((Konnichiwa, fellow Hetalia fans! Nice to meet you! I'm Shiro. Thank you for taking the time to read this fancy-schmancy work of mine. I hope you enjoy it. I've had a lot of fun working on it, too, and in honor of Flag Day 2012, I've decided to post it. It will be annually updated, and by annually I mean whenever I get off my butt to write another chapter. I love reviews, so if you have anything (and I mean anything) to say just give me a shout. c:

Some of the human names that are going to be featured here are not canon. I'll note the ones that aren't canon, but I'll try to use any canon human names I can. Alongside that, I'll have plenty of OC countries, but I'm going to try to keep the "real" countries of Hetalia as the main focus, the Roman Catholic Church being the exception. Also, if you see something (like a translation, name, place, etc.) that I totally screwed, don't be afraid to tell me.

Names that aren't canon:

Ewan Kirkland (which is Wales, England's older brother)

Jason Kirkland (which is Scotland, England's oldest brother)

Edson Morgen (which is the Netherlands)

Chai Attali (which is Israel)

Matthias Sophus (which is the Roman Catholic Church)

I guess I'll leave you to read, then. c: Enjoy!))

Independence Day

Shiro the Shinigami

Prologue

My dearest brother,

I am not writing you with good tidings. I write now as the bearer of terrible news.

You obviously have heard of Holland's bombing on October 14th, 2057. Almost the entire of Holland's borders have been decimated by bomber pilots, though we are still not sure who this mysterious enemy is. Edson Morgen has sustained serious injuries and lays in critical condition inside Leiden University Medical Center. Your brother Jason and I are planning to stay beside him in case any other attacks might worsen his condition, and Chai Attali has already been summoned from Israel.

The only thing that we know so far about the attackers is that every single plane had the Roman crest painted into the left side of their hulls.

Arthur, I believe that our time of hiding is over. We need to stand up and take charge of our world again. There is danger now, danger enough to kill us even though we have walked away from our divine duties. The dangers are not going to cease. They are only going to progress and possibly take the lives of their true leaders.

We need to gather the world powers again. There is no time to waste. The surviving bomber planes have disappeared behind Russian borders, leaving only the threat of destruction in their wake.

First, find Feliciano and Romano. They'll know what to do if there is a threat from the Roman Catholic Church. I've sent you photographs of the fallen planes to show to them if they are still unsure. Watch the brothers carefully, however. If Matthias truly is behind this, it won't be long before he seizes control of Italy... if he hasn't already.

Godspeed, brother.

- Ewan Kirkland, of Wales

England folded up the letter from his older brother, sliding it into his messenger bag. When he looked out the window of the aircraft, he could see the Italian countryside getting closer and closer as they prepared to land. The city of Bergamo was beautiful in the early-morning sunlight, with sun sparkling off the shingled roofs. He sighed. It had been a long time since he had seen a country this beautiful.

The plane landed. People streamed quickly out of the plane, and England waited for most everyone to exit before he made a move. He was in no hurry, after all. Feliciano and Romano weren't expecting him.

He pulled a card out of his pocket with the address of the café that the twin Italians worked at, going over it one last time so that he made sure the would remember it. Then he made his way quickly out of the airport, with nothing to carry but a small carry-on bag. He wasn't going to stay long.

A short bus ride showed him a bit of Bergamo, including its magnificient architecture and cheery civilians. As they neared the main road, England took his leave and decided to walk the few blocks towards the restauraunt, hoping that the twins wouldn't be too busy to notice him.

But luckily, the restauraunt was smaller than he'd imagined. "il Café"was only about the size of a laundromat, with lots of small round tables and a long counter, behind which Romano busied himself. Feliciano waited on tables, dressed in a simple suit with an apron tied around his waist. His large curl bobbed off the side of his head, a huge smile on his face as he conversed with a few of his customers.

When England came into the café, the bell above the door chimbed a shrill note. Feliciano spun around, cheerily shouting, "Benvenuto, amico!" He then froze, blinking at the new (or old) sight, and furrowed his eyebrows as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. "...England?"

He smiled. "Hello, Feliciano." He answered, gently reminding him to use their human names instead of their country names.

Italy replied with a shriek, jumping to wrap his arms around England's neck. The change of weight made him spin, his arms around Feliciano's waist so that he wouldn't fly off. "Arthur!" He cried. "Arthur, I'ma so happy to see you! Aha!"

"Feliciano?" Romano questioned from behind the counter, not bothering to look up. "Who is it?"

"It's Arthur Kirkland!" He shouted back. "From England! Remember him?"

Romano moved from the counter, wiping his hands on his own apron as he came around. He blinked at England, but didn't smile like Feliciano had. He only looked him over, his eyes slightly narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you two." He answered, putting Italy down.

"Is it Arthur coming to talk to us?" Romano asked.

He shook his head.

"Did something happen?" Italy questioned, sounding worried. "Is everyone okay?"

"Do you watch the news? Read the newspaper?"

Italy tilted his head. "Not often. Why?"

"There's been a bombing. Holland was completely decimated."

"Is he alright?"

"He's in critical condition. My brothers are with him, and they don't think there's much hope at this point."

Italy looked like he was about to cry. Romano took his arm and led him into the back of the store, saying simply, "We shouldn't talk about this out here. The customers don't understand much English, but we don't want them getting any ideas. After they're gone, we'll close up for the day and you can talk about whatever you came to talk about."

England nodded. "Alright."

Romano clicked the door of their café shut, then turned to join his brother and England at one of the tables. All of their previous customers had gone, so they were alone in the small restauraunt, the smell of pasta drifting through the room. The brothers sat beside each other, their curls opposite each other.

"So, England? What did you want to talk to us about?" Romano asked, sliding into his seat.

England pulled the folder with the photographs out of his bag and placed them on the table. "These are photos of the bomber planes. About thirty of them were shot down during the attack, but the rest of them flew across Europe and into Russian territory. Even though some of them are beat up pretty badly, you can still make out the symbol on the hull."

Italy looked at the photos, his eyes getting wide. "...that's Grandpa Rome's symbol!"

He nodded. "I was hoping you'd recognize it."

The young Italian glanced up. "You don't think that this has anything to do with Grandpa Rome, do you?"

"Of course not. Grandpa Rome is long-since dead. It's probably just a cult or something, using the Roman symbol for some kind of religious statement." Romano brushed it off, tossing the photo he had been looking at back onto the table. "There was an attack. So what? There's always attacks. No one freaked out when America or Japan were bombed. You're overreacting."

England's expression darkened. "You two really don't keep up with the latest times, do you?"

They exchanged glances. "No..."

"There've been five attacks so far. Two attacked Sweden, one Iceland, one Ireland, and now, this one has put a huge black scar on the Netherlands where Holland once was." He put down a few more photos, these showing the true extend of the destruction of Holland. "When I said that Netherlands was in critical condition, I meant it."

Italy sighed at the photos, memories of World War II beginning to resurface. "But what does this have to do with Grandpa Rome?"

"We don't know yet. Know one knows where these planes are coming from, and no one knows why they're attacking. But they've got Europe's attention. They could attack anywhere next - France, Spain, Poland, Germany..."

"Germany?" Feliciano gasped. "No, they can't attack Germany!"

"Germany isn't too far from Holland. And Britain isn't too far either. The Royal Family has gone into a specialized holding place until this invisible enemy will make itself known. All we have is the symbol, and their retreat..."

"Retreat?" Romano asked.

"They retreat to Russia." England said. "We're not sure if they stay in Russia or move somewhere else, but they do always return to Russia. Western Europe is hanging on the brink of declaring war on Russia, though Wales hasn't been able to get in touch with him for almost ten years. We're not sure where he is, or if he's really behind this... but..."

"But what?" Italy grabbed onto Romano's arm.

"I've come to the conclusion that we, as countries," He began, "should step up and regain our rightful place as the leaders of the world."

"Leaders?"

"Yes." England kept his expression serious, with his hands folded on the tabletop. "They need us."

"How did you get that out of a few bombings?" Romano asked, huffing.

"There's something unnatural about the entire situation. All of us have felt it, and I'm sure you two have, too." Arthur explained. "Not just the symbol of the Roman Empire, or their retreat to a country who's been silent for a decade. But the world leaders are fumbling for control over their provinces and Europe is fearful. They need leaders. With this latest bombing, the enemy has shown that it can take out entire cities, provinces, in less than twelve hours with no warning. Without knowledge of them there is no safety. We're on the brink of World War III as the leaders point fingers, and I won't let these people burn to the ground the countries we've spent blood to build.

"We, as countries, have the upper hand. We've spent almost fifteen years in the shadows, without a word in our governments, and centuries being stepped on while the selfish politicians take control for themselves. We're not here to sit around and watch the elections determine our fate. We need to seize the control that we deserve and that we were born for.

"My brother has given me instructions to gather the different countries from the cities they've hidden themselves in. You two are the ones who have been most open to sharing your location, but there are others - like Russia - who we haven't heard from in ages. Wales also said to find you first because you'll help convince the ones who aren't quite as willing to give up their human lives. But both of these things add to the same: without you two on board, this ship isn't going anywhere. What do you say? Will you help me?"

Feliciano stared at his hands in his lap. "...England, I want to help, but..."

"We don't want to take responsibility for our country's fate." Romano put frankly. "We're tied to it, yes, but with leadership comes the responsibility of the people you command. As countries, if we make one slip-up, get one bad virus, take one bad step into the road, millions of people could die."

"I understand that. We all face that, Romano." England replied. "But we have to face it with courage, don't we?"

He pursed his lips, staring at the windows.

"I want to help him, brother." Italy said, looking towards Romano. "Can we?"

Romano didn't quite seem convinced, but glanced at Arthur for a moment, then sighed. "If you want to, Feliciano, I wouldn't mind a vacation. But if anything goes wrong, it'll be on your head, Britain."

The Englishman nodded solemnly, then gathered his photos and stood. "We should leave as soon as possible, then. I have three tickets out of Bergamo."

"Three? You were so certain we'd tag along?" Romano eyed him.

"I hoped for it." He stated. "Hope isn't something to be ignored, especially now."