The nation stared at himself in the shattered mirror, the leftover broken glass in the wooden frame only showing half of his face. Yao lifted the pair of scissors to his ponytail and sliced. The ribbon that held the silky threads fell onto the floor in two pieces, the hair that he had just cut falling beside it not a second later. The Chinese's man stared at what remained of his precious hair with narrowed eyes.

He turned away, placing the scissors onto the top of the vanity and pulled on a short-sleeved mandarin shirt. Over top, the nation put on a black hoodie and grabbed a pair of yoga pants from his drawer. Like the hoodie, the pants were black. Then, he slipped on white sneakers. After tying the laces, the nation stood up straight and examined himself in the shattered mirror. The nation frowned and begun searching around the messy room. Upon finding a black hat with a red gem over the bridge, he put it on and turned back to the mirror.

Yao gave his reflection a satisfied smirk. Then, after straightening his sweater, he left the bedroom. For a brief moment, the personification of China's eyes flashed a glowing, bloody red.


"I didn't need it anymore."

Yao turned away from the questioning England and France and made his way towards his seat, ignoring all of the stares he received.

"What does that mean?" France pulled England away before a repeat of the last meeting occurred. Japan's jaw was slightly agape as he watched. Yao simply stared back blankly, unblinkingly. The younger nation turned away first.

Yao's expressionless eyes scanned the room for any sign of his Italian friend. Not seeing him, the nation felt the tip of his lip twitch. He quickly squashed the urge to smile when Germany called the World to order.


"So," Feliciano began, lilac eyes following Alfred's movements, "It's time to start?"

The American nodded, grinning. Feliciano adjusted his purple feathered cap, matching the grin with one of his own. He wore a beige military jacket, with its accompanying dark belt, and black dress shirt with a matching tie. His pants the same as his WW2 uniform however they were also a beige colour instead of blue. He wore a pair of tall dark brown boots. What Alfred liked most about the outfit was the pin he had attached to his tie; a black cross with white trim. The American could vaguely recall Germany and Prussia wearing the same kind of pin during WW2.

"Vehehe," the Italian chuckled, "This should be fun."


Japan watched his older brother carefully out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't the only one though. Many of the others were also doing the same, Vietnam, Taiwan, and Korea being some of the few who he noticed. Each of China's siblings were more than slightly concerned.

One day when Korea had asked why he wore his hair long, China had smiled and said that it was a large part of his culture. Lately, the tradition of long hair in China was dying out, so the elder wore it so to keep it alive in some way. For him to cut it after centuries of growing it out and keeping it that way gave Japan an uneasy feeling.


The T.V. began to beep, drawing everyone's attention away from the meeting. Germany pulled out the remote after a moment and pressed the answer button. Much like with America's call, the screen lit up. However, this time the screen split into two. On one side was America. On the other was Italy.

"Hello nations of the world," the American said, giving a grin. From what they could see, their fellow nation appeared to be sitting in a dark room. There was a door behind him opened only a crack, letting light beam into the room and reflecting off the sunglasses on his head. The dye in his hair didn't seem to have faded from its dark brown colour and his eyes had seemed to have taken on a strange red glow. Italy on the other hand was sitting in a lit room. The walls were blank. What shocked everyone was that the nation's eyes were lilac instead of the original warm honey brown.

"America, Italy," Germany greeted, inclining his head warily, "How nice of you to call."

"Indeed."

"While you're here," the nation continued, "Could you perhaps give us a reason as to why you bombed England?" The mentioned nation sent a glare at his old colony. At this, America smirked.

"Do I really need a reason? He's insufferable and annoying and can't cook for his life. I'm pretty sure that just about everyone else in that room can think of at least one time they wanted to do the same." England gritted his teeth, his glare worsening.

"Well," he snapped, "I don't appreciate nuclear warheads dropping down onto my people!"

"I doubt anyone does," Italy muttered. England glare turned to the nation.

"And where are you?"

"Nowhere of your concern," the Italian replied, waving off the question with a flick of his wrist.

"And why the bloody hell not?!" France placed a hand on the Brit's shoulder to stop him from shooting to his feet. Instead, England continued without noticing.

"My boss is absolutely furious. She demands to know exactly what the hell you two are up to!"

"Who says we're up to anything," America asked, amused.

"The two of you, along with China, have been spending way too much time around each other," England replied, "you think we wouldn't notice?"

"I believe what Angle-terre is trying to say," France said slowly, "is that he wishes to know your motives for bombing his most northern cities." America smirked.

"I guess I can give him that. You see, there was something that we wanted to talk to you about." Everyone in the room stiffened.

"And what would that be," Germany asked slowly. Some flinched as Italy began snickering.

"There has been something on our minds lately," the Italian said, "And it doesn't make us very happy."

"It doesn't make either of us happy," America continued, "Because of a few events that took place no more than a year ago. You see, I don't appreciate being degraded by the likes of you…"

"And I'm not useless." The glare that appeared on Italy's face made everyone shudder.

"Plus, England is always in our faces about things that aren't his business… So we decided that it was time for a little pay back." Nations all over the room were standing up from their chairs, listening in shock as Italy continued.

"If you don't want any of your own countries attacked," the Italian was saying, "then each of you will pay us a sum of $6 million."

"Not only that," America added, "the Italian Republic would also need to receive acceptable portions of France, Austria, and Hungary to claim as his own." The mentioned nations felt a rush of surprise run through them.

"Try to be reasonable," Austria exclaimed. Italy shook his head, chuckling.

"That's the deal Austria," he grinned, "Take it or leave it."

"In that case, we refuse," Hungary stated. At this, a flicker of dissatisfaction crossed the Italian's face before it disappeared.

"Oh come now Hungary," the nation cooed, batting his eyelashes, "It's only a small thing to ask." Hungary frowned, turning and looking away. Italy's puppy face turned into one of disgust, something that scared many of the others.

"It seems we've reached an impasse," America observed, tapping his chin.

"Very well," he then sighed, "I suppose we have no choice any longer."

With that, the screen clicked off, both nations disconnecting.


Yao made his way out of the building towards his car, struggling to hide his laughter. The two sure put on a show!

"China!" The nation stopped, fixing a frown on his face as he turned around. Russia was making his way over to his neighbouring nation, one of his serene smiles in place. Yao nodded to the larger man and the two walked side by side.

Inwardly, Yao was snarling.