"Alright now America... From now on, you have to live on your own and take care of your country..." England says, trying to keep his voice from breaking.
"Why can't I stay with you?" America asks, tilting his head to the side slightly.
"I wish it wasn't this way either... If I had it my way, I'd let you live with me and your uncles until you got sick of it. But I'll always be around. I'll always send you birthday presents, christmas presents, easter presents, and even if you just want something... Say the word and I'll do my best to get it for you." England replies, gently holding America's hands.
"Mom, are you... Crying?"
"...Yes." England doesn't bother to try hiding his sorrow and pulls America into a hug. "And it's Mum sweetie... With a U... A U for I will always love you."
"...I love you too. Promise you'll visit?" America replies, pulling out of the hug to look England in the eyes.
"Of course. I'll visit as often as I can. Take good care of yourself, alright?" England responds, completely letting go of America and standing up. The two stare at each other for one silent minute.

"Alright time to go bro." Scotland walks up to England, picking him up and throwing him over the shoulder before walking off.
"CAN'T I AT LEAST STAY THE NIGHT YOU HEARTLESS BRUTE?!" England complains while tears are still streaming down his face. He slams on the back of Scotland.
"Quit your whinin', it's not like you'll never see him again... You even said you'd visit." Scotland replies, not bothered by England's flailing. "Cya later kid!" He waves to America.
"Bye mom! Bye uncle Scotland!" America waves, not taking any of England's complaints to heart. He turns around to stare at his new house. It's only a single storey unlike the house he had called home up until now.
"Guess I should start unpacking..." America pulls out a key and shoves it in the lock of the front door, turning it then pushing the door open.

"Canada my darling boy..." France starts off while looking at Canada on one knee, almost failing to utter out more words due to forming tears. "You have to live here now, in your own country... Y... You're a big boy now, I'm sure you can handle it."
"Papa, you're crying..." Canada reaches up and wipes France's tears away. France looks at Canada's caring, soft violet eyes and he pulls Canada in close.
"I know I am... And like I've said..."
"It's okay to cry." They say in synch.
"Especially if it feels as if your heart is breaking..." France sobs some more.
"I'm not leaving you forever Papa, you're allowed to visit aren't you?" Canada tries to cheer him up.
"I know... This is somewhat silly of me. I don't think I'll ever be ready to let you go, but I guess I must sometime..." France softly chuckles, kissing Canada on his forehead, then pulling back.

Just then, Prussia comes running.
"DON'T WORRY! I'M HERE TO SEND YA OFF!" He shouts, then stopping as he reaches France and Canada. He picks Canada up and gives him a big hug. "Hope you didn't really think I'd forget to say bye!"
"Hehe, of course not... You're just... Um, fashionably late! T-that's how you put it right?" Canada replies with a smile.
"Yep!" Prussia ruffles Canada's hair. "Just as soft as it was all those years ago..." He softly laughs, putting Canada down. "Now let's go Francey! Let the kid take care of himself starting from... Now!" Prussia suddenly grabs France's arm and runs off, dragging him.
"I LOVE YOU!" France calls out as he is dragged away.
Canada waves back. "Love you too papa!" Canada does his best to shout back, but it only comes out as a louder-than-normal voice. He turns around to his house. Vastly different from the spacious house he had lived in with his father and more simplistic.
"I should be able to handle this..." Putting the key in then turning it, Canada unlocks the front door and enters his new home.

The boys manage to take care of themselves for a good solid week, but they're getting rather lonely...

"I was repeatedly told before I left to never cross the boarder until told, but... What border? I thought I was the only one here?"

The border separating the land of America and Canada. What happens when one of them cross it?

"The ground lights up with a line that spans across miles... Just like I've seen before. Another country is beyond this."

"N-no. I shouldn't cross. Who knows what they're like?"
"I'm gonna cross. Someone is better than no one."

As America triumphantly slams his foot down on the surface beyond his territory, he feels nothing, but hears something.
"Ah! T-this feeling..!" Canada yelps out. He can feel the energy of the other country coming into his land, but he doesn't hear anything.

"It came from that way!"

The two boys unknowingly begin running toward each other. America's boots kick away any rocks that come his way. Canada stumbles, attempting to carry Kumajirou and keep him from slipping away.

They stop upon seeing each other.

"You must be the-"

Two steps closer.

Silence.

Two more steps.

"Why do you-?"

One more step and they are face to face with each other. They gaze at each other, their sights set on digging into each other's eyes.

"I'm sure I've seen you before, sometime long gone." They utter to each other. "Why do you have my face? Why can't I remember your name? Why are we saying the same things?!" They question each other.

They go silent, shaking off the original conversation long into the distance.
"I'm America." America introduces himself with a big, bright smile.
"W-well I'm Canada..." Canada responds, slowly turning invisible. "A-ah!" He quickly puts his polar bear down and pats himself all over, this somehow makes himself visible once more. "Sorry about that. I've been doing this since I was little... Eh..." He nervously scratches the side of his cheek.
"You can use magic? That's so cool! I can too but I have so much trouble even getting things to float! I wish I got all that magic inheritance from my mom..." America replies, slightly complaining.
"Y-you have a magic mom? I do too! Although I never met them... Papa always kept saying how I had a knack for magic 'just like your mama'..." Canada replies.
"W-well... My mom isn't really a 'mom', if you can say that... Mine is a guy but was my 'carrier' so that's why I call em mom." America explains. "I have some pictures I can show you!"
"Really?!" Canada gets a little excited. "I have a bunch of pictures too, in a photo album! It was a gift from my uncles... Apparently Papa cried when he looked at the pictures so he gave them to me... We should show them to each other..." He softly laughs.
"Yeah! Uh... Where's your house? I can go get my pictures and then run straight there!" America insists.
"I'll show you." Canada takes his fellow nation by the hand, leading the way to his house. "Right here... You gonna run now, eh?"
"Yep!" America sprints off without a second word. Canada softly smiles and enters his house to get everything ready.

America returned a mere 20 minutes later, carrying a bag full of photos. He excitedly burst through the door and halted upon getting inside.
"That was fast." Canada compliments, ushering him to the room on the right. It was a lounge room, equipped with a bookshelf, two normal shelves with some valuables on each, two couches, a table and a hearty fireplace that was currently active; no windows to be seen though.

The album was laid open on the table, on a page where three young men all with matching curls were holding up Canada - looking a little younger than he does now, probably physically 9, while he is now physically about 12. In turn, America spills the contents of his bag all over the table. There are at least 5 dozen photos, a notable one on top of the pile is a young America - about physically 5 - holding some kind of staff while seated in the lap of a man who looks rather smug to be taking the picture; America seems to be happily staring up at him.

"Are those your uncles?" America asks Canada, pointing to the men with the curls.
Canada replies with a nod "Italy, Romano and Seborga." He points them out, then pointing to the man. "Who's that?" Canada asks back.
"Oh, that's uncle Scotland, but I call him uncle Scotty!" America chuckles a little. "Don't tell anyone but he was my favourite uncle." America whispers.
"My favourite had to be uncle Spain..." Canada flips by a few pages, landing on a picture with himself sitting comfortably in the arms of a messy-haired figure with a crushed tomato on his head, his face looked as if it was of a man that looked reluctant to grow up, but smiling nonetheless. "That's him." Canada answers before America can ask.

"So, does it go from beginning to current? I wanna see the first page!" America almost demands, grabbing the pages and pulling them all over so the first page is what is seen.

The page has a single image, ripped diagonally on one side. It's a blonde man with long hair holding a newborn baby, likely Canada.
America's facial expression freezes on shocked, mixed with realisation. Dropping the expression before Canada can question it, America pulls out a similar image from the pile: An image ripped on the opposite side to the other. A blonde man with messy hair and thick eyebrows lays in a hospital bed and is holding a baby of his own, probably America.

"Where'd you get that?!" Canada asks, now looking just as shocked.
America doesn't say a word, gently placing his image next to the other so the ripped lines meet.

The boys stare at the now complete image for a while, letting the new information sink in. It's almost as clear as glass.

"How did your papa describe the day you were born? If at all?" America asks, not parting his gaze away from the image.
"Ah... I know he told me... Uh... I think he described it as 'The best worst day'... Apparently it was the day he broke up with mama..." Canada briefly explains.
"Well, my mom described it as 'The darkest day with the brightest ray'... I was confused but he said that's the day it all came crashing down and I was the only good thing to happen that day. Although, uncle Scotty cleared a few things about that saying 'It was the of regret since it was to late to win back your father's heart'..." America adds to the situation. "But... What does this all mean? We're so close to a sure answer, I can feel it!"
"Do you have any more photos of your mom?" Canada asks, looking through the pile. "Ah! This picture must have-" Upon pulling out a picture of what looked to be the long-haired man enjoying a summer's day underneath a tree and having a picnic, the full image shows the messy-haired and thick-eyebrowed man sitting next to him, almost snuggling up to him. They look... Happy.

"There's no mistaking it, that's my mom with your dad!" America says.
"But what are they doing together..?" Canada questions.

America turns to him. "When did your father say you were born? Not the birthday of your nation, but you..."
"J-July 2nd..." Canada answers.
"..." America looks back at the two half pictures that make a whole one.

"I think I know the answer... Our same faces, same physical ages, same thing going on where our only parent never refers to the other by name... You're my twin brother, Canada."

Canada is at first surprised by the conclusion, but he quickly comes to accept it. "W-what are we going to do though? This discovery is great but... Our parents... I don't think they wanted us to find out this way. What are we going to do?"
"Ignore that. We should surprise em! You can visit mom and I'll visit dad! That way, we will know for sure if our current theory holds." America says.
"Alright... L-lets do this, eh!" Canada happily agrees to the plan.

"Hey bro, someone's knocking at the door... And last time I checked it was your turn to answer." Scotland calls out to England with a smug tone, relaxing on the couch, playing around with a small floating bubble of water.
"Alright you... Urgh..." England groans from the bedroom, getting off his bed. He walks toward the door and pulls it open. "Alright who-" Upon looking down, England's heart almost explodes with sheer joy. "C-Canada..."
"You know my name?" Canada softly tilts his head.

England bows his head down to cover his face with shadows. "Of course I do... I'd be a terrible parent if I were to forget my own son's name." A tear falls from his face. He bends down then lifts his face up once more. It's already wet with tears. "I don't care why you came here or if you even knew about what I just said... But my heart was shattered when your father took you away..." England pulls Canada into a hug. "I must have missed so much... I wish I could have been there... For everything."
"It's okay mama..." Canada hugs England back softly.

"What's going on?" NI walks up to them, eating an apple. His jaw drops and the chewed up apple falls out of it upon seeing Canada. "Is that..?"
England picks up Canada, still holding him. "Yeah..."
NI gives England a small smile and uses his free hand to wipe England's face dry of tears. "Bring him in." NI ushers.
Canada looks at NI curiously. "Which country are you?"
"Me? I'm Northern Ireland. But just call me NI for short, alright? Scotland's in the living room, Wales... I have no idea where he is." NI introduces himself.
"Ah, so you're my uncles!" Canada bounces happily.
NI nods. "Come on, I bet Scotland will be stoked to finally see you in person."

"Knocking..? Italy doesn't normally come at this time..." France stands up, walking away from his tea and table and toward the door. Unlocking it, he pulls the door open, clasping one hand to his mouth upon seeing America, quickly coming to tears.
America just smiles innocently. "Hi dad."

France shivers in place, not out of fear or because of a chill, but because he's trying to hold in tears. His eyes relax and close. He pulls away his hand to reveal a smile of what looks like relief and acceptance. "So many years... You were so small, yet so loud..." He happily laughs, getting down to his knees to look America in the eyes and hold his chin up. France's soft fingertips gently brush against America's dirty yet squishy skin. "Beautiful blue eyes... Never thought to ask where you got those? Not once? You got them from me." He chuckles a little more before pulling America into a hug.
America hugs France back, taking a deep breath. "You smell like roses." He giggles.
France lets out a laugh, pulling America up. "I'll make you lunch, and I'll invite over your uncles! Oh... I'm so glad this day came no later..." France blurts out, letting tears simply fall out.

America rubs his hands all over France's face, attempting to wipe the tears dry. "You don't have to cry now dad."
"I-I'm sorry. I just have too much happiness to contain within just one emotion..." France chuckles, kissing America on his forehead before shutting the door.