Hello everyone! This is my first fanfic (Like, EVAR,) so I hope you like it! Like I said, it's based of the song 'Order Made' By Radwimps, and I worked pretty hard on it, so I hope it's decent. This will end up being a Gerita/ItalyxHRE (Because Germany is SO Holy Rome!) fanfic, but even if you don't like that pairing (How can you not? They're so cute!) I'm sure you'll still be able to read and/or enjoy it~! So, go! Read on!

DISCLAIMER!: I don't own Hetalia. (Sadly...)


It was white.

That was all Italy's mind could focus on, his bright auburn eyes gazing about him in curiosity.

It was just so incredibly… white.

Not a speck of dust littered the floor, and the entire expanse of universe surrounding him was bleached the purest of shades, such as a blank canvas before an artist stains it with color.

It was also quiet, he realized; apart from the rustling of his green and white maid's dress and swish of his rich brown hair as he turned about, it was completely silent.

Yet, he was so… warm, you could say. Warm and calm and... Peaceful. Happy.

Suddenly, the quiet 'click, clack' of shoes against ground echoed from behind the boy, who whirled around to see a man walking towards him, a smile on his darkly-tanned face.

The man, who had dark brown hair and two flyaway curls, clad in a yellow-green tunic beneath a lighter purple toga, smiled down at Italy and knelt in front of him, proceeding to sit crisscross on the white floor.

Italy could not help but smile back at the man, who gazed at him with a proud glint in his eyes.

"My boy," He began, "I have come here today for a special reason."

The man held out his hands to Italy, palms facing up, and smiled all the brighter.

Italy watched him, pondering what his greeting could mean, and why in the world he was holding out his hands like that, when suddenly two things appeared above the man's outstretched hands. Above his left palm, a small cream colored handkerchief hovered; above his right was a large, silver and black cross necklace.

"I will make it so you can see either the past or the future," He said gently, his kind eyes gazing fondly at the young boy. "Which do you want?"

Italy was taken aback and thought the question over for a while. Was this strange yet familiar man really speaking the truth? Or was this whole thing a test? His eyes glanced once more at the man's face and to the small items before making his decision.

"Please, I would like to choose the past. That way I can become," Italy swallowed, thinking each word over carefully, "So that I may become, a kind person rather than a strong person. So that I can understand what memories are."

The man's smile grew and he held out the hand with the handkerchief. Italy slowly reached for it with both hands before taking it from him and gazing fondly at the small, folded piece of carefully sewn fabric.

The man stood and ruffled Italy's hair before murmuring, "I wish you well, Italy," and silently turning on his heel to walk away.

"Wait!" Italy called, and memories abruptly flooded his mind. He was with the man in all of them;

The man, teaching Italy to paint.

Italy, throwing a blanket over the man when he fell asleep on the couch.

The two of them walking together, holding hands.

The man again, walking away, dressed in scuffed Roman armor, a red cape billowing out behind him.

Italy, calling for him to stay.

Italy, alone, waiting for him to come back.

Waiting for so long.

"Grandpa Rome..!"


Reviews are love~! :3