Chapter ten has arrived. And what do you know, we've reached over thirty followers. For me, that's a pretty big number, so thank all of you for taking an interest in this humble (and strange) little piece of my imagination. It means a lot for a first time public author. *bows* Thank you again all who have left me a review. Whether a flattering note about the quality of my story, or a short demand to hurry up and post the next chapter, they all mean more than you guys probably know. This thanks includes guest readers as well, of course.

Alright, enough with the boring sentiments, lets get on with this.

Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia...hmm, the possibilities. But unfortunately, this is the closest I'll ever get.

Random word of the day: Chopsticks

America was a pretty good pilot.

I just wish he wouldn't laugh and cheer the whole freaking time.

It took us maybe a grand total of five minutes to get into Oregon, which made yet another wacky realization of this universe come to mind.

Traveling itself was faster.

Even in this fast airplane, it should have taken us much longer to reach the other state, Germany and Italy even longer than that. But if the time span in which it took to travel long distances was shorter than in the real world, that would most definitely explain a few things about the show. I had always wondered how all the characters seemed to be in the most random of places at random times. In reality it shouldn't have been possible for the nations to jump from one country to the next like it was nothing, but here in Hetalia, traveling wasn't near as difficult or troublesome.

Yet another thing to get used to here in this ridiculous universe. Lucky me.

All in all, the whole ride had just felt like being on a rollercoaster, and although a bit stomach churning, wasn't all that bad. America landed the plane in some field, surprisingly quite smoothly too.

Thank goodness he at least knew what he was doing.

"Alright! Let's go hunt us down some Axis!" America proclaimed when we exited. "Do you even have an idea of where they might be?" I asked. He paused in his steps. "I thought you would!" I resisted the urge to face palm.

"Well, I don't know exactly where they are. But I'd bet that Italy is most likely somewhere that there's pasta, or pretty girls. As for Germany, I don't have a clue." America put his hand on my shoulder. "No sweat, dude! I totally know a few places! C'mon, if we catch one of em, Britain will have no choice but to admit that America is way cooler and smarter than any other country ever!" He shouted, raising his fists in the air.

"I think you're a little too hyped up for this, America." I said. As if he hadn't heard me, America grabbed my hand and tugged me along.

"Would you stop doing that!?"

...

It didn't take long for us to reach a town, bustling with people despite the cold weather. We started searching aimlessly, looking for any signs at all that a member of the Axis had been there. We asked around, but no one seemed to have seen a friendly, bubbly Italian or a tall, stern-faced German anywhere. At one point I turned around and found that America had disappeared.

"Ugh, come on! I can't be looking for you too! Why is this world so against me? Geez." I mumbled in frustration.

"Why are you talking to yourself, dude? You're starting to sound like the limey."

I whirled around. "There you are! Jeebus, I turn around for one second and then you...disappear..." I trailed off when I noticed the paper bag secured in his arm, and the familiar sandwich in his free hand.

"...You got burgers?"

He nodded happily. "Yea dude, I was hungry! Want one?" America asked, offering the bag to me. I wanted to inquire where he'd gotten those, but then my stomach growled at the smell of food, which made me remember that neither of us had eaten today. I grabbed a burger from the bag wordlessly, ignoring America's smirk when I took a good bite of it.

'Man, I'm gonna gain some serious weight living with this guy.'

"So did you find anything on your little food run?" I asked. America shook his head and stuffed the remainder of the sandwich in his mouth. "Nah. Maybe we missed em." I held up my hand. "Seriously Alfred, eat or speak, choose one." America looked confused. "Eh? But why?" I sighed. "Never mind."

'You're lucky my aunt isn't here.'

I finished my own food. "Anyway, it doesn't look like they came through here. Oregon's a big state, there's a bunch of other places they could be. This could take a while, so why don't we-"

"DUDE, LOOK!" America suddenly shouted in my ear, making me cringe. But when I looked to where he was wildly pointing at, my jaw dropped. "N-No way!"

Standing a ways away from us was none other than North Italy, smiling his goofy little smile and flirting with a couple of girls. America whooped and started over to him, but I quickly grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him down behind a garbage can.

"Hey, the hell man? Italy's right there, let's grab him!" I shushed him. "We can't just 'grab' him out of the blue! Firstly, what if Germany's nearby? If we walk right up to him he'll start screaming, and Germany will hear, and I don't know if we can take him with just the two of us. Secondly, Italy is really good at running away, so if he sees us early he'll run and we won't be able to catch him. And thirdly, we don't want to cause a scene here."

America nodded in agreement. "Oh of course, how foolish of me! So what you're saying is, we need a plan of action!" I smiled. "Exactly. If we can lure him out, get him to come to us and then take him quietly, we can avoid all that."

...What was I saying? I suddenly sounded like a villain.

I had always liked Italy as a character, even if he was kind of irritating sometimes.

He is the enemy.

...Yea. That's right. He is the enemy. No matter how much it may not seem like it. The Axis characters were the enemies now. The bad guys.

That...left a bad taste in my mouth.

"So what should our awesome plan be?" America's voice snapped me out of my depressing musings. He seemed to be thinking hard, for once. "What did you say Italy liked again?" I blinked. "Oh, um, pasta and girls, mostly." I peeked out from behind our hiding spot to look at him again. There were a few people staring at us, no surprise there. We probably looked pretty ridiculous behind this trashcan.

"I've got an idea!" America said suddenly. I turned to him, and discovered he was standing up and holding two long coats, bowler hats, sunglasses, and fake mustaches.

"Where the hell did you get those!?"

America thrust one of the outfits to me as I stood. "Just put one of these on, and follow my lead!" I took one hesitantly, not really sure where he was going with this. 'I didn't even know they had fake mustaches in the forties...'

We dressed in the costumes, both looking rather stupid. "Hey, do you speak Italian?" America asked me. I gave him a long, strange look. "Why would I know how to speak Italian? I barely lasted through Spanish in high school." America held his chin thoughtfully. "Darn. Oh well, we'll just have to fake it."

"You know, I would very much appreciate it if you told me what you're planning on doing." I said. He smirked. "It's brilliant dude, I promise. Just follow my lead, and it should work perfectly!" I sighed in exasperation. "Fine, let's just get this over with."

The girls Italy had been flirting with had left, and now he was wandering around aimlessly. He paused in his steps and put a hand on his stomach, his expression turning downcast as he mumbled to himself. "Looks like he's hungry." I observed. "Perfect! Now I'm positive this'll work!" And so, we finally approached Northern Italy.

"Excuse-a me-a sir!" America said in a terrible Italian accent. I covered my mouth and bit down on my tongue to keep from bursting into laughter.

Italy turned around. "Ve~, si?" He asked.

I smiled a bit. Italy was pretty adorable in person. But it was weird how he kept his eyes so squinted it looked like they were shut. How did he even see like that?

And of course, there was the curl. That famous little curl that all Italians here seemed to have for some reason, just sticking out awkwardly like it didn't have a care in the world. My hand twitched, wanting very badly to touch it.

'Control yourself Jinjer, can't blow our cover here! Control...control...'

"We have-a just-a opened a new Italian-o restaurant by the terrace over there. We would-a very much appreciate-a if you would-a come and try our pasta!"

'Good grief, America. You sound like the lead singer from Nickelback and Romano's voices were combined.'

Italy didn't seem to notice the obvious fakeness of America's accent though. Instead, he took on a happy expression and nodded. "Oh, si si! I would love to come and-a try your pasta! Grazie!"

A pang of guilt shot my heart. He was just so...innocent. Well, sort of anyway. The point was I felt bad for doing this to him.

But I kept my feelings to myself and walked beside America with Italy skipping along merrily behind us. I wasn't sure where we were going, or how America was planning to subdue Italy. I just really hoped it wasn't anything too harsh.

Once we had gone to the outskirts of the town, America stopped in his tracks. "Ve~, are you sure this is where the pasta is? I don't-a see anyone!" Italy said.

America laughed. "PSYCH!" He yelled, making Italy jump.

America then ripped off his disguise, and took a sort of victory pose. "HAHAHA! You totally fell for it! You're now in the hands of the heroic America!" Italy's expression morphed into one of fear, and he made a move to run, but America caught him by the collar.

"AH! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I surrender, please don't-a hurt me!" Italy cried. "Dude is weak, he's not even putting up fight?" America said with a disappointed tone. "Anyway, what do you want to do with him now that we've caught him?" I asked. "Take him back with us, of course!"

I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it shortly after. 'I'm not really sure that's a good idea, but I don't think anything bad happens because of it, so whatever, I guess it's okay.'

"Well then let's hurry up and go back before someone sees us out here." I said while removing my disguise. But I kept the coat on, because it was cold.

"Ve~! Una bella ragazza! Maybe this whole getting kidnapped thing won't be so bad after all-a!" Italy said.

I stared at him. 'Is he seriously that shallow?'

"What's a pretty girl like-a you doing here? You're way too pretty to be here with America! Oh, did you get captured too? Don't-a worry, we can comfort each other and-a quake in fear together!"

America groaned in irritation. "Shut up, you're too damn loud!" I chuckled. "Look at the pot calling the kettle black." America ignored me. "If he keeps talking like this, someone's gonna hear! Jinjer!" America suddenly shoved Italy at me, causing him to stumble into me. "Hey, what the-"

"Get him to be quiet somehow! Knock him out or something! I'm gonna bring the plane around!" And with that, my country ran off. "Wait a se- America! Come on, what the hell!?"

'Bring the plane around!? What does he mean by that!?'

I groaned loudly. "Now what?" I mumbled. I looked down at Italy, who was sitting on his knees with his arms wrapped around me, snuggling against my stomach. "Ve~ve~ve~! You're-a so warm and-a smell so nice!"

"Um, thank you?" I said. 'I wonder if he knows this could be considered as invasion of personal space by some people. He's lucky I know that he's not some kind of creep.'

I sighed and left him be. Italy had always reminded of a little kid when I'd watched the anime. A sweet, innocent child who was dependent upon those he was fond of, and desired to love and be loved. He was the opposite of me in personality, and I think that may be why I had liked him so much. Even right now he was acting exactly that way. And surprisingly enough, I didn't mind it.

America had told me to get him to be quiet, but I most certainly didn't want to hurt him, even though he was presenting me with the perfect opportunity to do so.

Your weak side is showing.

I swallowed. 'Yea, I know.'

But what could I do? Weakness was a part of me, no matter how much I hated it.

"What's the matter, ragazza?" I blinked, noticing that Italy had stopped hugging me, and was now just sitting in the snow. "Hm? Oh, nothing. Just lost in thought. But more importantly, you seem surprisingly calm considering the fact that we're kidnapping you." Italy smiled. "But if you're going to-a be there with me, then it won't be so bad." I tilted my head. "Why do you think that? I could be an evil Klingon for all you know."

Italy's smile didn't waver, despite my random reference to something from the future. "No, no. You're not bad! I can-a tell because you have such nice eyes!" I blinked. "You countries say the strangest things."

"Oh, so you're human then? Wow, it's-a been so long since someone like you found out about us! What's your name?"

"I'm Jinjer. The Allies adviser." Italy looked confused. "Ve~? Why would a pretty human girl like-a you be working with the Allies? They're all mean and scary!" I smiled. "It's a long story."

'One that I'm most definitely not telling you.'

"The Allies are all friends of mine, and I want to support them during this time." That was probably the best explanation I could go with.

Italy went quiet for a moment. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, what with his weird eyes. Suddenly he shot up, and grabbed my hand. "Ve~, I like-a you! I am Feliciano Vargas, also the North part of Italy! You can call me whichever one you like, so let's be friends!"

I blinked in surprise. "I- um, as much as I'd like to say yes, I don't think that's a good idea right now, since we're on opposite sides of this war and all."

"That doesn't matter, after all, that's exactly what-a Germany used to tell me, but now we are the best of friends!"

'Ah, so innocent. I really don't understand it.'

Figuring he probably wouldn't let it go until I relented, I sighed and agreed to be his friend. "Yay! It feels-a so nice to make new friends!"

'Don't come crying to me when Germany gets mad at you for making friends with the enemy.' I thought.

Suddenly, a strange buzzing was heard in the distance. It wasn't until it came closer that I realized what it was.

"Good grief America, what the hell are you doing!?"

The plane came into view shortly, and stopped right above us. A ladder dropped from it, and America appeared in the hatch with a megaphone. "Just grab onto the ladder, dude! I'll pull ya up!" Italy yelled and ducked behind me. I grabbed the ladder with both hands, and Italy clung to my waist. "You'd better hang on tight, Feliciano. Don't blame me if you fall!" He yelped and grabbed onto the ladder as well, and America pulled us up with his inhumane strength.

Once up, America took my hand and helped me into the plane, and I pulled Italy in afterwords. "Eh? Jinjer, I thought you were going to knock him out or something to draw away any attention!" America said, gesturing towards the shaking nation. I gave him a deadpan look. "And THIS wouldn't have drawn loads of attention anyway?" He paused, then rubbed the back of his head. "Oh yeah, my bad dude!" He laughed and I just face palmed.

I wanted to question how this plane was staying in the air, but the phrase Hetalia Logic smacked me in the face once again, and I left it alone.

"So what are we gonna do with him?" I asked, gesturing towards Italy, who had hidden behind me again. America thought for a moment. "Eh, just tie him up at put him down over there."

"Is that...safe?" I asked warily. "Ve~! Please-a be careful, I don't have insurance! But even if I did, I don't think they would cover me in this situation because they wouldn't want to deal with all the calamities that would-a follow trying to protect me with a-"

"What the hell is this dude talking about?" America asked. "I have no idea." I replied. I knew that Italy made a lot of modern references in the show, but even I could never make sense of what he'd been talking about.

America tied Italy up and set him on the one long seat at the side of the jumper's plane, as I was personally calling it, and we went back up to the front and strapped in. I leaned back in my chair again and closed my eyes. As America put the plane in motion again, there was a 'THUD' from the back followed by an "Ow!"

"Did he just fall?" I asked. "Eh, probably." America answered, sounding none too concerned. I felt the sudden urge to nap, but I knew we'd be back in Washington soon so there was no point. 'Oh, woe is me. Can't a girl get a bit of a break here?'

I felt the plane lurch upward, and America let out a "WOO HOO!" beside me. 'Nope, of course not, how dumb of me to even ask. Dammit. Seriously gonna need an aspirin after this.'

...

"I see the mission was a success?" Chris said, not even batting an eye when we walked up to the car with a tied up Italy walking behind us.

America laughed victoriously. "Hell yea, nothing stands a chance against us, right Jinjer?" I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Yea yea, just get in already."

"Are you alright, miss? You look poorly." Chris said with concern. America rubbed the back of his head. "Don't worry, she's just kinda airsick is all."

"And WHO'S fault is that?" I said sternly. America laughed nervously. "C'mon, I said I was sorry!"

"Just shut it and get in."

I rode in the front seat on Chris's recommendation, leaving poor Italy in the back with America. Instead of going back to the conference building, we went to the place that Britain was currently staying at.

A good choice, considering that Italy would most likely escape somehow or other, and we didn't want our current location revealed to the Axis.

"W-Wait! Don't I at least-a get a phone call!?" Italy said as we got out. America thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Eh, why not." My eyes widened in confusion. "This isn't an arrest, you know!"

'More and more I lack understanding of these countries.'

Italy used the phone that was inside the building, though I had to hold it for him as he was still tied up. I heard the line pick up, and that's when Italy exploded.

"GERMANY, GERMANY! A couple of-a strangers just told that there was an opening for a tasty terrace, so I went to get-a pasta, but it turned out to be the Allies the whole time!"

I slammed the phone back down. 'The hell!? This is episode eight! Now everything's going backwards, good holiness in heaven above, why!?'

I groaned and clutched my head. "You okay, dude?" America asked me. "This is gonna give me a migraine or something..." I mumbled. "Eh? What's that?"

"Once again, never mind. Let's just go find Britain."

Italy yelled. "NOOO! Not-a Britain, anyone but Britain!"

'Oh that's right, both Italy and Romano are terrified of Britain for some reason.'

America laughed. "Well what are we waiting for? Let's do this!" He grabbed Italy by his collar and ran off. I followed him, wondering why there weren't any other people here. 'Maybe all the countries reserved their own private hotel, or something. Wouldn't put it past them.'

We found Britain in the hotel's kitchen, sitting at one of the tables looking through a book. America marched up to him proudly. "Yo Britain! We totally caught Italy!" Britain blinked in surprise, then smirked. "Nicely done, you two."

Britain stood up, and America plopped Italy in the chair. "Let's hit him violently, and get what we can out of him." Britain said.

"Harsh." I said offhandedly.

"No need, I'll tell you everything I know!" Italy said quickly. "This dude is lame!" America sighed. "Maybe we should make him work!" He then suggested.

"Don't really see what good that would do, but okay." I said again.

Britain agreed, and they untied him. "Hmm, let's see. I know! Go over there and do those dishes!" America said in a commanding tone.

'He is enjoying this way too much...'

Italy went over to the sink and picked up one of the plates out of it. But the moment he put soap on it, the plate slipped out of his hands and broke...on his head?

"My bad, oopsie!" Italy said with a grin. America groaned and grabbed him by the collar again. "Okay, so what now?" He asked Britain. The UK nation opened up an envelope and took out a folded sheet of paper.

"I wrote a letter to Germany, and this is what he said-"

"When the hell did you have time to do that!?"

Britain glared faintly at me for interrupting him. "-please prepare Italy some good food, a cute girl, and a foot/soccer ball. Also, he will die if he accidentally learns French, so be careful."

"That makes no sense at all..." I made yet another unnoticed comment.

"Are you kidding me!? This dude is way too much work, let's just send him back!" America said. "HUH!?" I said. 'I mean, I knew this was coming, but still! All that work we did to catch him, and now they're just going to send him back!?'

"I agree, we don't have the time to waste on such things." Britain replied. "You've got to be joking..." I mumbled.

Italy yelped and ran behind me again. "Hey! How dare you use Jinjer as a shield!" America exclaimed. "I don't think he's really using me as a shield, I think he's just terrified of you two." I said in a dull tone. "Here, grab him and put him in this." Britain said, holding out a box.

A. Freaking. Box.

And somehow, America was able to stuff Italy inside that box, and send him off to where ever Germany was at this moment. America dusted his hands off. "Well, glad that's over with."

"So what now?"

"Well obviously, we gotta catch Germany somehow!"

"Yes, but how is the question. He will not be as easily fooled."

"Well, how about we- hey Jinjer, where are ya going, dude?"

I turned around. "To sleep off this headache. Don't bother me." Then I marched out of the kitchen.

*brief POV switch*

America and Britain looked at each other. "What's her deal? She was fine a second ago!" America asked, confused. "Time of the month, perhaps?" Britain suggested.

"I HEARD THAT!"

The two nations jumped, and lowered their voices. "We should probably just leave her alone."

"Agreed."

*And back again*

I sighed heavily as I collapsed onto a couch in the lobby.

My slight headache wasn't the only reason I had decided to rest. And no, it wasn't because of that 'time of the month' either. Why is it that so many guys automatically jump to that dumb conclusion when a girl is in a bad mood? Honestly, I'd like to see how they'd deal with bleeding from an awkward place for a week straight every damn month!

Ahem, where was I? Oh yeah.

I needed some alone time to try and wrap my mind around all these insane changes and universal rules of this world.

Everything was just so...so different.

I wondered if I'd ever be able to truly get used to it. To top it off, I was pretty sure I was THIS close to having some sort of break down because of this crap. And knowing that I was literally the only person in the world that was aware of these things made me feel rather...alone.

Man, if I wasn't such an unusual person when it came to dramatic stuff like this I probably would have been crying by now.

I guess in short I was having some sort of culture shock. But this was much worse: This was dimension shock.

Pushing all of those thoughts away, I rolled over and closed my eyes. I knew we would be seeing Italy again soon, but I wasn't sure how long the time span was between now and when France caught him. I would just take advantage of however much time that was, and rest.

...

I slipped in and out of consciousness for the next hew hours or so, and Britain and America wisely left me be.

I was finally awoken by the sound of voices echoing from the kitchen, a few of which were neither Britain nor America's. I sighed and lifted myself off the couch. "Guess that means Italy's back."

I made my way to the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. When I got there, I found that France had arrived, and Italy was in a...doghouse, that had his name written on it, atop the table?

"I'd like to ask what the shiz is going on here, but really I'm just not surprised anymore."

The nations turned to me when I spoke. "Oh, hey dude. Feeling better?" I nodded. "For the most part." America sighed in relief. "I see Italy is back." I stated the obvious, looking towards him. Italy smiled and...barked...happily when he saw me. I smiled in amusement despite myself.

"Oui, I myself went out and captured 'im! Am I not utterly irresistible?" France said looking at me suggestively. "If by irresistible you mean making it hard to resist kicking you into next Tuesday, then yes, very much so." I said with a fake smile.

America laughed and Britain smirked at France's slightly frightened expression. "Well, I suppose zhat's better zhan nozhing." He said nervously. "That's the spirit, good little pervert." I said while patting his arm.

"Wow, I've-a never seen a ragazza force down big brother France before! I always thought he was super strong, but-a then I found out about his weird stash behind his bed, and I asked-a my big brother Romano about it but-a then he got really mad at me for some reason and his face turned red-"

"Augh, he's such a pain, let's put him in jail or something!" America said. "I don't even know what he's talking about." I said, narrowing my eyes at France who just held up his hands. "Ohonhon~...I-I 'ave no idea what 'e is talking about!" He said nervously. "Uh huh, sure."

Italy stopped talking suddenly, and he whined and held his stomach. "You're hungry again?" Italy whined again in confirmation. "Alright, I'll feed him." Britain said, suddenly holding a bowl filled with what I guessed were scones. Those were his specialty after all.

'Was Britain wearing an apron before?' I thought, chuckling a bit at how cute and unusual it looked on him.

The UK held the bowl up to Italy and placed a hand atop his head to coarse him to eat, actually treating him like a dog for some reason. Of course the moment he tasted one, his expression twisted into one of displeasure and I plugged my ears in preparation for what was to happen.

"AAAHHH! THIS FOOD TASTES TERRIBLE! I've never eaten anything so incredibly bland and disgusting!" Britain slumped down, and a black cloud of depression hung over his head. Literally.

"It's terrible? You think my food is bland?" He said in a defeated tone. Italy actually started to cry. "THE WORST! Even Germany's crunchy potatoes taste better than this soggy mess of goo!"

"You're not helping." America said with his mouth stuffed full of Britain's pastries. "I thought you hated Britain's food." I said. "I do, but I think this hunger has started to go to my head." America replied, thankfully swallowing first.

I looked back over at Italy, who was still crying and was now even trying to wipe the flavor of the scones off his tongue. 'Another thing about Italy is that he's pretty immature, I must say. Really he should be considering himself lucky that he's even getting food in a situation like this. But hey, what are you gonna do? It's Hetalia, after all.'

"So, I think we should just send him back again." America said. "I agree, zhis is getting too out of 'and." France said. "Where did we even send him last time, anyway?" I asked.

I knew from the show that Germany had found Italy both times in the box, so I was curious as to where they'd sent him.

"Back to the crappy Axis, of course." America said. I sighed. "But I mean, how did you even know WHERE to send him to get him back to the Axis?"

"He told us, remember?" America said with an obvious tone. I blinked. "Um no, no I don't. I had a headache, so I probably wasn't paying attention."

"Oh. Well, it surprised me! Never would have guessed that Germany actually made it back to his country already!"

Cue anime-style fall of disbelief.

"T-Then why was Italy still here!?" I questioned. "Ve~, I met some pretty girls while we were trying to escape so I stopped to flirt with them, but then Germany didn't notice and accidentally left-a me behind." Italy answered. I smacked my hand against my face.

'Why Hetalia, WHY must you constantly do this to me? It's like you're trying to make me go insane!'

"Whatever. Just send him back already if you want." I grumbled. "Eh!? No, no, no, please not the box again! Last time I got really sick and-a my neck hurt afterwords because I was-a cramped in there for so long!" France and America paid him no mind, and stuffed him into another box anyway. If this was in my world I would be pretty worried about doing something like that to someone, but since it was Italy, and furthermore with my foreknowledge, I knew he'd be fine so I let it go. But I did send him an apologetic look just before they stuffed him in, and shipped him off to who-knows-where once again.

'That won't be the last time I see that guy, though. Far from it.'

"Damn..." I turned at the frustrated Brit's voice, resisting the urge to laugh as he hugged his bowl of scones to his chest, mumbling incomprehensible utterances under his breath, glaring at nothing. I walked over to him and squatted so I was face to face with him, as he was still sitting down.

"Are you still sulking?" I said in a teasing tone. Britain glared at me. "N-No! Don't be ridiculous, I'm far too mature for that!" I poked his nose. "Riiiggghht." He swatted my hand away, a tint of red appearing on his cheeks.

I sighed and snatched one of the pastries from the bowl. "Would it make you feel better if I eat one of your precious scones?" I said, waving it in front of his face.

Britain blinked in surprise, and I heard a gasp or two from behind me. "Oh non, non, non, you should not feel obligated to choke down one of 'is 'orrid creations just to cheer 'im up! 'oo knows what it would do to you!" France exclaimed, snatching the scone from my hand and dumping it in the trash can. "HEY! HOW DARE YOU, THAT WAS A PERFECTLY GOOD SCONE YOU DAMN FROG!"

"I would sooner 'ave no food in zhe world zhan allow a mademoiselle to eat your cooking!"

Cue ridiculous argument.

I had always been curious about Britain's cooking, since it was a well-known fact in the fandom and canon that Britains' food was supposedly horrible. So of course with my lethal curiosity, I wanted to taste one for myself and truly find out.

While the two European nations were still arguing, I grabbed another scone from the bowl. "You sure you wanna do that, dude? I'm tellin ya, Iggy's food tastes like a rat in a washing machine." I laughed a little. "I think I'll be okay." I looked back at Britain and France, who both had holds on each others' collars.

"Hey, I'm gonna eat one now." I said in a sing-song voice. They both froze and looked at me. "Jinjer, nooooo!" France said dramatically, and started to run towards me with an outstretched hand.

'Oh, what I would do to see this moment in slow-mo.' I thought with amusement as I finally bit into the scone. France fell to his knees, and anime-style tears ran down his face. "Why!? Oh why did it 'ave to end zhis way!? She was so young...so beautiful! I'm sure wizh time I could 'ave gotten 'er to love me!" France cried to the skies.

'What a drama queen.'

"You can quit with the B movie dramatics, okay? I'm perfectly fine." While the whining Frenchman continued to cry dramatically, Britain and America were watching me eat intently. "So?" Britain finally grunted. "How is it?"

"Yea, and don't bother sugar-coating it to make this dude feel better. You can just tell him it sucks." America said. Britain glared at America for a moment, but then looked back at me, the curiosity evident in his eyes.

I stayed quiet, rolling my eyes upwards as if thinking it over. I didn't answer until I had popped the last bit of the scone in my mouth, swallowed, then crossed my arms and shut my eyes for an official judge-like effect.

I was pretty sure I heard one of them hold their breath.

Finally, I opened my eyes and smiled slightly. "...It's good."

Britain was so shocked he stepped back a bit, and America and France did yet another one of those anime falls of surprise. "NOOOOO! OUR MAIDEN 'AS BEEN CORRUPTED BY ZHE EVIL ENGLISH CUISINE CURSE!" France shouted.

"Did you just come up with that on the spot?" I asked.

America put his hands on my shoulders. "Okay dude, I need you to be honest with me here. Did that limey threaten you?" I heard Britain let out an indignant squawk. I shrugged. "They're not the best things I've ever tasted, but I don't think they're terrible."

America looked me hard in the eyes, probably trying to figure out if I was being honest.

'Geez, is it really that rare for a non-British person to like British food?'

Finally, America sighed and released my shoulders. "You are a boss, dude. To not only be able to stomach those crappy things, but even LIKE them!? I didn't think it was possible!"

'And there's more modern slang.'

"Hahaha! FINALLY, someone else with some decent taste around here!" Britain had finally come out of his shocked stupor, and was now smiling smugly. "You damn English bastard! For all we know, you could 'ave cast anozher one of your fake spells on 'er to get our poor Jinjer to say she likes your 'orrid excuse for food!" France accuse, jabbing his finger in the Brit's face. "WHA- What would I have to gain from doing such a thing you bloody twit!?" Britain fired back. "Don't be stupid, dude. Britain's spells are a load of crap, remember?" America said. "MY SPELLS ARE REAL, DAMMIT!"

'There they go again.' I sat back down at the table and snacked on another scone from the bowl.

I could easily see why so many people hated Britains' food. Although I was fine with them, these scones were admitingly pretty flavorless by themselves. Luckily for Britain, I had pretty simple taste buds, and was often described as the opposite of a picky eater by my friends and family.

'I'd bet they'd taste amazing with jam on them or something. Don't a lot of British people do that? Plus, there are lots of different types of scones, I wonder why Britain hasn't made any of those for people to try.'

'...Well, Hetalia is all about stereotypes after all.'

"Ferme-la! Do not get so stuck up just because Jinjer apparently likes your crappish cooking!" France said, grabbing Britain by the front of his apron. "Unhand me, you filthy fool!" Britain retorted, shoving the Frenchman off of him. "He's right though, dude. It's like a total mystery how she likes that sh**ty British stuff you make!"

When America said that, I suddenly remembered the most likely reason for why I did like them, a reason I felt stupid for not even remembering when I first came here.

"Y'know, it's probably because I AM half-British." I thought aloud.

The room went abruptly silent, the nations all turning their attention to me in shock. "YOU'RE WHAT!?"

I cringed at the volume. "Wow, you guys actually heard me." Seems my mouth had slipped again.

"H-Hey, you're joking, right?" America said, laughing nervously. "Why would I joke about that? Believe it or not, I'm half-British."

America seemed crestfallen. "No waaay! You're way too cool to be related to HIM!" America said while wagging his finger in Britains direction.

"You're related to him too..." I mumbled.

"Well, I guess zhat does explain 'ow she can 'andle Britains terrible cuisine." France said, eying me. "Alzhough I must admit I am quite surprised. You do not act like a typical British person." I shrugged. "Well I am only half-British. Plus I've never even been to the UK, so what do you expect?" France smiled a bit. "Ohonhon~, I see."

Britain was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite comprehend. "If I may ask, what side of you is native to myself?" I blinked, not expecting such a question. And when I thought of the answer, a painful 'STAB' gripped my chest. "My m-"

I swallowed quickly and turned my head, forcing the word out.

"My mothers. She...was from Manchester."

Britain was quiet for a moment, then smirked. "I see. Haha, this is quite interesting indeed!"

"NO IT'S NOT!" America shouted, sounding much like a toddler. He looked at me desperately. "But, your dad's totally an American, right!?"

'My d-'

STAB

"Um...yes. As far as I know." America sighed in relief. "Ha, see? She's obviously really an American."

Britain narrowed his eyes at America. "Did you not hear what she just said? Her mother was born in a city of mine, thus that makes her just as rooted to me as she is to you!"

STAB

I gripped at my chest.

"Shut it, you're the deaf one! She's never even been to your dumb country!"

'Dammit mouth, now look at what you've gotten me into...' I thought bitterly as I watched them argue over which one of themselves I was most related to.

'Why do they even care? I swear, these guys will fight over anything.'

"You seem distressed about somezhing." France said.

I was taken aback by his sudden presence right next to me. "It's nothing." I said. France chuckled. "Usually when a woman says zhose exact words, it means zhe exact opposite." I shrugged. "I guess. But it really is nothing." France smiled slyly. "You were right about what you said earlier. You are a terrible liar."

I tilted my head. "While that's true, I'm not lying. It really is nothing for any of you to worry about."

"Ohohon~, you may say zhat, but your eyes say somzhing entirely different." I looked at him blankly. "I don't really get what you mean by that, but don't you think that's kind of cheesy?" France smiled. "Per'aps. But zhat does not make it any less true, no? Zhe eyes are a window to zhe soul, is zhat not what zhey say?"

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "Sure, whatever. Call me when you run out of cliché lines to preach, alright?" I said teasingly.

France sighed and dropped the topic, thankfully. Although I hadn't really understood what he was trying to get to, I had to admit I felt better. Out of all the people to notice my sudden shift in character, if anyone, France had been the least expected.

"Thank you, though. Maybe you're not as shallow as I first thought." France was quiet for a moment at my unexpected words of thanks, then he smiled. "Ohonhonhon~! Zhere is much about zhe lovely moi to learn, mademoiselle. Shall I teach you some of zhose zhings?"

"I'm good, thanks."

...

America decided to go home shortly afterwords, fed up with Britain, and ravenously hungry.

We stopped by a pizza place on our way back to the house, America being surprisingly quiet for once. Even when we sat at a booth, he just slurped noisily on his soda and somewhat glared at the table. "Are you still upset about my whole being a halfling thing?" I asked.

America stopped his slurping and looked surprised at me. "Psssh, naw, of course not dude!" I raised a disbelieving brow at him. "Really? Then why do you look like you're ready to burn holes in this table?" America laughed nervously. He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Okay, so maybe I am still a bit peeved about it."

I tilted my head. "Why? I mean, I'd apologize, but I really can't choose my own heritage, y'know." America waved his hand. "Well yeah, that's not really what I meant." He paused and scratched his head.

"It's...kinda hard to explain, but well, we nations have a nasty tendency to be a little...possessive when it comes to our citizens."

I blinked, still not really understanding. Though I did look around real quick to make sure no one was listening in on this conversation.

"I know it's weird, and kind of hard for humans to understand but-" America went on, unconcerned by the fact we were in public. "-For us, for countries, our citizens...our people are all we really got, y'know?"

He looked downwards a bit, appearing almost uncomfortable. "I mean, you said it yourself back a few days ago. We nations are nothing without our people. So ah...like, when someone decides to switch their citizenship from one country to another. That's like, a punch in the gut for us. For one of our own people to...decide that we're not good enough, that they wanna be a part of some place- someONE else." He laughed with a hint of bitterness. "I know I'm not really one to talk, since I'm actually one of the main countries responsible for uh...stealing other nations' people, but..."

He shook his head. "Kind of makes you feel like a failure, y'know?"

I looked away, fearing I might do or say something insensitive by mistake.

That was...pretty deep.

Especially for America, of all people.

But sadly, it did make sense. And really, it made me wonder just how many things there were that I didn't know about Hetalia.

"America..." I said softly. He laughed again. "Sorry, don't mean to make you feel all awkward and stuff." He reverted back to his usual self. "Geez, where is that pizza, I'm starving over here!"

Despite its genuineness, I could tell that he was forcing himself away from the...less than stellar subject. And as I watched him smile and laugh it all away, I felt that strange warmth from before again.

'Oh no...no, don't do it Jinjer! You know what happens when you try to do the whole uplifting pep-talk thing!'

My mouth started to despite my brain yelling at me not to. "Look, I...I may just be another human, and I may not be able to fully understand the burdens of being a nation-"

America blinked in confusion at my sudden outburst.

"-but that doesn't mean that I care any less about the personal feelings of my own country."

'CODE RED CODE RED, stop now before it's too late!' I thought.

"My blood may be half-British, but in all honesty, most of the time I'm barely even aware of that fact. This is where I was born. And this is where I was raised. Here, in America. In you. You're my home."

I cast my nation a glance before looking down at the table.

'Augh...curse you America, and your sad puppy dog face. How did you know girls can't resist that? Not fair...'

"I know I'm just one out of your billions of citizens, but if it means anything at all, just know that...that I could never imagine being born somewhere else. Living somewhere else. You're not perfect, hell, what country is? But all those faults still make you who you are. Even they can make you amazing. So um...chin up or something, will ya? And, know that you're a great nation. And an even better person. I mean, what would all of us crazy people have ever done without you?"

'And. It has been done. The cheese has been spurted. And that is why. I am not. The encouraging friend. Ever.' I thought, scratching at my neck in embarrassment. I hated it when my mouth decided to try and do something good when it shoots itself off, because I become the equivalent of a sappy 90s friendship movie. Every time I had tried to encourage someone before, they usually laughed and thanked me for my efforts. I had even gained the nickname "cheese nozzle" by a boy in 8th grade when I had tried to help him feel better after he'd lost a soccer game.

But to be fair, I may or may not have just finished watching Fruits Basket at that time, so I was under the influence of fuzzy shoujo comfort.

America had been staring at me with eyes like saucers. For once, I found that I couldn't guess what he was thinking. After several long moments, the stunned silence started to get to me, and I squirmed in my seat.

Just then, America lied his head down on the table, covering his himself with his arms.

I panicked slightly. 'Crap, what'd I say!?'

"Um...Alfred? Are you alri-"

I was cut off by the sound of muffled chuckles. America's shoulder's began to shake, and then he lifted his head and outright laughed.

But it wasn't his usual obnoxious laughter. It wasn't teasing laughter. It also wasn't psycho laughter, thank goodness.

This, this was truly genuine laughter. Not happy laughter, though.

Oh no, this was much more.

This was joy. Complete, and utterly pure joy.

Yes, there is a difference between joy and mere happiness. Trust me, I would know.

I sat kind of stunned, not really knowing what to make of my countrys' sudden outburst. America laughed for a good minute or two, at one point having to clutch his stomach because of all the exertion. He finally stopped after that, leaning on to the table for support and taking in deep breaths.

But the enormous smile remained on his face.

"Whew, dude." America said, removing his glasses to wipe away a few tears that had gathered during his laughing fit. He smiled at me, joy still evident in his eyes. "You're...really something." I blinked. "Am I?" He nodded. "It's not often you get to hear something like that as a country. Since we can't reveal ourselves to our people, you don't really get to know exactly what they think about you, as their country."

'Oh, just wait until Youtube comments are invented..." I thought offhandedly.

America leaned back in his seat, hooking his fingers behind his head. "It's a real pain in the ass sometimes, knowing that you've got millions of people on your shoulders to take care of. And sometimes it's really hard to know whether or not you're doing a decent job. So, to hear one of your citizens say something like that to you, actually try and encourage you and stuff, say that they're happy to be a part of you-"

He smiled wider, if that was possible. "-It's a real pick-me-up, y'know?"

I smiled then, somehow feeling the joy of my nation. "Glad to be of service."

'Maybe...because it's the forties cheesiness hasn't become a thing yet? Or something...' I thought to myself.

We spent the rest of the evening like that, eating good food and talking of random things. A good wind-down from a hectic day.

At seven we decided to wrap it up and head back, as tomorrow would probably be even crazier and I especially needed rest to prepare for it.

As we were walking back, a thought suddenly occurred to me. "Oh snap, we had that whole conversation about you-know-what in public, didn't we?" America laughed. "Oh yeah, guess we did!"

"You have no sense of personal shame, do you?" I sighed.

Now who's calling the kettle black?

'Yeah yeah, shut up.'

America suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Oh yeah, almost forgot." As I was about to question him, I suddenly found myself pulled against a familiar chest, with an equally familiar pair of arms wrapped around me.

I stood in surprise for a moment, then craned my neck upwards. "Alfred? What's this about?"

He chuckled, the sound vibrating off his chest. "I never thanked you earlier. Figured this was probably the best way to do it." America released me, and put his hand atop my head. "Thanks for being one of mine. You're awesome, dude." I raised a brow at him. "You're welcome, but you don't have to treat me like a kid. I'm almost twenty, for pete's sake." America laughed. "Still younger than me!"

"You're like two hundred years old, it doesn't count."

"Hahahahaha!"

"Geez, you might as well be ten though."

It seems I had forgotten that this little episode wasn't over yet, a mistake I would soon regret the next morning.

Haha...um, I apologize. I know in the last chapter I said the Axis would be in this chapter. But it ended up being longer than I thought it would be, so I cut it before the other two members could come in. But I promise both of them will be in the next chapter, swear on my jar of Biscoff spread.

Also, I believe in the series this whole episode actually took place in Europe, most likely France. But I couldn't come up with a good enough reason for them to suddenly need to go to France, so I had to improvise. Hope this will suffice.

Una Bella Ragazza- Means "A Beautiful Girl" in Italian.

Please keep in mind that I have no decent resources for these language jumps and have to resort to Google translate, so don't assume that this is all accurate, especially the context of usage. Thank you.

That's it for now. Kaze, over & out.