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Everything Below this line is old.
Hetalia is the property of Hidekaz Himaruya. Support official release.
America blinked a few times before finally forcing his eyes to stay open. It was still somewhat stormy and he could hear rumbling thunder a ways off, but it wasn't as fierce as that first crash he had heard. He yawned loudly and smacked his mouth a few times. He tilted his head in confusion as he noticed how his tongue felt a little rough against the roof of his mouth.
He shrugged, "Meh, probably just feels that way cuz' my mouth is dry." He noticed how thirsty he felt. "Man, am I parched! Too bad I left that pack of cola in the car. I sure could use it now!"
America pushed himself up from his lying position and tried walking forward, but he felt some kind of heavy restriction blocking his movement. He wriggled and struggled until he at last tumbled his way out of whatever was containing him. After letting out a gruff breath, he took a few paces and looked around. Something wasn't right.
"I know I was in a field with tall grass, but this is ridiculous!" he looked up as he saw the tall brown plants tower over him. Before, they only came up to his waist at the most, but now it was like he was in the amazon jungle or something.
"It wasn't this tall the last time I was standing! At least…I don't think it was when I was standing…" America started to acknowledge that he felt a little strange. Not that he was sick, but something about his posture felt off. Nothing hurt or felt strained in any way, it just didn't feel…well…correct.
He quickly shook it off as a mere disorientation from waking. He huffed in agitation as he realized how difficult it was going to be determining where to go with such tall foliage about him. If only there was something to stand on to get a better view. He then remembered the thing that was holding him down from when he woke up. Maybe he could use it!
America turned and was surprised at what he found. A leather jacket lay sprawled on the ground with the sleeves in a bent, crumpled position. It lay on the ground so that the back was facing up. America walked over to it, frowning.
"Man, who would throw out such a nice jacket like this? It's in such great quality too! Why, they don't make em' like this anymore. Although, I'd have to say, it is rather big. But still, you'd have to be an idiot to get rid of…."
He paused when he began looking a little more closely at it. It looked really familiar….a little too familiar. The airplane on the left sleeve, the dark, brown fluff around the neck, the giant white '50' on the back, and he was pretty sure he could see a star in a white circle patch on the front, no doubt about it, it was his.
"What's my jacket doing on the ground? I thought I was wearing it!" America exclaimed, but he was to be even more surprised when he noticed something lying beneath his thick jacket. Looking carefully, he pulled back in astonishment.
"Wait isn't that my shirt and tie? What's that doing there? And aren't those my gloves? And my boots! And my…pants?!"
America felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. He wasn't going to look at himself and he didn't even want to consider the idea that was trying to squeeze its way into his mind. "Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think- wait, where's Italy?"
He turned his head looking for the other nation that had wandered out with him. He looked and looked, but he couldn't see any sign of him. He kept pushing the desire to find the Italian in the front of his mind in order to ignore the pressing sensation that something was horridly wrong about how he was walking around.
He was beginning to wonder if Italy had just run off when he heard a soft "Ve~" not far off. He listened closely and began recognizing the sound of several soft 've's coming from not far off. America was glad because he really didn't want to go looking for him nor did he really want to wander too far from his clothing (which he still refused to think about too deeply).
Weaving between tall grass, he followed the sounds until he came upon a spot of flattened grass. Spread out on the ground, much like his own clothes, was a blue uniform. Not just the blue jacket, but the black shirt, tie, blue pants and boots as well. But none of those things were what shocked him. A little, light brown calico cat with a dark brown patch seated right between its ears was curled quite comfortably within Italy's clothes. Not on or under them, No, its round face was sticking out of the neck hole of Italy's uniform. And its fore-paws were sticking out the sleeves which were extremely crumpled up in order to let them through. America stared for a minute at this strange sight.
"What in the world is a cat doing in Italy's clothes? I know he likes cats but for Pete's sake, he's not Greece! And for that matter, how did my clothes end up on the ground? And what was the deal with that freaky red cloud that knocked me out earlier? Was it some kind of new sleeping gas Britain's been developing or somthin'?"
English weather, being what it is, is never dry for very long. A single drop of rain fell and hit America directly on his nose causing him to blink from surprise. He wiped it dry and returned to his thinking.
"Is this some joke France is pulling? I swear he's got issues. I mean that whole April Fool's photo deal was messed up as it is, but this is…."
America paused as realization spread on his face. He stayed frozen for a moment before slowly lifting his hand to his face. When he felt his breath against his palm, he hesitated for a moment in apprehension of what he would discover. Swallowing hard, he very delicately touched his nose again.
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. The shape and texture of his nose was off. A small portion of it felt as it should have with soft skin, but on the bridge, there was short hair covering it all over. As his hand traveled further up his face, he discovered that the fur had not been restricted to his nose. Oh no, it was all over his face, and not like a beard. It was on his cheeks, under his eyes, on his eyelids, on his forehead. For a moment, America thought that he had developed some kind of disease with unnatural hair growth as he had often seen on those science channels. But when his touch reached the top of his head, he brought the other arm up to feel as well.
"W-what are these?" he whispered to himself desperately. He felt his heart beat harder and faster with each passing second. On top of his head, he felt two stiff organs which gave way whenever he pressed down on them. They were positioned at the top of his head, but he could still recognize the nerve signals that were sent every time he felt them.
"Are these." He stammered, "Are these my ears?"
America then became conscious of how different his hands felt and he brought them down to get a better look at them. He felt himself begin to have trouble breathing as he saw what was before him. A pair of small, delicate paws which had a very faint buttery color was seated where his hands should have been. His gaze traveled down his arms which too had changed from the long muscular shape he was familiar with into hardy front legs. His chin touched his chest as he brought his paws down to feel his furry underside. Below, he saw his hindquarters and under them, two rear paws sticking out which he knew belonged to him.
He sat there for a moment breathing shakily. He felt his terror rise up within him, practically choking him. His gut was twisting itself in silent angst and he knew a panic attack was just waiting to hit him. But he also knew that going to pieces right there would do him little good and he forcefully swallowed his fear. He could still feel it sitting quietly in the bottom of his gut, but he felt a little calmer now.
"Just think of it like all those times you had to go into battle," he said to himself, "you need to keep a straight head, otherwise it'll screw loose. Besides, there are plenty of chances to do that with all those horror movies back at home. Right now, you need to be the hero!"
He felt something on his face and brought his paws up to feel. Some kind of cold metal was perched on his nose. He managed to get a hold of it pulled it off his face.
"Hey! Looks like I'm still wearing my glasses! Go figure!" He slipped them back on his face and shifted his neck a little.
"I know I'm not wearing any clothes, which doesn't bother me that much anymore now that I know I'm covered with all this fur, but it still feels like I'm wearing my fighter jacket."
America patted his neck with his paws and felt a mass of fur which ran around his neck like a collar. He could also just barely see that it was a deep brown color like the wool around his jacket's neck.
"I guess I've just got a lot of fur around my neck...weird."
He brought his paws down and looked at them for a moment. He flexed them a few times before sighing.
"Man, this isn't going to be easy to deal with, I can tell right now."
His ears alerted him once more to the sound of soft snoring. America looked back up at the cat curled up in Veneziano's clothing. It was only then that America caught sight of that great curl sprouting from the feline's head.
"If I've been turned into a cat, does that mean that Italy…" there was no mistake in America's mind. It was none other than Italy lying there in his own clothing. Although they were a bit large for him now to say the least.
America walked over, understanding now why he felt so weird walking before. "I can't believe something as bizarre as walking on all fours could feel so natural and at the same time feel so wrong."
America looked at Italy for a moment and then poked him with his left paw. "Hey," he said. Italy stayed asleep, "Hey!" America said again, this time a little louder. Italy remained firmly locked within his slumber just as before. America sighed and readied his New York tone
"Hey! Wake up you lazy bum!" he thundered into Italy's ear.
Italy rose with a start, his face flustered as he waved his head back and forth frantically. "I'm sorry Germany! I went to bed early, I swear! I promise I wasn't up sneaking extra pasta from your kitchen! Please don't make me run an extra fifty laps! They make me late for my siesta!"
Italy calmed down and looked at America for a moment. For the longest time, neither one said a single word.
Suddenly Italy leapt straight out of his clothes and cried with joy, "Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!" He danced with happiness around America, his curl bouncing all over the place. America looked at him with blank white eyes.
"Are his legs made of springs or something?" he thought to himself, "Geez, Iggy's neighbors sure are weird."
Italy finally stopped his bouncing and raised his paw to pet America. America felt himself sweat from the awkwardness of the moment. It must have been pretty funny seeing a cat pet another cat like that.
"Ve~!" Italy smiled with glee, "You're so cute! You look like a little lion with that fur around your neck!"
America grumbled, "And you look like an idiot with that expression on your face." he retorted smugly.
Italy froze as soon as he heard America speak. Suddenly he lurched back with a flustered expression.
"Ve?! You can talk? Fantastico! I've never met a cat that can speak! Japan told me that he thought he heard his cat speak once, but I never believed him! This is incredibile! You're cute and molto inteligente!"
"I don't want to brag, but this hero is pretty amazing!" America smiled, "but I'm not a cat Italy."
Italy looked at America with wonder. "Ve! You even know my name! Amazing!"
"Listen! I'm not a cat! It's me! America! I'm America!"
Italy stared at America through those squinty little eyes of his and went quiet for a while. He suddenly started giggling.
"Silly kitty!" He said petting America's head once more (which made America feel awkward like never before), "You can't be America! America's a nation, not a cat! Although it would be nice if he was." Italy thought aloud, "Maybe he wouldn't be so scary if he was a cute little cat."
"But I am America!" America persisted, "I was turned into a cat! I'm not the only one either! You've become a cat too! Look!"
America stepped forward, and sat on his haunches. Taking both paws, he raised Italy's own little paws in front of his face. He stepped back and watched as Italy looked at them strangely.
"….what?...what is this?..."
Italy poked at his paws and moved them around over and over. He then started to feel his face, his ears and the rest of himself discovering the changes in his form. America had to do all he could to keep from grinning. He knew Italy was feeling a lot of panic right now just like he was not long ago, but it was funny to watch him go through the motions of discovering his new shape. He wondered if he himself looked that silly when realizing his own transformation. He was still curious to see what he looked like and wished he had a mirror or something to look at himself.
Italy meanwhile, was sweating a freezing river. His head felt light as he became more and more aware of the reality. He started shaking like the wind itself and felt his poor little heart shrivel up in his chest. America might have thought he was scared, but his fear was nowhere nearly as bad as Italy's was. Italy felt tears squeeze out of the corners of his weepy eyes as little whimpers started to slip out of his kitten shaped mouth.
"Um…dude…" America said slowly leaning his head close to Italy's face, "…You ok bro?"
All at once, Italy thrust his head upwards knocking his skull against America's. America held his injured head with his paws as he fell on his back. He squinted one eye open to witness Italy start bawling as he flailed on the ground like a rolling pin, eyes spurting tears like a broken sprinkler.
"Germany! Germany where are you?" Italy wept like a little child, "Germany come save me! I'm scared Germany! I feel so small and weak! I don't want to stay like this! Germany help me! Germany! G-Germany! GERMANYYY!"
Somewhere, miles away, a man tossed and turned in his bed. He was sweating in cold fear as if some demon was plaguing him. He tossed and turned trying to find some form of peace, but none came to him. The more he twisted and turned, the hotter he became which only provoked his sweating. He grasped the sheets in angst, clawing at them as his head jerked from left to right over and over throughout the night.
On and on this went, growing worse and worse by the minute. Until at last the man shot up in his bed huffing deeply, his hands still coiled around the blankets.
He raised his hand to his head to stroke his fair hair back into order. His frozen cerulean eyes wavered in uncertainty as he looked out of the window in his bedroom. Walking to the glass, he watched as the autumn leaves fell around his yard under the harvest moon and ground his teeth in worry.
"Italy…" he muttered, "….Dammit…what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"