[Long - Split Into Two Parts]

"...and that leaves the entire world to wonder what happened? What was the cause of the war and how did it end? Government officials and world leaders are unable to give full explanation with what happened in the past months. Are they telling the truth? Many like to say that they aren't, but apparently, there's plenty of evidence in their favor. They were quick to add to the military and medical support with other nations patching with each others' battle wounds. And the biggest shocker!"

"No casualties! For both sides of the war!"

"Reports of the opposers who had initially been attacking us had all become sane and brought back to their senses at exactly 12:35 PM, worldwide at all of the Centers. Were they all brainwashed? Was this a mind-controlled operation? If so, who's the mastermind? Where is he or she now? Will they be a threat in the future? What was the real purpose of this war? We'll have some of our world leaders discuss more of this with us right after this."

America watches the TV in his paper-riddled office go to the commercial break. He sighs and turns the TV off. His boss had been very privy about getting information about what the heck went down these past months. America stood firm to his ground and said that the nations took care of everything and was a situation only they were able to take care of. All the other nations told their bosses pretty much the same thing. Now all the world leaders are convinced that something supernatural happened. Did these seemingly immortal personifications have demons or something looking for them? Were they going to bring danger to the people?

Well, America said not to worry because it's gone now and nobody died, did they?

This was the part he was most proud of. The heck, a war with zero deaths! He pumped his fist in the air making a small 'yes!' celebratory cheer. What were the odds? What. Were. The. Odds??? They had bombs, they were practical terrorists. And what did it take? Some stupid fandom with a ten-year pent-up excitement to freaking-HOW, THOUGH?!

America was chuckled as his thoughts went back to the TV program. He clicks it on for a few seconds to hear the reporter say...

"...And that's the question people are still asking even today. All of us stand here alive from what felt like a global 9/11. Christmastime, dear citizens of America. Relish it and be happy. This is the Third Anniversary of the Hetalian War. Why it's called the 'Hetalian War'? We will never know."

"That's it for tonight's program. We'll see-"

*click*

"Happy Third Anniversary, Hetalians," America whispered with the nostalgia of a precious war that happened three years ago...

~~~~~

"Never in my life have I see so many people come to the world meeting, aru," China mused as his company, Hetalian General Eastern China, or Mei, chuckled next to him.

"You said that last year, aru," she smiled jokingly. She was a shy but humorous general, after all.

"I feel like I'll be saying it for years to come," the old nation cracked a grin of his own.

"Well, keep saying it even after this generation of us is gone," a sage, American-accented voice tittered with a clunky and metallic step.

The two Chinese turned around to see a tall American blond with glasses, a white leather jacket with swirling green designs, her nation's flag embroidered on her back and right arm, like every other Hetalian general in the room. But unlike the other generals, she wore white shorts that showed off her shiny, metallic leg prosthetics. There was a paint job done on them with a waterproof varnish that gave it its glossy look. The design was the same one on her Hetalian uniform that the nations gifted to them so long ago. Sometimes people would call her Android Amelia because of this.

"Amilaji*," Mei smiled a small smile, "You are looking better. You look as if walking had never been a problem."

"Oh, shut up," Amelia laughed, "You get your legs used as the nuts of a nutcracker. That dang hurt, y'know?"

"I can tell, Amilaji, I can tell," Mei waved down her hands in a joking and reassuring motion.

(*Amilaji: A somewhat eastern version of how to say 'Amelia'. This is also used for Mongolians and Russians. Though, a better Russian name for Amelia is Amilashka. Fun fact, ey~)

~~~~~

The nations had smuggled their fellow, capital-bearing generals with them to the world meeting every anniversary. They're still unknown but highly wondered about by the world, the world leaders wanting to know about them the most. So the nations had to bring them to the anniversary party-ahem, the world meeting in secret.

Oh, skip this being some boring world meeting, it's Christmas!

"Remember two years ago when you guys gave me these? First anniversary?" Amelia chuckled, clinking her two prosthetics together, the varnish and solid build of the legs making a metallic porcelain sound.

"...And what you've done with the wheelchair after you had them securely on your pelvis," CJ muttered exasperatedly.

"Hm? You sound American," Switzerland grunted in the direction of the black-haired Hetalian American general, "I thought you were some Asian general or something."

CJ promptly turned around and faced Switzerland with her emotionless face per usual, "Mr. Switzerland, pleasure to meet you. We thank the Swiss generals for assisting us in the war, despite their neutrality."

"That's me," Switzerland sighed, "My Hetalians are very different..."

"You think you have weird Hetalians?! Amelia and Midwest are both from me!" America slung an arm around Amelia and CJ.

"Midwest?" France cocked a brow, talking to his general.

"American Hetalian General Midwest USA, Mr. France," CJ said in one breath.

Amelia visibly cringed at this, "...Ya don't have to use the entire title. Makes us look so dang stuffy," she chuckled, "You have any idea how long it took for us to get her to stop calling everyone by their official name?"

"Official name?" America laughed, "Oh, wait, are you talking about us? Like, 'United States of America' instead of plain, old, 'America'?"

"I don't do that anymore, I promise," CJ murmured with a little less confidence. It was weird. It was like she was embarrassed. Well, kinda...

Then, finally, the Slavik duo made themselves present, "Ah! подсолнух, you're here!" a familiar Russian bounded over to them and hoisted CJ off the ground, who only made a small noise of surprise, otherwise, she looked kind of exasperated.

"Aw, nothing scares you," another voice chuckled.

CJ turned to face the two speakers, "General Eastern Lithuania, General Western Russia," she nodded to each of them in turn, "Good to see you both again."

"Yeah, подсолнух, glad to see you're still able to attend!" Anya smiled brightly, getting a chuckle from Amelia, the two definitely looking like the veteran friends they are.

The shorter American general continues to surprise and makes a minuscule expression of shock and confusion. She slowly pointed to herself, "'подсолнух'," she repeated, fluently, "You mean me?"

"Who else was I talking to, you silly American?" Anya gave off a loud bellow of laughter.

"It just sounded like a nickname more an appropriate for General Eastern USA," CJ glanced at said general before returning her gaze back to Anya.

"Nope! It's for you!" she slapped her on the back, "Good to see that America can still squeeze you in the festivities!"

"Right, since only the capital-bearing generals are supposed to be here," Tori glanced around the busy meeting room thoughtfully.

"I appreciate being included in such an event," the stoic general nodded her head in thanks.

"Oh, please," Anya exaggeratedly rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air, "You can ditch the whole soldier posture and whatnot, let your hair down, geez!"

And thus the night pulled out crazily as normal.

~~~~~

Clicking metal to the cold stone of the balcony slowly filled the air. With each languid and tired step, Amelia strolled up to the edge of the spacious area, leaning against the stone top of the elaborate railing. She tucked the ankle of one of her prosthetics under the other, propping her elbows to the rails. Pushing up her glasses, she gazed at the night sky that was clear and no snow was falling.

"...This is certainly a better weather condition than the previous years."

She didn't have to turn around to know who monotonously said those words. Instead, she laughed and stared up at the clear night sky, watching the moon and stars. Amelia heard boot footfalls clacking in her direction and stop next to her. They didn't lean on the railing with her or glanced in her direction. Just stood there, military straight and with the posture of a statue.

"You can let your hair down, y'know," Amelia chuckled.

"In both contexts, I prefer not to," CJ responds, her high, black ponytail wavering in the slight breeze. Amelia's never seen her with her hair literally down. But in the figurative speech?

"You're seventeen, now, ain'tcha?" Amelia said.

CJ glanced at Amelia in mental suspicion before returning her gaze forward, "...Yes."

"...Mm, a year short," Amelia hummed.

"General Eastern, I need to be at least twenty-one to drink alcohol," CJ sighed.

"Dang it," Amelia chuckled, "I feel like out of all of us, you're the only one that stayed tiny."

That looked like it hit a small nerve, "...I'm growing," Amelia swears that she sees something dangerously close to a pout.

"Yeah, I can tell, don't worry," Amelia gave her a hearty slap on the back, her hand then resting on CJ's shoulder, "Finally past five foot?"

CJ didn't say anything, but Amelia caught her brow crease a little before going back to normal.

"So," Amelia breathed, "How's your wrist and sister been?"

The shorter American general didn't exactly hide her surprise. Her brown eyes widen behind her glasses as her head whirled around to meet her superior's bright blue gaze. Amelia smiled simply and almost solemnly. They never really talked about her sister or what happened to her wrists.

"You never really told me what happened," Amelia murmured.

"Just," CJ faltered, seeming to be relieved for some reason, "she's alive now, nothing to worry about."

"What's her name?" Amelia asked, feeling more and more curious about what made the stoic general slip up.

"...Aria," CJ said quietly, "She'll be returning to position probably by next year," she glanced at Amelia, "She's about your age, I am supposing. I do not know your age and I won't ask. I suppose she acts kind of like General Western Russia and Eastern Lithuania."

"Like Anya and Tori? Huh," Amelia mused, imagining it. She proceeds with her next question, "What happened to your wrists?"

CJ stiffen up. Stiffer than usual. Amelia saw her pull down her jacket sleeve; the same jacket from three years ago. Amelia caught the sight of bandages. She wondered. Shouldn't that wound have healed long ago? And why must she still be so military stiff after the war?

"...There was a bombing that happened in Des Moines, Iowa," CJ mumured, her voice getting quiet, "Since that was my sister's post, she had me tag along with her."

"What about your parents?" Amelia tilted her head to the side, a little afraid of how she'll answer.

Her suspicions prove correct when CJ's head dipped a little and her eyes slowly closing, refraining from scrunching up, "They're dead. Been dead for a...for a long time. Aria is my only caretaker and I intend to stay with her the whole way," she lifted her head, fixed her posture and stared back into the snowy landscape, "After all, who else do I have?"

Amelia didn't say anything to that. Her parents are old living in California, oblivious to what their daughters have done and where they have gone. The casualty counters from all around the globe had been run through millions of times to check if there was one person who died because of this war. None have been found and many don't know if they should be suspicious or happy about this.

So hearing of death felt wrong to Amelia's ears. But it felt so close. So real. Why? Zero casualties. Amelia repeated in her head. Zero casualties, what is there to worry about? She leaned lower into the railing, staring down at the snow below, "Yo, random question," anything to make this weird feeling go away, "What does 'CJ' stand for, anyway?"

"...I...nothing," she said at last.

While many forget about this, Amelia had deeper reading-the-atmosphere skills than one would think, as an American Hetalian, like CJ. She scooted closer to her, "Mm, I don't think so," she stood up, her hands still on the railing, "Ever heard of reading the atmosphere and deep into the lines?"

Amelia smirked at CJ's eyes slowly narrowing into slits. She hadn't seen her do that before, "Ever heard of reading in too deep and misinterpreting the situation?" she threw back, keeping her voice even-keeled.

"Ouch," Amelia chuckled, "You do have some clapbacks in that serious head of yours."

"I do not know what you're talking about," CJ's face did not go back to its normal expressionless state, which makes Amelia more curious.

"Can I drop in a penny for my own thoughts?" Amelia faced CJ, who did not face her back, "Are you homophobic?"

...anything to get rid of this terrible, terrible, terrible feeling...