PB: Hey everyone, we're back!~

A91: With a vengeance, even! I found this chappie a lot of fun to write, so hopefully it'll be fun to read for y'all. =) /Nudges PB./ Do we own Hetalia?

PB: I don't think so. If we do, we're sure missing out on a bunch of royalties.

Matthew opened his eyes, and quickly shut them again as blinding sunlight seared his pupils.

With a moan of discomfort, he brought his hands to his face and started rubbing his eyelids, grimacing slightly as he felt tiny grains brush away on his fingertips. This time when he tried to see, he shielded his sight and blinked rapidly to adjust to the brightness for about a minute until he could comfortably distinguish his hand from the surrounding…leaves?

Suddenly and without warning, the events of the day before flooded back to the forefront of his consciousness. His cousin, the boat ride, the storm that appeared out of nowhere, the feeling of being catapulted into the air and crashing into the sea, the sheer terror that coursed through his system as he struggled to stay above the water, unable to even so much as scream for help. He saw Bruce clutch to the steering wheel and turn it hard, but the vessel sped away just as his stamina reached its end. He sank, and…

Matthew's breath caught in his throat and he jolted abruptly to a sitting position, his glasses dangling limply on their cord around his neck. He was on a beach. He was on a beach, on a deserted island, in the middle of the ocean! An estranged cry that Matthew almost didn't recognize as his voice croaked out of his throat as the many, many implications of this one single fact washed over him. Among the forefront of these were questions that he never in his life expected to sincerely ask himself: how would he eat? How would he drink? Where would he sleep? Would someone come looking for him? What if he would be forced to run for his life from hungry cannibals until his life met an abrupt end as he was slow-roasted over a bonfire?

Thankfully, that last fear was alleviated as soon as he turned around to face his new geographical prison. The sandy beach on which he sat extended back about thirty feet before it was replaced with an assortment of tropical flora packed densely together. The brush was thick, to be sure, but when Matthew shakily lifted the glasses hanging on his neck and slid them onto his nose, he could barely make out a few specks of blue sky. Not much, but enough to know that the island was small and uninhabited. Good news for his chances of being eaten, bad news for his chances of being rescued.

It took Matthew a minute to straighten to his feet, turning wholly toward the stretch of unmarked sand that eventually led to the edge of the forest's foliage. His stomach grumbled distantly, he couldn't consciously recall the last time that he had eaten as he traipsed along the shore, hastily approaching the first few trees that rimmed the formidable patch of greenery in the center of the island. Before the crash, that he could be sure of, but now that seemed like it happened eons ago. It would probably be good to find something to eat right about now, and to stock up for later. Who knows how long I'll be on this island.

The thought sent foreboding shivers waltzing down his spine as he crossed into the verdant part of the island. The air here felt heavier, much more moist and tepid than the crisp, saline breezes that fluttered across the shoreline now a good few meters behind him. Bespectacled indigo eyes shot skyward, visually reaping the trees in the hopes that they bore fruit; a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his hopes were confirmed. A good distance above his head dangled already ripe coconuts, accompanied by some bananas in tandem scattered about against the canopy of trees that noticeably dimmed the filtered sunlight that broke through the vacant spots between immense, fan-like leaves. A sigh of relief slipped through slightly parted lips as Matthew halted in his tracks, now outrightly gazing upward. Well, at least I don't have to kill anything to get something to eat… yet.

His gaze shifted, following the trees that bore both coconuts and bananas: the main trunks of the trees grew into the ground at an angle acute enough that would allow Matthew to climb them. Matthew cheered inwardly, yet... something about the bark of the trees bothered him. He trotted up to the base of one of the coconut trees as his hand reached out, slightly calloused fingertips tracing an obvious blemish, seemingly made by something extremely sharp—either a bird, or it looks like it could've been done by a…knife? But that can't be right…

A little ways up the trunk stood another one of those marks, continuing up until the bark fused with the leaves that crowned the tree, as well as the coconuts that Matthew preyed upon. A determined expression ghosted across blunt features as the blond gripped the first groove that he found, hoisting himself up high enough to jab the fingers of his free hand into the next hold. In this way it didn't take him very long to completely ascend the tree and tentatively reach out to wrap an arm around the coarse coconut, though his balance decided to abandon him as soon as he had secured his fruit; his body lurched to the right as his fingers slipped from the last groove that he held onto, tumbling only a handful of feet to the rough, sandy ground below.

Well, I guess that could've gone a lot worse! Ever resilient, he hopped to his feet, one arm locked around the mid-sized coconut that he managed to nab from the tree, and turned his head to the side to spit out stray grains of sand that clung to his lips from his previous faceplant. I should explore more of this island, though, now that I have some food… just to make sure nothing's lurking out there. With that he set off into the densest section of the island's diminutive forest, eyes wide and senses honed in case anything decided to leap out and unsuspectingly attack him.

As he trekked over the dense underbrush, bringing his snack with him, he noticed a seagull making lazy circles above the treetops, occasionally cawing over the sounds of the light breeze. Matthew's thoughts drifted back to the strange marks he saw on the tree trunk on the edge of the island. "Do they even do that?" he wondered out loud. He didn't think so, but then again, he admitted that he didn't know very much about seagulls. Heh, I'm from Winnipeg; I don't know very much about the ocean at all! He thought with a small chuckle, desperate for any sort of humor to distract him from his unpromising situation and help him to put on a brave face. For the moment, it seemed to have worked.

The further he walked, the more Matthew became convinced that there were no large animals to worry about. The woods were rather quiet, even calming, and were occasionally dotted with more fruit trees. Starvation would not be an issue for him, at least not a while. It was his thirst, which had decided to finally make an appearance in the back of his throat, which he began to feel concern about. Never once did the Canadian hear the sounds of fresh water running, just the too-salty ocean waves on the shoreline. There could only be one explanation for this: the small island was void of all creeks, springs, and rivers, so the only time clean water touched the ground here was during a rainstorm, like the one last night. He glanced down at the coconut tucked under his arm; the fruit sloshed sweet juice inside its inner cavity with every step the blond man took. Matthew swallowed the thick bitterness forming on his tongue; it was time to break the thing open.

His gaze turned from the treetops to the earth, searching for a decent rock to smash the hull of the fruit with. Much to his dismay, most of the ground was covered with white sand, and the few stones present were rounded and smooth, unfit for the job he needed done. But there was nothing else for him to do, so he persisted in his search, scanning his sight over mounds of sand and leaves and…aha! Partially covered in the foliage was a jagged, rectangular rock, which looked somewhat like a stake Matthew might have used to pin down a tent while camping. Breathing a sigh of relief—he was starting to worry—he made his way to the stone, bent over, reached for it…

"You're not welcome here."

The disembodied voice echoed throughout the clearing, freezing Matthew's hand (not to mention his blood) before he could even brush his fingertips against the grey rock. "Wh—who's there?" he called, trying to ignore the way his small tone waivered in his fear.

A moment's silence, and then the call came again, somehow louder and more terrifying to the blond man than before. "This is my island. You're not welcome here."

"I—I'm sorry, but—t I have n—nowhere else to g—go." Internally, Matthew cursed his stutter; he thought that he got rid of that in speech therapy years ago! "P—please, where are you?"

"If you do not leave now," the voice went on, ignoring the man's begging, "then you will regret it."

Matthew knew he should've fled right then and there, yet he found himself rooted to the spot albeit straightening out of his bend. Silence had the chance to pervade for a few moments and took it, faintly punctuated by the distant call of seagulls overhead and frothy waves crashing against the shore that seemed all too far away. "Did you not understand my last warning, boy?" the voice boomed after a moment of patient waiting, "You will regret what is coming to you if you do not leave. Now."

Maybe, if I run for my life, whoever that is will think I've left… Abruptly regaining motile ability, Matthew turned in the direction that he deemed quickest to reach the ocean and sprinted away as fast as he could, his grip tautening around the coconut: whatever happened, he couldn't risk losing the source of sustenance that he had struggled to attain in the first place.

In his haste he barely avoided a low-hanging thick branch that almost seemed to lie in wait to clothesline him; something akin to triumph cracked over him as he emerged from the dense vegetation, feet transferring roughly from a cool mix of sand and soil to sun baked, grainy terrain. "What the heck was that?" he voiced his disbelief aloud, figuring that no one was around to hear him, anyway.

He focused his senses on the soundscapes of the tropical beach that surrounded him, listening for any discreet footsteps conveniently concealed by the ocean or the birds. He noticeably jolted as the same deep voice from before rang out, shaking the tepid air, "You cannot fool me! I told you to leave, did I not?"

For one of the first times in his rather short existence, Matthew was at a loss for what to do. Usually his life was already laid out in front of him: grade school, a part-time job, college, the real world. But not now, not this time. "I c-can't leave t-this island, I'm sorry… I-I'll die if I t-try. I have nowhere else to g-go..." he managed through the stutter that he hadn't had to deal with for years, breaking down as his knees hit the sharp sand below.

He waited for the voice to say something more, beads of sweat forming on his brow from the heat and the anxiety coursing through his system. But to his trepidation, the mysterious person didn't reply, and all Matthew heard were the sounds of the waves washing onto the shoreline, the breeze in the treetops, the occasional calls of the gulls in the sky… and hissing?

To the Canadian's horror, out of the grass emerged a slithering horde of brown snakes, all larger than any he had seen in his home country and rapidly making their way across the sand. Distantly, his cousin's voice echoed through his subconscious: "Australia has more poisonous snakes than any other continent, mate, so I recommend that you keep your distance." At that very moment, one of the frontrunners lifted itself off the ground and hissed noticeably louder than the rest, revealing a pair of vicious fangs on the top of its mouth, terrifying Matthew to the core.

Finally abandoning his coconut at the prospect of impending death by snakebite, Matthew shuffled backwards into the salt water of the ocean in a crabwalk as far as he could go while still keeping his head above the water. The serpents crowded around the coastline, watching and waiting, their beady yellow eyes not looking away from him for an instant.

With shaking knees, Matthew stumbled to his feet, his clothes saturated and dripping from excess water. He took a few tentative steps to the right and watched as the snakes mirrored his movement, effectively blocking his way back onto land. He tried again the other way, and for a while it seemed that they were just going to continue to follow him, but after his tenth pace the serpents paused in their pursuit and simply lingered together. Matthew let himself breathe a small sigh of relief, refusing to entertain any quandaries as to why exactly he had been granted his reprieve in favor of simply enjoying the new, safer distance between himself and the creepers on the dry ground. This is also why he didn't see the pale arm slowly emerging from the sand below him, rising until the tips of its fingers matched the height of his knee.

But when the hand latched onto his leg, Matthew did take notice, and he screamed bloody murder.

It took him twenty-five seconds to run out of breath, but when he finally did, he heard an unusual sound: howls of deep, hysterical laughter. Matthew pried open one eye, and then the other, and looked down to see a person, his lower half still buried under the sand, his upper half limply leaning against the leg he still held firm in his grasp. "I wish you could see the look on your face right now," he managed between his chuckles. "I can't believe you actually fell for that! I thought for sure you'd see me go across the beach and bury myself here," a snort, "but you didn't and you got so scared and…" he trailed off in a fresh bout of cackles.

Matthew's face went through a dozen shades of red in as many seconds. "It's not funny!"

The still partially-submerged person shook his head. "It's the funniest thing I've seen in my life!"

"W—wait, those things—" Matthew gestured to the gaggle of snakes congregated at the shoreline, "—they don't scare you or anything?" He seemed to have come to his senses for the moment, one flaxen brow quirked mainly in astonishment. If he's not afraid of them, then...

The unknown man shook his head. "Nothing to be afraid of! They're just cranky, usually they won't give chase like that," he explained, an amused smile piquing his lips as if he was still trying to hold back his laughter.

"So then… does that mean I did something to provoke them?" Matthew racked his brain as he spoke, rifling through new memories to see if he had stepped on anything out of the ordinary or that could possibly relate to snakes, but to no avail.

His argentine-haired companion tilted his head to each side. "It's what you're carrying—check your pockets."

Without question Matthew's hand dove into both front pockets on his jeans, fingertips unexpectedly bumping against something cool to the touch but hard and smooth. He gingerly lifted whatever it was out of his left pocket and held it up to the sunlight, indigo eyes bulging as recognition dawned upon him. In his hand perched an ivory-hued oval, weighted by the infinitesimal reptile it undoubtedly contained. "A s-snake egg," he muttered in disbelief, all of the acquired color draining from his face. "No wonder they're still hovering around the shore..."

The man beside Matthew held out a hand; in passing the meek blond noticed the innumerable scars sporting shapes of all varieties traced along the other's palm, standing out from the usual, naturally-formed lines. "I'll return the egg for you."

"Won't you get bitten? Aren't those snakes poisonous?"

The amethyst-eyed man shook his head once more, this time forging direct eye contact with his skittish company. "No I won't, and no, they're not. It's possible one might be, but that is of no concern to me. If you hand me the egg, Matvey, you can go back onto the island without having to worry about the snakes."

What did he call me? Kinda sounded like my name, but how would he know? Matthew decided then to comply, finally placing the picayune egg into the palm of the partially-submerged man's hand. "T—thanks for this," he stammered, at once remembering basic manners.

"Not a problem!" the other grinned, motioning toward the island as his hand cupped the fragile egg. "You might want to return to land after I distract the snakes, though. Nightfall will come before you know it, and you might want to gather food for the night… unless, of course, you don't mind going hungry."

"What about you?" Matthew asked, as he took a few steps away, watching as the mysterious person spun himself around in the water, though the action kicked up a lot of sand in the process, making the water murky and still obscuring the view of his lower half. "Why aren't you going to come on land? And how do you know all this? And who do you think you are? And why are you here? Why am I here?" Each question rose in volume and intensity, a stressful day finally spilling out in a desperate interrogation.

The other man laughed lightly in response. "Ah, my apologies. Ivan Braginsky." The man, Ivan, smiled childishly up at Matthew. "You're going to be my new pet, Matvey."

Needless to say, this was not an answer that Matthew was expecting. "W—wha?"

Ivan didn't respond immediately, instead shimmying closer to the shore and subsequently turning up more sand in the water. He took the egg in his palm and extended his arm out as far as he could, setting his hand down a few short feet away from the furious serpents. From above, Matthew watched as the snakes actually retreated a few inches away from the offering, staring out at the him and hissing amongst themselves. One snake—the mother, Matthew assumed—slithered bravely up to the hand, turning her head around the creamy sphere and flicking her tongue out into the air. Then, she snapped her head out and took up the egg in her mouth before turning around and leading her entourage back into the miniature jungle that composed the center of the island.

"Aww, they don't like me anymore," Ivan whined. "I guess I was asking for it, though, tying them all up in a tree and stealing an egg like that."

Slow realization spread across Matthew's face at the confession. "You did this?" he gaped.

"Da," Ivan replied, which the Canadian understood as some word of affirmation. "This was a lot of fun, Matvey. I hope we have lots more fun playing together in the future."

"B—but you—but I—how'd—what the—" It wasn't so much that Matthew's stutter had returned anymore. Now, he just couldn't decide what to say first. "W—what is that you keep calling me? Matvey?" he eventually settled on.

"You had a driver's license in your pocket," the ashen-haired man replied. "I saw that your name was Matthew, but I like Matvey better, so I renamed you."

"You can't just rename someone," Matthew protested, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"Do you still not understand?" Ivan rested his head on his shoulder, tucking his chin under the folds of a well-loved pinkish-white scarf that Matthew just realized he was wearing, an odd sight for a shirtless man off the coast of Australia. "I saved your life. I saw you fall off of that boat and I rescued you. That means that you owe me a life-debt, and you're going to pay it here, on this island, as my new pet human."

Whatever comeback that stirred within Matthew's mind completely abandoned him as he processed what Ivan had just stated. Pet… human. "W—what makes you think that you can just declare me your pet? That's completely ridiculous!" Abrupt fury swilled in the form of rouge within the alabaster complexion of his cheeks.

"I've already told you, or were you not listening to what I just said?" Ivan retorted, edging closer to the shore though not without kicking up more sand in the process, adding even more murkiness to the once crystalline cerulean water. "Life-debt. Besides, I don't think you can survive on this island without my help. I'd give you three days, at best. So think of this as me simply helping you, Matvey! It'll be fun!" He shot a glance over his shoulder at Matthew, face adorned once again with an overly-childish grin that added a frightening element to his rather composed expression. "You're free to return to land now, and you won't have to fear those snakes any longer."

"W—wait, aren't you coming, too?" Regaining mobile ability for the second time in that seemingly eternal day, Matthew crossed the handful of yards of sea water that stretched in front of him and stopped once his feet touched damp, solar sand once again, turning partially in Ivan's direction but keeping the forestry of the island within his periphery.

Ivan simply nodded. "Though I love to idle out in the water, I don't like when my fingertips get pruney. Where else would I go?" With an accommodating shrug from the blond, Ivan continued. "Exactly. I'll see you around later today or maybe tonight, you can be sure of that! But for now, I think you should get further acquainted with the island. It will probably be your home for the next few months, to say the least. Don't want any more surprises coming your way, da?"

With a groan under his breath Matthew nodded: he couldn't refute the truth underlying Ivan's words, especially since his company seemed to be behind the snakes that chased him out into the ocean in the first place. He turned toward the foliage of the island, though an odd, somewhat out of place slithering sound emitted from behind him: when he turned to look behind him he glimpsed Ivan, but… something seemed off about his appearance. He forced his gaze to turn back in the direction in which he traipsed, though he mentally dissected the image that had been burned into the pinkish slate of his retinas: he could have sworn that a fish-like tail fin stuck up from the sand extremely close behind his companion's lower body, yet… that was impossible. But he couldn't deny the silvery scales that he definitely saw adorning the lower part of Ivan's stomach, on his front…

The bitter taste from before kicked up right then against the back of his throat, immediately bringing his thirst to the forefront of his mind. Must just be dehydration… I've never gone this long without water before. Speaking of which… He set off to either find the coconut he dropped earlier or to locate a new tree bearing ripe fruit. Whichever came first.

To be continued…