This is japaneserockergirl here with my first Hetalia fanfic!

Disclaimer: I, japaneserockergirl, do not own any of the Axis Powers Hetalia characters you see here…or the ones you don't. But I do own Ghana, my OC. Now on with the show—fanfiction….

Departure

Summary: England had grown accustomed to his protégé's bad moods, impulsive whims, and raw determination. But now it was time for them to part.

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England had been standing in front of her door for ten minutes, hand against its wooden surface. He rocked back and forth on his heels uneasily.

Why is this so hard? He asked himself, exasperated.

He should have been relieved that she would finally be out of his hair in a matter of hours. After many years of torture, he would be free! But England wanted to at least say goodbye, and he had never been good at doing that.

It's now or never… With a sigh, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," a voice said.

England opened the door. The room was empty save for a multiple-drawer desk, a bare closet, a nightstand, and a sheet less bed where Ghana sat. He never knew this room was so airy and spacious until now. It was disheartening, seeing as it served as a reminder that it would no longer hold an inhabitant. Ghana averted her gaze, her feet swinging back and forth against the bed frame, as if to count the seconds ticking by.

Knock…knock…knock…

"So…I hear that two-thirds of the legislature voted for independence," England started.

"Yup." Ghana gripped the edge of her bed.

She didn't want to have this conversation. All she wanted to do was leave as soon as possible and see how the governmental proceedings went. As much of a good teacher England was, he wasn't exactly her friend. He did hold her captive for 200-something years. And yet, a sense of sadness overcame her and she didn't understand why. Was she actually going to miss him?

England inspected her more closely. Ghana was wearing her 'professional' clothes—a red admiral shirt (sleeves cut short) with golden cuffs and green pants. GHANA was stitched into the breast pocket and black stars were stitched into her collar. She had been sowing it since the CPP had emerged.

"Nice clothes."

"Thank you."

A heavy silence fell over them again. What else could he say? His job was done now. For two centuries, England had kept his watchful eye over Ghana, teaching her about the world throughout the wars, depressions, and victories as well as defeats. In fact, he could remember the day Ghana had fallen into his hands:

England had been sitting at a small table, stirring a cup of tea. His boss had been rounding up nation-tans in Africa and the islands, and with each passing day, there was yet another bitter-faced brat being dragged into his house. He could only wonder who would torment him next. The door opened slowly, and England stiffened in preparation.

In stepped a little girl, no more than six or seven. She had short, thick black hair that struggled to stay in a small ponytail. She looked scared, fragile with those brown eyes. Maybe she would be different. England approached and knelt down in front of her.

"Um…hello?" Did she even understand English, he wondered. "I'm--"

He didn't get to finish before that 'scared little girl' punched him in the face, nearly breaking his neck. She made a run for the hallway, but didn't get far until England's boss grabbed and dragged her back into the room kicking and screaming. England would have been impressed by the attempt had he not been so angry at the time.

"I'm so sorry, England; she can be quite a handful."

"Yes, I think she has already established that."

"Which is why she needs proper guidance, so she can become a proper lady."

England doubted it was possible. "What's it's—I mean her name?"

"I believe it's Ghana." England's boss placed Ghana into his arms; she immediately bit her new mentor's hand.

"OW! Why you bloody—(his boss glared at him)—I mean, charming little darling…" he said with clenched teeth.

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Come to think of it, England had grown accustomed to his protégé's bad moods, impulsive whims, and raw determination, but now it was time for them to part. Ghana was no longer the little girl who used to kick England in the groin 'for fun'; she was a full-fledged country and deserved to be treated like one. America came to mind for a fleeting moment. The only other time he had felt this way was during the Revolutionary War, when the two of them and their armies stood drenched in the freezing rain, boots squelching in the mud. America had given him the same fierce look Ghana was giving him now and demanded the same thing:

"England…I want my independence…"

And this time I'll make sure you won't have to fight for it…

Ghana hopped off the bed and stretched. "Well…it's been, how do the Americans say it? Real? But I have to get going. My boss is setting up the government. I want to se how it goes."

Some goodbye, England thought, but what could he expect? Ghana was not the sentimental type.

Ghana grabbed her luggage. Well, I guess that's it…Why did she feel so homesick? She shook her head. What are you talking about? This was never your home!

She waddled, arms straining as she walked through the door. "I'll…see you at the next UN meeting I suppose."

Suddenly, the handle on Ghana's suitcase broke, the contents spilling on the floor.

"…" England knew what was coming next…

"ARGH!" Ghana tugged at her short hair before kicking her suitcase. "You bloody! Piece of! SHIT!" she cried between each kick, "Why can't you! Be a good! Piece of! Crap! And stay shut!"

England laughed at the girl's misfortune, making her flinch. It was obvious where she had gotten her mouth from.

"Why don't I help you with that?" he offered.

Reluctantly, Ghana turned towards him. "Would…you…please?"

England helped her close the suitcase and picked it up with ease. Ghana envied his strength, and hated asking for his help…but maybe, one day, she wouldn't mind his help. Maybe—just maybe they could become friends. This didn't have to be a departure.

Not if I don't want it to be.

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This idea came to me one day while I was watching APH and was concerned about the lack of Africana-tans (as I like to call them) and set out to write some fics about them in a series called 'Meet The Africana-tans!'. Departure is the first in the series, with Journey being the second. Each one-shot focuses on one point in each nation's history. Departure was about Ghana's independence from England in 1957 (but it was already obvious, wasn't it?). Ghana once served as one of England's colonies during its imperialistic period in the late 1800s and was deemed the Gold Coast due to its abundance in gold. While England helped Ghana with its education, sanitation, and health care, it put little power into the hands of the Africans. Eventually, educated Ghanaians formed alliances to help gain the country's independence.

I was aiming for a more...sensitive side of England, so I apologize if he sounded OOC.

If you want more info on Ghana, the link to her profile (on my dA) is on my profile.

So please review! Constructive criticism is loved! AND NEEDED BADLY! IT RUNS THE ELECTRICITY IN MY HOU--

(power shuts off)