The day was today. The meeting this month between the "nations" would be held in Ling's hometown of Shanghai, China.

But instead of renting out a hotel or building like they usually did, he was going to hold the meeting in his own home. He went through with all of his preparations despite the mixed reactions of his fellow "nations" upon informing them.

His home was beautiful. Why shouldn't he hold it here? It was an eight-story red and white pagoda house that sat out on a misty blue lake, which was only accessible by the board walk. It seemed almost enchanted in the morning when the sun was dimly lit, the dew was still fresh, and the bells hanging on the arches chimed lightly next to the long tapestries. His home was far-set from the public, up on a mountain path and almost completely impossible to find without directions. He had lived here for about 700 years now (not too long), though the house had gone through multiple drastic remodels.

Ling had walked the circumference of the lake and sat down in the grass to relax and meditate. He'd been physically preparing his house and mentally preparing his mind since the last meeting. He was going to need it, too. He'd already predicted some of the arguments that could and would unfold with all of the participants. Well, invites, really. He didn't expect them all to show up.

Hypothetically, if everyone came as they were supposed to, he would have 18 guests. Japan (Kiku), Russia (Aleksandr), America, Canada, England, France, Germany, and Italy were the usual members; at least the ones that showed up the most. But he had pressed more members than that to be involved—the more the better, because with more voices and more opinions, the better chance the group as a whole may become more open to his idea. So, he was also expecting Aleksandr's sisters, Ukraine and Belarus; the "forgotten nations" Prussia and Romano, who hadn't attended a meeting in quite some time; along with Hungary, Austria, Spain, Belgium, Netherlands, and Luxembourg.

There were actually more than those that he had invited that had already turned him down. They were either busy or had a problem with his plan. Some people he knew personally, such as Taiwan (Yuen Mei), who would spite him for no reason other than to be obnoxious, and Hong Kong (Lin Huang), who did the same thing, but also didn't want to be bothered to gain comradery with other countries. He had the heart of a teenager.

Ling was quietly relaxing in meditation when one of his suited employees approached him from behind with no good warning. "Mr. Zhu, sir," he spoke shortly in Chinese, "all the other nations have arrived."

"YAAAH!" But Ling hadn't heard the man because he was too busy jumping out of his skin, jumping up and spinning around. When he saw who it was, he put down his combative hands and crossed his arms angrily. "What the hell?! Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me when I'm meditating?!"

Uh-oh. He'd done it now. "Uhm, sir, I apologize, but…"

Ling was onto a Chinese rant already, "Really, how many times have I told you that?! And you'd better be glad you weren't near me, because I would've probably kicked your head clear across the lake! So why are you bothering me right now of all times?! I'm trying to brace myself for the impending disasters later when the other nations show up for a meeting!"

"Well, that's… Sir…"

…Oh, right. The meeting. Duh. "I see," Ling said, suddenly calming down and standing. "They're here then?"

The suit couldn't seem to keep up with his mood changes, "Well, yes, sir, they are, but…"

"But nothing. Are they inside?"

"A-All but one, who just arrived…"

"Very good. They're only a little late—I'm honestly shocked." Ling nodded to himself, smiling, and began to walk back around his lake.

The suit did not go after him. He was too busy internally panicking over Ling's reaction when he would see the problem… The problem that he wasn't quite able to explain to his boss, who he presumed would quite literally be able to kick his head clean off.

Ling strode around the lake with a steady pace and made it to the boardwalk in about five minutes. The other nations' suited guards had mostly left, which wasn't surprising; he'd told them he'd been planning a 3-day meeting instead of their regular single day, because he had a feeling it would take more than a few hours together to clear up their differences.

The suited stragglers that had been left were mostly out by the gates near the mountain path. They looked like nervous wrecks for some reason.

"Has someone already lost their temper?" Ling mumbled to himself thoughtfully. If that was the case, it was probably England or Germany (or Romano?), but he might end up being surprised today, considering the strange situation.

The tranquility of the day had, a moment later, been broken then by the echo of a child's hollering. From the sound of it, the child was in trouble and Ling suddenly became distressed. What was a child doing here? Surely one of the others hadn't decided to bring one.

He began to see a child running towards him from farther down the walk, and appeared to be in a panic, and looked like he'd been running around for a few minutes already. His face was flushed red and strands of his hair fell everywhere. "Mister! Mister!" he called in English as he made his way to Ling.

This boy was American, most likely. "Er, yes?" Ling answered, kneeling down to his level as he approached. "What is the matter?"

"I—I can't find my brother!" the boy told him, clearly upset but trying not to cry. "We got separated after we got here. He's real shy and I think he got lost somewhere."

"Yes," Ling lamented, "it's quite easy to get lost in my house. But it's alright, we'll find him together. Come." Taking the situation in stride, he held out his hand to the boy, who seemed reluctant at first, but took it and they began to walk toward the house together.

This boy was very small. He couldn't have been more than…six years old. Maybe five. He had slightly dark blonde hair and sky-blue eyes, dressed casually in a red hoodie with jeans. His hand was a bit sticky; he'd probably been eating candy or something. But he just hoped this boy's brother had hid inside the house and not around the deck where he could've fallen into the lake…

"What does your brother look like?" Ling asked the boy. "Is he blonde like you?"

"W-Well…" The boy forced composure on himself before he continued. "Yeah, but… No. I mean, it's… ummm…" He was at a loss for a description for a moment. "Fluffy?"

Fluffy? Ling had to contain a snicker, as he'd just imagined a boy with cotton balls for hair. "O-Okay. Fluffy. Got it. What is his name?"

"Louis." The boy then looked up at Ling with purpose in his eyes, "Oh, and my name's Marshall! Marshall Freeman Jones!"

Ling smiled at him—probably a silly boy that was a lot more energetic when his brother's location wasn't questionable. "Good to meet you, Marhsall Free…"

…Freeman. Freeman? Marshall Freeman Jones? This American boy?

Ling trailed away from the conversation and had to double-take at the now confused-looking boy. Now that it occurred to him, the boy's hair… A bit spiky, and there was that cowlick… Could this boy be "America"?! How was that possible?

"Somethin' wrong, mister?" Marshalled asked, furrowing his brow at him.

"Uh… No…" But Ling continued to stare at him, perplexed. The resemblance was uncanny, and it unsettled him.

"Then why're ya makin' funny faces?" Marshall wanted to know.

Ling gave him a stern, but unsteady look, "I'm not making funny faces. I was just thinking." After considering questions to pose to Marshall, he asked, "Do you know where you are?"

"Uhm, no, not really," Marshall responded after a short-lived moment. "The tall weirdo guys in suits just dropped me off here. Me an' my brother didn't even get ta come here together."

Ling paused carefully, "Who brought your brother here?"

The boy shrugged. "I dunno. I think they were from Canadia." He paused. "Canada… Cana…" He wrinkled his nose as he tried in vain to remember which was correct. "The—That big, cold place north of us."

Ling had completely stopped walking then. This couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Or was he losing his ever-loving mind?

The boy stopped a few steps ahead of Ling and to give him a concerned look, "Mister? Are you sure you're okay?"

Ling didn't know what to say to him. But before too long he decided to just go with it and see what happened. "Nothing, nothing," he finally decided. "Let's go find your brother."

To get things moving faster, he plucked Marshall up from the ground to carry him piggyback-style—which the boy didn't mind at all—and began to run the rest of the boardwalk. "Which way inside? Do you remember?"

Marshall's response was littered with gleeful laughter, which he tried to contain in the middle of this situation, "It—It was the first room! I think he ran behind the stairs!"

Ling threw the large doors open with one hand—the first room, his entrance room, was wide and modestly decorated. It extended into two hallways that stood beside the large staircase that led to the second floor.

"I think he went left," Marshall chimed in. A second later he added, "No, I'm sure of it!"

"Alright, let's take a look." Left? The kitchen was that way. Maybe Louis had stumbled onto a snack in his eagerness to escape a group of strangers. It was understandable. If Ling had been a kid, he wouldn't want to be stuck around towering, creepy black suits, either.

"Louis!" Marshall shouted down the hall. It was piercing, right next to Ling's ear, but he didn't scold him and let him call out for his brother. "Louis, where are you? The weirdoes are gone!"

Making haste, they ducked in and out of every room until they made it to the kitchen. Ling held in a breath when he heard rustling on the other side of the room, behind the island counter.

Ling crouched down to let Marshall off of his back—the boy hopped off without blinking and ended up stumbling for it, but followed Ling as he rounded the counter.

"Okay, Louis, come out. It's not snack time yet," Ling said loudly to gain his attention. "Didn't you eat breakfast this—"

But the boy he found was not what he'd expected. Who he'd expected was a child version of "Canada." No, this boy—barely older than Marshall—was unrelated and completely unmistakable. He had white, grayish hair and bright red eyes.

Ling froze upon seeing this boy… and this had nothing to do with the fact that he had pulled off a bowl of dumplings and eaten them all for himself. He couldn't find any words.

What the hell was going on?

"Gack! I've been caught!" the white-haired boy yelled in German, causing Marshall to tilt his head in confusion. "I mean, I've done nothing!" he said clumsily and stood to his feet.

"You… You're…" Ling shook his head and pointed a finger at the new boy, "What is your name, little boy?" He asked it in English without thinking—from having spoken with Marshall earlier—and wondered if he should've asked the question in German.

But the boy now responded in English, ready to argue, "Hey! I'm not little!" He pointed back up at Ling with a wide, rambunctious grin, "I'm Gilbert Schwarzfurst—but you can call me the Great Prussia, old man!"

"HEY! You little brat!" Ling bit back.

He was more focused on the fact that his wild suspicions had been correct. This white-haired boy had just called himself "the Great Prussia."

Children. The nations must have all turned into children.

It made no sense, but it must have been true.

While Ling was distracted, "the Great Prussia" then took off out of the room and down the hall hollering some kind of battle cry. Ling had an instinct to chase his ass for a second, but… There was still Marshall's brother to find.

"Who was that?" Marshall asked with a very confused expression. "Who's Prussia?"

"I… I'll tell you later. We have to find your brother," Ling said, rubbing his temple and sighing dramatically. Every other thought was interrupted with "what am I going to do?"

"Yeah." Marshall contemplated the room for a second. "Well, he could still be hiding in here."

"I don't know. There's not really…"

Marshall wasn't listening to him, and started poking around the tables and counters. He then began to start opening cabinets, and Ling was about to stop him before he cluttered everything up…

And there he was. Marshall yelled out an "Ah-hah!" that startled his now-located brother, who was crouching inside one of the cabinets and cradling his knees.

Marshall soon got over his victory when he saw his brother was crying, and began to help him out of the cabinet. "It's okay, Louis!" he assured his little brother after a slight struggle.

"I-I wanna go home," Louis told him quietly, sniffling and rubbing his eyes. Once he noticed Ling, he started giving him brief, skittish looks out of the corner of his eyes.

"Don't cry. The scary weird guys are gone," Marshall urged, hugging him and patting his back. "I promise!"

Louis seemed somewhat comforted by that. Maybe it was just familiarity that did it, but Ling was very impressed by how easily Marshall was able to calm Louis down. He could never have imagined "America" soothing anyone. Then again, that was another example of the whole reason they were here for a meeting…

But obviously that had to hit the back burner. He had to figure out why in the name of hell everyone had turned into a child. "If you two are okay now…" Ling began, kneeling down and speaking carefully, "I'd like to talk to you."

Marshall held his brother's hand while he looked toward Ling with a brave face. "Yeah?"

Louis sniffled, still sitting on the floor, and asked meekly, "Did we do something?"

"No, no…" Ling told him, with a gentle smile. "I just want to ask if you know why you're here."

The five-or-so-year-old American child wracked his head. "Uhm… I dunno."

"What did the weirdos in suits tell you?"

"Oh. Well…" Marshall crossed his arms thoughtfully. "They said…I needed to behave myself and listen to the grown-ups," he remembered with a sure nod. "And don't wander off. And don't get into the candy."

Don't get into the candy. Ling remembered his sticky fingers. Even though it was off-topic. "You already got into the candy, didn't you?"

After a pause, Marshall turned sheepish while he tried to give Ling the old innocent-puppy-dog-eyes routine, "Um… Nooooo..."

"Empty your pockets, young man," Ling ordered, thoughtlessly sidetracked and overcome with a parental energy. Looking like he'd done this before, Marshall just huffed out a childish sigh and did as he was told.

Out of the pockets of his jeans came tons of candy wrappers, half of which Ling recognized from a bowl in the entrance room. The rest must have come from Marshall's home. Oh—but there was more. Once he was done emptying his jean pockets, he also scooped out candy from the front pocket on his hoodie, and soon Ling had a colorful, hazardous mess covering half of the floor space.

Ling stared at the floor for a second, and then back up at Marshall, who had a rather casual look about it. "You're just a mess, aren't you?" he asked, with a withering expression that made Marshall giggle at him.

This was ridiculous… But… How could he be mad at this boy? Not only was he adorable; this sticky-fingered candy thief was a little hero for his brother. In the wake of all this strangeness, he could let the candy slide.

So… what was his priority right now? He'd found America and Canada—who he knew now as Marshall and Louis—and had had a brief glimpse of "The Awesome Prussia," whose name was apparently Gilbert. So he needed to find the others. They were all supposed to be here already, according to his own assistant. He really hoped they hadn't run rampant and scattered in all directions around his house…

If he had known this would happen (not that there was any possible way he could've predicted it), he certainly would not have held the meeting here! His house was on a lake! He had no idea if any of them could swim as adults, so as kids…

"Mister," Marshall piped up, interrupting his thoughts, "you're makin' funny faces again."

"Y-Yes," Ling answered, standing in a slight panic. "Ah… Did you see any other children when you got here?"

"Nope," the American boy answered too quickly, then soon corrected himself. "Well… Yeah. I saw another boy with black hair sitting on the porch."

"Do you remember which side of the house it was?"

Marshall nodded surely, "It was the, um, the left side." He pointed to his right, then, and when he realized this he confused himself. He turned around a couple times to get it right in his head, going through a mental path that had his brother looking at him strangely, before coming up with a final answer. "No, it was left. But left, like… Like…" He made sure to turn so his direction would be correct. "Like that."

All of that to tell him it was left if he was facing the front doors to the house. What a five-year-old. Ling shook his head briefly. "Very good—I understand. Now," he added pointedly, "you two. Stay right here. Got it?"

"Why?" Marshall wanted to know.

"Because." Ling gave him a stern look, and pointed a finger at him, "I will come back for you in a minute. Soldier's promise, Marshall Freeman Jones."

The patriotic little boy couldn't argue with that, so he gave Ling his immature salute, "Okay, soldier's promise! I got it."

"Good!" Ling nodded at him, and then began to walk out of the room. He stopped briefly in the doorway, "And why don't you start cleaning this candy up? Don't fall on it and hurt yourselves!"

"Okay!" Marshall called back, and Louis echoed quietly.

Satisfied with their cooperation, Ling left the North American brothers to clean up the mess and, hopefully, stay in the kitchen.

He began to walk down the hallways of his house, passing rooms and not being able to go by any without poking his head inside. He was starting to realize just how enormous the house was. It could possibly take him all day to find these kids…

Kids. They were usually loud, in his experience, but he could hear nothing obvious throughout the house. It was a little disconcerting, but at least he'd been pointed to one of them already. He was going to have to take this one step at a time. He still didn't really know what to expect.

He made the trip through the hallways to the west entrance to the house, leading to the porch where, any gods willing, he would find the child with his feet on the porch and not flying over. Pushing open the red wooden doors, he was hit by the cool lake air again.

Soon after he stepped out, he saw the small figure of another five-or-so-year-old child some ways away.

It had to be Kiku. He could tell just from seeing the back of his head and the shape of his dark hair. But unlike Gilbert tearing through the house, Marshall scattering candy around, and Louis hiding in a cabinet, Kiku seemed calm and was sitting in front of the porch rail, looking through the bars out at the lake.

He always was a calm child, Ling thought to himself nostalgically. These days they didn't get to see each other a lot… Not even speaking to him yet, this was already starting to bring back memories.

But he didn't have time for that now. "Kiku?" he called, evenly enough so he wouldn't startle the boy. Almost immediately he turned to look over at Ling. After a brief pause, he stood up to come walking to him like a worried child might come to a parent.

"Yes, Ling-san?" Kiku asked him in Japanese.

Ling forgot why he was out there for a moment and slumped over. "Kiku, Kiku," he whined, kneeling down to get eye-level with him, and began to speak Japanese, "please. You don't have to be so formal!"

Kiku's eyebrows drew together in quiet confusion, "Formal?"

Ling sighed heavily. They weren't real brothers, he supposed… Though he considered Kiku to be like a brother. At least he hadn't reverted back to calling him "Zhu-san." It had taken him more than a century to get him to stop that.

"Uhm, it's nothing, never mind… Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine…" he responded a bit hesitantly. His worry concerned Ling, since he was usually so composed. "But…"

"But? Did something happen?"

Kiku twiddled his fingers nervously and glanced between Ling and the deck. "There are… There are a lot of children inside the house. They are very loud."

Ah, so he was right! But… how couldn't he have heard them by now? "Yes, I saw a few of them… Where were they? How long have you been out here?"

"I… Uhm… Not…very long… They are in… a dining room, I think…"

The dining room, of course! It was towards the middle of the first floor of his large house. His maze of hallways leading there were probably to blame for masking the noise. "Very good, Kiku! Now I can go quiet them down." He stood up straight, invigorated to go in and confront the noisy children. He held his hand out to Kiku, "Come with me, you will be okay."

The shy boy hesitated briefly, before smiling just a bit and taking Ling's hand. They walked back into the house together. But before he headed to the middle of the building, Ling went back towards the kitchen to round the other two boys up.

"Marshall? Louis?"

Ling let go of Kiku's hand to step into the kitchen. He couldn't see the boys, which worried him for a moment, but then he heard a muffled, "Yeah?"

He rounded the counter to find Marshall sitting on the ground, in the middle of the candy. Except now his face was covered in chocolate. So was Louis's, though he avoided eye contact when Ling gave him a look.

"Marshall. I told you to clean up the candy, not eat all of it."

"I didn't," he tried to say innocently, swallowing at the same time.

"Sure you didn't." Ling put his hands on his hips and pointed at them. "Alright, you two. Stand. Clean. Trash. On the double."

They only hesitated briefly. With his simple, stern instructions, he had the boys scrambling around the kitchen and picking up every single piece of candy wrapper, tossing it in the trash can. They picked the untouched candy and placed them on the counter island.

Then Ling washed their faces off with a washcloth. (Marshall hadn't appreciated that one bit, but Louis had been cooperative.) The whole time, Kiku stood timidly in the doorway, waiting.

"Alright, you're all clean…" Ling sighed. Then he gave the boys a look with his hands on his hips. "If you two hid any more candy in your pockets, I'm going to make you jump in the lake."

Marshall's and Louis's hands both shot up in defense. Since they didn't look like they had anything melting in their pockets, Ling decided to let them go.

"Okay, now!" he said, clapping his hands together, "The three of you—Marshall, Louis, Kiku! Let's go find the other kids!"

"Three?" Marshall asked.

"Yes, thr—" he cut off suddenly, turning around. "Kiku! Stop hiding in the hallway!"

He heard childish, Japanese muttering in response, "But I don't want to…"

Ling poked his head out and found him sitting on the floor. He spoke in English to get his attention, "Excuse me, young man?"

There was a pause. Kiku avoided eye contact. "I did not say anything…"

Then Marshall poked his head out, curiosity taken over. "Hi! I didn't know anybody was there! Who are you? Kiku?"

"Uhm… I—I am…" Completely taken off-guard by Marshall's carefree friendliness, Kiku clammed up and panicked.

Marshall tilted his head in confusion, "Huh? Did you say something?"

…As much as Ling would like Kiku to make friends, this could take a while. Kiku had been a bit of a shut-in as a child. And right now he had to find and take care of the others adults-turned-children.

"Let's do introductions later," Ling sighed. "Boys, come on, chop chop!" He plucked Kiku off the floor since he seemed the most hesitant, and glanced back at the brothers, "Marshall, get your brother! Women zou ba!"

Marshall grabbed his brother's hand, but he was confused, "What?"

"Agh, just come!"

Running through the halls with a startled Kiku clutching his chest, Ling thought that Marshall might be able to keep up with him if he hadn't had to drag his brother along. He slowed just enough so that Marshall would be able to see where he would turn into a hallway, which there were a lot of. A few times Ling had to redirect him because he was distracted by a decoration or a painting. Once he ran into a tapestry and got twisted up.

But finally—there was the dining room. Marked clearly by two large red doors, it stood smack in the middle of the house. He had repurposed it to hold the meeting. After all, he'd needed the biggest room he had available, big enough to hold a world war if that was at all likely to break out…

Ling set Kiku down to open the doors. He still didn't know what he expected before he opened them—a tyrannical mess? Children climbing the walls, food strewn everywhere, injuries, crying, chaos, hell?

Better to just open the doors and find out. It was the moment of truth.

Out of the entire wide room, centered with a huge round table covered with a white tablecloth, the first thing he saw was Gilbert—a.k.a. The Awesome Prussia—standing on the table.

Oh, good God... Gods. Whatever.

"Hey, you guys, pay attention to me!" Gilbert shouted at the other kids. It wasn't clear exactly who he was shouting to. His own brother was giving him a bland look from the side of the room. He was speaking in English, so maybe he was just yelling at the whole group.

Meanwhile, Romano was chasing Veneziano around the table, the latter running around with a slice of pizza for some reason. Spain and Belgium were running after Romano, though whether they were helping or making it worse was debatable. Belgium's brothers were standing off to the side.

Of all the kids he would've expected to be fighting, England and France were standing near the wall (with several empty child spaces between them), just quietly watching the others. The only ones left—Russia, Belarus, Hungary, and Austria—seemed to be the only ones paying attention to Gilbert.

They were all small children. They were all very young, probably between 5 and 8… That was all he could tell right away.

"Why should we pay attention to you?" Hungary combatted. They all seemed to be speaking in English. "You're not even a country anymore!"

Gilbert flinched, "I—I am, too!"

"Then where are you on a map?"

"I'm too awesome to be on a map!"

"That doesn't make any sense," Aleksandr muttered quietly, mostly to himself, but Gilbert caught it all the same.

"You wanna pick a fight, too?! I'll kick your butt—I don't care how big your dumb, cold country is!"

While Aleksandr seemed reluctant to get involved any further, his sister seemed to have a problem with it. "My brother does not need to fight you—I will fight you," she said with a completely serious, unsmiling expression. It was laughable because she was half his size and one of the youngest-looking in the room.

"Sister, no!"

"What?!" Gilbert gave Belarus a wild-eyed look, "Are you nuts? I ain't fightin' a little girl!"

"You were about to fight me a minute ago!" Hungary argued.

"You're not a real girl!" Gilbert argued back.

"What the heck does that mean?!"

Romano was now shouting over them, except in Italian. "Feliciano! That's my pizza!"

"But you threw mine!" his brother whined.

Meanwhile, Gilbert had started shouting at Austria, who he seemed to have also gotten into an argument with. "What are you, a bodyguard? I'll break you in half!"

Austria paled. "W-Wait, I'm—I'm not going to fight you…"

"Yeah, 'cause you'd lose, 'cause you're un-awesome!" He pointed dramatically at Austria as a declaration of war, "I don't usually fight girls, but I'll make an exception!"

"W-Wait—!"

"Krieg!" And then Gilbert leapt off the table to actually fight him.

Chaos. Pure chaos. Ling couldn't think straight. What in the hell… What am I going to do? he thought.

As he felt his patience withering away to the abyss, Ling blinked as Marshall squeezed between him and the door, into the room. Shortly after, Ling covered his ears in response to a painfully sharp whistle from this five-year-old, which successfully stopped everyone in the room in their tracks.

"Hey, everybody, shut up!" the American boy hollered at everyone in his now conveniently loud voice. "Mister… uh… He's got somethin' to say!"

Ling was still cringing from the whistle as Marshall glanced up at him with a wide grin, obviously proud of himself. Okay. Maybe he'd earned that candy he'd eaten earlier.

Now… he just had to figure out how to deal with all these children at once…

If that was possible. If he rewound a clock right now, could they just go back to tomorrow and everything could be normal?

A/N: Think of Chapter 1 as the prologue. From here on, the chapters will probably be more like this chapter's length.

"Krieg" is German for "war," and "Women zou ba" is Chinese for "let's go," as close as I can tell. The Chinese was supposed to have accents over the "o's" but it didn't paste correctly. Feel free to correct me (politely and with information) if I'm wrong.