HetaOni: Italy's Story

Chapter 1: The Rumors

The first thing that I'm aware of is the sound of footsteps whizzing past me. I blink a few times until everything comes into unbelievably sharp focus. Just like always... I'm standing in the hallway of the World Meeting Place. I've just told America about the Mansion. I listen to his footsteps as they get further and further away. Judging by the sound of his steps, he's excited and determined. I heave a sigh once I hear him open and close the door. The resounding slam causes me to wince and rub my ears.

There have been many loops in which I have gone blind, deaf, and even mute. Because of this, my hearing has become at least 3 times stronger than any of the other countries. My vision, which took about 50 loops to fully return in my left eye after I received my scar, is now sharply focused. My eyes are now instinctively drawn to movement, though that's most likely just a side effect of being in the Mansion for so long. My hearing is so honed that I can not only recognize who's who from their footsteps, but what they're thinking, where they're going, what they're carrying, if something's bothering them, what sort of mood they're in, and even what sort of physical condition they're in, all from their footsteps. It's become a very useful tool of mine.

The meeting won't start for a few more minutes. I glance at my watch. Time moves so differently outside of the Mansion... My mind and body have both adjusted to the Mansion's time, so I always have to keep an eye on the clock when I'm not on the Mansion's grounds.

I head in the direction of the restroom. It's unoccupied, as expected, and I take this chance to study myself in the mirror. I don't even blink at the bloodstained reflection staring back at me. It's normal, after a loop. It's just another time-fragment... a side effect of sorts. I blink a few times, and the blood is gone. Well, not really. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to wash this blood off of my hands... I think bitterly to myself.

I undo the magic on my left eye, to give myself a short look over. The scar itself is pretty obvious. It's clear that it was a major wound. Even the eyelid is scarred. In fact, somehow, the pupil itself was stretched. It now resembles a reptilian slit. The pupil is tinted red, most likely from the blood—after all, it did cut the actual eye—but the tinting doesn't affect my vision in any way. The rest of my eye is normal—golden in coloration, with icy blue specks.

For a moment, I let my masks fall, and look at the real me. I see a broken Italy. No, not broken... a shattered Italy. Shattered beyond repair. Deep in the depths of my eyes, I can see the fear, the pain, the agony of losing those I care for, over and over again. I can see the raw, burning hatred for the wretched Things that caused all of this. I can see the dying hope of escaping with everyone, forced to stay alive. I can see a broken, desperate, dying soul that is in constant agony and turmoil. Then I blink; and it's gone—hidden behind a mask of stone; emotionless.

I lock away my emotions once again. I lock away the fear of making another mistake; the pain of watching those that I care for die; the hatred for the Thing and its kind. And along with those, I also must lock away my joy, to protect what little of it I have left; the love for those that I call my family, for fear of being hurt once more; the relief that will sometimes appear after avoiding a death, because if I allow myself to let my guard down at the wrong time, then I will lose someone. And that, I cannot let happen again. I don't know how much more of this I can take...

I put my other masks back on, with my fake smile plastered on top. I took America's advice from the earlier loops. Sometimes, he'd tell me that I needed to learn now to smile more naturally, so I did.

Lastly, I place my left hand over my left eye, and silently chant the familiar spell. When I remove my hand, the scar is gone, and my pupil looks normal. "Ve~" I say to myself in the mirror as cheerfully as I can. Perfect.