Hello everyone! I hope you like this story ._. At this point I don't have much to say other than the fact that I most obviously don't own Axis Powers Hetalia.
A heads up not sure about this yet, but the rating may go up.
Snow drifted down to blanket the bustling city of Tampere, the setting sun peeking out just long enough to highlight an arc of twinkling flakes. A tall blond bespectacled man gazed up at the display, ice blue eyes marveling at its beauty. Since moving from reserved Leksand in Sweden, Berwald Oxenstierna found himself enthralled by the simple beauties of the big city he now called home.
He found the throngs of people fascinating despite their obvious avoidance of him. It seemed that no matter where he traveled, his face was still the bane of his social existence. Despite that, Berwald was convinced that he could pursue the occupation of his dreams. He knew it wasn't what people typically associated with him, he knew it wasn't the orthodox profession most men in his town desired, but he wanted to be a nurse.
He dabbled in learning about almost all aspects of medical science, but rather than becoming a specialist of some import or a world renowned doctor, Berwald just wanted to make the day for a sick patient, cheer up an ill child, or encourage a smile from a terminal patient.
In order to accomplish that he had set a rigid routine of studying. His personal library, of which he was deeply proud, consisted almost entirely of medical research, and it was ever growing.
Even now Berwald found himself hunting for a quaint little bookstore, a nice place to relax and maybe enjoy a steaming cup of coffee while browsing for new knowledge. Emil, his lone friend who had moved to Stockholm around the time Berwald had moved to Tampere, often joked that the Swede had an insatiable thirst for intellect, and he was right. Though the quiet giant generally preferred science, there was nothing he didn't want to learn about.
He started a steady gait, neck craned and head shifting left and right, searching for the perfect place to hole up for the evening. Ah! There! Akateeminen kirjakauppa*, while it wasn't the mom and pop store he had originally been searching for, the vast book collection he espied even from the street practically had him salivating.
Berwald entered the store, a bundle of excitement knotted itself in his stomach, which he of course alleviated with a caffeinated beverage of his choice, purchased from the Robert's coffee* shop located in the store. The Java Estate was practically a taste of home and heaven.
Berwald's gaze shifted from shelf to shelf, eyes absorbing the impressive display with a hunger previously unknown to him.
Hn, this might just take longer than one night.
Inquisitive
Tino Väinämöinen cheerfully waved at the Russian man before him, Ivan Braginsky, a man he was told that he should avoid fucking with if he valued his life. Tino supposed that meant he was suicidal.
"Ivan! It is good to see you."
The violet eyed man indulged the smaller violet eyed man with a slightly less than creepy grin that he bestowed upon lesser subordinates.
"Ah, Tino, we are here to talk business, da?"
Tino nodded, "Yes, I have a few questions regarding your methods of dealing with my men."
"They were clearly infringing on my territory, surely you can agree their punishment was well deserved."
"If by 'punishment' you are referring to how you sent their dismembered limbs to their family members, then I have to ask, who were you really punishing?"
The smaller man narrowed his eyes minutely, gaze raking the tall Russian with something akin to reproach, like a parent coaxing the truth of who really drew rainbows on the white leather coach. Ivan returned the gaze, having the gall to look almost sheepish.
"You know how things are, sometimes my men get a little over zealous, can you blame them for wanting to have a bit of fun?"
The Finn's welcoming smile sharpened into something a bit less...benevolent.
"Actually, I can and I do. Feliks, can you bring in Mikhail?"
Tino watched the flitting emotions on Ivan's face, a sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside him at the furious fear that flashed briefly in those amethysts. His cross dressing accomplice entered the room, towing a trembling Russian, his fingers entwined non-too-gently in wheat colored locks, painted nails peeking out from behind a few blood crusted strands.
"Well finally, this guy's like, totally lame. No fun at all, gives in at like, even the thought of pain."
The whimpering man attempted to cast a pleading glance upon the Russian boss, but had his head twisted roughly back by those pink fingernails. Tino leveled his gaze at his opponent.
"Ivan, let me make a few things clear. This is Finland my favored country, my place of birth, home of my heart. This is Tampere, city of my origins as a member of the 'family'. I own these streets and every criminal that saunters on them. I mete out punishment here, no one else. I decide what is humane treatment and what is not. What your men did to mine is not. Be grateful that what I'm about to do is more humane than the fate my men suffered at your extended hands."
And just like that any pretense of a smile fell from Ivan's lips.
"Tino you don't have to-"
"Braginsky, I don't think you're in a position to tell me what I can and cannot do."
Tino turned and grabbed a fistful of Mikhail's hair, signaling for Feliks to release him. The man stumbled forward, practically falling into Tino's lap, which muffled his pathetic mewling.
"Oh hush love, hush. You won't have much to cry about for very long."
Ignoring the others present in the room, Tino caressed those wheat colored locks, shushing the man as a mother would a newborn babe, his gentle voice belying his true intentions. He tugged gently upwards on the Russian's head, purposefully meeting his frightened gaze. One deceptively delicate finger rose to swipe away the single tear that traced a path down that pale, pale face.
Tino pulled Mikhail flush against him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of his head, appearing not to mind the flakes of dried blood that drifted away at the touch of his lips. He hummed and tenderly rocked the Russian criminal in his arms.
"See how gentle I am with him, Ivan? You should learn from this."
A thin veil of confusion coated those amethyst eyes, suspicion swirling deep within them.
And he was right to be apprehensive.
In an instant the Finnish man had drawn a gun from within his tailored jacket, allowed the muzzle to kiss the bottom of Mikhail's skull for just an instant before he pulled the trigger.
City Matron
Words leaped from the pages and lodged themselves into Berwald's brain as he poured through book after book, eyes never pausing to rest for even a moment. This was nirvana, the most peaceful state he had ever experienced in his entire life, bliss seemed to float in the atmosphere and curl about the Swede's shoulders like a lover's embrace.
Few people had bothered him, but he doubted that few people could bother him in the entranced state he was in. This place was much better than the local library, not to demean the value or the historical significance of the place, but oddly enough Berwald found himself hard pressed to find a truly quiet niche there. The intense Finnish winter encouraged people to cozy up inside rather than bundle up out.
Sipping from his now lukewarm coffee, the blond allowed his gaze to wander from the pages spread before him and along the many shelves and various individuals who browsed them, intent expressions betraying a need for some specific material. But there was one man, who unlike the others, seemed to hold very little interest in the books. Like Berwald, he sipped a cup of Robert's coffee, intelligent eyes peeking out at the other patrons.
He's looking for something...but not a book. Someone perhaps?
The tall Swede felt his heart stop as those innocent, violet eyes fell on him, a sharp inhalation of breath betraying his surprise.
He's beautiful...
Enraptured
Tino ambled on down the streets of Tampere, the very same streets that he had claimed absolute ownership of not two hours earlier. If he could, Tino would very much like to protect them without resorting to violence, but he couldn't see any other way to get his point across. He had tried ever other trick in the book that he could plausibly use against other invading mafias, but nothing quite hit home like a slug* to the skull.
He frowned, that still didn't make it right. Perhaps if Mikhail and his accomplices hadn't treated Tino's men so horribly, perhaps if they hadn't tortured them extensively and tormented the minds of their loved ones, then perhaps Tino would have been merciful, but as it was he didn't even feel a drop of remorse. Not even a twinge.
How could he? Should he have just let karma, such a slow moving force if it existed at all, deal with those monstrosities, thereby allowing them to commit more unforgivable atrocities? Tino didn't think so.
At least he could take comfort in the fact that he would never stoop so low as to torture another human being, innocent or not. Well, physically at least. He supposed the teasing and waiting that Mikhail had to endure had been akin to a sort of torture.
The Finnish man sighed, tired of thinking such troublesome thoughts.
Keep it up and you'll get crows feet at twenty five.
He glanced up at the name of the shop his emotionally exhausted feet had carried him to, Akateeminen kirjakauppa.
Fateful Steps
Footnotes and other such things:
Akateeminen kirjakauppa*- a popular bookstore chain in Finland
Robert's coffee-one of the most widespread coffee chains in the Nordic countries, which of course includes both Sweden and Finland
slug* to the skull-slug is another term for bullet
Yeah so, I know this chapter was rather short, but I'm just trying it out to see what kind of response I get to it. I promise any following chapters will be longer and more in depth. Think of this as a sort of prologue-ish chapter.
Hope you enjoyed!
~Kura
