Kalda was beginning to enjoy her singing lessons with Britain and the others.

Sure, she knew how to play the piano, but she thought that singing was a little more challenging.

Kalda practiced with each of the five men one on one during the rest of the week, and she had to admit that she had never been happier.

Russian lyrics, and most of the Russian songs she was taught in general, weren't that hard to learn at all.

They were dark and mysterious, and Kalda loved them because of that.

Chinese was easy to learn as well, mainly because there were a lot of root words that Kalda already knew.

French was fun to learn because Kalda impressed them with how easily she could roll her "Rs."

Then there was obviously English music.

America had taught Kalda his national anthem, and so Kalda sang it sometimes when she was bored or happy.

Britain seemed annoyed, but he kept his mouth shut about it out of kindness Kalda liked to believe.

Britain taught Kalda music that he had listened to while he was growing up, mostly Christmas-based music and church hymns.

Kalda groaned a little, shifting in her bed as the sun shone through her window and as her thoughts buzzed around in her head like flies.

Mmhmm, she groaned again, sitting up and shielding her eyes with her right hand.

"God, I love the sun, but do You have to make it come out so early?" Kalda questioned, looking at the ceiling and away from the window.

She got up, already knowing His answer.

Kalda got dressed, skipping down the stairs to see which male was going to teach her to sing that morning.

She entered the foyer, hoping to be greeted by all of them at once like usual.

Instead of being greeted by their happy faces and music, however, Kalda was greeted by moaning, groaning, and silence.

She saw five, passed out and drunk men on the floor in front of her.

Kalda saw empty, glass bottles littered all over the floor, and she picked one up to inspect it.

"Vodka," it read.

Of course, Kalda thought in annoyance as she looked at the passed out Russia.

She saw a few tea cups on the floor, too, and Kalda was confused.

How do you get drunk on tea? she questioned.

Kalda angrily went into the kitchen and grabbed a bucket of water, splashing them with it.

The men woke up with a start, and Kalda gave a frustrated sigh.

She wanted to say something to them along the lines of, "What? You all got drunk on me last night?"

However, what came out of Kalda's mouth instead was,

"Okay, who's stupid idea was this?"

The men groaned as they woke up from their hangover, all of them looking up at Kalda with tired eyes.

"Not...so...loud...Kalda," Britain said amongst his hiccups.

"Yeah," France whined, putting his hands over his ears.

"Oh, no!" Kalda loudly declined on purpose. "You better explain to me why the hell you're all drunk, or I'm going to report you!"

"Such vulgar language is not ladylike!" Britain scorned, but his speech was too slurred for any of that to make sense to normal ears.

Kalda sighed once she processed his slurred speech, feeling guilty about her behavior.

"Sorry, sorry," she replied, "it's just...I mean, come on! Seriously? What made you get drunk?"

"France-y pants started it!" Britain started off, pointing to the other blonde.

The nicknames, Kalda thought as she saw the hurt look on Britain's face. Oh boy.

She could also tell that he was super emotional right now.

First sign, Kalda confirmed. I'd recognize that sign anywhere.

"Nuh-uh!" France retorted. "America started it!"

"I blame this on China!" America drunkedly passed the blame.

"Seriously?" Kalda asked flatly. "China is like, the most responsible person here besides me."

"America spiked his tea!" Britain blurted out, spilling the truth.

"Amerika dared us all to do it," Russia admitted calmly.

"Ugh!" America groaned. "Everywhere I go, I'm always the victim!"

"You are not!" France butted in.

"Okay, okay, shut up!" Kalda yelled at them.

"Seriously, Kalda," Britain whined like a five year old. "Please stop yelling."

"Ugh," Kalda scoffed. "It's like you think that I'm your mother or something."

She went into the kitchen to make some coffee and tea, hoping that the drinks would ease their hangovers.

Kalda helped them stand up and walk over to the dining room table, giving them their respective drinks.

The tea went to Russia, Britain, China, who was still passed out for some odd reason, and France, while the coffee went to America.

Kalda made breakfast for all of them as well, wanting to make herself useful.

"Can I yell at you some more?" she mocked. "Or are your ears still sensitive?"

"Do you want an answer on how it started or why it started?" America questioned in confusion, still loopy.

"How about both?" Kalda snapped. "That'll save us all the trouble, and that's basically the same question."

"Well, like most drinking parties, it all started with a dare," Britain admitted, taking a graceful sip of his tea.

"What stupid dare was it this time?" Kalda sighed. "And believe me, I've heard them all."

Britain went on to explain that each of them claimed how one person could hold their alcohol better than the rest, and Kalda had to admit that she hadn't heard that answer before, but she still thought that it was stupid.

"Honestly, I thought that you were more mature than that," Kalda stated, disappointed.

They proceeded to eat their breakfast in silence, wanting to forget that that part of their morning had even happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kalda began reading her book on the Medieval Period in perfect, silent bliss, happy and content.

Then, the yelling started.

She could tell that it was coming from the back of the house, so she went outside to check it out.

Kalda got to the backyard, or more like that massive field behind a house on the outskirts of a village, and saw four of the five men playing a game together.

A team of two on each side, a net on each side as well.

"You can't beat us, France!" Britain cheered, and Kalda could easily see that he was wearing a uniform of some sort. "Russia and I are the best team that there ever was!"

The other three were wearing the same uniform as well, just different colors to represent themselves and their country.

"We'll show you!" China retorted, kicking the black and white ball towards the net.

Russia blocked the ball from going into the net, grinning.

"Nice defense, Russia!" Britain cheered.

Kalda was confused, but she watched anyway because of her personal stalking reputation amongst herself.

"In my place, we call this sport "soccer," America said from beside Kalda.

"What do they call it?" Kalda asked, gesturing to the other four.

"Football," America replied. "Our version is very different, though."

"How do you mean?" Kalda wondered.

"There's more fighting and tackling," America explained. "In their version of football, though, if you make a penalty, you're cut."

"But there's a penalty for every sport, right?" Kalda questioned.

"Of course," he answered.

"I thought that France and Britain would have teamed up," Kalda told America. "They seem like a good pair."

"They haven't told you?" America questioned with a smirk.

"Told me what?" Kalda replied.

"Those two have been at war for centuries, Kalda dude," America laughed. "Whenever there's a war, they fight against each other instead of with each other. It's confusing, I know, but that's just how they work."

"But they're together now," Kalda pointed out. "What's so different about a silly game?"

"They're just super competitive," America answered. "They would wrestle against each other if they had the chance."

"Hm," Kalda nodded, watching the two argue over a mistake that must have happened while she and America were talking.

"What are you talking about?" Britain yelled as he walked up to Kalda and America, France walking beside him. "You clearly kicked Russia in the shin!"

"Isn't zhat why you wear shin guards in zhe first place?" France argued back. "It's not my fault zhat he can't handle a simple kick in zhe leg!"

Kalda's eyes drifted off to Russia nursing his shin while China was checking for severe injury.

Kalda could only imagine what could have happened while she had looked away.

"You saw that, right Kalda?" Britain asked her, hoping to have a witness.

Kalda looked up at him with squinted eyes, the sun being directly in her face.

"Saw what?" she asked dumbly.

"You saw France kick Russia in the shin too, right?" Britain repeated, desperately wanting a second opinion.

"Well, uh, you see, I was actually talking to America, and-" Kalda stupidly stuttered, her face heating up.

"I saw the whole thing," America lied with a smirk, wanting to cause some trouble. "France gets the penalty."

"Ha, ha!" Britain cheered, pointing a finger at France. "See, I told you!"

"What?" France whined dramatically. "Zhat's not even fair! He wasn't paying attention eizher, just like my niece!"

"I'm fine," Russia grinned as China helped him limp over to the others. "Is just little scratch."

A gun shot scared Kalda and brought all of their attention to a person that she knew all too well.

"Switzy!" Kalda giggled as she ran up to the man holding a pistol in one hand and a yellow card in the other, a silver whistle in his mouth.

"That's not my name, and you know it," Switzerland glared, hating his nickname as he spit the whistle out of his mouth.

"I was just being silly," Kalda muttered. "Sheesh."

"What on earth are you doing here?" Britain snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at Switzerland. "Especially on my property?"

"You were being too loud," Switzerland replied, walking up to him with Kalda at his side. "I could hear you a few feet away."

"But dude, you live, like, super far away," America answered, still smirking about earlier.

"You do realize that I live just down the way, right?" Switzerland stated, pointing in the direction of his house.

"You look like a referee by holding up zhat yellow card," France nervously pointed out. "Any reason why?"

"Obviously someone needed a referee, and since I'm not playing, I decided to become one," Switzerland firmly explained.

He sat on a bench as he put his pistol back and into his belt, the yellow card being put back with his red and green cards.

Kalda didn't know what the cards were for, but she was pretty sure that she was going to find out soon.

"I suggest that you start over," Switzerland told them. "I feel like I missed a lot."

"Of course," Britain agreed, still slightly uneasy that Switzerland was present. "Do you want to give it a go, Kalda?"

"Um," Kalda drawled awkwardly, looking at Switzerland for an answer.

"What?" Switzerland asked, feeling uncomfortable by her staring.

"Is it okay if I play with them?" Kalda asked him.

"Why are you asking me?" Switzerland questioned. "I'm not your dad."

"You're close enough," Kalda replied.

Switzerland blushed as he rolled his green eyes.

"Yeah, sure, go play," he flatly agreed. "Just be careful, and don't break a leg or hurt anyone, okay?"

Kalda nodded as she joined Britain's team, America being unwillingly pulled onto France's team.

Switzerland blew his whistle, signaling them to start playing.

Kalda felt awkward playing against her uncle, but it was quite fun to see his shocked face whenever she stole the ball from him.

"Kalda, pass it over here!" Britain called to her, and she did just that.

"Catch!" Kalda grinned as she kicked the ball with the inside of her left foot, making sure that it went into the direction that she wanted.

For not playing the game before in her entire life, Kalda was getting the hang of it quite well.

Britain ran a little more, keeping the ball close to him as he did so.

He put his right foot back, kicking the ball into the net before China could even react.

"Whoo-hoo!" Kalda cheered. "Yes!"

"Seriously?" France angrily muttered to America. "You couldn't have interfered at any time during zhis round?"

"Chill, dude," America said as he put his arms up in surrender. "I only watch other people play. I've never actually played this game before either."

"Aw, stop being such a whiner," Britain smirked, entering the conversation. "Your team is doing quite well."

"Now that's good sportsmanship right there," Kalda grinned more.

She walked up to Russia to switch places with him to become the goalie now.

"Remember to catch the ball or deflect it every time it comes to you, got it?" Britain explained.

"If not, just give offense good hit," Russia grinned.

"Uh, slight problem with that," Kalda told them.

"What?" Britain asked, suddenly becoming a little worried.

"I've never caught a ball before," Kalda answered. "Or...at least not one that big."

Britain sighed, but Russia just kept on smiling as he replied with,

"Just hit ball with hands. Is easy."

Kalda nodded, agreeing to Russia's plan.

The game started as soon as Switzerland blew the whistle, Britain gaining the ball as soon as Switzerland dropped it at France and Britain's feet.

France groaned in exasperation, running after Britain to get the ball back.

America gained the ball now, running up to Russia and Kalda.

"Oh, crap!" Kalda yelled as the ball came hurtling at her face after Russia had dodged the ball.

Since Russia couldn't grab the ball according to the rules of the game, Kalda tried her best to catch it herself.

However, Kalda's fear of getting hit in the face with the soccer ball, or football depending on where someone was from, she supposed, overpowered her will to catch it.

Kalda closed her eyes and felt a sharp impact on her face, nose, her forehead especially, and all she could see was black.

Kalda heard a loud ringing in her ears, along with faint voices and massive, high-pitched squealing from what she assumed was Switzerland's whistle signaling a time out.

"Kalda?" she heard the echoing voice of Britain say. "Are you all right?"

"My...head and nose...hurt," Kalda mumbled as she slowly opened her eyes to a squint, feeling super loopy.

She closed her eyes again, feeling like she was losing consciousness.

Kalda felt strong arms pick her up, and then suddenly everything went still.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"VEST!" Prussia screamed at the top of his lungs. "VEST, VHERE ARE YOU?"

"I'M DOWN IN ZHE LIVING ROOM!" Germany called back, knowing exactly who was calling for him.

He heard loud thudding on the staircase, seeing his older brother coming into the living room.

"How long have you been down here?" Prussia asked, seeing his younger brother calmly reading the paper. "I've been calling you for a long time!"

"And zhat's vhy I haven't answered you zhe ozher times," Germany replied, looking at Prussia again.

"You're such a jerk!" Prussia answered. "You left zhe awesome me to deal vith zhose ozher two!"

Germany knew that his brother was talking about Veneziano and Japan, so he just rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Vhat did zhey do zhis time?" he sighed.

He's such a vhiner, Germany thought to himself. Sometimes, I vonder who's more sane around here.

"Zhe Italian refused to run laps like I had instructed him to do two hours ago, and zhe ozher one is cleaning up zhe house!" Prussia complained.

"Ja," Germany answered calmly. "Japan likes to make himself useful und Veneziano likes to ignore his training. Zhis surprises you vhy?"

"Ve, Germany," Veneziano started as he walked down the stairs, "what's with all of the yelling?"

"Oh, Prussia is just complaining again," Germany explained.

As usual, he thought to himself.

"Oh, I see!" Veneziano laughed. "He's being very loud, though. He interrupted my nap."

"See vhat I mean?" Prussia whined. "He's such a slacker!"

"Ve, Germany," Veneziano whined as well. "He hurt my feelings."

"Germany-san," Japan said as he entered the conversation, "sorry to interrupt, but it appears zhere is yerring in here?"

"Ja, zhank you, Japan," Germany sighed, annoyed. "Look, Prussia, you need to calm down. Veneziano, please follow my brozher's orders und do your training. I believe zhat you are two hours behind?"

"But training is so boring," Veneziano complained.

"Japan, vhy don't you join zhem as vell?" Germany suggested. "I vill come out in a minute. I just need to finish reading zhis article."

"Hai," Japan replied, following Veneziano and Prussia outside.

Germany closed his eyes, putting the back of his head on the chair.

Zhey can be so annoying sometimes, he thought to himself.

He decided to walk outside, leaving his newspaper behind.

Before he opened up the door, though, the headline of the article entered his mind again.

"Long Lost Island Girl Finally Found?" was what the headline read.

Underneath, it showed a picture of who Germany assumed was Kalda, Veneziano's little sister, that had snuck into the Meeting a long time ago.

The picture was just a quick snapshot, though, so it was a little blurry.

He couldn't tell if it was Kalda or not, but Germany was pretty sure that it was her.

The article went on to say that Kalda had dreams that told the future, and other dreams that talk about her past.

Germany knew that Kalda could be a very powerful ally to him, and maybe that she could put an end to the pitiful War that his new dictator had started.

"VEST!" Prussia yelled at Germany again. "YOUR MINIONS AREN'T DOING ZHEIR TRAINING!"

Germany sighed as he opened up the door, walking over to them.

I need to find Kalda as fast as possible, he told himself. I vant her on mein side before she chooses zhose stupid Allies.

Suddenly, before Prussia could complain to Germany once more, he heard the sound of airplane engines above him.

The four of them looked up, and Germany gasped.

Nein, not again! Germany thought to himself in horror. Bomber planes, British ones at zhat!

Sirens went off all around him, signaling to everyone else what was going on.

"All of you, inside!" Germany demanded, forcing his brother, Veneziano, and Japan into the house as he quickly followed them.

They ducked for cover in the house, hoping that the planes would fly over them.

His heart suddenly dropped, though, as he heard an explosion a few blocks down the road.