1979
The American restaurant was crowded, as per usual. With Christmas fast approaching, the place was stuffed with families reuniting, couples going out on dates, or shoppers grabbing a quick bite to eat before resuming their search for the perfect gift. And to make things even more hectic, the employee count was decreasing with every day, with many taking time off for holiday vacations.
At a small table by the exit, a Chinese man sat alone, sipping at a glass of water. His long brown hair was tied in a low ponytail, draped over his shoulder, and his chocolate shaded eyes shown with experience, even though he looked to only be in his early twenties. Besides his glass, which he held up by his mouth in a loose grip, there was no other food or drink on his table. The staff was too busy with other customers to call him out on his lack of purchase, so he sat in peace.
The door to the restaurant swung open again, and for the first time since sitting down, the Chinese man looked up in interest. The newcomer was tall and broad, possessing a handsome face adorned with sparkling dark brown eyes and topped with similarly colored, wildly curly hair. He glanced around for a second until his gaze landed on the Chinese man, and his expression lit up with a dazzling grin.
"Yao! It's great to see you again!" he laughed, rushing to sit at the Chinese man's table. "Or, well, I guess this is technically our first time meeting, huh?"
"Ah, it all gets too complicated when you start thinking like that, Romulus," Yao chuckled, waving his glass a little as if to dismiss Romulus's words. "You know me and I know you. Even if we've never formally met in this state, we might as well call each other old friends."
"True." Romulus slouched back in his chair, casting his eyes around the busy venue. "Quite the place, isn't this? How're you liking America?"
"Not as much as China, but then, I guess I'm not supposed to like anything better than China."
"Good point," Romulus laughed. The sound was full and boisterous, attracting the eyes of surrounding people. One of the nearby girls giggled and flushed at the man's good looks, and he winked at her, watching her swoon.
Yao ignored Romulus's antics, continuing his evaluation of America. "I've tried some Chinese food here, in hopes that it would be a reminder of home, but it's all just subpar. And just overall, the American culture is difficult to adjust to."
"It is unique, isn't it?" Romulus grinned. "This is actually my first time here. Which is actually a bit surprising, since I've been pretty much everywhere."
"I can't help but wonder what you've been doing in all that time of 'being pretty much everywhere'. Pigging out on foreign foods? Sleeping around?"
"You wound me with your accusations," the man cried dramatically, clutching at his heart. "I've been doing legitimate work, even if it has been interspersed with pleasure!"
"I can't help but wonder: any children?"
"Only a couple hundred." His playful smile turned into a devilish smirk. "I wouldn't be surprised if every single person in this restaurant was a descendent of mine."
Yao huffed. "I'll have you know, my ancestors are pure Chinese."
"You never know." Romulus leaned forward, resting his arms on the tabletop. "Why all the questions? Can't you find out this stuff for yourself?"
"I have limits, you know," Yao sniffed haughtily.
"I guess so." Romulus's smile didn't fade, but suddenly his face seemed more serious. "I'm assuming you're aware of pretty much everything?"
"Probably even more aware than you are," Yao pointed out wryly, although his voice also took on a note of seriousness that hadn't been there before.
"I guess that makes sense. What can you tell me?"
Yao shot him a careful look. "Don't be too disappointed, but not much. I dare not mess with anything."
"Ugh, how can I not be disappointed by that kind of answer?" Romulus ran a frustrated hand through his hair, making parts of it stick up even more wildly. "Alright. What knowledge have you actually deemed me worthy of?"
"It'll be next time."
"Really?" Romulus's eyebrow rose high, hiding themselves behind his bangs. "As in next time? But what about you?"
"I'm displeased by this too, but it looks as though I'm going to be a half-baked idiot in the future." The Chinese man finished the last of his water with a sigh, staring blankly at his empty glass. "Don't mess with that too much, by the way."
"I'm sure I'll understand what you mean when I get there." Romulus rubbed the slight stubble on his chin. "And here I was figuring that since you were around, it'd only be a couple of years or something."
"It's still very soon. I'll be dead within the next decade."
"Seriously? You're still very young."
"Unfortunately, yes. It's alright though. It just means that you have to start getting prepared."
"I guess so." A contemplative look crossed Romulus's face. "So, should I be offing myself sometime soon if I want to end up looking this handsome?"
"As soon as possible," Yao agreed, his voice light despite that they were discussing suicide. "But before you go off and do that, there's a few more things you should do."
"Like what?"
Yao began rummaging through a satchel, which he'd been holding in his lap. When he finally withdrew his hand, it was gripping a small envelope, which he held out to the other man. "I wrote all of the instructions down. I don't trust your old memory."
Playful offense colored Romulus's face as he snatched the letter away, stuffing it into his pants pocket. "Hey! My memory is as good as it ever was."
"Whatever you say. Just don't die until you do that stuff." Yao rose from the table, stretching his limbs. "This is the last time I'll be seeing you like this."
"Too bad. You make pretty good company."
"Of course I do. And when the time comes, please try not to meddle too much – wait until the time comes for your entrance, and you'll know when that is."
"Working behind the scenes sounds incredibly boring, but I guess I don't have much choice. I guess I'm just too old to take the spotlight."
"Perhaps." Giving Romulus a nod of farewell, Yao began toward the exit. Before leaving, however, he paused, a conflicted look on his face. "Romulus?"
Romulus glanced up from smoldering his eyes at a woman, who coincidently was already on a date with a rather put out looking man. "Yeah?"
"Dying…" The Chinese man grimaced. "What's it like?"
Romulus stared at him for a second, then chuckled. "I guess you don't know everything, do you?"
Yao shifted uncomfortably.
"Hm…" Romulus's mocking smile melting into one of gentle sympathy. "Death is… easy. I wouldn't worry about it."
The answer seemed far from satisfactory, but Yao's expression was grateful as he turned and left the restaurant.
2010
The winter was just beginning, with children bundled up in thick clothing to the point of stiffness. They took their time sauntering home from school, pausing to roll in the new snow and toss balls of the powdery substance at their friends. The crisp air was filled with the sound of their high pitched laughter and the crunch of snow beneath their feet.
Fourteen year old Elizabeta Héderváry was one of these children, although on this day, she neither laughed nor strolled leisurely while making her way homewards. Her face was set in almost adult determination as she trudged through the cold, her boots thudding heavily against the ground with every step.
She stomped up the steps to her house's front door, removing a key from the pocket of her heavy coat and unlocking the front door. When she stepped inside, she let it close behind her with a slam that would have sent her mother raging at her, had the woman not been at work.
Once she had shucked her coat and boots, leaving them in a damp puddle on the floor that she knew she'd be reprimanded for later, she ran upstairs to her room, her simple, light brown backpack clutched in her arms. Reaching her bed, she let the contents of the pack spill out onto the sheets, and grabbed the item that had been on her mind since that morning: a small, paperback book, with a colorful cover and the title displayed in large letters: Hetalia Axis Powers. The words were in English – luckily, Elizabeta's family had decided it would be beneficial to teach her the foreign language from a young age, and she could read it well.
She hesitated before opening the book. She knew that what the man had told her was fact. She had never been wrong about something like this. Even so, she wasn't sure if she was ready for something like this. But she shook her head, clearing doubt from her mind, and flipped open the front cover, revealing the tales of country personifications, detailed in well drawn black and white pictures and small speech bubbles.
It took her only a matter of weeks to track down and finish the rest of the released, English translated books. When there were no more, she continued only, traipsing through manga websites for every chapter she could find. From the first volume, she read with fervor near obsession, falling for each character more and more with every page.
Her love of Hetalia lasted for months, prompting her entrance into the fandom. She read fanfiction, squealed over fanart, and selected her favorite couples. She met friends at school with similar interests, and bonded with strangers online through her obsession.
Looking back, she realized that her adoration had clouded her thoughts a little. As she underwent this phase, she thought little more of the books than beloved stories that she wished were real. She had forgotten what she was supposed to do, her original objective – how did this story, of countries and humor and war and stereotypes, pertain to her?
It was over a year after she had opened the first volume. She woke up from a dream, breathing as though she had just run a marathon, her eyes wide. Something in her mind just clicked, and she almost leaped out of bed, darting to the large mirror over her dresser. Her hands frantically smoothed her hair, patting down the frizziness that always came with sleep, until it looked somewhat presentable. Then she stared at herself, taking in every aspect of her appearance.
When she finally collapsed back into bed, her mind racing, she began to theorize. She allowed even the most farfetched guesses to flit through her thought process, considering each idea carefully.
An hour later, a thought slid into place. Elizabeta closed her eyes, took in a deep breath through her nose, then allowed a smirk to cross her face as she made an assumption.
And Elizabeta's assumptions were never wrong.
A/N: Hello everyone! My name's Whisperwing... as you can probably already tell. This'd be the first story I've ever uploaded to FanFiction, although I have been hanging around reading things here and writing fanfictions for years now. So I have some amount of experience, thought I've never released anything to the public... Suffice to say I'm a little nervous. But with any luck, this will all turn out to be a great experience.
Anyways, this is just the prologue of my story, "The Inevitable". It's actually less than half the size of the rest of my chapters, which are all over 4000 words. I have not completed this story yet; I'm probably about a third of the way through, with 6 chapters so far. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those people who can write, like, 5000 words a day and I am prone to abandoning stories. Actually, confession: I've never completed a serious story before. But I have a concrete plan for this one and am really hoping to finish, because the last thing I want to do is leave people hanging.
My plan to update at a semi-steady pace is that I'll post the first chapter sometime later this week, and then post chapters every other week. I was hoping to update weekly, but I don't think I'm that good at this point. Two weeks per chapter should give me enough time to get ahead and have more chapters for you all by the time I've posted up to chapter 6.
Anyways... Thanks for checking this out! I hope you found it interesting. If you have any comments or critiques or whatever, I don't mind, please share!
~Whisperwing~