International Day of Peace

Summary: I literally learned this on the morning of that day that it is the International Day of Peace on Sept. 21, and it is an international day of ceasefire. What better way to celebrate than a game of football? America and Afghanistan.

AU: I don't know politics, sorry this is during whatever year, etc, etc. Sorry. I also know nothing about the Muslim religion, also googled.

Language(I couldn't confirm the language of Afghanistan)

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America glanced at his military watch. "September 21st," he said aloud.

The private next to him glanced over. "Sir?" he asked uncertainly.

America chuckled, standing up. "Let's play a game," he said, putting gun down.

"Sir!" the private protested but America ignored him.

Without any reservations, America walked onto the battlefield, which he knew for a fact had no landmines; no one fired on him. America made it to the middle before he pulled his helmet off and grinned rbightly.

"Did you bring it?" he called loudly.

There was stone-cold silence before a second voice replied, more smoothly than America. "Yes Jones," it said, before a man was revealed.

The man was tall, with dark skin and dark hair, which was cut short. His face was riddled with scars and his whiskers were grown in, making his face darker. He was dressed in an Afghanistan military uniform and he had a taqiyah on his head. The man walked towards America, a soccer ball in his hands.

America smield at him. "As-salamu alaykum," he said, not really fluent but knowledgeable.

The man chuckled with a nod. "Wa-Alaikum-Salaam," he replied.

America grinned, putting his foot back. "Who kicks off this time Rostam?" he asked.

The man, or rather Rostam, smirked as well, taking his own stance while tensing his arms. "Head in," he said in choppy English.

Rostam tossed the ball into the air, his and America's eyes keeping track of it. The moment it was in reach, the two men jumped, America's head hit it first. The games have begun.

The soldiers of the two different sides watched in shock as their countries, for those who knew, were playing the game of football, like they weren't in the middle of war. No one was sure on how to proceed, when a man from the American base put his gun down and left his helmet; a man named Ferguson, who had served America twenty years.

"Alrght Ferg!" America said, shooting the ball to the man.

"No fair!" Rostam said, then glanced at his side. "Puck!"

Almost instantly, a young Muslim man ran from the other side, stopping the ball from crossing the lan drawn into the sand.

"2 on 2!" America encouraged.

"Three!" called the private from earlier, Tommy Rodes.

"You're on!" another Afghan joined them, Zachariah.

Four more Americans joined, followed by five Afghans. "For country!" one American said, kicking the ball.

"For fun!" America corrected, taking Rostam head on.

Soon, more and more men joined the game, allowing for America and Rostam to sneak off to the borders to watch. They were both smiling, watching as their 'children' played in the sand, like the war was behind them.

"We'll stop fighting one day," America said, glancing at the middle-eastern country.

Rostam nodded, "When that day comes," he replied, smiling at the other country, "We'll play again."

"Right," America confirmed, giving a thumbs up.

End.

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So like I said, litterally learned about the day and wrote the story mere moments later cause I felt like it. Why not?

Anyone from Afghanistan or of Muslim, I apologize if my names or languages or whatever it is is wrong. I apologize again. I'm just waiting for the world to come together where we're all so mixed that we can't really call each other by our race or heritage but by our character.

Til next time,

Ja ne~!