Me no own Hetalia! Darn...
Italy Romano, human personification of the southern half of Italy, was walking down a street in London, England, eating tomatoes and thinking about the meeting he had just attended. America had been a bastard as usual, Spain just as much of one, Germany even worse…damn that potato bastard! What did Veneziano see in him? He finished one tomato, and reached into the small bag he was carrying to find there was only one left. With a scowl, remembering how Spain had pressed these on him after the meeting, he began to raise it to his lips for a bite.
Small hands grabbed his wrist, and seized the tomato. "What the hell?" Romano yelped, looking down. A girl of maybe eight or nine, with long, curly blond hair and eyes as blue as the potato bastard's, was munching on the last of the tomatoes Spain had given him. One of her hands was still clamped on his wrist, keeping him standing still while she chewed thoughtfully.
"Hey. This is pretty good." She said to nobody in particular.
"Wh—GIVE ME BACK MY TOMATO, DAMNIT!" Romano roared. The girl looked up at him with those blue eyes, and for a moment she seemed confused, as if she couldn't see why he was asking for it back. Then a sardonic smirk, not unlike one you might see on Prussia, took over her face, and she let out a low "fufufu" that was probably a laugh.
"No way! It's mine now!" She gloated, taking a huge bite out of the red fruit. "Mmm…fomafo…mmm…" Romano stared at her, flabbergasted. This young child had just randomly appeared, in the middle of the day, to steal his tomato, then eat it and refuse to return it! What was wrong with her? What was wrong with England? Letting his children do such things…
"Okay, that's it!" Romano yelled, jerking his wrist from her grasp and seizing her shoulders. "You! What's your name?"
"Aifne." She said through a mouthful of tomato, then swallowed and spoke again. "That is, Aithne."
"Okay, Aithne." Romano leaned down. "Why aren't you in school? It's the middle of the day on Tuesday, September 8th, and you should be in school."
"I decided it was too boring to go today" Aithne shrugged. "So I didn't." Romano stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then slowly counted to thirty. One tomato, two tomato, three tomato…was this kid for real?
"And," he gritted his teeth, "why did you steal my tomato?"
"I wanted one." She grinned as his face slowly clouded with anger. "Haha, what, was it your last one?" Romano nodded tensely. "Oooh! Buuuurn! A little kid stole your last tomato! Take THAT, tomato jerk!"
"What did you just call me?" Romano shouted, shaking her by the shoulders a little.
"I called you tomato jerk! Because, well, I don't like you!" Aithne replied, just as loudly. "I can tell if I'm gonna like someone or not the moment I see them, and you're definitely a no! Come on, what if I was a starving orphan taking your tomato to survive? You'd have taken it back in a heartbeat and left me to die on the streets!"
Romano sighed. It was true, he would have: but he just didn't see the point of giving up his last tomato to a kid who would die sooner or later without it. Humans died all the time: nations couldn't do a thing about it. Though…she had a point…
"Look, kid," the nation said calmly, "you can have the tomato, okay? But get to school. Don't make your parents worry." He let her go, and started to walk away. Then he paused, and turned back. "By the way…what's your full name?"
"Wouldn't you like to know." Aithne grinned devilishly, then ran off and disappeared. Romano sighed and kept walking.
Humans were crazy.