Don't own Hetalia.

History and Guns


Last time in I'm Not A Girl!:

"Okay; goodbye." I shut the phone and felt Sogna crawl up to lay on my chest, Yao now firmly wedged between me and the couch. Sighing, I turned my head and buried my face into the back of the couch.

What am I going to do?


The addition of Francis to our family: Ironic. Since he saw me as his "ange", he wanted me to be as pure and good as possible. So he attacked anyone who made a move on me. Alfred, cashiers, pedestrians, the mailwoman (that was a little awkward; I don't like the deliverer of my mail attempting to flirt with me. They could become a stalker); he attacked them all.

Especially Alfred.

And Alfred, in response, annoyed him by trying to be as near me as possible (much to Yao's disdain). They acted a little like England and modern France, it was really odd.

And China…China almost poisoned France, but America ate the food that was poisoned, and his steel-plated stomach insured his survival. Sogna liked Gaul and Gaul adored the little collie. I see Pierre occasionally, and the hawk seemed to like me well enough. Since he was a pet unit, he could understand me and was nice enough to agree to not eat the wild cats nearby.

Gaul didn't really like my food, but he was more complacent once I told him that the idea of him cooking while he was so small worried me. Males were funny that way; act concerned enough and they obey you quickly (I seem to not be included in this, and America's suspicions were making me paranoid about my lack of masculinity). Well, for males they obeyed quickly.

Things got kind of funny though when my cell phone rang one day. It was two-ish and I was watching The Hunchback of Notre Dame with Gaul and China (America tried to sit with me, but Sogna and Yao growled at him), when "Rumor in St. Petersburg" began to play in the room.

Grinning, I picked up the phone and flipped it open (yes, it's a flip phone. Go to hell). My first words into the phone?

"Privet, comrade Kalashnikov. How have you been doing?" Yep. I even added a Russian accent, too. Though I didn't see it, my two companions lost all of the color in their faces when they heard me speak like that.

Too lazy to actually hold the phone to my ear, I hit the speaker button. "I'm not a communist, Cirrus." The response was commonplace, and I gave a theatrical sigh and rolled my eyes.

"Right, and I'm not a fascist."

There was a pause. "…you aren't."

"That's what I want people to think, lapochka." I replied brightly. "So why did you call?"

The one on the other side of the phone paused again. "…Anh's still visiting her family in Vietnam."

"Of course she is. That's all I'm good for these days after all: comforting my Russian friend as he worries about his Vietnamese girlfriend. You know as well as I do that Anh will be fine. She was born and raised in Vietnam; it's not like that's a completely different world to her."

"You're right; I guess I should know better. Than– ."

"No! Say it in Russian!" I heard a sigh from the other side and couldn't hide my grin; annoying my friend was always fun.

"…Spasibo."

"No problem. Call if you need anything else." I ended the call then and looked at my companions…who currently looked like death warmed over. I blinked and nudged them. "Are you guys okay?"

"W-who was that?" Yao asked, looking scared and clinging to me. I shrugged and couldn't understand their fear. It's not like Alexander could do much (though he was a golf player, and him with a club while angry at me is never a good combination).

"That's my friend Alexander. He's one-fourth Russian, so I like to bug him about it." They relaxed a little, but still looked rather freaked out.

"What did you mean by the fascist comment?" I grinned and stretched out, my black hair swaying in front of my eyes for a second.

"I'm one-fourth Italian, so the joke is that we're all from dark nations, except one of us. Overall in my little group, we have a fascist, communist, socialist, and imperialist among us." I added this to be specific while Gaul and Yao gave me odd looks.


With so many nations around, my head was beginning to hurt. They're okay, I suppose, but the point of Hetalia is for people to learn history while personified nations act insane. And since I am learning about history, I also have to deal with the insanity. Whenever I play the Native American flute I bought at a museum, America is lying nearby, eyes heavy and mind contently resting in his pre-colonial days. When I stop he tells me about those days before lounging out on my lap in pre-British bliss.

While in my lap, he told me that, since I played the flute, I must be a girl. I tried to strangle him. Gaul stopped me, though he looked reluctant to. Yao just watched.

I would listen to Yao as he told me various Chinese legends and expanded on his earlier foreign relations, but then Al would appear and the mini dragon would pounce on the stupid nation. Gaul talked openly enough about some things, but he seemed reluctant about the Napoleonic era.

Despite his protectiveness, Gaul was admittedly skittish when it comes to English speakers or non-units in general. Gaul slept in my normal room with America (since I kicked the idiot out of my current room), but he sometimes gets nightmares of that day, except I don't appear to save him. When he jolts awake, Francis would then get up and go to sleep in my bed with Yao, Sogna and me.

I have to admit, their bodies are like tiny furnaces and I immensely enjoy that, but should I be concerned? Are they supposed to be this clingy? I had no idea; I've never tended to kids for this long. Getting tired one day, I sighed and went to the door, Sogna trailing behind me. "I'm going out for a bit!" I called, before leaving. I just needed some time to think.

Sogna was sweet and knew to be quieter at the moment. She's gotten bigger than when Yao first arrived, and had started herding the others together without them noticing. As I kept with the road, I turned to a smaller, sandier road. This path led to a different group of houses, but I just wanted a place to think. As I continued along the path, my thoughts twined and turned and refined themselves into a ribbon to a waterfall to become simply a cascade of thoughts that found me sitting on a dock, staring into the lake.

I felt weird in this situation. How can I tend to them in a way that makes them happy? How can I know they're happy? How do I make them all happy when one prefers the other unhappy? All of these thoughts crowded my mind, but a bone-chilling sound woke me back up. The sound was a gun's safety going off. "What are you doing here?"

Oh, crap. Turning around slowly, I saw a silver gun near my nose, then saw the wielder. Then proceeded to die a little from shock. There, holding a gun to my head, was a twelve year old blonde-haired green-eyed kid. As the kid continued to glare at me, I grew pale (well, paler) and my breath started to become harsher.

When, he finally, finally, moved the gun away, my hand grasped at my throat and I gasped in oxygen. The adolescent cursed suddenly and dropped the gun. I looked to see Sogna poised and growling at the blonde. When the boy stopped glaring at Sogna, he looked at me warily. "Who are you?"

"I-I'm Cirrus Strifen." Curse you, fear of guns! Curse you! How dare you make me stutter in front of a freaking twelve year old!

The boy paused and his eyes softened a little. "Are you German?"

"On my dad's side, yeah." The kid looked more at east now and sat down near me, Sogna calmer since he wasn't threatening me anymore.

"My name is Vash." I grinned and offered him my hand, the tremors beginning to die down.

"Nice to meet you." Vash half-smiled back and shook my hand. When my hand left his, I noticed the blood on it and was confused. Was I bleeding? Then I remembered; Sogna must've bitten him. I quickly tore off a piece of my shirt (it was a ratty, do-labor-in shirt, that my parents made me keep around in case I "decided to get off my lazy ass and do work around the house") and wrapped it around the boy's hand.

"Sorry about that," I apologized, "Sogna doesn't like when I'm threatened."

Vash raised an eyebrow. "You say 'when', not 'if'."

"There's no if to it," I said with resignation. "I know I'm gonna be threatened in life; that's the way my luck's always been."

The boy frowned. "You shouldn't let yourself give in."

I chuckled at that and shook my head. "Trust me I don't give in. I fight 'til I hit rock bottom and even then I try to grow wings. I've just learned to accept that my life will never be completely safe." I then reached down and picked the gun up from the ground. Vash tensed but I simply put the safety back on and started to swing it by the trigger guard on my finger. When I stopped, the gun was resting in my hand normally, and I offered it to Vash.

He accepted the gun, looking relieved to have it back. We sat there for a little longer, looking at the lake with our own thoughts on mind. Not that much time passed, however, when my phone went off with an unknown ring tone. Frowning in confusion, I picked up the phone and answered it. "This is Cir–."

"Cirrus! This is Daniel! You need to get home!"

I grew worried. "What happened?"

"The Units at your house are freaking out, and they're starting to regress back to their old selves!"

The idea of a fussy China, emo America, and PTSD Gaul alone in my house chilled me more than Vash had. "Okay, I'm on my way back." I shut the phone and stood up. "Sorry, Vash, I gotta go." Before he could react, I made a sound with my tongue against the roof of my mouth and ran off, Sogna following at my call.

When I finally got home, I saw a small blonde curled up outside. "Francis." I breathed, before repeating his name louder. His head snapped up and he suddenly tackled me.

"Mon ange," he sobbed, "Amerique es un diable."

I tightened my arms around him and grew worried. "vous d'accord?" I asked, hating my lack of fluency.

He nodded shakily and spoke with a heavier accent. "He haz not harmed me, but China did not leave with me. He iz ztill in there." A cold shard formed in my sternum but I nodded.

"Okay. Go into the smaller house and lay down. I'll see what I can do." Right next to the lake house itself was a smaller house. It had only three rooms: a mudroom/entry way, a giant bed room, and a bathroom. None the less, it was comfortable. I guess Gaul was afraid he would have to run to avoid America. Francis nodded and went into the little house, and I let out a sigh before moving to the door.

I hesitated but went inside. The lights and TV were off, and it seemed almost eerily silent except for the harsh rock music blasting out of my old room. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the room –

And was angrily pinned against the wall. Looking up, I caught sight of gunmetal grey eyes and gulped. Crap. "Where were you?" America growled, looking as hostile as a POW interrogator. I tried not to tremble, but being in the presence of a person who you knew picked up a car as a child made it really difficult for me to stay calm.

"I went for a walk to clear my thoughts. I lost track of time when I started talking to someone."

America's eyes had started regaining their blue tinge, but hearing that I spoke to someone else made them revert back to grey. "Who did you speak with?" Without noticing, America had gripped my throat with one hand and began squeezing. While he didn't seem to notice, I can tell you that I sure as hell did.

My entire world grew a little dimmer here and I choked out, "It was just a kid! His name was Vash!" Eyes narrowed in confusion, Alfred looked at me before his eyes widened. He just figured out that he was unintentionally strangling me and, hastily, he removed himself. But the damage was done, and I descended into an asthma attack.


"Problem: You opened the box we sent you and found that, instead of an older teenage male, there was a kid of about ten or eleven lying in the box. Upon awakening, he grumbles and fights all the time, and asks where RODERICH EDELSTEIN is.

Solution: Oops! We sent you a Little!Switzerland unit on accident! In this form, he is much more amiable but prone to fits, and might suddenly declare war on you at a single wrong move. If you don't want such a fickle unit near your loved ones or precious belongings, feel free to call Customer Services for an exchange."

- VASH ZWINGLI: User Guide and Manual by LolliDictator.


While me adding a random OC makes no sense, I had promised my friends at school I would do that, so...there you go. As you can tell, things are going to get a little dramatic soon, but I had to think of a way to have character development and all this other stuff, and the best way to do it was this drama.

As people have probably figured out, Cirrus is a tad girly. This is the point of the fic; for a boy with feminine traits to take care of the Units while he deals with people mistaking him for a girl. I go a little more into detail about that on my profile. Sorry if there are any spelling errors, I typed most of this up yesterday.

Why Cirrus made a sound with his throat when he called Sogna: Cirrus doesn't know how to whistle. To make up for that, he trained his pets to respond to that sound he makes with his throat.

To make it clear, Cirrus is one-fourth Italian, one-eighth Irish, and one-eighth Native American on his mother's side. He doesn't know what his dad is, but they're pretty sure it's of German descent (due to their last name).

Please review.

Ja ne!