Crystal's Notes: (ahem) So. History has never been as much fun until this year, when I am blessed enough to have gotten the BEST US HISTORY TEACHER EVER and Hetalia. xD Like dude. If this goes over well enough, by the way, I may just make two more for France and America. 83 And any other countries people request. If they like it enough. So guess what that means? (*cough-cough-YOUMUSTREVIEW-cough-cough*) But besides that, try and enjoy my humor? xD Lol-here goes! I hope you enjoy!
"…I hate you."
America grinned at the glaring Japan as innocently as possible. He knew it was quite unlike the normally friendly, peaceful, and patient Asian country to be so miffed at him—but considering what has just happened (to be more accurate, what he had caused to happen, no matter how inadvertently), perhaps there was basis for that strong feeling of resentment he was receiving.
"You don't mean thaaaaat…"
"Je ne sais pas, L'Amerique. You might 'ave just ruined his latest invention."
America pouted. "I totally did not! Actually, you should be grateful; at least we know it works, now!"
To prove his point, he gestured to the rather wild landscape around them. Mangled, uncontrolled trees, gnarled roots, grass nearly as tall as their calves; that goes without mentioning the wild animal sounds they could hear around them, and the insects twittering with one another. The way it seemed so undisturbed was like nature had either not realized that it had unexpected guests, or it knew and was completely unsurprised, if in fact, pleased that they had finally arrived.
Japan sighed, swatting away at a mosquito that had apparently fallen in love with his cheek. "I already was aware that it was working, Alfred-san. I was not in need of another trial run."
"Well, the more the merrier, right?" Grinning cheezily, America only got a glare in return, which he shrugged off easily.
France frowned as he took time in observing their landscape. The other two still continued to bicker (which was rare in itself) behind him as he walked, but he ignored them most of the time, although it was hard not to pick up bits and pieces here and there where it concerned him.
"…you should consider yourself fortunate that our people aren't suddenly endangered because we aren't there."
Japan sighed. "When we return, whenever that may be, I will make sure we return the exact moment we left, so it will be like nothing happened at all."
"Great! You're a life-saver, Kiku!"
Where England would have made a smart retort, Japan merely shook his head patiently. "I shouldn't be having to hear that, but consider it nothing."
France chose that moment to hum unexpectedly as he spun around on his heel, grinning proudly and slyly. "Mon amis, I believe I recognize this particular neck of the woods!"
Japan looked with great relief to the older country. "Finally. Arigatou, Francis-san."
"Yeah, what he said! Mind fillin' us in? Where did Kiku's machine take us?"
With a small, perhaps rueful grin, France answered with a broad gesture of his hand to their surroundings, "Bonhommes, welcome to the land known in this day and age as simply 'Britain'—before it was even a country. If I am correct, I believe we are nearly 4000 years in the past."
"Yi bai sui, Arthur."
Looking up to China from the book he had been reading, England couldn't help but sigh. They, along with all the other countries, had been waiting now for nearly half-an-hour for France, America, and Japan to show up, but it was a taxing, and vain delay.
Scratching his nose idly, England turned back to his book as he murmured, "Someone must be talking about me...I don't even need to guess who that would be..."
China frowned, tilting his head to side in thought. "Yes...speaking of him, it's strange, don't you think? Alfred and Francis have been late occasionally, but Kiku, never so."
"They must be doing something together, then, that has all three of them caught up in trouble." England sighed. Although staring at his book, he couldn't focus on the words on the page. "I wouldn't put it past them."
China smirked with a small chuckle. "Neither would I...I wonder what they're up to...?"
"Whatever it is, it better be a valid reason!" Germany had his shoulders hunched in taut tension as he stormed by. Italy, who had been tracing the lines in the wooden table with his finger, winced at his long-time comrade's anger, and looked up at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed stud of a man as he gruffly sat down in his chair.
"Were you not able to contact them, Ludwig?" China asked curiously, having a feeling he already knew the answer.
Germany sighed, glaring daggers at the wall. "Apparently, according to Kiku's escort, Alfred and Francis had visited his hotel room unexpectedly this morning." He shrugged a little, and then murmured with less anger, "The escort told me he would go check on them and would call me back to tell me when they were on their way."
England rolled his eyes. "How immature...to lose track of time like that."
"But that's Alfred and Francis for you," Italy perked up with a silly, bright grin. "At least they must be having fun, no?"
England pulled his lips into a thin line, turning back to his book. "Depends what you would define 'fun' as..."
Being 4000 years in the past was one sort of shock. Another-perhaps greater one-was the fact that France had been able to figure that out.
America spluttered. "W-what? How do you know this?"
But the elusive Bonnefoy only grinned slyly, winking mysteriously. "I have my ways. Anyway, I believe we should not linger here any longer, mon ami. Instead, let's try to find a way back to our own time, oui?"
"I am already working on it," Japan spoke up, having just a minute ago pulled out his Blackberry and tried using it.
America blinked at him, before weaving around him to try and peek over the shorter nation's shoulders. "Think you can still get service? Like...way out here in the past?"
"Service, no. But I have an app that will allow me to communicate with my machine no matter what era I am in."
"Dude, seriously? I didn't know Blackberries could have apps!"
"Behold and believe."
France watched them with mixed interest; part of him was surprised that for once, he was actually the mature one (which, he really should start being, considering he was the oldest country present). The other part of him was simply trying to think as far back into his knowledge of England's history as he could. 4000 years ago...what happened 4000 years ago...? Did England even have people in it at that time...?
His answer, as if right on cue, came in the form of a crudely-made clay jar smashing right beside his head on the tree he was leaning against.
The sound-as well as the closeness of impact-was enough to make the French man jump up, crying out in surprise (although America would insist later on that he had sounded like a little girl), and dart away from where he had previously been standing.
America and Japan both looked up from the Blackberry they had been staring at, in time to catch France's bewildered look, and in time to realize what had just happened before another clay pot came shooting out of the trees, right at their feet. All three countries jumped just slightly.
Then more pots came flying.
"Kiku! W-what's going on?" America shouted as he practically danced to avoid being hit.
"Not sure! Trying to get machine to warp us back now!"
A few seconds more of the chaos-and then in a flash of light, the three were gone.
It was quiet a moment. And then, a soft wind rustled through the trees shortly afterwards, as if nature was chuckling at the humorous event it had just been witness to.
Now in more of an open field (although the grass was still mighty tall), America, with his nerves still on edge, plopped down on a nearby knee-high rock, placing his hands on either side of his head as if to stop the sounds of crashing clay pots from still echoing in there.
Japan looked like he could sit down as well, but instead chose to remain standing, staring off as if in a trance.
France sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That...I believe, was a rather warm welcome from our friends the Beakers."
"...Beaker? Like, from the Muppets?"
Muppets? What in the heck are the-? France shook his head. "Je ne sais pas what stupid American show you must be referring to, Alfred, but non."
"Beakers..." Japan thought to himself as he began to tune back into the conversation. One could almost see the hypothetical question mark forming over his head as he tilted it lightly to the side, murmuring, "I do not recall anything about a group of people called the 'Beakers'..."
"There is not much to know about them." France shrugged. "Historians speculate that they were probably the first to actually ride horses rather than hunt them. They also made clay pots, and cups, and...whatever. But they also made bronze."
"...and they were the guys who attacked us? With their pots?"
"Actually, just speaking from general experience with English people-I think we had arrived nearby where some may have lived. I think it was the females who attacked us."
France shrugged. "Logically, the males would have had spears, right, if they could have made bronze? So we were actually lucky. We could have been impaled if we had appeared by the wrong gender."
"Or that could have been avoided entirely if all we had done was warp somewhere with no one around!"
"Ah..." Japan frowned, looking at his Blackberry again. "It appears that is my fault. My machine is having some glitches."
America shot back to his feet, alarmed. "Glitches? What do you mean 'glitches'?"
"I mean glitches-"
"-he means glitches, Alfred-"
"-shut up, Francis."
Japan sighed, closing his eyes briefly to summon patience (Western cultures...he would never get used to them), before trying again, "Glitches, as in I can't immediately return us to our original time. I can warp us forward little by little, with random intervals, but my machine for some reason will not allow me to simply put us back in 2011."
"...so in English...?"
"En anglais, that means we're going to slowly be returning home." France made sure to annunciate his words carefully so America could understand them. Then he frowned. "However, it appears we're stuck in England until then, aren't we...?"
"You mean we're still in Britain?" America turned a full-circle to look around himself and take in their landscape. While it still looked unfamiliar, now it at least was beginning to have that nostalgic feeling to it, as if he had been there before...but of course, not in that time.
Japan nodded, still looking at his Blackberry. "It appears that now, instead of 4000 years prior, we are 3000 years into the past."
America paled. "Those Beaker people still weren't in England by this time, right?"
France shook his head thoughtfully. "No..." (America breathed out in relief.) "...but the Celts are, though."
America took a step back in mock-surprise, and then seriously thought about it, rolling around the name in his head. "...wait, how come I feel like I've heard of them...?"
"The Celts are often found in lots of European countries' histories. Including mine." With that comment, France wriggled his eyebrows in a show, but both of the other nations with him ignored it. Shrugging it off, France then added, "Plus there's Celtic Woman, but-"
"-that's it! That's who I was thinking of!" America grinned to himself, nodding with approval at his mental recollection of the vocal group.
France sighed-again, disbelieving in the fact that he was having to be the mature one-and about to make a comment on it, too, until a small gasp pulled all three of the nations out of their thoughts.
All conversations having crashed to a halt, the three froze. And at first, when they stood still, holding their breaths, it was like nothing had happened (perhaps they had just imagined the sound; ha ha, silly them), but still. There was a strange presence, now, that they were painfully aware of and couldn't deny. It was a resonating sensation, something deep in the sternum-the familiar feeling of another one of Them.
And they each had a sinking feeling as to who it might be.
Slowly, bracingly, they turned around, and found their assumptions had been correct. Behind them, gazing up curiously at them (yet very characteristically distrusting), was a pair of bright, young green eyes. Above the set protruded a very heavy bunch of dark eyebrows, as well as messy, uncontrollable sandy blonde bangs...which could all only resemble one person.
"...this...is what you would call irony...non?" France spoke quietly with a small smirk sent America's way.
And although the American didn't, indeed, see the Frenchman's face, he heard the tone anyway, and couldn't help but feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end in response.
Yes. It was very...ahem, ironic.
America swallowed and at that moment decided that he very much did not like role-reversals.