Too Much Faith

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"Shut up!" My hands flew to my ears as I shook my head from side to side. His words cut deep, rubbing salt in old wounds. I mean, I could care less, I could, but at this point, I wanted to pound him into dust. "Oh yeah? Make me!" I growled lowly, my blood boiling like a pot of water. I could feel the heat rush up my cheeks as I threw my hands down. "Shut the fuck up you fucking wanker! I bet you wank on the couch while watching My Little Pony!"

France, the very nation whom I had...problems with, gaped. He clenched a fist and gritted his teeth, jabbing an accusing finger at my chest. "I'm not like that, I'm not! You know that more than anyone, (C/n)! I don't care what people accuse me of, I'm not like that!" He shouted, faltering in his step. France turned away from me, quickly exhaling with a hurt tone. "You're so mean to me!" 

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Frère, I was only kidding. Why are you so serious these days?" I mumbled. Placing my head on his shoulder, he turned to look at me, tears pricking his eyes. They were as infinite as the skies, as blue as the bluest seas, and held pain no one but himself could ever comprehend. I began to feel a bit bad for my previous actions; maybe I went too far. "Frère, c'est de ma faute." I uttered, brows furrowed in sincere apology. France lightly sighed, "Non, it was I who started it first... I should be apologizing, not you, sœur."

France's eyes softened, the tears which once were gathered melting away. He wrapped me in a tight hug, resting his head on the top of mine. "C'est de ma faute, not your's." He released me, smiling fondly at me. "Care for a walk around Paris?" 

"Oui."

Just as we began heading to the door of our shared apartment, I sensed something off. It was cold and seeped with anger so hot that I believed I would burn. "Frère..." I cast him a serious glance. "Do you feel that?" Just as those very words left my mouth, the world turned disappeared from my sights in a blur of black. 


"Urgh... Come on, wake up!" I felt a hand lightly slap my cheek. "Did she hit her head on the way here?" My eyes snapped open at the voice that was familiar, yet alien to my ears. The language, too, was not French, but Japanese! I suddenly felt thankful that I knew Japanese due to trade I did with Japan. Not only that, but I knew the anime Naruto quite well. I jolted into a sitting position, I nearly screamed at the man in front of me. He was in a kneeling position, a wild look of concern etching his face. "Y-you're Minato, the Konoha's Yellow Flash!" I placed my hands over my head, shaking my head left and right. "That can't be possible...you're from an--"

Minato slapped a hand over my lips, shaking his head. "Don't say it." I gently removed his hand, furrowing my brows. "Wh--"

"You are needed." Minato gave me a reassuring smile, an attempt to soothe my skeptic thoughts. He ruffled my hair, then, everything went dark.



"Excuse me, but are you alright?" 

My eyes snapped open, a teen aged boy staring down at me with a curious expression. I suddenly lost my breath at the sight, unable to comprehend an appropriate sentence. "Is this Heaven?" The teen furrowed his brows, concern beginning to write itself in his eyes. "No, this is Konohagakure." Itachi held out a hand, helping me up. "What is your name?" he coolly implored. I licked my dry lips in thought, heart beginning to speed up. My cheeks felt like they were on fire, my ears clogged with the sound of blood pumping. "I-I uh..." 

Itachi skeptically sized me up. "Where are your parents? You do know it is nearly midnight, yes?" I wracked my brain for a name, one that fit me and wasn't too foreign. "M-my name is (Y/n)." I shakily answered, attempting to slow my racing heart. "I see... What clan are you from?" 

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