A/N: Hello everyone! * bows * Thank you for coming by my small, insignificant fic. I say that, but I am happy to announce that this will be my first PruCan themed fic! Woot!
Anyway, let me give some background. This fic will be based on the story line for the awesome game Mother 3. And, yes, there was a Mother 1 (a.k.a 'Earthbound Zero') and a Mother 2 (more commonly known as 'Earthbound'). Yeah, but I mostly wanted to write this fic for two reasons.
One, I wanted to make a contribution to the PruCan community.
Two, the story-lines for these games are so… Amazing! I'm just sick of people not knowing about them because Nintendo of America are a bunch of idiots! But anyway, yeah…
Warnings: This AU story will eventually include use of human names, some violence, mature situations, strong language, fantasy elements (I guess is what you can call them…), very few OCs (I know, but Hidekazu-sama has only so many nations) and instances of
TurkeyxGreece (Le gasp, right?)
And some very deeply hinted * cough * RussAme * cough * You didn't see that last one, though!
Oh well, let's get started shall we?
Disclaimer – Oh, yay! As if I haven't done enough of these by now. Tyranno's girl Productions has no type of ownership claims to Hetalia or to the Mother series. They are owned by Hidekazu Himaruya and Shigesatou Itoi respectively.
One day, you tell yourself, 'Huh. I have some spare cash and some room in my house. I feel like going to a vintage store!' So you go downtown and see what one of said stores has to offer. As you look around the aged everyday items, you can't possibly realize the stories that they have to tell.
For instance, you look on the sitting chair and notice that it's covered with an old tattered cape. You pick it up, determined to throw the raggedy thing away, but… You stop. The fabric is so soft, and it feels so warm. You take a deep breath and the faint smell of cinnamon and campfires fills your nose at the same time as a soft song fills your mind…
"Take a melody…
Simple as can be…
Give it some words, and,
But, you don't feel like going through that story. Or spending money that cape, for that matter. So you move along, seeing myriads of things displayed for sale by their old owners. Then, you see it. 'It' is a classic, shiny red with flower and flame engravings, electric-guitar. It's quite intriguing, so much to the point that you run your fingers long the engravings. Then, after looking to make sure no one was watching, you strum the still-tightened strings. As you do, another song fills your senses…
"I have not lived long as most
I don't have much in my small,
But, then again… You never were that musical of a person anyway. So you leave the guitar alone in favor of going further into the store. Now, you find yourself going towards the book-section. Maybe a good read is what you were looking for today? So you walk towards the haphazardly stacked shelves and look at the spine of book after book after book, trying to find something interesting…
"Ow!" You hiss as something falls onto your head. After the stinging subsides from pain to annoying, you look down and see the culprit: a good-sized sketching diary. As you pick it up, you can see that the edges of the pages are yellowing with age. Each page has fading images of animals, creatures straight out of the realm of fantasy, and people. As you turn the pages, a new song comes into mind…
"In a distant town…
As the dark grows deep.
Unfamiliar words resound,
Whispered and meek."
You shut the book and quickly walk to the cashier. "Are you sure you want this book?" The cashier asks as they ring you up, "It's already drawn in and stuff." You nod and pay the person before you walk out, taking the diary with you, determined that this is the story that you want to go further into.
Back in your home, you open the diary back up; allowing the story that it holds to bring you into its world… A world of tragedy, heartbreak, friendship, tyranny, love, and of the bond of family.