Hey Guys! I'm back with another oneshot! I think this one's pretty cute, but please give it a read and tell me what you think! I love chibi!America and big brother England! I am working really hard on a Hetalia multi-chapter fic, and wanted to give you guys something in the meantime. Thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: If I owned Hetalia, it would be chock-full of chibi!America and big brother England fluff. Sadly, it's not. I also don't own the random reference! You get a cookie if you can guess what it's from! (It's super easy, don't worry.)
It was a lovely day in northern America. The sky was a beautiful blue that could only be topped by a certain young colony's eyes, while the trees swayed in the light breeze and the birds sang. England was resting. He always loved to visit his little America. Even when the higher-ups back home complained and squabbled, and even when he fought with France and Spain, England always knew that he was welcome here. If only he could stay over more often. Surely, America would like that idea, too.
His musings were interrupted by an anguished wail, which, though young in voice, spoke of a pain incomprehensible to a child. England bolted upright and rushed from the porch where he had been resting and toward the grove of trees where America had been playing. Could he have fallen from a tree? America was a strong lad. He wouldn't cry over something like that. England's thoughts raced and his heart pounded as he rounded an old oak and his eyes alighted on a tiny figure huddled on the ground. America was shivering in his nightgown, though England was certain it wasn't from the cold on such a day as this. His golden head was bowed, and soft sobs emitted from him in the most pitiful manner. England was by his side in a second, shushing him and patting his back.
"There, there, love. Tell me what's wrong." England encouraged, but all he received was a shake of the head, as America continued to cry. He didn't even turn towards England. The country grasped his colony and turned him around, lifting the boy's chin, so his eyes were turned toward the older man. Tears streamed down the boy's face and his eyes were clouded with pain.
"Please tell me what's wrong." England pleaded. He hated to see America crying. "Are you hurt? Do you feel ill? What's wrong, lad?"
America opened his hands and England glanced down. In the tiny, soft hands of the young colony lay a baby rabbit. It was dead.
England's heart welled with pity as America burst out sobbing afresh. England took the rabbit from his hands, and, lifting America into his arms, began to rock him and whisper reassuring sounds. Once America had calmed down somewhat, England dried his eyes and questioned him.
"What happened with the rabbit, America? How did it die?"
America sniffled and rested his soft head over England's heart, his sky blue eyes peering up sadly into the nation's face. He began to tell his story in a wavering voice.
"I was playing in bushes over there with some of my animal friends when I found the baby bunny. It was just so small and cute and I wanted to pet it. I picked it up, and it was rubbing into me, so I thought it wanted a hug, but when I hugged it, it…it…"
America broke off and began to cry again. England sadly patted the child's back. So the boy's immense strength had a downside. He should have seen this sooner. Surely, a child who could throw around buffalo wouldn't know to be gentle to such small creatures. England sighed.
"There, there, America." England patted the colony's back again. "Let's give the rabbit a proper burial, and then I will tell you some things." America nodded and sniffled, rubbing his eyes. England put him down and watched as the boy tenderly lifted the rabbit from the ground. Then, with his shoulders shaking, he went off to find a resting place for the rabbit that passed on before he barely had a chance to live.
America gazed solemnly at the makeshift grave of the bunny. He had found the most beautiful place he could, a small grove of trees by a gurgling brook let dappled sunlight fall upon the soft moss, while the wild flowers growing about gave the air a beautiful scent. It was the best he had in this small forest, and the bunny deserved to have it. America had arranged some polished shells and smooth rocks from the bottom of the brook in a circle around where the rabbit lay, and he sat in front of it, silently grieving. The silence was broken by a twig snapping, and America didn't need to turn around to know that it was England. His caretaker placed a gentle hand on his head as he fought back a sob.
"America, don't blame yourself." England began as America turned to face him. The man's green eyes shone kindly down on him. "It was an accident."
"Let me tell you something, America, that will save you much pain in the years to come if you listen." America attentively straightened. "You are strong. All of our kind are stronger that normal humans and animals, but you especially. You have a strength that I have rarely seen in even the strongest nations. You are very strong, and this is a gift. However, America, it is also a curse."
America was confused. He was strong? That was a good thing? It was a bad thing? England was making little sense.
"The things that you find easy to do would be challenging for a full grown man. They are weaker than us. Which is why we must protect them. With the power we hold, it would be easy to subjugate them, which is precisely why we allow them to rule over us. They make the decisions, because we need someone to keep us in check. Do you understand?"
America slowly nodded. England had spoken of his kings and queens and parliament before, so America was aware of what he was speaking. England was very strong. He could easily defeat the humans. But he didn't want to hurt them. Was that why he put up with them?
England was pleased that America could follow along so well. "Very good, then. I will continue. You, America, are very strong. You must be very careful with your strength, because humans and animals, and even other nations are fragile. You can hurt them. You could even hurt me. Which is why you need inner strength to keep you in check. Remember, with great power, comes great responsibility."
America gaped. He could hurt England? Impossible! England was the strongest nation out there! America couldn't even imagine hurting him. Just the thought of England on the ground crying was crazy!
"But you're so big!" America exclaimed. "I could never hurt you!"
England just smiled. "I can be hurt too, you know." He declared, and laughed at America's wide eyes. "Come, lad. Let's head in."
America nodded. "You go ahead, England. I'll be right in." England smiled and complied turning back to the house. When America was sure he was gone, he crouched in front of the small grave and tenderly patted it.
"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to be gentle." He whispered to the rabbit. "But I promise I'll try to be more careful from now on. Goodbye." He then stood, and with one last glance, turned back to his house and England.
As he ran to England's loving arms, he made a promise. He would never hurt anyone again. It was a promise founded in childlike innocence and naiveté; a promise that any nation would have scoffed at; a promise that, in his long lifetime, he was doomed to break.
But, in that moment, it was enough. It was his true strength.
Et voila! 'Tis done. Please comment with any suggestions on how to write better, and tell me if you got the reference! I also appreciate constructive criticism, though flames will be evenly distributed between Mordor and Mt. Doom, so unless you want to stoke Sauran's fires and aid him, bringing about the end of the world, I suggest you don't write them.
Thank you for reading and for all your support!