(Oh my gosh, reviews! I'm so happy! Yay! I'm so happy! *bounces about a bit* I figured you were curious about what might have happened to the others, so I wrote this out. Now I'll leave you isuspense we, because I won't do this again for a while. I don't own hetalia or Pokemon!)

Chapter Four: Checking on the Others

Germany struggled to wake up. What had happened? His head hurt, he felt dizzy, and his vision was so blurry that he couldn't see anything. He struggled to lift himself off of his stomach. He felt grass tickling him, and wondered why no one seemed to be around. Hadn't there been a world meeting? Now that he thought about, why had no one noticed when he passed out? That couldn't be good at all. He finally managed to lift himself up, pressing hard against the ground with his forelegs.

Wait, forelegs? Germany's sudded attentiveness drove away the last of that dizzy spell. He practically jumped the rest of the way up, and began examining himself. He couldn't possibly be examining himself... could he? After all, he was looking not at hands, but a furry black paw. His leg seemed to be black until about half was up, until it turned grey. Looking at the parts of himself he could see, he seemed to be some sort of black-and-grey wolf. Maybe his head was still fuzzy. Yeah, that was it. Indeed, it was, but when it cleared more, his suspicions clenched around him. He nearly fainted from the sheer strength of the odors that now surrounded him, and his hearing was picking up on sounds he didn't think he had ever heard before. His legs began to slide out from under him, and he forced himself into a sitting pose so he wouldn't collapse again. He just needed to think clearly, that was all. He must be worried about Italy still... Er, why was he...

"ITALY!" he barked, not noticing or really caring at this point that his voice was making syllables in a language he had never heard before. "ITALY?" Right before he had passed out, he could have sworn he felt the Italian might be in danger! The Poochyena (who had no idea what he was doing, despite being relatively competent normally) took off, taking full advantage of his new senses to find the boy.

Japan woke up with a headache. He tried to recall what had happened, even as his blurry vision impeded him from standing up. Ah. Yes. He had been taking Italy to go get pasta so he's stop bothering Germany. Then he'd lost Italy and gone to look for him. Then he had collapsed. He suspected something suspicious had gone on when he noticed that he had no real head injuries and was not lying on pavement, but on dirt of some sort. He remained lying down, attempting to determine what might have happened, when he heard a voice.

"Sweet! A Pikachu!" Ah. So that was it. He was either dreaming, or he had turned into a Pikachu. As the startlingly emotionless electric mouse got up, he placed himself on his hind legs and attempted to walk away from the situation. He needed time to learn his skills. However, the boys were about to leave him no choice but to attack. He heard one shout, "Go, Fetch!" A bird's cry was heard, a cry Japan recognized instantly as the Farfetch'd dialect of Pokespeak. He had invented this world, after all. As long as he was here, he could test the more complicated real-world version he had written up. Japan blinked and turned around. The bird didn't give him time to figure out how to use electricity in the real world. Japan got slammed with a powerful attack. Instinctively, he reached for a katana that was not present. He supposed a tackle should work... But the Farfetch'd was impatient, and a second brutal attack left Japan wobbling.

"Alright Fetch! That was AWESOME!" The boy pulled what must be assumed to be a Pokeball out of his pocket. Japan then considered running, and indeed, he attempted to run some- but it didn't work. The boy's bird was much faster, and quite well trained, so, though Japan fought not to be captured, the bird stil dropped the Pokeball to where it bounced off of Japan and took it in its red beam. However, just as it did, his electricity finally flickered into existence. He had a plan to escape now. It was time to put it into action.

England felt his head throbbing as he finally came into consciousness. What had just happened, exactly? A cold breeze rushed over him, and he shivered. Wait, a cold breeze? But wasn't he in Italy in the middle of summer? Why on earth was it so cold? Perhaps it was best to think of what spell he had messed up on; that was the only explanation. However, as far as he was aware, he hadn't preformed any magic. Oh, that rang a bell! There had been some sort of magic going on near the meeting house. He had been on the way back when France had chased him down just to mess with him. Then something, presumably magical, hit him and he had collapsed. So magic had been involved. He doubted Norway or Romania would have done something this irresponsible, and they were the only other magic users he knew.

As his head finally cleared up again, he looked around to see... nothing. Huh. It appeared that snow that he had somehow not noticed was preventing him from seeing anything. Why hadn't he noticed the snow? It was almost as if he simply was designed to exist in snowstorms... As snow fell onto his head, he reached up to brush it off, only to notice that he didn't... have any arms... to do it with...

"BLOODY HELL!" he shouted in surprise, only to notice he was no longer speaking the queen's English. Why wasn't he talking his native tounge? He studied himself. He was apparently a small purple orb of some sort, surrounded by a grey, swirling, cloudy-colored gel. Apparently, this cloudy-colored mass was somehow protecting him from the snow. Still, he wished it was sunnier. Almost as if answering his demands, the clouds cleared to reveal an intense sunlight. As it did, England was surprised to find himself changing forms. He looked at his reflection in a puddle created by the quickly melting snow, and he discovered that he was now orange, with a sun-like pattern surrounding him. Interesting. Perhaps he HAD changed the weather. Now, if he could only find some way to draw a magic circle, he would be fixing this mess already! Wait. Weather. He could change it. Maybe he could figure out some way to draw the circle doing that?

France woke up with a headache, and immediately assumed that England had somehow caused it. After all, he had been talking to an oddly preoccupied England last. He briefly wondered what England was so occupied with that it had caused him to be ignored. After all, England normally reacted much more to his jibes. Ah, well, he must have reacted somehow, otherwise France wouldn't be waking up after obviously having been knocked unconscious. He felt stone beneath his feet, which was odd. He had caught up to England on the sidewalk by the meeting house, as far as he was aware. Perhaps England had been doing some of that mubo-jumbo stuff to him? France decided that England needed a piece of his mind, so, ignoring the dizziness, he stood up.

The dizziness, which the others had waited out, struck France full force. His vision swimming much more, he collapsed again, sticking his arms out to catch himself. The way they had caught him felt strange, almost as if the ground had caused them to slowly bend out of shape. Sitting back down, he wisely chose to wait for the dizziness to end before standing up again. In afew moments, his head had cleared all the way, though his hands still hurt. He looked down at his hands to find, not hands, but two different colored roses. Startled, he examined the rest of himself, trying very hard not to freak out. He seemed to be a green-colored leafy entity of some sort. It seemed quite strange to him. That settled it. England must have something to do with it.

As France got up, shaking himself off from the prior fall, he finally noticed his surroundings. He was near a city, but on a rocky road just outside of the city. The city had a mournful look over it, and it made France shudder. Despite the violet shades the town seemed to be built in, there was a terrifying sense of melancholy surrounding it. France wondered if he should stay clear, but the only other direction seemed to lead into a pitch-black cave. France didn't want to have to deal with that, so with relatively frightened steps, he slowly made his way to this town built in lavender.

Russia woke up with venomous thoughts. Whoever had done this to him was going to have to pay. His second thought made him feel worse. Where was his scarf? A growl emerged from his throat. He was going to tear whoever did this into shreds. The Russian stood up, only to be knocked down by his headache. His anger, however, simply lead this cycle to repeat, him not noticing that every time he stood, he made his head pound worse. He finally collapsed again, struggling to find whoever had done this to him and make him wish they had never lived. Standing up again, his swimming vision now completely black, he forced himself not to fall, even if it felt like he was standing on the ceiling, he was so dizzy. However, he fell forward into a crawling position, hurting ome of his arms badly. Fine. He'd walk on four legs, then. Trying to force his way forward, he finally collapsed, unable to take any more pain from walking.

Then, he heard footsteps. It sounded like someone was coming. Whoever it was, they would pay. As the footsteps came closer, he growled menacingly, struggling to stand up and show his captors what damage he could do. They had taken his scarf, and were going to pay. Instead, he collapsed again. The pain was finally rushing into him. In his attempts to stand, he must have broken an arm, and it was now bleeding and badly out of position. Well, oh well, fixing it could wait! As he tried to stand, he fell quickly, almost as if his legs were incapable of supporting him. The footsteps noticed the struggling Russia, and ran to him.

"NURSE JOY! THIS ABSOL LOOKS SERIOUSLY INJURED!" Russia didn't even notice how odd the words were. He simply continued trying to stand up, anger still pulsing within him. However, every time he tried, either dizziness, his weak legs, or broken arm (more accurately, foreleg) stopped him. He felt someone's arms wrap around him, and felt himself injected with something that caused him to finally pass out again.

America woke up with a headache. Something totally strange must have happened, as he definitely wasn't at the meeting hall anymore. He hadn't made it to McDonald's yet either. He had been trying to, except he had run into Japan by accident, who seemed to be looking for Italy. America had tripped, and as he fell, he had blacked out. It was quite strange, if you asked him. He brashly tried to get up and figure out what was happening, but his head forced him to remain seated. That, and the floor seemed to be rocking. Nah, he was just dizzy.

As his head cleared entirely, he saw a wooden floor and round windows. The floor still seemed to be rocking. Well, he supposed he must be on a boat, then. Wait. Hold on a second. Since when was he going to get on a boat? And why did everything seem so much bigger than he remembered boats being? Panicking, he frantically looked around him, trying to find a way out of the situation. This wasn't good, it wasn't good at all! When he found the door, he immediately tried to get out. However, he discovered that the doorknob was too high for him, and where reached it, that he had no opposable thumb. And that his hand was furry. What?

America decided that it was probably a good idea to figure out what exactly he was, then. He looked himself over. He was a slate shade of blue-grey. There was a tan spot in the middle of his chest. His fur seemed to be relatively shaggy. "Sweet! I'm a Munchlax!" Excitedly, America examined his surroundings again. If he was a Muchlax, and this was a cruise liner, the he was on the S.S Anne! How awesome was that! Excitedly, he bagan to plan on what stuff he could do in this new form.

China woke up, his vision foggy. What had just happened? It would seem that he was on cool, mossy earth, not on the floor of the meeting house. He had hung back because he thought he had heard some sort of noise. He suspected someone had tried to sneak into the meeting (coughcoughPRUSSAcoughcoughSE ALAND). However, he had found nobody, and as he went back outside to go back to his hotel room, he had blacked out. Now, he clearly wasn't in Rome. Rome had no mossy forest floor. China tried to stand up, only to fall forward. It seemed his legs couldn't support his weight, and we're the same length as his arms... which were orange and fuzzy... what?

"Aiyah! What happened to me?" He seemed to be some odd cross between a tiger and a dog. he supposed she probably looked majestic enough on a second glance. Heat flared up inside of him as she worriedly tried to figure out where he was and who to blame for this. he was in a towering forest of some sort, and there were bugs everywhere! Suddenly, a bug fell from a tree and proceeded to sting him with some sort of stinger it had on its tail end. China immediately sent flames at it, causing it to collapsed. China looked at himself in shock. Had he really just done that?

"This is strange, aru," he murmured, not quite sure what to do. He supposed he should try to find some of the others, since staying here clearly wasn't going to do anything. He started towards what he hoped was the exit, but he didn't get his hopes up. This place seemed like it was a maze. This could take a while.

Sealand and Prussia were the only two to wake up at the same time in the same place. They had just been hiding from China, who had seemed to suspect that they had sneaked into the building. They had made some sort of deal they forgot the terms to quite some time ago that they would help each other in, since neither were allowed in for some odd reason. When they woke up, however, they had quite odd reactions. Prussia had shouted "That isn't Gilbird!" and Sealand had said "Sweet! An Aerodactyl!" The two had then realized who each other were and sat down to try and figure things out.

"So, apparently we're Pokemon," explained Sealand, who had played Pokemon plenty of times before. "I'm a Wingull, and you're an Aerodactyl, which is a sort of prehistoric Pokemon. Except, you're the lightest colored Aerodactyl ever and your eyes are red, so you're still albino!" Prussia listened to all this intently. Aerodactyl seemed pretty awesome, though not as awesome as he could be if awesome Gilbird was still on his head. That's when he realized it: with Sealand, he could do some serious mischief, since he could fly.

"This is going to be awesome," he said, and Sealand nodded in agreement. This was going to be so much fun!

"Report."

"You seem to have transferred eight countries, one prior country, and one someone we really don't think is actually a country but acts like one anyway."

"Good." Due rubbed the back of her head in a slightly sheepish manner. "I was afraid it wouldn't work." She kinda felt bad, but it was Arceus's fault for making her a legendary with jurisdiction over pretty much NOTHING. She had to gain some sort of power! And now... Now the power of the world was hers.

(So, do you like the Pokemon I picked for them? Please review! And feel free to tell me whatever you want, or give me ideas. I'll listen!)