Chapter Text
January 1, 1942 - Washington DC, USA
Sasha was flying over the Atlantic, as one does, to go from Europe to Southeast Asia the long way. There wasn't much of a rush, and she'd missed feeling the salty ocean breeze filling her lungs in a way flying over land just couldn't do. Plus, she'd be damned if she had to go through the freaking Caucasus Mountains, stupid Ural Mountains, or those godforsaken Alps for the billionth time ever. She could totally just go around them, but where was the fun in that?!
Right as Sasha saw the foggy beaches of the east coast, a giant shiver went straight down her spine. Her large wings paused in the air, before remembering that they were supposed to be keeping her afloat. It was her seventh sense again, telling her that a country was nearby. But that shouldn't be possible, because she was still floating above the Atlantic, a few kilometers away from the land, and there were no ships close enough to warrant such a strong reaction out of her. Which only meant ..
Oh gods. Sasha could feel it- not her sixth sense or her seventh sense, but rather, a gut feeling (despite no longer having a tangible gut at the moment)- something big was about to happen. Big enough for lots of countries to gather, at the very least. Assuming that the countries were gathered at Washington DC, the closest major city she could remember at the moment (Sasha was never good at remembering these sorts of things. Whoopsies), there must've been at least over 15 for her to feel it in spite of the distance. Yikes. Death would probably find a way for someone to die twice just to kill her if she didn't make sure nothing bad happened at what she guessed was a big meeting involving lots of countryhumans. Oh, great heavens above, when could she retire, and why hasn't she retired already? But she knew exactly why she's been working this job for so long. Not that she'd ever admit it.
Gusts of wind wrapped around her wings as she propelled herself towards the capital city. She was right when guessing Washington DC, somehow, even with her very limited knowledge of the land. Hey, it was only named Washington DC three centuries ago! Don't blame her if she still called it the "land where Nacotchtank were", or even the "place with Virginia bluebells," though that is a pretty vague term. The USA, with all of its 48 states, was like a little baby in Sasha's eyes. He was just a wee lad, which sounds really weird when considering how they look basically the same age, appearance-wise.
As she got closer. her seventh sense went absolutely insane, bouncing off the non-existent walls of her body like a rubber ball. There was probably over twenty countries, in that case. She really didn't want to do this now. But, 'tis the life of the working class.
Sasha landed on top of a pole right outside the White House, flying an American flag in the sky. She fluttered down, using her wings like a parachute to slow the descent before casually walking right through the front doors, as if she owned the place. Being intangible had its perks, indeed. The inside of the White House wasn't nearly as white as the outside, though that was to be expected- presidents would go crazy working in the stress-inducing, asylum-like space the place would've turned into if the inner walls were as white as the outer walls. Then again, no president is, in Sasha's opinion, every fully sane either- not when they can convince the majority of a country to vote for them. Anyone with their workload would go crazy. But hey, as long as they get the job done, right?
After phasing through a few more walls and climbing a set of stairs, Sasha made it to a very red room- red carpets, red decorations .. weird. Whatever. What really caught her eye was the almost dizzying amount of countryhumans, all lounging around this one place. After counting one by one, Sasha concluded that there were about twenty-two countries. Twenty-two! What in the worlds could be going on today?!
Most were, of course, European countries- while this war was being called "World War II", the focus was really just on Europe, as per usual. She should go to Tuvalu or something, and meet their countryhuman.
There were, however, countries not technically from Europe, like the Commonwealth. Some Asian countries were also there, but there were too many flags for Sasha to name everyone. She could barely deal with one country at a time. Now there were twenty-two, all jam-packed in a single room??
Sasha paused her internal rant, frowning. Her pitch black eyes flit around the room, recounting. Yep, still twenty-two. So why did she feel four more countries within the vicinity? Were they in another room? She glanced back at the countryhumans, debating. Eh, they'd be fine without her. Surely it'll be okay.
And with that final thought, Sasha flew through the door again, feeling her way to the other four countries.
-
Oh, goddammit! Of course, of all the countries, it had to be these ones again- USSR, USA, Britain and the PRC. She wasn't annoyed at Britain or the PRC; she'd only really met them (during this war, at least) once. But USSR? Again? And she really didn't want to see USA again, because she was sure she'd seen him peeking his eyes open when she saved the guy during the Pearl Harbour ordeal. Ahaha, if Death found out ..
Anyways. The PRC was older than she'd remembered- it had been a little over four years, after all. Kids grew up so fast .. even when that kid was the personification of a highly-influential country. The other three looked about the same as last time- USA was relaxing on a swivel chair, in a suit that exuded confidence, while USSR was in rather warm clothes, eyeing the American's nonchalant attitude at, well, everything, and Britain rested stiffly on her own chair. The atmosphere was horrendously awkward, considering that these were supposed to be the "Big Four." Sasha was getting secondhand embarrassment at this point. The tension was thick enough to be cut with even the dullest of knives. Yikes.
"So .." USA said, immediately bringing all the attention towards him. "The war. What're we gonna do 'bout it?"
"That's how you start this meeting?! You daft idiot!" Britain complained in response, immediately purifying the thick fog of unease that had blanketed over the four. USSR immediately went to agree with Britain, while the PRC merely watched in amusement. Sasha, standing in the corner of the room, rubbed her temples in an attempt to keep herself focused. She couldn't get annoyed at the countries for being, well, countries. Not when she had to listen to what they were saying.
..
Oh.
Oh shoot.
This had to be a joke. Now, of all times?
Sasha's sixth sense really had to go off now, right when they were about to start the meeting?!
Oh, for the love of-
Sasha flew up, right past the roof to float above the White House. It was definitely a country about to be killed- somewhere really close by as well. It was probably one of the countries in that red room, but .. somehow, that didn't feel quite right. In fact, Sasha thought with a startled and confused frown, I can't feel them at all! Just what was going on in this not-so-white White House?! It was as if the one that was about to die wasn't even alive yet.
Alive .. ah, this had to be some twisted joke that Death was playing with her, right? But knowing Death, that probably wasn't the case. Everything lined up just a little too perfectly: the meeting, all those countries, the Big Four- the points were all being connected like pins on a corkboard. It was annoying. Really annoying. Sasha had to save someone that, quite literally, wasn't "alive" yet, because the person she has to save wasn't created yet. But they would be, once that stupid meeting progressed, so she had to act fast. Find out what the cause of death was. Eliminate the threat. Surely that was easy enough, right?
Sitting on the top of the White House, as one does, Sasha closed her eyes, ruffling the snow-white feathers of her wings occasionally. Her sixth sense was directing her to .. the library?? Uh, okay? Sasha flew down towards the library that she didn't know existed, glancing around before her eyes zeroed in on a large, glowing chandelier in the middle of the room. It was probably made of glass, reflecting light to every corner of the room dazzlingly and shimmering proudly. It also looked very sharp.
If I were to take one of those pieces of glass and stab someone .. ahem, anyways.
She flew towards it, squinting at the sheer brightness of it. It didn't take long for her to notice that the cord holding the huge chandelier up was on the verge of snapping. Yep, it was definitely the cause of death. Now that Sasha knew, she had two options- either fix the chandelier, somehow, or push the new countryhuman away before they would be crushed to death. The first one was less stressful, so she'd try that out first.
Tape, tape .. ah, there it is! Sasha yoinked a roll of masking tape from some random cupboard, wrapping heaps of tape onto the cord until it became twice as thick. The chandelier, in response to all the sudden movement, swayed gently. She frowned. Yeah, tape isn't going to work. I need something stronger, like glue, or-
Sasha's thoughts were abruptly stopped when a flash of glowing light appeared on the table right below the chandelier. The biologically immortal being closed her eyes instinctively, her nose crinkling as the light slowly dimmed. It all happened in less than a second, so Sasha wasn't even sure if it had actually happened. When she glanced down, however, her doubts were washed away like a young child's dreams drawn in chalk on the sidewalk on a rainy day. Right underneath the chandelier, curled up on the table and in the perfect location to die, was a young boy that appeared to be no less than five, wearing what could only be called a burlap sack.
The boy had short, black hair and rather pale skin- in other words, he looked like a human. Even when countryhumans had a veil on, servants of Death like Sasha could see through it, and yet, the boy had no flag of his face, no distinct colours dyeing his hair and skin. What was this kid the personification of, then? What the hell was going on in that meeting, dammit?!
Sasha shook her head. Now was not the time to be questioning things, even though she'd much prefer to do just that. Whatever and whoever the boy was, it didn't matter, because either way, he was about to die very, very soon.
Aaaand she jinxed it, didn't she? The second Sasha thought that, the chandelier started creaking as the layers of tape did nothing to stop it. The winged woman hastily flew down, thanking whatever deity listening for the fact that the boy was asleep and no one else was in the library as she picked him up and flew away just as the cord finally snapped. Sasha covered the boy's ears- partially because they were probably way more sensitive and mostly because she didn't want him to wake up- momentarily going deaf herself as the glass chandelier let out an ear-splitting crash, cracking against the wooden table. Sasha had instinctively turned herself, and by extension, the boy, invisible and intangible, so the piercing glass shards skirt right past them instead of into them.
Sasha's ears rung loudly as she sat, dazed and invisible in the corner of the room with her hands still clasped tightly over the boy's small ears. Once the ringing died down a little, she could make out the sounds of many rapid footsteps coming closer and closer. The other countryhumans must've heard the chandelier fall, she thought numbly, still staring at nothing in particular. It was just so loud-
Right as the door started creaking open, Sasha panicked, flying off while still carrying the young boy in one arm. She eventually landed in an abandoned building, setting the boy upright on a crusty old pillow she'd found before finally being able to calm down, turn them both tangible, and realize that she had basically just kidnapped a child. It wasn't just a child, either- it was a countryhuman! What he represented, she didn't know, but no five-year-old appeared with a bright flash of light wearing a burlap sack underneath a safety hazard!
The black-haired boy started stirring, groaning as he rubbed his eyes. Sasha quickly changed her appearance into something more normal- a white dress shirt tucked into a long, blue skirt that reached her ankles, with brown boots, thin silk gloves, and a blue bandana to cover a majority of the pinkness of her hair. Her wings were gone and her scythe, which she'd forgotten she was carrying this entire time, had become an umbrella (hey, umbrellas could really hurt someone if they wanted to) as the boy blinked to reveal hazelnut eyes that shimmered even in the dark, abandoned building they were in.
"Who .. где .. 什么?" <Who .. where .. what?> he muttered, glancing around before his eyes inevitably met Sasha's sinking, obsidian ones. Wow, three whole languages at once? The boy stared unapologetically, looking like he was about to either burst out crying, yell at Sasha, or spontaneously self-combust. He did none of the three, surprisingly enough, and just rudely pointed a finger right in Sasha's face.
"我在哪儿? Кто ты? And why are your eyes like that?" <Where am I? Who are you? And why are your eyes like that?> he asked pompously, as if he was hot stuff. Sasha had to resist punching a child because he was a bit rude. She smiled, crouching down to meet his gaze at eye level.
"You're in an abandoned building in Washington DC, USA. My name is Sasha. My eyes are just like that. Does that answer your questions?" She tilted her head at him, keeping her cool. She was not about to get petty with a kid that was literally born a few minutes ago. "Now it's my turn. Do you know who you are, and what you represent? Do you know that it's basic human courtesy to not point at people?"
Whoops. The passive-aggressiveness must've slipped out again. The boy, in response, narrowed his eyes, puffing his chest out. "Ну конечно. I'm .." <Well, of course! I'm ..> He faltered, looking much less confident now. "Huh? 我 .. 我是谁?" <Huh? Who .. who am I?>
The boy looked like he was about to be on the verge of an existential crisis, so Sasha loosely held his hand, prompting him to look up. She grinned, thinking about how much the boy acted like an overdramatic Oliver. "Why don't I give you a name then? Starting today, you're Jeremy, understood?"
The boy stared and blinked for a few seconds, before his eyes lit up. He crossed his arms, acting as if he didn't like the name one bit when it was very obvious that he did. "Bah! 真无聊啊. Понял," <Bah! How boring. Understood,> he grumbled, glancing away. "Могу ли я получить новую одежду? 我很冷," <Can I get new clothes? I'm cold,> the boy- Jeremy- complained, reminding Sasha that he was still wearing a burlap sack in the middle of winter.
"Right, right. Of course, Jeremy."
And as Sasha quickly borrowed (stole) some clothes from the store (she'd pay later, okay?!), she finally realized, a little late, that she was probably stuck taking care of this prissy kid for a while. He had no guardian, no money, no knowledge, no nothing! Sasha wasn't cruel enough to leave this kid in a busy city in January. Plus, nobody knew of his existence since he was literally just born. In other words, he would probably die unless some miracle or coincidence happens that works in his favour. Sasha knew, having worked with miracle makers, that they didn't come nearly as often enough for her to bet a kid's life on it.
So now, along with work, she now had a kid to keep alive .. oh, for the love of-
-
"I know we're here to discuss the war, but I'd like to also talk about a certain pink lady," USA said, looking comically serious. Britain and China raised their eyebrows, glancing at each other with the same confused expression as the USSR merely sighed.
"You don't know if they've met her. Must you talk about her at every chance you get?" USSR responded in a thick Russian accent, exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. China decided to speak up, tilting her head curiously at the American's words.
"A pink lady? Who?" she asked, her English not quite as fluent as the other three but still understandable. She had only been learning English for a few years, after all. USA smiled rather manically, as he always did when he found a new mystery to uncover.
"She's in her early or mid-twenties, I believe. Light pink hair, with pitch black eyes? Have you ever met anyone with that description, China? Or you, Britain?"
While China took a bit of time to muse and scour through her memories, Britain's eyes turned into saucers as she remembered the features. Her red-and-white eyes locked onto the American's immediately; her expression was now a mixture of disbelief and confusion. "With .. with angel wings, right? And she also knows that guy?"
"Angel wings?" China muttered, confused, as the USA perked up. "Yeah, her! So she's even interacted with you, huh? Interesting .."
The USSR groaned. He knew how excited the capitalist could get when he found out more about his new mystery. The Russian turned towards China, who appeared to want to say something but didn't know the right time to butt in.
"How about you, China? Have you met anyone with pink hair, black eyes and angel wings?"
China hesitated as the focus shifted towards her. She still wasn't quite used to all this attention. "I don't know about the angel wings, but I have met someone with pink hair and black eyes .."
"So she hid them from you. Fair enough, fair enough .."
China fought back a scowl. What the hell was "fair enough" supposed to mean? Was that a diss or something?! "Anyway," she said, a little louder. "I met her during the .. massacre of my capital. I'm pretty sure she distracted Japan before pulling me out of sight. She saved 哥哥 .." <brother>
The Chinese countryhuman got silent as the topic shifted towards the massacre and her brother- both very sensitive topics for someone that was still quite young. "Mm. She saved 哥哥 and helped me get away. I'd never forget."
The room was rather silent after that. Most of the other countries didn't have as devastating, traumatizing massacres to be saved from.
"I see. Thank you for the information, China," USA said with a nod, to which China cheerfully said, "No problem!" to. The American turned to the Brit, who was fidgeting in her seat.
"And you, Britain? Tell us about your experience with her."
Britain sighed, pushing her hair back. The stares she received were expectant. "This is peer pressure, you know. But I am willing to tell you, if both you and the USSR reveal your own interactions with this strange lady."
"Deal," USA said easily, not faltering in the slightest. Britain, mildly concerned, rolled her eyes and started. "Well, it was the day of France's surrender. I also went because he was being a wimp, and that guy had the nerve to pull out a gun. When he shot, however, the pink-haired girl, with large white wings, appeared right in front of France, shielding him."
The crowd listened intently, gasping at just the right moments like a practiced audience. Britain wanted to throw herself off the London Bridge. She was the oldest, sure, but did was she really telling this like it was story time in kindergarten?
"Those two talked as France and I watched. He called her an angel, but then she denied it at the end. Blah blah blah, France surrendered. End of story, and don't you dare clap, America!"
The USA, whose hands were already about to meet, paused, pouting like a child. But his face showed that he was actually quite interested in what the British woman had just revealed.
"Interesting; interesting indeed. Well, as promised, I'll tell you about my experience. I was on one of the ships as Pearl Harbour was bombed. Sasha- oh yeah, that's her name by the way- protected me, dragged me out from the water, and flew me to a hospital. Your turn, commie!"
The USSR, who wanted to take no part in this seemingly pointless discussion about some unknown, inhuman being, reluctantly told his tales, if only to stop the USA from giving him those pleading, puppy-dog eyes (they looked so goddamn disgusting on the USA's face; the USSR couldn't help but want to grimace every time the American tried and failed to act cute).
"She pushed Poland out of the way when I shot at him, and she also protected me from a bunch of bullets when that guy shot at me. I don't get why this is relevant to our original topic."
"Aw, pshaw, man! Can't we just talk about something other than this depressing war from time to time? Plus, it's very much relevant!! I'm supposed to know everything about everyone, but that girl- I don't know anything! I hate it! How can I sit back as someone flies under my radar?!" the USA argued petulantly. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"But anyways. That's not the point: the point is that Sasha, this pink-haired lady, keeps doing weird stuff. She knows that guy. She keeps saving countries! What kind of niche hobby is that, huh?"
"So .. what even is she then? Is she an angel, because of her wings?" China asked, trying to follow along. "Wait, but Britain said that she denied being an angel .."
The Brit nodded in confirmation, frowning. "If not an angel, then what is this being you all call Sasha?"
The USA grinned, like he'd found a new puzzle to crack in the mystery. Of course this guy would grin at this like the insanely curious country he was. He folded his arms, leaning back on his chair as he stared down at the other three countries with a smirk.
"Yes, what is she indeed? Is she an angel .."
".. or a demon?"