So well, I guess you can tell from the title and summary that this is the Hetalia version of Finding Nemo, just slightly darker and with a few twists in the original plot. If you compare the movie with this story though, you would still find a few similarities. I own nothing, basically. Human names are used, and the characters might be kind of OOC. I'll try my best though. Wish you'll enjoy the story; please review!

Prologue

New York City wasn't a bad place. In fact, it was quite beautiful in a clustered and busy kind of way, and everyone was independent yet dependent at the same time. There were rules, but people were free here, and they minded their own business.

They don't judge, and they try their best not to care about other's businesses.

Lukas had thought that it was good, because he was a quiet, secretive child, and didn't like it when people nosed into his life without his permission.

He had been content with it, until that day, when he was seven, and all he could see was blood.

Blood on the bed, blood on the walls. Blood on him. And blood on his baby brother who was only two years old, wailing in his crib because that scent of death was so strong, the metallic smell of blood so suffocating.

Lukas doubled over, one hand pressed against the blood-splattered walls for support, and his dinner left his stomach in an uncontrolled hurl. He retched even after he was empty, and his legs were weak with fear and pure horror. He glanced up, his dark blue eyes watering and unfocused, and noticed a dark silhouette standing over his brother's tiny, sobbing form.

Something glinted in the light, and Lukas recognized metal.

There was a gun in the figure's hand.

His body reacted on his own, and he lunged forward, a hoarse cry escaping his lips. "No!"

The killer did not pull the trigger, however. Instead, he stepped back and tucked the weapon into his belt. Dark green eyes glinted, deep, filled with sorrow and death. The assassin's voice had a hint of a sneer in it as he said, "I don't do children." And then he spun on his heels and leaped through the broken window on the ninth floor.

Lukas knew he didn't leap to his death, but he didn't care. His brother was still wailing in distress, and with his weak, trembling arms he pulled the infant into a tight hug. Then, he stumbled out of his parents' room, stepped over their corpses like they were merely a misplaced doll, and placed Emil on his own clean sheets. The baby settled immediately; his sobs began to quiet the moment they had left the death-filled room and the instant his head hit Lukas' pillow, he was asleep.

The older child, on the other hand, could not bring himself to peace.

He was young enough to be confused and bewildered, but old enough to understand that what he had experienced was not normal, and it was something that does not happen often.

It was midnight, but Lukas was not tired. All weariness had been sapped away the moment he heard the screams pierce through his dreams. So he entered the shower, scrubbing the blood from his hands, his neck, his face…

It was as if he was trying to scrub away all the things he had just saw, just lived through.

The sun rose steadily. For most of the other residents of New York, it would be just the start of another day, and they would continue in their lives, independent, uncaring.

For Lukas and Emil, however, it was the beginning of a new life.

Emil stirred slightly, and giggled when Lukas poked him in the stomach to wake him up.

The first thing Lukas did was give Emil a bath, brushing the dark brownish-red clumps from his hair and getting rid of the stains on his face.

He didn't bother with the soiled clothes.

Lukas wanted to dress Emil, but couldn't bring himself to enter that room again, so he pulled one of his shirts over Emil's head and decided to leave it at that.

Then, Lukas adjusted his hair clips, the brothers put on their shoes leisurely, as if they were merely going to the park, and left the house. They met no one in the elevator or hallway, and Lukas was grateful for that. He didn't like people who asked too much questions.

On the streets, people were busy going their own way, and there weren't many that spared them a glance.

Emil got tired of walking really soon, and Lukas had to carry him. The warmth shared between their bodies was comforting, so he never let his brother go, even when his arms began to hurt.

When they finally stopped, they were standing in front of the closest police station. Lukas took a deep breath, burying his nose in Emil's pale blonde hair.

"Don't worry, Emil," he murmured, his voice muffled, "I will protect you. I won't let anything happen to you."

Emil was fiddling with Lukas's hair clips, and strands of hair fell into Lukas's eyes. He ignored them, took a deep breath, and entered the police station.

"How may I help you?"

Lukas felt strangely calm, serene. Emil chuckled as he messed up his brother's hair.

"My parents have been murdered."

He will protect Emil. Even if it means that he has to become a murderer himself.

He will do anything.