Well hey there guys! It's Rae back with another "In Progress" Hetalia story! Whoooooo~~!

Yes, I've done it to myself again but I'm actually really excited about this one. You see, my English teacher is always telling us that an author write best from personal experience and that got me thinking about the things that I know best. This brought up the idea of my childhood and my hometown and the small little neighborhood that I lived in. So, as you might have guessed, this is a story based off of my childhood. Though many things have been changed around for the sake of the characters and story line a lot of these experiences are my own~ :D

So over the past week I've been writing out this story and I really love how it turned out! Maybe my teacher what right! :D

Now over the course of the story there will be many different characters and pairings so I won't list them all! It will be a surprise~ Also, the other chapters won't be nearly as long because I've pretty much got the background info taken care of in this one. ^^;; So I'm thinking more 1,000-2,000 word chapters in the future.

Obviously some things have been switched around so I don't simply give out where I live so don't you be trying to stalk me now! D: (nah, I kid. Who would wanna stalk me?)

So, without further or do! I present "Time Goes By"~ Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia but I do own the small town of Hokrel in my mind and all of these memories and experiences~ :3


The Village of Hokrel. It was a quiet and quaint little town, well-kept and clean, with just over 2,000 people packed into its small capacity. For being such a small town though, it indeed had its expectations. Unlike typical tourist towns which were well known all over the world and typically had 100 times the amount of people living there as Hokrel, when top A celebrities came from all over to get away from said big cities to relax in the large five-star hotel or take an afternoon to have a go at Hokrel's world-renowned golf courses, Hokrel community staff was fit and ready to make the streets look picture perfect. (Literally, there were more than enough postcards in the small village shops.)

The trees that neatly bordered the streets could tell you that here was a place where all four seasons were celebrated, some longer or shorter than others, but represented none the less.

Here, the fall had a nice three month period in which things were held at a cool but still comfortable temperature to walk about. The trees turned vibrant colors of bring reds, soft oranges, and brilliant yellows before falling off and building into piles. (Some unfortunately larger if one happened to play home to a large maple or two.)

Winter rolled around next and it quite enjoyed over-staying its welcome. Often times the first snow fall occurred in mid-November and the winter season then held up with its frigid temperatures, heavy snow falls, and icy winds until it slowly made its leave near April. Though it lasted nearly half the year, winter was a beautiful season in Hokrel.

After a fresh snow fall, cool, white blankets lay over everything; yards and house-tops as well as covering car windshields and balancing evenly on thin telephone wires.

The community staff also set up lights on all of the trees around the five-star hotel and the shops, lighting up the village as the already shortened days darkened by early evening.

Spring was the most deprived of all four seasons. The locals often joke, "Spring? There's actually a season between winter and summer?" for the entire season seems to only last as long as it took the snow to melt; typically two weeks.

In that time, yards are flooded and turn to mud while branches go into over-drive in an attempt to bud and bloom by the time summer makes an entrance.

Summer is a temperate season in Hokrel, staying in the temperature range of mid- 70s to 80s and only going into the 90s on odd days.

During these certain days of the year, if they weren't too worn down by the heat to wander out from the safety of their cool, air-conditioned homes, you could find most of the children of Hokrelat the public pool. Though not very extravagant withonly a single diving board, an hour or so spent splashing friends and pretending to be different sea creatures and then proceeding to swim about awkwardly around the pool (some more than others) was defiantly a cure to the otherwise draining heat spell. (If you were willing to put up with smelling strongly like chorine until your next shower, that is.)

This story here begins on one of these blistering hot days on a down-hill (or up-hill depending on how you looked at it) street section in the middle of one of the residential areas of Hokrelwhere the houses were small and humble with compact, square yards unlike the large and modernly designed, recently built houses on the other side of town that had falsely labeled Hokrel as a "Village of the Prestigious" (AKA "The Village of the Snobby Rich Kids") though really, most of the residents were as middle-class as those of the neighboring towns.

On this street (McKinley Drive) there were eight houses. If you were to stand at the incline at the top of the street, on the right would be five and on the left, three. (All but three being occupied by at least one child.) The street was shaded for the most part by the small village trees as well as an overpowering grandfather maple placed in the front yard of the middle house on the right. (Its twin, just as large, residing in the back yard.)

Under the shade of this grand tree sat seven children of various ages and appearances, five boys and two girls. As for ages, four shared the age of 11, two the age of 10, and one the age of 8. (For he was the youngest had not celebrated his birthday yet that year.)

Age was vital in the eyes of these children. Though it wasn't necessarily a hierarchy in any matter it did decide things like who made the rules for new yard games and those that were captains for capture the flag and other games involving picking teams.

As well as the privileges of age there were also the disadvantages for with age comes responsibility (as the parents loved to tell them whenever given the chance). One of these disadvantages (which had happened more often than anyone cared for) was that, considering the older children were typically faster and stronger than the younger ones, if someone got hurt (whether it be a scraped knee or a broken bone, both had happened) it was the job of one of the 11 to run and get a parent.

Older kids also had to confront parents with the damage of personal property such as the garage window of the last house on the right, having been broken at least four times for reasons even the children didn't understand anymore.

But the primary duty of the "Big Kids" was to call up neighborhood meetings. These meetings could be called for multiple reasons. Some were called to bring up bad such as one of them being grounded for a period of time or good news like over-hearing the weather forecast on the news with a prediction for heavy snow-fall throughout the night which almost always called for a prediction of "No School" the next day.

Meetings were also called to share information over-heard by the parents. This could also be good or bad. A good example being the organization of a neighborhood bonfire (Yes, roasted marshmallows and sparkles for all) and a bad example being the visit of relatives which typically involved losing a portion of their numbers to a Saturday or Sunday afternoon spent cleaning the house in the preparation.

Often times meetings were held for no reason at all but to sit about and discuss the activities for the day. On these occasions (which usually occurred multiple times between meals and individual family events) each kid had an equal say. One of the 11 would point to each individual and ask what yard game or activity they wished to do that day.

Each person had to pick a different activity even if someone had already chosen what they wished to do. Often times this brought up "kiddy" games such as "Leap Frog" or "Color Tag" just to make sure there were seven yard games total to choose from when the voting came next. (Even if no one voted for them anyway.) Everyone shared a giggle at the poor soul who was forced to choose such a game, but souch was life.

As for voting, each kid had one equal vote that could be split once in half if they couldn't choose between two of the games. Everyone would sit except for one of the 11 who would call out each activity individually and that for anyone who wished to vote for that activity should stand up for one full vote or kneel on one knee for half a vote. After each activity had been named the votes were tallied up and the activity with the most votes would be started immediately. (Unless of course there was a tie in which case another vote would take place only between those two or three.)

Most of the yard games played by the children (whether they be made up by one of the 11 or taken from another neighborhood) involved a single person being "it".

To decide who was to be "it" there was first the opportunity to volunteer oneself if you so wished but usually the concept of being "it" wasn't all that appealing so a mass game of rock-paper-scissors was held.

Rock-paper-scissors was not something to be messed within the children's society. It was fair if played correctly and its decision final. Even if you hadn't wanted to play the particular yard game in the first place, if you were the last one standing with your rock defeated by paper, paper cut by scissors, or scissors crushed by rock there was no point in fighting it. (For walking out, stomping ones feet all the way back into one's home was looked down upon and often mocked once one decided to return later on.) If you were "it" then the only way to get out of it was to get someone else "it". And so it was done.

There were only two exceptions to this rule. If it took more than a good 15 minutes (typically for one of the younger kids) to get someone then rock-paper-scissors was played again, excluding them. Also, if someone such as a relative, friend, or classmate from outside the street corners were invited over they had three rounds to tag along with one of the veterans in order to learn the game and the neighborhood layout until they were included in the next rock-paper-scissors.

One of these daily meetings was occurring under the shade of the large tree as this moment, called by one of the 11 who happened to be the older of the two girls. Though she was only third oldest (her birthday being this last June on the 8th), she was much more assertive (and threatening) than the two older boys, both of which had made and un-spoken agreement to simply let her handle these matters. (They didn't particularly care anyway, especially on hot days like this one.)

Her name was Elizabeta Héderváry. (She said it was Hungarian but then again, Elizabetasaid a lot of things.) She was a pretty young girl (and would hit you over the head withthe nearest blunt object if you said otherwise) withlong wavy brown locks that fell over petite (but surprisingly strong) shoulders and ended at her mid-back with a small pink flower hair clip tucked away behind one ear and bright and confident green eyes.

She was easily what one would call the "Alpha Female" of the group for it was not only her age that allowed her to call most of the meetings but also her authoritative demeanor and sneaky ways of finding out detailed information about everything and anything that occurred before anyone else had even heard of it.

She lived at the fifthhouse on the right, just at the bottom of the hill beside the alley way with her father, stepmother and younger stepbrother, Roderich Edelstein. Elizabeta and Roderich had been part of the same family for as long as they could remember and wouldn't even know they were not blood related if it hadn't been for their different last names and the fact that there was really nothing similar about them at all, physically or personally.

Elizabeta's father and Roderich's mother had gotten married when Elizabeta had only been three years old and Roderich just a baby (not even one full year old),neither of their first marriages working out in the least. Because of this, neither of them referred to the other with the prefix "step" and instead Elizabeta would always say, "My brother, Roddy." and Roderich, "My sister, Liz." So it was, and always would be.

Roderich himself was a small and scrawny boy of 8 (his birthday to be celebrated in a couple months, on the 26th of October) with neatly parted brown hair (except for one particular hair that stood up at an odd angle) and soft violet eyes behind a pair of wiry looking glasses. For being so young, he was probably one of the most stern and studious (he had actually skipped Kindergarten in his education) little boys one would ever meet in their lifetime.

Though he had lived with Elizabeta almost his entire life, none of her mischievous behavior had rubbed off on him in the slightest. Often times the others had to force him into their strategic little plots such as stealing change from their parents' change jar in order to buy candy at the neighborhood "YouthCenter" by threatening to remove every single one of the keys from his beloved piano in order to keep him from running to a parent. Though none of the children meant these threats in any seriousness, Roderich was usually scared enough not to take the chance and kept his mouth shut to everyone else's relief.

Sitting between these two siblings was another one of the 11 and the oldest by a couple months (his birthday being on February 12th). This was a handsome boy by the name of Antonio Carriedo. Just one look at him could tell you he was from some sort of Spanish decent. His skin was a much darker shade than the others and despite the numerous hours he spent outside with the rest of the neighborhood kids, he never in his entire life (to many of the others extreme jealously) had a sunburn. He had a slim but still surprisingly filled-out for his age build, curled chocolate brown hair, and bright emerald eyes that also added to his appearance.

Antonio was the adopted son and only child of the young, happy, and caring couple that lived in the third, middle house on the right of McKinley Drive. (The one the children were sitting in at the moment.) His adopted parents were the youngest on the block, the father only 24 and the mother 22 when they had adopted Antonio right out of Spain when he was a baby. (Now they were 34 and 32, opposed to the other parents who ranged from beginning to late 40s.) They had traveled around all over the world as a family until finally settling down in Hokrel once Antonio began elementary school.

Antonio, despite being the oldest, often relinquished his responsibilities to the more endearing of the children (such as Elizabeta) for he much preferred to make his suggestion then "go withthe flow" with whatever was chosen. Often referred to as "oblivious to the atmosphere" Antonio was always the one to break the tension between two of the children (whether he knew it was there or not) if there had been an argument when his bright and sun-shiny personality pulled through more often than not and things could return to normal.

Sitting right next to Antonio in the sort of oblong circle was the younger of the two girls living on McKinley Drive. Her name was Elise Van Damme, a skinny girl withshoulder-length, wavy, dirty-blonde hair and straight bangs that hung messily over green eyes. No matter what the day, she always wore a green ribbon in her hair that tied around into a bow in the back. No one (besides possibly her older brother) had seen her without it. She was the second youngest, only just having turned 10 a week ago on July 21th.

Her age, however, didn't hold back her bubbly personality and overly-social (to the point of almost being annoying to those such as Roderich) attitude when it came to her say in meetings or the welcome of new friends into their group. She was also often found clinging onto Antonio and, if not actually holding onto his hand when she could, she usually agreed enthusiastically with his ideals and sat by him when the opportunity was available. It was clear to everyone (besides oblivious Antonio) that she had a small crush on him though the only one who really cared was her older brother, Christiaan.

Christiaan (often shortened to Chris by the other children) Van Damme, second oldest next to Antonio (his birthday being on May 5th), was a quiet and intimidating looking boy of 11. His hair was a matching shade of blonde as his younger sister and stuck up straight and spikey as if against the laws of gravity or just as the result of very unruly bed-head. His eyes were also the same color green as Elise's though they didn't shine quite as bright. Christiaan was the most filled of the boys as well at the tallest out of all the rest of the children by at least 4 inches. (Though that may be partly due to his hair, it didn't matter.)

Though usually expressionless when it came to most matters, the fact that Elise had some sort of fascination with Antonio was enough to put a frown on the protective older brother's face. Also, the fact that he wasn't one to come out and say what was on his mind put Antonio (who wasn't one who was able to effectively guess what was on other people's mind) in a state of confusion whenever Chris acted particularly cold towards him.

Elise and Christiann lived to the right of Antonio in the smallest house on the block which they were quickly out-growing. They looked past this, however, so thoughts of moving-out were never brought to mind.

Sitting beside Chris was another boy of 11. (He was the 4th oldest, his birthday being 2 weeks ago on the 14th of July.) He was just a bit taller than Antonio but still considerably shorter than Chris. He was also slim (though not nearly as scrawny as Roderich or filled-out as Chris) and had long, wavy blondehair (which was a source of mockery between the others boys if they didn't have anything better to talk about) that hung elegantly (as did most things having to do with the boy) in front of beautiful blue eyes.

This is Francis Bonnefoyand as you may be able to tell (and he would gladly inform you in the possibility that you could not) from his last name, he was from French decent. Though born in this country himself, both of his parents were originally from France and had raised their son in the culture and language. In result, he was the only bilingual child out of the seven and didn't mind flaunting it whenever possible. (Though now, the children had learned not to care nearly as much which brought down Francis's ego quite a bit.)

Despite his young age, he had learned to be quite the smooth talker and was able to converse his way out of most troublesome events. This worked out well for the other children and they often times set Francis to clear up a situation (such as a broken window, as previously mentioned) with a parent because (for some strange reason) they all absolutely adored him and all of the kids usually got out if their mess with only having to clean it up.

The only exception to this was Francis's mother, Mrs. Bonnefoy. She was a beautiful lady but if provoked she could turn fearsome and no one (including Francis and her own husband) could calm her down until her rampage subsided. Any of the children who had seen and lived to tell the tale (which was Francis and Antonio on one occasion) warned the others (maybe exaggerating just a bit) about the experience and all of them now stayed away from the Bonnefoy household on the left side of the street (just across from Elizabeta and Roderich) whenever possible.

Sadly for the Bonnefoyfamily, however, their neighbors to the left of them happened to be that of the Jones'. Though this in itself wasn't so bad (for Mr. and Mrs. Jones were both very nice people) it was bothersome whenever their rambunctious son, Alfred, decided to set off toy rockets in their front yard or "trim up" Mrs. Bonnefoy's garden because he felt it would be the neighborly thing to do. (Then again, Alfred's logic had always been a bit backwards.) Hence, there was never a quiet day.

Alfred F. Jones (Yes, the "F" was completely necessary) completed the circle of children underneath the grand maple in the Carriedo front yard. He was a bright and hyperactive young boy of 10 (the 5th oldest, his birthday on July 4th) with messy light blonde hair, rimmed glasses, and glistening blue eyes that often times made people think of vast oceans whenever they looked into them.

He was a proud American boy, born and raised in Hokrelhis entire life. (Literally, Mrs. Jones hadn't made it to the hospital in time and had instead given birth to little Alfred on the kitchen table.) He would also be more than happy to tell you that he had been living on McKinley Drive years before anyone else on the block. (And thus he always attempted to use this bit of information in replacement of his age, or lack thereof, when it came to meetings and yard games.)

Alfred was an only child (for the Jones parents feared what they would have to deal with if they had another child such as Alfred) but he had always insisted that he had an imaginary, alien friend named Tony who lived in his closet. Whether this was actually true or just another reason Alfred was completely insane was still under debate.

The first two houses on both sides of the street did not contain any children (to the rest of their collective disappointment). The house to the right of the VanDammehousehold contained a nice old couple who said they were just there to live out the rest of their lives with the happy sound of children playing outside their window. They had told the group (probably more time than they could remember) that hearing they're laughter outside on warm summer days or cool winter evenings were much preferred to the solitary silence of "old people" towns, as they often referred to them. They said it reminded them of their youth.

Naturally, all of the kids were quite fond of the old couple and the boys had been over many times to hear the old man's war tales while the girls baked the best chocolate chip cookies in all of Hokrel in the old lady's kitchen. Also, they allowed the group to play yard games in their yard as well which was always a plus in the minds of the children.

On the other hand, the house to the left of the Jones household didn't hold a similar, warm atmosphere. It was an old and rickety looking shack of a house that was apparently home to an old woman in her late 80s though the children had only seen her on a few rare occasions when she scuttled out if the large, black painted, wooden front door to her mailbox and back every post day at 11:00.

You could say that they all avoided associating with her whenever possible in fear that she was really a blood-sucking vampire that was just waiting for one of them to stumble too close to her doorstep. (Alfred had probably made this up at some point but it was still enough to keep the children away.)

Lastly, in between Elizabetaand Roderich's house and Antonio's house was a slightly smaller home that was, for the meantime, unoccupied. It had been a while since anyone had lived there and (if they all remembered clearly) it had been a young couple with a new-born which honestly, didn't interest them at all. However, the fact that the "For Sale" sign had been taken down only a couple days ago proved itself to be interesting enough to spark conversation between the group.

"So someone's movin' in, huh?" Alfred said, grinning and rocking back and forth, making no effort to contain his excitement.

"I wonder if they'll have kids." Antonio pondered, looking over in the vague direction of the unoccupied house. It was hard to know exactly where Antonio's mind was for, most of the time, he seemed to be off in his own little world.

"That would be so much fun!" Elise exclaimed louder than she probably meant, smile matching the brightness of her eyes. Roderich grumbled something about "being annoying loud" but she continued none the less, "I wonder if they'll be boys or girls...or both!"

Francis spoke up soon after, twirling a small flower between his fingers, "Ah I hope they are pretty little girls~" He then sent a teasing glance over in Elizabeta's direction, "We need more of those."

"Whoever they are," Elizabeta cut in, blowing some of her hair out of her slightly irritated face, "We'll all go over and introduce ourselves and welcome them into the group, agreed?"

There was a collective nod from the rest of the group.

Christiaanglanced over his shoulder and his otherwise stoic expression turned slightly curious as a navy blue minivan turned down McKinley Drive. He followed it with observing green eyes as it proceeded to coast down the street and then suddenly turned into the driveway of the house currently being discussed. He wasn't the only one to notice this and soon the conversation died down and all heads were turned as the car came to a full stop less than 10 feet away.

There was the sound of a sliding car door being flung open and (though the children couldn't see from this angle) they could clearly hear the loud and enthusiastic voice of what could only be a child of their own age group.

"Awesome! We're here!" then in a slightly quieter tone of voice, "Hey, dad? Can I use the bathroom yet? I really gotta go!"

All of the children turned back to each other to share similar looks of excited anticipation. Elizabeta held up a finger, a smile playing on her lips.

"Alright, let's go meet the neighbors."


And done!

Wow that's a lot of information to take in, huh? Sorry about that. Just keeping you guys informed! :D

So you can probably guess who's moving in next door but we'll save that for next chapter. If you were to wonder where I lived in comparison to these guys I would be living in Antonio's house. This last part was a lot like when my neighbors moved in though if we were to look at age, I would actually be a year older than Roderich at this time. Hmm.

So yes, hope you enjoyed and reviews are greatly appreciated! :D