Chapter Text
Arya's POV:
"Kick his ass America!" I yelled as I clutched a pillow to my chest. I was watching Hetalia: Paint it, White for the billionth time this week. Currently, the Allies and Axis were fighting the Pictonians on the deserted island.
The battered, secondhand TV stood lonely sentinel on an equally used mini table, casting light over my ancient room. Anime screenshots, fan art, and demotivationals were liberally pasted over the hideous, slightly moldering plaster walls, and the ceiling was off-white. A single (somewhat broken) overhead and fan (loud and irritating), both turned off, loomed over me and my place on the bed. Various anime trinkets, occult books, small pocketknives, and rocks battled for dominion on every available flat surface, my bed included.
This was my domain from dinner to bedtime, seven days a week, 363 days a year. We spent two days away at relatives' places on Christmas and Easter, but other than that, my family never went anywhere. We lived in a large, spacious farmhouse on the remnants of what was once a prosperous farm, which now only served for horseback riding. Dad ran the biz, mom worked in town at a diner.
Yes, you heard me. In town. We lived that far off.
No crops grew on the farm and no animals raised their cacophonous calls, for which I was (somewhat) grateful. Occasionally I wished for a cat or a dog, but we were scraping by as it was. We weren't poor per say, but we had next to no leisure money either. All my anime merchandise was preciously bought on my own (meager) income. I'd turned sixteen last spring, and already had a job working in the hotel in town. Bellhops (or whatever we were called on the tax forms now) didn't get paid much, but it was enough for gas and a little left over.
Currently, my honey-brown eyes were intently focused on the shimmering screen, my arms crossed tightly over the plump pillow that normally served as a headrest, clutching it to the worn black tank-top that was the top part of my pajamas –the bottoms were old army fatigues that had belonged to my dad. Believe it or not, both were pretty comfortable to sleep in.
I sighed happily, content with the world for once –even if I was yelling at a TV screen alone in my room, for lack or any direct friends to yell at the TV with me. Maybe it was that lack of companionship, but lately, I had been feeling an… itch, so to speak. Everything was boring, I wanted something new.
Personally, I thought it was a late teenager cycle or something. Or maybe it was that thing where some animals got bored and destructive if they didn't have companions to stimulate them.
I snuggled my face against the pillow with a yawn, enjoying the now-memorized voices and lines of the Hetalia cast, at least until a persistent beeping interrupted my thoughts.
I sighed and reached over, my fingers snagging the plain black phone on my bedside table. Flicking the screen, my eyebrow rose as I saw the message from "animefreak123". We had been chatting back and forth for a few weeks now, having met on a Hetalia message board.
Hey Rye-Rye, how are things?
I absently paused the television before typing back
Just fine, busy watching Hetalia: Paint it, White again.
There was an oddly long pause, before he/she/they beeped in again.
Hey, I found a cool "spell" on some kind of site a few days ago, wanna try? It's supposed to take you to another universe of your choosing.
I chuckled, I couldn't help it. Well, I'm bored enough.
I typed in a quick "hang on" into my phone, then grabbed my "apocalypse bag" from the lonely corner where it held sole sway. It was a repurpsied rucksack that contained about four or five changes of clothes, several important survival items, some books, a knife or two, a pocket mirror, and various toiletries.
I had watched enough conspiracy/zombie apocalypse movies as a middle-schooler that I'd made bag like this for "just in case" situations, and anyway, it didn't hurt to be prepared. For example, if my parents went absolutely off-the-rails mental and decided to take our family on vacation, this bag would give me a decent head start on packing.
Replacing my pillow with it, I picked up my phone again.
Yeah sure, so are you gonna send it to me or what?
There was a long pause, then another cheerful beep.
Alright Rye-Rye, here ya go, and remember to call me if it doesn't work! I'll go and beat the crap out of the guys who suggested it and crushed your dreams!
This was followed by a second, much longer message, and I scrolled down, sucking in a deep breath. It seemed almost deceptively straightforward. Eh, what's the worst that could-
No. No way in hell I was stupid enough to finish that thought. But I mean... eh, really, what was the harm? I could kill an afternoon scribbling out some chalk and then fantasizing about the successful result. I'd spent weekends doing worse things.
Five minutes later, I was dressed in a spare outdoor outfit I had for hard work, some old jeans and a dark green T-shirt, my PJs packed in the bag slung over my back, and my blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. I was standing in the middle of a traditional pentacle I'd chalked out on the rough wooden floor of my bedroom, the Hetalia DVD (not in its case) laying before me innocently, since it was the nearest "focus item" not balanced precariously under a stack of other thing.
I considered the incantation written down on my phone nervously, feeling self-conscious.
If this doesn't work, I'm going to feel like the biggest idiot ever for trying it in the first place. I thought with a hard swallow, then cleared my throat twice and spoke.
"Santra badra winza na wonpa torana intrakantera, Santra badra winza na wonpa torana intrakantera," I recited carefully, then stood there, blushing slightly, waiting for it to work.
Nothing.
Not even a spark.
I sighed and my shoulders slumped downwards slightly. You knew it was stupid, a voice in my head said gently, but you tried anyway, so it doesn't matter.
I shook my head slightly at my folly, and reached down to pick up the DVD gently.
As soon as my fingers touched the smooth plastic, thogh my world exploded. Vertigo spun all around me, and I tried to take in a breath to shriek, but my throat seized as I felt the very essence of my being tumbling and cascading like a river overflooded. I felt very like what Alice must have as she tumbled down the metaphorical rabbit hole. The last thought in my mind was how I was going to kill animefreak123 –god, that was a stupid name, who used such a stupid username– and then my back hit cold water and I was drowning.
I thrashed and coughed, tried desperately to struggle towards the surface that was shrinking above me, but water rushed down my throat and I was weighed down by my clothes and backpack. My eyes started slipping closed, and I fought even more frantically against the pull of the water, but gravity was inevitable.
My head was ringing. Sounds registered oddly, as if I was still lying at the bottom of the riverbed. Something was pounding on my back, but all I felt was the vibrations that told me how much force was being used. Water streamed from my nose and mouth, and I was choking and coughing, desperately trying to hack in air. Dimly I realized I was on my hands and knees, and that someone was supporting my shoulders, holding me up, at the same helping me rid the water from my lungs by pounding my back. Finally, oh God finally, I could breathe, and sound rushed in.
"-I'M REALLY REALLY SORRY TO HIT YOU NICE LADY BUT YOU WERE DROWNING AND I DON'T WANT YOU TO DROWN AND OH MY GOD GERMANY HELP MEEEEEE!"
I twitched, valiantly trying to drag my head up. There's only one person in the world who sounds like that.
Sure enough, my watery eyes spotted an indecorous curl atop an auburn head of hair, bouncing merrily with the man's every movement. My eyes moved down to a concerned, no, panicked face, closed eyes and all. His expression rapidly turned relieved as our eyes met, though how he could see like that was beyond me. "Vee~, you're okay!" he said happily, and I smiled weakly.
"Uh, yeah. Just a bit… waterlogged." The sheer enormity of this was beyond me. I was talking to Italy. I was talking to Italy. He wasn't even real!
You know, you tried this spell with the intention of it working and you meeting him. You shouldn't be so surprised, my inner, sarcastic mind-voice pointed out witheringly, and I giggled nervously.
"Sooo… what were you doing in the river?" Italy asked cheerfully, squinting at me. I blinked back, nonplussed.
How does he squint with his eyes closed?! My inner voice shrieked, and I mentally tamped it down. Assuming it worked, and I'm pretty sure it did, I am in an anime. Laws of physics are kinda out of the picture, I thought reasonably, then realized he was still waiting for me to answer his question. "I, uh, I f-fell in. Tell me, are you… Italy?" I asked, and his face brightened.
"Si! Oh goody, you know my name! We can be best friends now, yay!" Without another word, he launched himself forward and hugged me tightly as I yelped in surprise. I wasn't used to surprise hugs.
Then the reality of my situation crept in again.
Italy, for real, legit Italy, is giving me a hug.
The innate Hetalia fangirl within me took over instantly, and I hugged back gleefully with a cheer of "PASTA!"
***Time Skip***
"-and you can meet big brother France and Germany and Romano –oh, he's really grumpy, but hug therapy makes everyone feel better!" Italy chattered, and I nodded and contributed an occasional "hmm", or "Oh really?", and "That sounds cool" for every thirty or so words.
Apparently I had nearly met an untimely watery demise in a river near Italy's house –in other words, in the actual country of Italy. Luckily, we had managed to recover my backpack and its contents, or I would have to borrow clothing from the perky Italian.
I'm glad I don't have to do that, I thought, eyeing the figure ahead of me critically with a slight smile. He's a lot shorter than me. I was tall for my age –in fact… I'm like what, five feet ten? Mathematically… wow, almost exactly 180 cms. Ha! I'm the same height as Germany! I thought with a grin, laughing to myself quietly.
"Hey Italy, wait up!" I said, realizing I was started to lag behind and hurrying to catch up. He waited obediently, and I suddenly realized something else as I came even. "Hey, I can crash at your place, right? I have no idea where my house is," I asked him, and Italy thought for half a second, frowning slightly.
"Sure thing, my bestest best friend ever! Vee~, I can't wait to tell Romano!" he chirped almost instantly, and I sweatdropped.
"Well, if you're fine with it…" I sighed, then grinned and adjusted my backpack. "What's for dinner?"
"PAAASTAAAAAA!"