EDIT: Ahaha so hilarious, no one noticed that I accidently put "America declared war on June 19, 1815" and not "1812" even though this is about War of 1812 XD. Or maybe it was noticed but no one thought to tell me? My friend just pointed this out when I showed the chapter to him and it's been like... 10 days since this chapter was out. Fixed it now XD.

Through my Eyes

This time I will save you

Matthew had not seen Alfred for 37 years, since that day in the house in 1775. That day when Alfred left him behind. We had thought that he forgot about us and was occupied with his new nation so it was a complete surprise to the both of us when we heard sounds of battle on Canadian soil. Surprised more to have learned that America had declared war on Great Britain.

Matthew didn't join the fights, battles, the militias, or the army. How could he when he had little to no battle experience at all? Even more so, he didn't want to face Alfred again. All around him were sounds of warfare and he felt his people die but he didn't know what to do. He wanted, I knew, Arthur to come back and tell him what to do, what he should do, but Arthur never came. We also have not seen Arthur for about 15 years; Arthur was fighting his own wars on lands overseas and he could not come.

In the span of 37 years, Matthew had grown to a youth of 15 years – the same 'age' when Alfred demanded his Independency. His features became more defined and his long tresses of hair framed his face. If anyone had looked, they would have found him beautiful, breathtaking even when looking deep into his eyes of mixed violet and blue, but no one ever did. Not even Arthur who only saw Matthew as Alfred's replacement.

Matthew also grew in height although he was not as tall as Alfred when he was this "age". Matthew had grown in appearance, but he had not changed much from 37 years ago. He still waited for someone to come and tell him what to do. He was still dependent on Arthur but Arthur would not come. And so he waited again, in hopes that the war would be over and he wouldn't be forced to fight the brother whom he dearly missed and still loved even after what happened in 1775.

Matthew didn't want to fight him.

News of the wars progress came to us in small bits - wars on the Atlantic front, wars at the 5 Lakes, and wars nearing Upper Canada. Even the Aboriginals were fighting even though this was clearly a war between Americans and the English. Matthew didn't understand why the Other people, as we used to call them, would jump into the fray like that. And all of them were dying. All of them – the Aboriginals, the Americans, the Canadians, and the English. In this war that made no sense to Matthew at all.

America had its reasons to declare war but of course none of it was made privy to Canada. Because of England's war with France, England forbade America to trade with France, even though America was not involved in their war, and the ports were hindered. They wanted free trade and sailors' rights. America declared war on June 19, 1812 and Matthew didn't know why.

Matthew would hold me close as he stared out the window at the world outside his home. The Americans were nearing closer and closer to the small town in which he lived in and he was scared. I too was scared but not for the same reasons as Matthew. I didn't want innocent Matthew to be pulled into the World of Wars because I knew that war changes people and nation persons even more so. I mean, look at America. I didn't want that to happen to Matthew but even I knew that would be impossible. Human nature would see to that.

About a year had passed since the day America declared war and it was some day in April 1813 when Matthew stopped gazing out the window at essentially nothing and began to stare in one direction.

"… He's here…" he mumbled quietly. I was resting beside him so I heard him clearly.

I looked up at him in confusion and he turned to look down at me.

"Alfred… He's here…" Matthew said to me. If I could speak, I would've asked him 'How do you know that?' but of course I couldn't so I instead gave him a questioning glance.

"I don't know how, but I just know. He's… somewhere over there…" Matthew waved his hand in a vague direction. It almost looked like he was pointing to the direction in which York stood but it was a bit off. "I need… to go see him…"

I turned so fast that I swear I almost cracked my neck to face Matthew again but he was already walking away, went up the stairs and into his bedroom. I followed.

He went to the drawer and pulled out something red. It was a uniform, a soldier's uniform of England's colours. The uniform was given to him by the Governor of Upper Canada in case Matthew ever decided to join the war – Matthew never touched it until that day. He hastily dressed himself but when he finished he paused and seemed like he was rethinking whether or not to remove the outfit. Instead, he decided to don a large brown coat that mostly hid the red and the obvious signs that screamed out "I AM A BRITISH SOLDIER, PLEASE SHOOT ME". Matthew practically ran down the stairs and to the front door where a musket lay against the wall. He picked up the weapon and shakingly held it close to his body – the weapon was practically taller than him lengthwise. I was pretty sure that he wasn't expecting to use the weapon, but I guess it was better safe than sorry. But it was safer if he didn't go so I quickly ran up to him and held him back by his pant legs when he almost went through the front door.

I gave a small whimper to indicate that I didn't want him to leave the safe confines of the house and out into the battle-ridden lands. Matthew again looked down with a sad expression on his face.

"I have to go, Kumadoremon. Maybe… Maybe I can ask Alfred to stop fighting. Stop making the Canadians, my people, fight." Matthew glanced away from me. "…I don't know, but… I got to do something… I can't stay here and do nothing when it's my people who are dying…"

He looked back at me. "I'm sorry, okay? You have to stay here, Kumayoshi." My claws were removed from his pants as he bent down to softly take them off. He held my paws in his hands and he looked into my eyes once more. "I can't bring you with me; it'll be too dangerous for you."

But what about you?! I wanted to say. Matthew stood up with a cheerless smile, "Take good care of the house while I am gone, okay?" I nodded slowly and he turned around to walk out the door.

"And I will try hard not to get shot…" Matthew muttered under his breath as the door closed shut with a resounding slam. I stared at the door for a few moments before I decided to 'take care of the house' from the sitting room. I wondered if I had made the right choice in letting Matthew go.

It wasn't until later that I realized that I shouldn't have let him leave the house.

Two days after Matthew left, an explosion occurred near York. And about a day or two later, smoke covered the sky but it wasn't smoke from gunfire or cannon fire – it was smoke from burning buildings. It was April 27, 1813.

York was burning.

Somewhere deep in my chest, I felt very uneasy watching the smoke rise up from York. Matthew was headed that way in search of Alfred. He… wouldn't have gone to York? He wasn't caught up in that explosion two days ago right? As I watched the smoke rise into the sky, I felt more and more uneasy.

Something wasn't right – something felt wrong. It was then that a complete sense of panic overcame me and I ran out of the house without a second thought. I ran towards the direction of York. It was generally a few days walk from where Matthew and I lived but I managed to lessen the journey to about a day with sheer speed and cutting right through the forests that were in between.

When I arrived at York, some of the fires were still burning but most of them have reduced the buildings to just burned wood and had little semblance of the grand structures they once were. Americans were everywhere and they were looting. They were looting and pillaging the empty houses in which its residences have ran away in the wake of the battle. The battle that the Canadians have obviously had lost.

I ignored the crude Americans with their desire in their "spoils" and the Americans did not notice me because of that very same desire. I continued on to find Matthew. He had to be somewhere in York, I could just feel it.

I finally found him behind a burning and burnt Parliament building in which none of the Americans went near. Save for one.

I wouldn't have noticed anyone behind there if not for the sound of a slap, the pained yelp that almost occurred the same time and then the sound of a body hitting the ground right after.

"D-don't..." a weak voice spoke. Oh God, it was Matthew's! I ran towards the sound of his weak, oh so weak voice. Why does it sound so weak?

"Don't what?" spoke another voice, Alfred's voice but it sounded more… malicious, cruel. I turned the corner just as Alfred aimed a well directed kick to Matthew's ribs and the sickening sound of a bone cracking filled the air.

Then all I saw was red.

With a roar, I rammed myself into America's side and knocked him off balance. America was thrown to the side a few meters by the force of my ram. He seemed to be a bit disoriented and did not get up. I slowly padded over, extending my claws so I can rip his filthy face out for what he did to Matthew. Or I was planning to but I stopped when I heard a voice from behind me.

"Ku… Kumajiro…?" Matthew tried to get up but only to collapse moments later. "Wah…What are you… doing here…?"

It was then that I noticed the state Matthew was in. First was that his hair was a mess and was matted with dirt and blood, his blood, no doubt from the various cuts all over his body, some from the sharp rocks and other things from the ground, majority of them seemed to be clean cuts, like from a knife or a blade. Most of the cuts, I realized when I walked closer to him, were centered around his… shredded clothing. The red uniform Matthew so carefully kept and never wore till that day few days ago were reduced to little more than pieces of cloth over his abused body. I looked around the area and could see sliced bits of the uniform strewn around. There was a musket, Matthew's musket, thrown recklessly off the side and another weapon that was placed almost lovingly down on the ground a few paces from where Matthew curled on the floor and I beside him.

A whimper came from Matthew that caused me to turn back to him as he tried to get up once again. That movement made me notice the many bruises that stood out against his pale skin. There were so many bruises upon his body, including the one already forming where America's boot connected with Matthew's ribs and even more were forming still. What had America did to Matthew?! I growled at the thought of America and it was then that I heard the sound of body moving from the side of me.

"Jesus, that surprised me!" America finally regained his balance, got up and started to make his way back to Matthew. "Didn't know that bear had it in him, Mattie!"

"D… al… hat…" Matthew said so quietly that I even I couldn't hear him even though I was really close to him.

"What was that, Mattie?" America brushed off dirt off his clothing as he neared us until he was about 5 steps away from us. I noticed he too changed in the 37 years apart, though not as much as Matthew, America now looked like a youth of 17 years.

"Don't call me that!" Matthew hissed out and clutched his side in pain. I saw the bruising marks around his neck, finger-shaped, when he moved. I spun around to glare and growl at America and dared him to come any closer. America stopped where he stood, gave a wary look to me and then looked at Matthew behind me.

"Now why not, Mattie? Aren't I your favorite brother?"

"You… you!" gasped Matthew, "You-you're burning down York!"

America waved his hand in the air as if to deflect that outburst of Matthew's, "That was not of my doing, my people did that on their own."

Matthew took in a long shuddering breath while still curled up on his side. America titled his head as he stared at him. "You know, I should make do on my word and bring you to Dearborn, or maybe even President Madison."

I growled deep in my throat when he made a move towards where Matthew and I were and America once again stopped. "You know what? I should take care of that stupid bear of yours first." He reached down, picked up the musket that was left on the ground and proceeded to walk again until he was right in front of me. He pointed the barrel of the gun at my face and aimed it so what when it was shot, the projectile would not hit Matthew who lay behind me and, from the sounds of him, was about to drift off into unconsciousness. "Call this revenge for that knockout earlier."

"…No…" Matthew, who apparently had a bit of coherency left, made a groaning noise and I thought, as I stared down the barrel of America's gun, No more.

I was tired of being useless. I was tired of only being able to watch as everyone tortured Matthew mentally and physically and unable to help him. I wanted it all to end.

With great determination, before America pulled the trigger to lodge a bullet in my head, I grabbed a fistful of dirt in each of my paws and threw them at America's face. America immediately dropped his weapon and started to claw at his eyes. "UGH! YOU STUPID BEAR!!" He fell to his knees trying to remove the grit and dirt from his eyes.

I quickly picked up Matthew with my hands? and started to run away from the flailing figure of America's. There were so much adrenalin rushing through me that I did not realize the change that had came over me and it wasn't until Matthew started to struggle in my grip that I noticed something was… different.

Was the ground always that far way? Was Matthew always this small? How in the world did I manage to carry Matthew when Matthew was always the one who carried me?

I could hear American soldiers heading in our direction, probably to see why Alfred was screaming in pain so I ran into the nearest empty home and closed the door behind me as the soldiers ran by. I let out a sigh of relief, still trying to hold the struggling figure in my hands as to not drop him.

… Wait… Hands?

In my shock I almost dropped Matthew as I stared at my human hands. What? There was a mirror in the already looted house and I walked towards it, every step uncertain as the one previous until I stood in front of it.

Yup, that was a human figure holding up the weakly thrashing Matthew and it would seem that that person was me. This human figure, apparently myself, had black obsidian eyes with long white eyelashes and long white hair that trailed down my back. Weird. I was snapped out of my staring process when Matthew began to moan words.

"… No… no… please… no more… It… hurts… It hurts…" Matthew's bruised hands were trying to push me away but of course his attempts were weak and ineffectual. I sat down on the sofa that was in the room and shifted Matthew so I had one of my hands free. I lightly brushed his dirty hair away from his face and I again was angry, at America, for the more bruises on his face. I wasn't sure if Matthew was trying to open eyes or he was too tired to. I could tell though that one of his eyes was swollen shut. So horrible.

Matthew continued to move away and moan in pain.

"Shh… Shh…" I managed to say softly while trying to soothe him, "It's alright, he's not here anymore. You're safe now…"

It was strange hearing human words come out of my mouth and even more to hear my voice. My voice was a low baritone voice. I continued to repeat the words over and over while stroking his hair gently until he calmed down and fell into a deep sleep.

When Matthew was asleep, I then noticed that I was naked and Matthew was almost not much better than I with his shreds of clothing left on him. I moved him onto the sofa and began to look through the house for any articles of clothing left in the house. Even though this house was already looted of its valuables, the looters did not bother with clothing. I felt sorry for stealing from an already looted house but I managed to find some clothing but they were small on me and large on Matthew. Well, better than nothing I guess. When I dressed both myself and Matthew, I took him up into my arms, looked out the door for any signs of the America soldiers, and then bolted. I was heading to the nearest post that I knew that had British/Canadian soldiers and the governors and generals would know who Matthew is and help him – I did not know much about healing broken bones.

Matthew stirred a bit in our flight from York and looked up at me drowsily from the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.

"… Who…?"

"Shh… It's okay," I said, "It's going to be alright, we're going to go to one of the camps. This time…"

Before I got to finish my sentence, Matthew drifted back to sleep.

This time… I will save you.

I entered Kingston exhausted; I had been running all the way here without rest and I was little used to running on two feet. When I entered, I had guns immediately pointed at the two of us but one of them lowered theirs when they saw the condition of the person in my arms and walked towards the two of us warily.

"You two are Canadians?"

I nodded but was cut short when Matthew let out small whimper and curled up closer to my chest as the solider neared. Matthew was running a fever.

"What's wrong with him?" The soldier stepped closer and took out a hand to touch Matthew but Matthew twisted away before the hand could touch him and screamed out a 'NO!' which caused the man to take back his hand and everyone around to stare at the two of us strangely.

I wanted to growl at the looks but instead I snapped out at the soldier who almost touched Matthew, "He's been attacked by Americans is what happened. Is Lieutenant Governor Sheaffe here?"

"Yes… He is… Why?" the soldier looked at me, probably suspicious why a commoner was asking for someone of high status.

"Tell him that Matthew of Canada is here. He will understand what it means." I finally growled at the soldier when he made no move to deliver the message. In fear, the soldier quickly ran off in the direction I would assume where Sheaffe was.

I gave out a sigh of relief, hoping that Sheaffe would recognize Matthew or else I came here for no reason at all. As it turns out, Sheaffe did recognize Matthew and even though he didn't know who I was, he still gave us a room in an unoccupied house and allowed doctors to take care of Matthew's wounds. The doctors had a lot of trouble trying to tend Matthew since he kept trying to squirm away from their touch; I believed that in his half conscious state, he thought that it was still Alfred trying to hurt him more. It wasn't until I held his hand and told him soothingly that everything was alright was when he stopped struggling and allowed to the doctors to do their job peacefully.

The doctors shook their heads at the damage wrought on Matthew's body, and even though most of the wounds had healed over – due to the personified nation's ability to heal – the wounds still looked horrible with blood crusted over the slashes across his abdomen and chest and the many splattering of black and blue all over his body. Not to mention his many broken bones. After attempting to ask me of how Matthew got these wounds and only receiving a gruff "I don't know, Americans did it" in return because I really didn't know what Alfred did, the doctors left the room and told me to call them if anything changed in Matthew.

I watched them leave and closed the door behind them. Matthew was in a fevered sleep. Taking a seat on the chair near Matthew's head, I pondered if this change of mine was permanent and with that thought, I changed back. Just like that. The clothing I wore fell off my small polar bear body and I looked at my paws. Huh, I guess not.

It only took a day or two for Matthew's fever to go down, most of his cuts healed over and the bruises to fade to sickly yellowy-green colour. Another half a day for Matthew to regain consciousness. During that time, I was experimenting with this new ability of mine. I could apparently change back and forth with a very strong thought and it would seem I retained my ability to talk in both forms. Or maybe I could always talked in polar bear form but I never really tried – I mean really, why bother? But it turns out that I could and it was weird how my voice is different in both forms. For my human form, my voice was low but for my normal form, it was a soft, almost a childlike voice. Very weird.

I had decided to keep my 'transformation' or the ability to transform a secret from Matthew so when Matthew woke up, I was in my small fluffy form. He looked blearily around the room until his eyes turned to my direction. I was on the floor to the left of his bed.

"Kuma… jiro…?" Matthew said weakly, trying to get into a sitting position but only managing to get up about a few centimeters before the weight of his own body pulled him down. "Ow… this hurts a lot…"

Matthew shifted a bit so he can see me more clearly and I walked closer to the bedside to help him.

"So… I didn't imagine you there after all…" I shook my head and he stared at me a bit before looking around.

"Where… where are we?" A pause. "Oh right you can't…"

"Kingston."

Matthew blinked and then looked at me, like REALLY looked at me. "… What…?"

"We're in Kingston, Lieutenant Governor Sheaffe allowed us to stay in this room while you are recovering," I said as if I didn't notice Matthew's complete surprise at me speaking English words.

"You can… talk…?"

"Yes."

Matthew stared blankly at me. "For how long…?"

I gave a noncommittal shrug for I wasn't sure myself and I didn't want him to know about my other form either. I figured it was best for him not to know since it might be too much for him to handle or bother with.

The next few moments were passed in silence until Matthew spoke up again. "So… you can talk all along…?" I neither agreed nor disagreed.

"You could talk all along… Ah… Ahaha…" Matthew started laughing for some reason and worriedly, I climbed on the bed to check on him closer. Somewhere in between, he started crying.

"So… You could talk…" Sob. "You could talk…" More sobs.

Unsure of what to say or do, I just kept quiet.

Matthew placed his arms over his face and started to sob harder.

"… I'm so tired, Kumayoshi, so tired… why –sob- is this all happening…?" He turned on his side and curled into a ball, ignoring the pain that probably came from his healing ribs and other bones. "Al… Alfred probably hates me now, doesn't he…?"

Oh. He was talking about the war and his family, or was his family, now.

"H-he wouldn't l-listen to me and, and then he g-got m-mad –sob- and he started to h-hit me and it hurt… hurt so much… I… I didn't understand why –sob- he w-was doing it… It hurt…"

Still unsure on what to do, I just softly stroked his hair in some semblance of comfort, like all those times I did before.

"H-he h-hates me… He hates me –sobs- Il me déteste… C'est pourquoi il le fait… C'est pourquoi…"

The room was filled with quiet sobs as Matthew's body shook with them.

"… I want to die…" Matthew whispered out, covering his face and then wept into his hands. "I want to die… What point is there for me being here…?"

Oh poor, poor child. Poor forsaken child. Matthew had bonded with three people in the years he was cognizant to know life. Of those three, two had thrown him away and the third was not even here to protect nor care for him. It is no wonder Matthew would feel so lost and discarded. Unwanted.

But it was different now, I could talk now. For all those times I couldn't, I wanted to make this one count.

"No… you cannot die," I said quietly.

Matthew looked up from his hands and glared at me – it was a face I was unfamiliar having directed at me by him. "Why? Why shouldn't I die?" Matthew spat out, opting for anger instead of sadness, "No one w-wants me. F-Francis didn't want me, Alfred didn't want me. I am not even sure if Arthur wants me! I am nothing! There's no one in the world who wants me!"

"I want you."

Silence. Matthew couldn't articulate a reply to that so I continued.

"Even if no one wants you, I would still want you. You cannot die because who will take care of me?" Even though I needed little to none maintenance. "Who will feed me?" Even though I was still able to catch or get my own food if need be. "Who will love me?" Even though I didn't need Matthew to love me the way he loved or still love his pseudo-family.

I looked deeply in his eyes and brushed my paw across his damp face.

"To whom shall I love?"

Matthew made a small noise at that last sentence and tears fell anew from his eyes. He took me into his arms as he possibly could from lying on his side and said, "Yes… That's t-true isn't it? You've been with me longer than a-any of them even though you didn't need to…"

He breathed into my fur a few breaths before he continued again. Though I couldn't see it, I knew he closed his eyes, letting his tears fall freely and dampen my fur. "Yes… you'll be with me no matter what right…?"

I mumbled a 'yes' and hugged him back.

"Yes… Yes you would…" Matthew soon fell back to sleep in exhaustion, whether from self-loathing or from self-realization I did not know, but he fell asleep with a rare smile and refused to let me go.

Did I save you just a little bit then?

The doctors came to check up on Matthew the next day, expecting a fevered and still broken Matthew but instead they came with an almost healed Matthew. They were shocked to see that Matthew but I think they were more shocked to see a live polar bear resting in his arms when last they left him, there was a human. They almost shot me but Matthew told them off with rarely shown fury and when they tried to touch him to see his already fading wounds, he moved away and told them it was unnecessary, that he was almost fully healed and that he needed to see Lieutenant Governor Sheaffe.

Matthew was finally going to join the war.

A few days later saw Matthew all suited up and heading out to the nearest post where the fighting was. I could tell Matthew wanted to leave me behind in Kingston but he didn't wish to leave me where there might be a high chance of me getting shot by the soldiers or the civilians by fear. So he took me with him but left me in a place where he knew I wouldn't get caught in the crossfire and he would come back after the battles.

Matthew killed a man for the first time.

He came to me after his first battle with blood on his body, some missed gunshot wounds but nothing truly serious and most of them already healing. His hand was shaking fiercely as he almost threw his musket to the side of me and knelt down in front of me. He was staring at his hands as if he could see the killed man's blood on his hands. Of course he couldn't see it as he killed the man at a distance but he stared at his hand nonetheless. Matthew wept and his shoulders hunched over with the guilt of the man's, or maybe even men's, life over his head.

"Francis, Arthur, and Alfred must've done it many times. Many times." He said, "But it feels so dirty… So dirty…" Matthew wept tears onto his outstretched hand as if to wash the sins off from his hands.

I took a container of water that I had near me and poured most of it over his hands. "This is war," I said, "It is expected to take lives."

Matthew stared at the water drip off his hands. "But it doesn't mean that I will feel any better for it…" Matthew whispered.

Even though Matthew was loath to take lives, he still fought in battles. He fought winning battles, he fought losing battles and sometimes, he fought with Alfred in the battlefield. Matthew fought under British Generals who knew who he was. He would tell me about his battles whenever he returned. Sometimes he returned with wounds that would've crippled or maybe even killed a normal man. I was pretty sure he shocked many of the doctors that Matthew would allow to treat him. Most of the time, Matthew would do his own patching up or allow me to do it – even though I could only do so much with my paws.

During the times he wrapped bandages around his body was when he would tell me about his battles and he would always linger on those that he had fought against America – Alfred.

"He treats me as if I was not there," he would say, "he doesn't even look in my direction and even when he does, it seems like he was looking through me. Like he was refusing my existence."

I would just sit there and listen to him tell his stories, helping him sometimes if required for his patching up. And then he would march to another place where a battle was taking place and I would follow him. I guess it was a pretty weird picture to have a 15 year old walking to a battle with a polar bear in tow but it couldn't be helped. I didn't want to leave him and he didn't want me gone.

It continued liked this until the end of the war.

Matthew got his revenge, if you could call it that, for the Burning of York.

The Napoleonic Wars in Europe was just about over and England was able to send reinforcement to aid in the war between Canada and America. Even though Arthur himself had still not returned, the idea of reinforcement had lightened Matthew's mood just a bit.

It was August 24th, 1814 – a little more than a year since the Burning of York and a little more than 2 years since the beginning of this war – when Matthew and a battalion of soldiers under General Ross's order and watch entered Washington. They had met with resistance but small enough that it was easily overcame and Matthew had deemed it safe enough to carry me along. Alfred wasn't there, or any great American armies really, since most of them were at Baltimore, believing that that was where the Canadian armies were going to head to. Matthew was grateful for that small stroke of luck.

Matthew didn't enter the White House but only stood outside as the soldiers went in. The building was mostly empty save for some articles and apparently a dinner set for 40. Matthew didn't see any of it, only the white walls of the large building and I was held in his hands.

Soon the building went up in flames.

The soldiers around him, who came out after 'exploring' the White House, were laughing at the spectacle but no such laughter came from Matthew. Matthew just stood there, blankly staring at the red flames as they coiled up and licked the sky.

"You know…" Matthew said into my furs, silently enough that only I could hear him, "This… doesn't make me happy at all. It really doesn't, Kumachiro…"

No Americans were killed or injured during all this.

The war was formally ended about a few months after this event.

The Treaty of Ghent was signed on December 24th, 1814 in the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. Matthew did not go to the signing, only Alfred and Arthur were there since the war was between America and England after all, Canada just so happened to be a colony of England's and the nearest colony to America. Canada was again not remembered or involved because it was Canada but because it was something or someone else's. In the end, the treaty had revoked anything that had occurred in the War, mostly territorial gains or losses. Nothing changed from the war's beginning. Nothing that had caused the Americans to call war upon England was rectified. In the end, the war was fought for nothing and was left only with dead bodies and more debts. This war was absolutely for nothing. Neither side had won this war.

Neither side, England or America, had any tremendous loss but I believe Canada, or rather Matthew, did.

Matthew had lost his brother completely and he was lost to him. He had lost his ability to fully trust anyone and probably had lost his ability to truly love anyone anymore. And he, for a moment, had lost his faith in England – Arthur.

Arthur came, finally, to visit Matthew after the signing of the Treaty of Ghent. He had come to congratulate Matthew on 'protecting' Canada against the Americans and on his first endeavor into the World of Wars. Matthew took in the praise meekly, rare as it is to come from Arthur. When they were younger, many praises did come from Arthur then but almost all of them were for Alfred. No wonder how Alfred became a self-assured brat while Matthew had so little self-esteem.

After all of Arthur's rare praises, he made a move to pat Matthew on the head or the shoulder and then something strange happened. Matthew almost, practically, jumped out of the way of Arthur's hand, his eyes were wide open and his breaths came in small pants. Arthur was left dumbstruck with his hand still out at Matthew's reaction.

"J-je… su—I-I am s-sorry," apologized Matthew, "I… I didn't know why I did that…"

Arthur smiled. "No, it's nothing lad, first wars are always like that."

"Y-yes, I guess so…" Matthew replied uncertainly and moved back in front of Arthur again.

"Yes, do not worry about it, it will get better as you get more wars," Arthur said as it was a good thing to be involved in many wars. Arthur finally brought his hand down onto Matthew's shoulders and when Arthur hand touched to Matthew's shoulder, Matthew visibly flinched. Arthur didn't take that movement as anything but I realized it then.

Because of what Alfred did, Matthew became afraid of any and all human touch.

Translations:

Il me déteste… C'est pourquoi il le fait… C'est pourquoi… - He hates me... That's why he's doing it... That's why...

Notes:

PHEW! That was LONG! There are prolly a lot of errors and like... confusing overall but I just wanted it to be OVER with and stuff! And so yeah, Kumajiro can talk because he has a human form that noone knows about! About that, at the time I thought about it, I thought it was like "SO AWESOME" but now that it's like down and done with... It was a stupid idea but alwell! Becomes [relatively] "important" later or whatever... Don't worry, no pairings like I promised! All this is familial love! (Though now that Kumajirou has a human form, I could easily do Kumajiro/Canada ahaha BUT I WON'T SO DON'T WORRY!)

If curious, this is how I "pictured" Kumajirou's human form.

http:// i286. photobucket. com/ albums/ ll86/ Saloe23/ Pictures/ KumajirouCanada. jpg (Erase the spacebars) - it was a quick sketch so yeahh...

Actually, I think this was the reason I wanted Kumajirou in human form XD (Because drawing human form Kumajirou is hella fun). He has long eyelashes because remember that strip in which Canada had a free weekend and was gonna clean his house but he got distracted by Kumajirou's eyelashes and stared at them throughout the whole weekend? Yeah, I loved that one because it was so cute and hilarious. And he has long hair because WHO DOESN'T LIKE LONG-HAIRED BISHIES?!?! And plus, I haven't seen a (male) nation person with long hair (aside from China), I think.

Hum, till next chapter I guess? Though I haven't a clue on what to do next (this was as far as I "thought" for this story XD)