Sealand runs his hands over Hanatamago's short fur, still warm to the touch.

iNot for much longer./i

Finland swallows, his mouth dry. He knew that this was coming, but not ithis soon/i.

"Peter, we have to move her."

He's not sure if it's Sealand ignoring him, or if the words didn't quite reach him. Either way, Finland remains kneeling, beside the boy, still absently stroking the white strands. A few more minutes, and he tries again.

"Peter, we can't just--"

"She died, right? Hanatamago died."

"Yes," Finland nods. "Yes she did."

"Why?" Eyes unblinking, Sealand continues to stare down at the dog, and Finland looks down too. Her fur's still white, her nose still pink, eyes closed in something resembling sleep. For the life of him, Finland didn't know how to answer it.

"She was an old dog," he says, his hand reaching out of its own accord, to stroke the white fur as well. Old was an understatement. Even Finland himself couldn't remember how long they'd had her for.

i... Somewhere along the years when Japan was coming out of his isolation?/i

center--/center

He could vaguely remember Sweden bringing home a puppy, just large enough to cup in both of his hands, presenting the little fluffball to a very stunned Finland.

"A ipuppy/i, Berwald?"

Face still as ever, he gave a nod. Finland sighed.

"Do you have a name for-- Him? Her?-- At least?"

Another nod.

"Hanatamago."

Finland blinked. He actually said the name rather clearly, which was, to say the least, very surprising.

"... Is that Japanese?"

"'nn. Fl'wr-egg."

Finland nodded slowly. iNot that I can think of anything better, really.../i

"I suppose I should get her-- Him?-- a bowl."

Another nod from Sweden, and that was that.

center--/center

"Mama?"

Finland blinked, jolting himself back to the cold kitchen floor, and that same dog from all those years back, lying on the floor. It was out of reflex more than anything else for him to answer. "Yes?"

"I heard some kids say that-- That their parents told them that we're put on Earth to do a certain number of good things, and that when we finish, we get to go back to heaven. Heaven's a nice place, right Mama? So Hanatamago finished all of her good things, and she's there, right?"

Tino bit his lip. To affirm, or not to affirm? Him knowing the truth about death was an eventuality, nothing avoidable, so why prolong it? Would it be easier for him if he knew now, rather than--

"Mama? We'll die some day too, right? Do we do a lot of bad things then? Is that why we take so long to finish our of all good things?"

Bad things eh? (--) Finland swallowed. It was a nice theory, it honestly was. Even nations didn't live forever, as history had shown. It was simple, and focused on what was after death, it was nice, very nice, a sweet idea indeed, but--

"Yes. Yes, Sealand, we will die someday."

But if good deeds were neutralized by the bad, it meant a horribly long life ahead for Nations, didn't it?