After he was sure he was far enough away from the others, he broke down.
He clutched the black book to his chest as tears spilled out of his eyes, I failed! I failed again… he continually thought, though he daren't actually cry it aloud. This was his responsibility and his alone…only his cross to bear… if anyone ever actually found out…
They'd hate me. They'd all hate me… and they'd die again… They died regardless. No matter what he did, they died. So many times, he had gone back, and so many times, he had seen them meet their fates. By then, it was he who wanted to die. He wanted the monster just to come at him and kill him… that's what the monster wanted, right? Why didn't it do so? Did it just enjoy tormenting him?
I have to go back again… I have to make it right… no one is going to die… we're all going to survive… and somehow, I will make it right…
…regardless of the cost.