I was inspired to write this after watching the first night of the Winter Olympic Games in which America won their first gold medal in the Women's Moguls...at the expense of Canada, who ended up placing second.

As much as I enjoyed seeing my country win, I felt a bit sad for Canada because they'd never managed to win a gold metal when they were playing the host country. The thought struck me at some point, that this might make for a good Hetalia story. It also gave me a good opportunity to have a bit of brotherly compassion between America and Canada.

Please forgive any spelling or grammar errors. I wanted to get this one done pretty quickly.

Win Canada-san, Win

Cheering along with his people as his athlete crossed over the finish line, Canada beamed proudly at the woman for a moment before his eyes turned towards the massive television screen, waiting for her score to show.

Would she do it? Would she win? Would she give them their first gold medal of this Olympic Games, of any one that they had hosted?


An ecstatic roar rose from the gathered Canadian crowd, making Canada start slightly even as a broad grin broke across his face. She'd done it! She'd taken first place away from America!

He saw his brother, sitting over with a group of his people, wrapped up in the heaviest coat he'd been able to find and still shivering despite that. The smile that he'd been wearing before this last run was still in place, but it had faltered slightly at being bumped out of first place. He'd really been hoping to win this event. Like Canada, he was looking for his first gold

Although he'd already won two medals in the speed skating event, those had been silver and bronze, and even he'd had to admit that he'd won those more due to luck than anything else. It had been his good fortune that the two skaters from South Korea had taken each other out at the last second of the race. He would take the victory, of course, but that was not how he'd really wanted to get his first medals. He wanted to feel that he earned them by skill rather than luck.

This had been his chance to make up for that rather than having to wait until tomorrow to try for it. He hated waiting, and with such a good score separating him from victory, it was looking likely that he was going to have to do just that.

"Sorry, brother," whispered Canada in his usual, quiet way. "This medal is mine."

The next athlete was ready, standing at the top of the hill. This would be the final run to decide who won the medals. He felt a bit of nerves wriggle in his stomach as he saw that blue, star-speckled uniform. It was his brother's athlete.

America cheered for her, voice rising high above all the other gathered spectators.

Unconsciously, he squeezed Kumajiro a little tighter, making the bear give a small grunt and squirm uncomfortably in his arms, but he didn't seem to notice it. He wanted this. These were his games. Shouldn't he get to win at least once?

She was off, moving down the hill, bobbing up and down over the snow crests at a breakneck pace. At the first jump, she went for back layout, flipping head over heels and landing cleanly, racing down the hill.

Canada swallowed nervously. She was doing really well, but he quickly reminded himself that she hadn't finished her run yet. He could still win it.

Coming to the final jump, the woman rose into the air, spinning in a 360 helicopter. She landed, speeding down what little remained of the course and crossing the line to stop the clock. Pumping her fists excitedly, she very nearly spun out at the foot of the hill but managed to maintain her feet.

That had been a very good run.

Biting his lower lip and looking up at the TV screen again, Canada waited for the score. He was so close.


Jumping up from his seat, America crowed and punched the air repeatedly, seeming to forget for a minute about the cold. Around him people were waving American flags wildly, surrounding him in a sea of stars and stripes as he beamed down at the women cheering in victory. The chant of "U-S-A! U-S-A!" filled the air.

He'd won! America won the gold medal!

"Silver is good, right Kumajiro?" asked Canada, shoulders slumping in disappointment.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Canada."

The bear was silent for a moment. "Gold is better."

He sighed, looking up and smiling at his athlete even as he felt his spirit sinking at the disappointment of again failing to obtain a gold medal. His people were trying so hard. After the Montreal and Calgary Games, he would be happy with just a single one.

But silver was still good. It was their first medal of this Games, and they'd earned it on the first day as well.

Yeah. This was good too.

"Hey! Great job!" exclaimed someone, clapping a hand down on his shoulder, making him jump and give a small yelp.

Looking up, he saw his brother standing, smiling down at him. When had he gotten over here? What was he doing over here? Why wasn't he screaming and jumping around with his people?

"Thanks. You did better though."

"Yeah," he agreed, looking out where his team was still cheering. He had won two medals in this event, putting him in the lead for the medal count. "But I wasn't sure if my athlete could do it. Yours made a really strong run."

"Thanks," he said again, though without any real enthusiasm.

"Keep your chin up, Bro. I'm cheering for you," said America, chuckling and patting Canada's shoulder encouragingly.

"Y-you are?" he asked, genuinely surprised by that.

"Of course. You're my brother, and you deserve to win a medal when we're all playing in your backyard. Keep trying, Canada. You'll get it," he said before giving his brother a final pat on the shoulder and walking off to join in with his people's celebrations.

"Thanks," he whispered, smiling a little brighter as he watched America's retreating form.

Canada gnawed on his bottom lip as the skier from France sped down the hill. Oh, not again. He was so close to winning the gold medal. He didn't want to lose it at the last second again.


That was his athlete's score. That was the score France had to beat to knock him down from first place. "Come on. We're so close."

The skier passed the finish line. He'd been faster, but his jumps hadn't been as good. Hopefully that would count enough against him.

He waited for the score. They all waited for the score.


Jumping up from his seat, Canada crowed and punched the air repeatedly. Around him waved the red and white flags of his country held by his people as chants of "Canada! Canada!" filled the cold, night air.

He'd won! Canada won the gold medal!

"Oh Canada, our home and native land," sang his people joyously, serenading the winning athlete. "True patriot love in all thy sons command!"

A hand clapped down on his shoulder again, and he looked up, grin growing even broader as he saw his brother standing behind him, smiling brightly as well. He'd won another medal too. "Great job. I knew you could do it," he said in an unusually subdued tone.

Canada frowned. "Are you okay?"

The smile widened. "It's your night. It's your turn to celebrate."

"Th-thanks." He didn't know if this night could get any better. People were noticing him for a change, and his brother was even making an effort to be considerate for him.

"Go congratulate your guys. They've been working for this," said America, giving him a light push towards the snow where the four athletes wearing his colors and with his flag draped over their shoulders were smiling and cheering in pure, ecstasy.

Nodding his head, he began walking down from the stands, basking in the sound and the sight of his people's first victory. It was good.

I started writing the story this morning, but before I'd finished it, Canada had managed to win their first gold medal. That worked out fine, actually. I liked getting to have that sort of parallel with USA winning the Women's Moguls and Canada winning the Men's Moguls. I also had America say he was cheering for Canada because a lot of people I've talked to actually said that they were rooting for the Canadians to win a gold medal.

Congratulations Canada! I'm glad you won.