¡Hola, mi amigos!

I'm posting a new story. This may or may not be multi-chapter, and if I get at least two reviews I will do three. Sorry to the people who want me to update my Insight series and whatnot, but. This needed to come out of my head.

Disclaimer: I don't own hetalia. :(

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Across the sea, it is told that there is a land. And in that land, it is said, is a large city. And in that city, if you go to just the right place at just the right time in the middle of the month of July, you will see a man. A boy, just barely of age. And it is rumored that that boy has seen forever and beyond.

Little of him is known, except for the crumbled black-and-white photos sitting in a long-forgotten desk in an old dusty house, of a Queen and her King and the President of the United States of America. This boy has his arm slung around the influential world leaders, and is smiling brightly.

This is the boy that soldiers come back from battles remembering, hoping they can live up to his bravery and courage. This is the boy that children see in the streets helping that old lady across the street or playing football with them in the park. This is the boy whom will laugh with or at the angry man with the large eyebrows and brittish accent, or the perverted french man who does his best to irritate the brittish man. This is the boy who helps and supports and understands and still has ideals, even though he has seen forever and beyond.

This is the boy who does not act like he has seen forever and beyond.

"Can ya see him?" Three siblings, two boys and one girl, peer across the street to a building, one that shines proudly with some sort of inner light, proud of having stood so long.

"...naw..." The girl answers grudgingly, southern drawl strong.

"I told you ol' Pop's stories were a bunch o' bull!" The tallest, and oldest semi-yells. The girl rounds angrily.

"Ya'll shut up about grandpa Pop!" Her fists ball and she looks like she wants to punch her older sibling.

"Hey! I think that's him!" The youngest points out, almost fading into the background with all the commotion his brother and sister are causing.

Both stop their brief tumble and wordlessly call truce.

The girl pulls out a faded black and white out of a dirtied pocket and squints at it.

"Uh...yeah! It's him!" She yells, then ducks out from behind cover and rushes across the street.

Her siblings scramble to catch up, the older leaving the youngest behind.

"Wait for me!" He yells, dashing madly to the other side of the road and not seeing the hulking vehicle speeding through the area. The headlights are suddenly upon him and he freezes in the center of the road.

The boy expects to be roadkill. Instead, though, he is swept up by strong arms smelling faintly of old leather and cinnamon, with a hint of cherry blossoms. How any of those smells could go together the boy had no idea; they mixed to form a pleasant aroma.

His eyes are screwed shut and he thinks he's going to whatever afterlife exists until a voice says, "Are you alright?"

He looks up into the bluest eyes he has ever seen, hidden behind wire glasses frames. Stubborn blonde hair sticks straight up. This is the man(boy) from the photo.

"I'm fine... You're him, aren't ya?" There's a note of expectancy in his tone. "My Grandpa Pop knew ya in the war."

The man(boy) puts down the boy he saved, smiles, and slips right into that accent. "Depends, I've fought in a lotta wars. Which one ya talkin' about?" The boy shrugs.

"It don't matter. But have ya really seen forever an' beyond?" The expectancy is still in his voice.

The hero laughs. "I can't have seen forever if forever hasn't come yet."

The boy presses more. "But what does forever look like?"

His savior has this unfocused look behind his glasses. "...I don't know. I'll ask Freedom next time I see 'im."

And then the two siblings run across the street for their brother, and the man is gone in less than the blink of an eye.