Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 11Austria waited outside the bedroom door, tapping his fingers against one another. The doctor had wasted no time in arriving and beginning the examination, and yet a great deal of time had passed since the door shut. Anytime an unpleasant thought imposed itself on Austria’s mind, he replaced it with “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.” Still, time wore on and his strategy was failing him. At long last, the bedroom door opened.
“Come in, please,” said the doctor. Resisting the urge to run to the bedside, Austria entered the room. Inside, Hungary lay nestled in the centre of the bed. She was resting with her arms folded behind her head and a peaceful look on her face. A serene smile graced her lips as she watched him approach.
“Thank goodness you’re alright,” Austria said.
“Better than alright,” said the doctor. “There is good news.”
“Wait, wait,” said Hungary, si
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 10In panicked heartbeats and hushed whispers, Austria and Hungary scrambled for a plan. Many rooms away, Chibitalia was still practising. Austria could not believe that this example of precocious diligence was related to that odd man waiting outside.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Hungary said, although her voice betrayed that she suspected it wasn’t. Unexpectedly, she stumbled backward. Austria caught her just before she would have hit her head of the bust of Mozart.
“I hate that thing,” she said faintly. Austria looked at her in concern. He had never seen her look so strained.
“I’m fine, Austria,” she said. “Just a little dizzy.” As one, they looked at the door. The anachronistic stranger was probably still waiting there. Gentle, clumsy notes continued to flow from the music room. Austria gripped Hungary tighter.
“We must act now.
Hetalia: Sweet Child Of Mine, ch 9Hungary awoke that morning to the sound of musical notes. Just the notes - not really music. The sounds were plain, clear, and orderly, yet punctuated often enough with missteps and awkward pauses. She found her slippers and wandered down the hall to investigate. As she approached the music room, she remarked how unusual it was for the door to be left wide open. Peeking inside, Hungary could not believe what she saw.
Not only was Chibitalia inside the room, but he was actually seated at the piano bench. Technically, he was seated atop a stack of books on the piano bench, but he was indeed playing. Austria stood beside him, hands folded behind his back, as he watched the young child navigate the scales. Another batch of eight notes concluded. Chibitalia looked up at Austria for approval.
“Again,” Austria said with a nod. “And this time, remember to only use the correct finger for each key.”