Nico: Hello all! As some of you may know summers almost over and schools coming (or maybe its already here for some of you) and I had to do some cleaning up for the new year. I can only describe it as similar to "America's Cleaning of the Storage". I found a couple things that made me smile, and some things that I would rather forget. That was sort of what first pushed me to write this.

Then recently I was listening to some songs I used to listen to, then the idea for this story hit me.

Just to add to the story, this story is a songfic based off Hero of War by Rise Against. So I'd recommend listening to the song while reading.

I DO NOT OWN HETALIA: AXIS POWERS!

Hero of War

A Hetalia: Axis Powers Fanfiction

Many would deny that countries had similarities. However, at the same time, many would agree that countries were more alike than we could comprehend.

But how could this be? How could landmasses, so different in many ways, be the same? It just further proves that we cannot comprehend it, and even if we tried it would leave us with an awful headache. However it is in somehow true. In the back of every countries history there is that one moment that exposes them to the world and more.

He said, "Son, have you seen the world?"

I took my attention turned to the source of the question. It was a man. I recognized this man. He looked over me, he was my boss.

I very well respected this man, but just where did his question come from? Was there something outside of my land that I knew not of? Was there something more than my country? Was there something more than I?

I shook my head to his question, and he continued with a warm smile on his face. "Well what would you say, if I said that you could?"

What if I could see the world? That sounded like something of dreams? It tickled my curiosity, what was outside my house? What would be waiting for me out there?

I then felt something heavy placed in my arms. I looked down and in my hands was a gun. It was a new model, and seemed to glare at me with invisible eyes. I looked up at the man, who still had a smile on his face. "Just carry this gun, you'll even get paid."

I said, "That sounds pretty good."

I sat on the log beside my fellow soldiers. They were all telling stories, laughing, and eating, some all at the same time. They messily devoured their food mess tins, and chugged down the lukewarm water. They told stories of their previous fights. Some told stories of their families back home.

I had not felt this way for a long time, even the awesome me feels nostalgia. Everything, minus a few details, was as I remembered it. The smell of sweat from a hard day's work mixed with the smell from the rations. Even the sound of burly laughter from the soldiers could not veil the pleasant crackle from the campfire. The sights however were what took it home.

Black leather boots, spit-shined so bright. Worn but durable uniforms, I could not help but chuckle at my awesome applets that rested on my shoulders. Those applets separated me from the younger soldiers. By younger, I mean by rank.

I can remember when I went to my first war. They cut off my hair but it looked alright. I ran my hands through my short whitened locks. My hair was a different hue back then, not so bleak. I've aged a lot since then, but still everything around me was pretty much the same.

Back then to now, we marched and we sang. We all became friends, as we learned how to fight.

I kicked in the door and I yelled my commands. It was just another mission with one of my groups. A procrastinating jerk did not repay his debt to us. We found him though.

There with him was his family. His wife who looked pretty cute, and his children. This sight somehow ticked me off. His sons, resembled each other, which reminded me of my brother and I.

I was never like my brother, who was always so happy-go-lucky and cheery. He saw good in almost everybody and was a talented little tyke. Even though I was the older one, I never got the attention he got from our grandfather. He inherited the talents from our old man, and he was given all the love. I was left behind, and I didn't give a damn.

I took care of myself the only way I knew how. However since my brother and I were young and not all that strong, we were separated, not that I'm complaining. I ended up being stuck with some other country.

He was just as annoying as my brother, and I really hated him. However at the same time I try not to hate him too much. He provided for me when his own country was not in the best state. He put up with my yelling and abuse. For the first time, he was the only one who ever gave a damn about me, and loved me. And what did I do? I yelled at him, I hit him, I troubled him. Yet he would still love me.

Perhaps it was because love was such a foreign thing to me. I was not used to something like that. I could hardly say that my grandfather loved me. It was probably because of my lack of love that I became biased on things. I saw things in a darker shade.

The children, they cried, but I got my man. We took him away, a bag over his face, from his family and his friends.

I had no doubts in my boss, none of us did. He may be young, but we would rather die than lose. I had no doubts, but as I trudged into my old brother's borders, I could not help but feel a guilty pang with every step.

We originally came for their resources, but somehow it became much more. I looked back to this time, and I wonder just what I was thinking. It was not me. That man holding a gun, a smug look on his face, who is he? I do not want to remember that time, but I always do.

When we came and won, we stared in disgust as they gave up before us. To us, back then, they were lower than dirt. They had no resolve in them to fight for their country, for their leader, for anything. They were not humans to us, they were useless.

We then took over. The soldiers broke into every household, and took everyone out. I knew which house I would take, my old brother's. We brought them all out. We started with the men who gave up so easily. A soldier took pictures of it all.

They took of his clothes, for he was not human, he had no need for coverage. He had given up, so such humility would be further punishment. They pissed in his hands, and then I told them to stop, but then I joined in. We beat him with guns and batons not just once, but again and again.

For a long time now, I had been living an independent life, the way I wanted to. I at least once before that many countries were in war. This was the second time now, and I refused to be a part of it.

That snarky guy kept pestering me to join, like the first time. The last time it took cold hard evidence to bring me in. I did not want to be a part of a war that had nothing to do with me.

However, there came the day when I fell to the ground during a meeting with my boss. I felt a terrible pain in my gut. I did not have much experience with these sorts of pains, but I knew what it was. I was attacked, bombed to be precise. There then was my reason to join.

I remember clearly the day we sent our troops over. I stood proudly at my capital, standing by a flag pole, with my flag raised up high. I thought then, "A hero of war, yeah, that what I'll be and when I come home they'll be damn proud of me."

I touched the flag pole. I fought for this before, I fought for my independence. I suffered through the pain of my vital regions being burnt. I fought and suffered, but I was not just going to stop there.

I'll carry this flag, to the grave if I must, because it's a flag that I love and a flag that I trust.

She was crazy. I did not understand her at all. Why wouldn't she join me? Together we would definitely become the strongest nation in the world. She says she does not want me to get hurt, not like her grandfather. I do not understand. Right now as she cried before me, why, my love, why?

That was a long time ago, why would I remember such a memory? This was definitely not the time or place for such things. I was cramped in the trenches, with bullets flying over our heads.

"What are you doing?" I hissed when I noticed something stand up beside me. I looked, it was the girl. What? Where did she come from? She was beside me in the trench, but she stood up and climbed out of the trench. I stared in disbelief as she walked through bullets and haze.

It was not possible. I had no time to contemplate who she was or where she came from. I quickly clawed my way over the trench and ran after her. I could not see her, so I called out hoping she could hear me. Eventually I found her, she had stopped for a moment. I rushed over to her and I asked her to stop. I begged her to stay.

But she pressed on. So I lifted my gun and I fired away. I closed my eyes, but I could hear everything. I did not want to look. I wish I did not have to. However eventually I forced them open.

The shells jumped through the smoke and into the sand that the blood now had soaked. I carefully walked over, and saw the girl. She collapsed with a flag in her hand. My eyes widened when I saw it. She was not a girl. He held that flag in a white-knuckled grip, a flag white as snow.

We all walked home, and we were welcomed with joyful tears and happy smiles, some of us, but not all of us. What we saw changed us forever. We saw the world and now we could not un-see it. Through the crowd of smiles, there was us scattered about, still shocked.

Years passed, and our suffering is now in history books. Through the years, my scars have stayed, and more have gathered. More and more wars came, more battles of some shape of form. It never truly ended. While in the eyes of our people, it was gone and done. However in our eyes, it forever haunted us. Unlike them, we have not passed on yet. We are still living, walking in the streets. You may have seen one of us, once before.

We may all have our differences, but at the end of the day we all sing the same song.

"A hero of war,

Is that what they see?

Just medals and scars,

So damn proud of me,

And I brought home that flag,

Now it gathers dust,

But it's a flag that I love.

It's the only flag I trust."

We all stare off into the night's grace and the morning's bliss. We all live under this sky, and we all live in this world. This world we have seen, but perhaps not everyone can see it. So to that, He said, "Son, have you seen the world? Well what would you say, if I said that you could?"

Nico: And that's it. I'm pretty happy with this story. I can sort of relate to it. Oh, by the way, I did not clearly state what countries there were in this story, although I think I made it somewhat clear. If it becomes a problem, not knowing who is who, I'll label them later.

So as I said before, school's approaching, so I may not be able to upload so frequently. However I will try to the best of my ability.

I hope you enjoyed the story! Thanks for reading!

Please Read and Review!