[FANFIC] Alaska: The Last Frontier 2/3
Title: The Last Frontier
Author/Artist: Rain_Sonata
Character(s) or Pairing(s): just father and child fluff, Russia, America, Alaska
Rating: PG-13 for possible language
Warnings: mention of other state-tans, lots of history references
Summary: Alaska: The Last Frontier. "Steward's Icebox", the others mocked. The snow encircling the two swirled around them. A short story based loosely on the Alaska Purchase. America adopts Alaska. Warning: Nation and human names will both be used. PG-13 for Russia's language.
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http://rain-sonata.livejournal.com/#asset-rain_sonata-1591
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Where the Sea Breaks Against
---------------
Author's Notes: Note that Alaska will not sound like his age at times. Remember, he's over 120 years old. This fic is loosely based on history. It may not be accurate.
Summary: Alaska: The Last Frontier. "Steward's Icebox", the others mocked. America stared at the small, pale child in front of him. "Hello." The America greeted the boy. "Hello." The territory whispered. The snow encircling the two swirled around them. A short one-shot based loosely on the Alaska Purchase. Warning: Nation and human names will both be used.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my OC, Alaska.
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Age Section:
Russia - 2800 (rough estimate), mid 20s (appearance)
America - 450, 17. 18 ish (appearance)
Alaska - 120, 7 (appearance)
-----------------------------
Russian America's POV
Father came to visit today. How odd. He almost never comes. Maybe for those times to go fishing with me. Family time, he calls it. But he never told me why he came today. When his giant shadow arose at the horizontal, I automatically recognized him. No one else in the world was bigger than father, right? He was the tallest being I knew.
"Father!" I cried as I ran into his arms, hugging around his right leg. I only reached to his hip by height. Tears fell down my face. "I missed you." I felt so lonely for months of being away from him. Father only smiled as he comforted me with his kind face.
He noticed my surprise. "Is something the matter, Alex?" There was concern.
I looked around the area; for once, noticing that the Russian settlement was unusually empty this morning. "Where's everyone?" I asked. All of the small tents and other buildings have disappeared. Where has everyone gone?
His expression did not change. "Everyone… They're moving…" He told me. He looked like he did not wish to say more. I silenced myself and sat down on the snow, crossing my legs in an Indian style, fearing that I would have angered him. Father scares me very much when he is in a bad mood. After a short moment of saying nothing to each other, he continued on and told me that today, we were to meet the nation, America. Of course I knew who America was. Who didn't?
A nation that has risen a century ago from the horizon of a war against England, America has been having issues with the surrounding colonies that were already settled by other nations. The young nation was currently recovering from a Civil War. I thought proudly. I remembered everything Father had told me about him. It also helped that British Columbia told me knew about the issue. She knew everything! I never told Father that I had secretly admired America for the power and strength he had. At the same time, I feared him for that. But… what business does Father have with America? I stared at my small hands; they were cold and wet from the falling snow. They were much smaller than the big hands of the Russian Empire.
People say I look like Father. Do we? I suppose it's the hair and the thick layers of clothes, but don't we all have to suffer under the same harsh climate of the artic? They would occasionally even call me Junior. I feel kind of proud to be called that, but scared at the same time. Would I someday become big and strong like him? Like my father? An Empire? He doesn't seem to have the slightest doubt on that. Of course I would become like him. After all, I was Russia's child.
When Father is busy with his empire, I would have to live with the Aleuts. The Russian called them savages. Father ignored them. He allowed me to continue living among the Indian tribes that have raised me for so long before I actually met him in person. Among the Aleut children, I would help them gather food and help prepare the igloos and other deeds that had to be done. The older villagers would weave baskets, hunt for seals, woven clothing to defend themselves against the cold. I like them and they liked me. They were my people. I was their land. I am proud to be this little colony that Father found. But I don't remember what happened before my memories formed. Who was my mother? I don't know.
When not working, I would enjoy staring at the beautiful land my people lived on. The crisp cold air that surrounded them. The spectrum of aurora lights that kissed the sky. Watching the grizzly bear cubs play a chasing game, to seeing an elk eat its lunch, the artic was a truly my home. A lovely place.
More than once, when I go off to explore the land, I would see a teenager girl dressed in a long fur coat made of seal pellets, reaching down to her knees. She had long, dark brown, waist length hair and had dark eyes peering out of her soft snow pale skin. She would often have a dog follow her as she would work. Sometimes, she would gather food. Other times, she would just walk around as if she was exploring too. She never seems to age. I think she's like me. Who is she?
Father complains about the cold. I don't understand. Doesn't he love the cold? He talks very fondly of General Winter, a dear old friend of his. Didn't the general helped several times? Why does he despise the cold so much?
I quietly sighed, trying not to sound too much of a bother. "I'm tired."
Father softly murmured. "Yes. I know." He didn't notice me scowling as he adjusted to tuck in the long white scarf that was wrapped around me. When Father first found me, the scarf was a gift from him. It was nearly as nice as the one he owned. He would often shake his head whenever I would get it dirty from playing around in the snow. I didn't need his help with that.
"Don't worry," He told me, "he'll come soon. Soon, you won't have to worry about that Anglo man coming after you." I said nothing as his reference to England. I think I met him before. Just glimpses of the bushy brow man, always frowning about something. The last time I saw him, he was with British Columbia. The low whispers of the falling snow blew as we waited in the snow. Hours seemed to have pasted by when a small figure appeared from the horizon. We both looked up.
"Sorry I'm late! I had some short stops on my way here!" I flinched at the person's voice was so loud and boisterous. Was he always that loud? It was the complete opposite to Father's normally soft calming voice I was used to.
"So you decided to come after all." Father quietly commented. He sounded a little annoyed.
"Of course!" The other man replied with a small hint of grinning by the way he replied.
I stared at the shadow, whose identity soon became apparent as he approached. The figure tipped his black cap at us.
American had blond hair, bright blue eyes, wore a pair of glasses that were resting on the bridged his pointed nose. How many layers was he wearing? This man was definitely not from here. Any person who lived in the artic would have been accustomed to the cold climate, old or not.
"It's okay." I heard a whisper. Father hugged me as he beamed at the blond stranger. I only nodded to show approval to the foreigner. This was him. Now the two would finish their work.
America raised his eyebrow. "This is him?" I raised my eyebrow at him. I did not like the way he said the three words: this is him. I felt mockery underneath his seemingly innocent curiosity. It was awkward and uncomfortable feeling his gaze focus all on me. Was this really the same strong nation that I have always pictured in my mind? My eyes fell on the spotted bags underneath America's eyes from lack of sleep. Smalls cuts and scars were marks on several places on his baby smooth face.
The foreign blond stared back at me and gave me a strange unfathomable look. I looked away, avoiding his eyes. I heard the man shuffle a bit before taking his hand out from one of his pockets to shake me hands I think. He grinned and beamed at me as he greeted, "Howdy, I'm America! What's your name?" I stared at him wide eyed, surprised at his open friendliness to me. What was this business about now? What did it have to do with me? I panicked as I tried to figure out what to say to the American nation.
I could only find myself whisper to him, "I'm Russian America." There. That was it. It was formal to use my colony name. I was afraid of what would happen if I was too friendly to this goofy man. Looks could be deceiving.
I was shocked when he scoffed in response. "What an unoriginal name." I turned around to see Father glaring at America. There was a strange twinkle in his eyes. Uh oh. Was that a pistol in his hand? The click of the small weapon fell unnoticed by the sound of the blowing snow. I wanted to scream at the idiotic man for messing around with Father. Never get him angry. Apparently, the fool couldn't read the atmosphere.
America only beamed before turning to Father, completely oblivious to the death glares from the man. "What's his human name?" He was still smiling.
"Alex." He told the American nation. "Alexander Joseph Braginsky." The Russian nation had pride in his voice.
America examined me and stared back at Father, comparing the two of us it seems. His reaction was the same as the others.
Father raised his eyebrows. "I trust it that you'll take good care of him won't you?" The same pressure from the Russian from earlier was starting to rise.
America was taken back. "Of course I would." He looked insulted. Did the Russian man really think of him like that? Was sort of man was this America?
Russia sighed. "Then I suppose this is my signal to leave then."
Then reality slapped me in the face. How could I not notice what was going on? I felt stupid. I realized it. Father… why? He was selling me. His son. His flesh and blood. He was giving me away. To him. I felt betrayed. Fury bubbled underneath my emotionless exterior. So that's what he meant earlier. That's why everyone was gone. They were leaving me. Every single one of them. The Russians were selling Russian America. To the United States. I would now have a new father.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Russia motioned me to silence with his finger.
"No need to say anything." He told me. He thought that he knew what I was thinking. "Everything will be alright. Who knows, I may visit you again sometimes." He tried to hide his concern, holding back the tears. What was he crying for? Wasn't he selling me in the first place? Why the tears? I thought while I tried to hold back my own tears. Big boys don't cry. Turning away from the America and I, Russia didn't look back. I stared at his back for awhile before the American loudly told me that we would have to leave soon. I only quietly nodded to show my understanding to his statement.
We slowly departed from the place where we have met. Not so long ago, I have been Russia's child. Now I was America's.
-----------------------------
I couldn't hold back my tears. I cried. America was patient to me. This confused me. The nation seemed so loud and careless. He didn't seem to be the type to comfort. He noticed that I was tired and offered to carry me on his back. I couldn't reject his kind offer and soon found myself on the man's broad back. Now we were running. He no longer had to worry about my slow walking pace. It felt like I was flying! He was a fast runner, he never seemed to stop! I was too amazed by the speed to really cry anymore. Trees and heaps of snow and glaciers passed by. We soon fell into a strange conversation.
"How did you get here?" I asked me. There was no way that he could have gotten here just by walking. It was too far from where he lived. He came from all way from the south eastern part of the continent.
America looked up. "Hm?" His eyes lit up. "Curious are you?" He sounded quite happy and simply told me. "I came here by whale."
I stared. He was kidding, right? "Excuse me?" What this crazy man talking about?
"I came here by ridding on a whale." He said it as if it was normal. As if it was typical for blond nations to travel to the artic by ridding on whales. I could almost too easily imagine the American sitting on the mammal as he swam his way here. The idea was too ridicu-
EEEEEEEEEKKKK
A shriek filled the air. What was that sound?
"Whale-san (1)!" America beamed. As he said, there was a whale arising from the water at the edge of ice. I gawked as the nation affectionately hugged the giant animal. I could have sworn that there were huge pink hearts forming around him. Damn. He was serious. He really did come by whale.
America grinned. "Told you didn't I?" I only continued to stare. "What are you waiting for? Climb on!"
I numbly jumped onto the big thing, careful not to harm it in any sort of way.
"Be sure to introduce yourself!" I heard him shout from one end of the animal. I felt stupid as I tried to talk to the whale.
"Um, hi." This is stupid, I thought. "I-I'm Alex. Pleased to meet you."
"How come you won't talk to me like that…" I heard America mumbled.
"I don't know what to talk about, father." I flatly told him.
The American pffed. He corrected me. "Don't call me that. It feels so formal…" His eyes looked down at the passing waters. "Call me Dad."
I tried out the word. "Dad." It felt strange to say the words. The 'a' stretched out too long on my tongue.
"That's it…" He whispered. Now he was the one who was hugging me. Instead of Father. "You know, you need a new name." I said nothing. "We can't just refer to you as 'Russian America' anymore." I knew that the we part was referring to the other states. My new family.
"What kind of name?" The American ran his fingers though his golden hair, pressing his index finger against his temples.
"Alaska (2)." Hm… interesting chose. It sounded like he was thinking about it for awhile.
"I thought you didn't know Aleut."
"I don't. I just chose a word from the language I thought fitted best for you." 'Dad' told me. "I spent some time with one tribe you know. I was bound learn a word or two from them."
I popped in the question. "Will they like me?" Dad knew who I was referring to.
"Of course they will." He was careful to answer the question. His face was carefully hiding away his actual thoughts.
"Look, your siblings just had a big fight…" That's an understatement, I thought. "And they're still trying to recover… They're still wary about having another brother, but they'll learn to love you." I didn't like his answer. Oh well, it was too late. The deal was sealed. I didn't get the chose. I was now Alaska. The Last Frontier (3). Where the sea breaks against. I was no longer Russia's little boy. The sun was set high in the sky as I sat with my new Dad on the back of a whale. North to the future (4).
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Author Notes:
Whale-san (1) - Yes, this is the same whale that America befriended when he went to Japan.
Alaska (2) - In Aleut, Alaska means mainland, or more literally, where the sea breaks against.
The Last Frontier (3) - Alaska's state nickname, bringing to you the origin of this fanfic's title.
North to the future (4) - Alaska's state motto.
Author/Artist: Rain_Sonata
Character(s) or Pairing(s): just father and child fluff, Russia, America, Alaska
Rating: PG-13 for possible language
Warnings: mention of other state-tans, lots of history references
Summary: Alaska: The Last Frontier. "Steward's Icebox", the others mocked. The snow encircling the two swirled around them. A short story based loosely on the Alaska Purchase. America adopts Alaska. Warning: Nation and human names will both be used. PG-13 for Russia's language.
---------------
http://rain-sonata.livejournal.com/#asset-rain_sonata-1591
---------------
Where the Sea Breaks Against
---------------
Author's Notes: Note that Alaska will not sound like his age at times. Remember, he's over 120 years old. This fic is loosely based on history. It may not be accurate.
Summary: Alaska: The Last Frontier. "Steward's Icebox", the others mocked. America stared at the small, pale child in front of him. "Hello." The America greeted the boy. "Hello." The territory whispered. The snow encircling the two swirled around them. A short one-shot based loosely on the Alaska Purchase. Warning: Nation and human names will both be used.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my OC, Alaska.
---------------
Age Section:
Russia - 2800 (rough estimate), mid 20s (appearance)
America - 450, 17. 18 ish (appearance)
Alaska - 120, 7 (appearance)
-----------------------------
Russian America's POV
Father came to visit today. How odd. He almost never comes. Maybe for those times to go fishing with me. Family time, he calls it. But he never told me why he came today. When his giant shadow arose at the horizontal, I automatically recognized him. No one else in the world was bigger than father, right? He was the tallest being I knew.
"Father!" I cried as I ran into his arms, hugging around his right leg. I only reached to his hip by height. Tears fell down my face. "I missed you." I felt so lonely for months of being away from him. Father only smiled as he comforted me with his kind face.
He noticed my surprise. "Is something the matter, Alex?" There was concern.
I looked around the area; for once, noticing that the Russian settlement was unusually empty this morning. "Where's everyone?" I asked. All of the small tents and other buildings have disappeared. Where has everyone gone?
His expression did not change. "Everyone… They're moving…" He told me. He looked like he did not wish to say more. I silenced myself and sat down on the snow, crossing my legs in an Indian style, fearing that I would have angered him. Father scares me very much when he is in a bad mood. After a short moment of saying nothing to each other, he continued on and told me that today, we were to meet the nation, America. Of course I knew who America was. Who didn't?
A nation that has risen a century ago from the horizon of a war against England, America has been having issues with the surrounding colonies that were already settled by other nations. The young nation was currently recovering from a Civil War. I thought proudly. I remembered everything Father had told me about him. It also helped that British Columbia told me knew about the issue. She knew everything! I never told Father that I had secretly admired America for the power and strength he had. At the same time, I feared him for that. But… what business does Father have with America? I stared at my small hands; they were cold and wet from the falling snow. They were much smaller than the big hands of the Russian Empire.
People say I look like Father. Do we? I suppose it's the hair and the thick layers of clothes, but don't we all have to suffer under the same harsh climate of the artic? They would occasionally even call me Junior. I feel kind of proud to be called that, but scared at the same time. Would I someday become big and strong like him? Like my father? An Empire? He doesn't seem to have the slightest doubt on that. Of course I would become like him. After all, I was Russia's child.
When Father is busy with his empire, I would have to live with the Aleuts. The Russian called them savages. Father ignored them. He allowed me to continue living among the Indian tribes that have raised me for so long before I actually met him in person. Among the Aleut children, I would help them gather food and help prepare the igloos and other deeds that had to be done. The older villagers would weave baskets, hunt for seals, woven clothing to defend themselves against the cold. I like them and they liked me. They were my people. I was their land. I am proud to be this little colony that Father found. But I don't remember what happened before my memories formed. Who was my mother? I don't know.
When not working, I would enjoy staring at the beautiful land my people lived on. The crisp cold air that surrounded them. The spectrum of aurora lights that kissed the sky. Watching the grizzly bear cubs play a chasing game, to seeing an elk eat its lunch, the artic was a truly my home. A lovely place.
More than once, when I go off to explore the land, I would see a teenager girl dressed in a long fur coat made of seal pellets, reaching down to her knees. She had long, dark brown, waist length hair and had dark eyes peering out of her soft snow pale skin. She would often have a dog follow her as she would work. Sometimes, she would gather food. Other times, she would just walk around as if she was exploring too. She never seems to age. I think she's like me. Who is she?
Father complains about the cold. I don't understand. Doesn't he love the cold? He talks very fondly of General Winter, a dear old friend of his. Didn't the general helped several times? Why does he despise the cold so much?
I quietly sighed, trying not to sound too much of a bother. "I'm tired."
Father softly murmured. "Yes. I know." He didn't notice me scowling as he adjusted to tuck in the long white scarf that was wrapped around me. When Father first found me, the scarf was a gift from him. It was nearly as nice as the one he owned. He would often shake his head whenever I would get it dirty from playing around in the snow. I didn't need his help with that.
"Don't worry," He told me, "he'll come soon. Soon, you won't have to worry about that Anglo man coming after you." I said nothing as his reference to England. I think I met him before. Just glimpses of the bushy brow man, always frowning about something. The last time I saw him, he was with British Columbia. The low whispers of the falling snow blew as we waited in the snow. Hours seemed to have pasted by when a small figure appeared from the horizon. We both looked up.
"Sorry I'm late! I had some short stops on my way here!" I flinched at the person's voice was so loud and boisterous. Was he always that loud? It was the complete opposite to Father's normally soft calming voice I was used to.
"So you decided to come after all." Father quietly commented. He sounded a little annoyed.
"Of course!" The other man replied with a small hint of grinning by the way he replied.
I stared at the shadow, whose identity soon became apparent as he approached. The figure tipped his black cap at us.
American had blond hair, bright blue eyes, wore a pair of glasses that were resting on the bridged his pointed nose. How many layers was he wearing? This man was definitely not from here. Any person who lived in the artic would have been accustomed to the cold climate, old or not.
"It's okay." I heard a whisper. Father hugged me as he beamed at the blond stranger. I only nodded to show approval to the foreigner. This was him. Now the two would finish their work.
America raised his eyebrow. "This is him?" I raised my eyebrow at him. I did not like the way he said the three words: this is him. I felt mockery underneath his seemingly innocent curiosity. It was awkward and uncomfortable feeling his gaze focus all on me. Was this really the same strong nation that I have always pictured in my mind? My eyes fell on the spotted bags underneath America's eyes from lack of sleep. Smalls cuts and scars were marks on several places on his baby smooth face.
The foreign blond stared back at me and gave me a strange unfathomable look. I looked away, avoiding his eyes. I heard the man shuffle a bit before taking his hand out from one of his pockets to shake me hands I think. He grinned and beamed at me as he greeted, "Howdy, I'm America! What's your name?" I stared at him wide eyed, surprised at his open friendliness to me. What was this business about now? What did it have to do with me? I panicked as I tried to figure out what to say to the American nation.
I could only find myself whisper to him, "I'm Russian America." There. That was it. It was formal to use my colony name. I was afraid of what would happen if I was too friendly to this goofy man. Looks could be deceiving.
I was shocked when he scoffed in response. "What an unoriginal name." I turned around to see Father glaring at America. There was a strange twinkle in his eyes. Uh oh. Was that a pistol in his hand? The click of the small weapon fell unnoticed by the sound of the blowing snow. I wanted to scream at the idiotic man for messing around with Father. Never get him angry. Apparently, the fool couldn't read the atmosphere.
America only beamed before turning to Father, completely oblivious to the death glares from the man. "What's his human name?" He was still smiling.
"Alex." He told the American nation. "Alexander Joseph Braginsky." The Russian nation had pride in his voice.
America examined me and stared back at Father, comparing the two of us it seems. His reaction was the same as the others.
Father raised his eyebrows. "I trust it that you'll take good care of him won't you?" The same pressure from the Russian from earlier was starting to rise.
America was taken back. "Of course I would." He looked insulted. Did the Russian man really think of him like that? Was sort of man was this America?
Russia sighed. "Then I suppose this is my signal to leave then."
Then reality slapped me in the face. How could I not notice what was going on? I felt stupid. I realized it. Father… why? He was selling me. His son. His flesh and blood. He was giving me away. To him. I felt betrayed. Fury bubbled underneath my emotionless exterior. So that's what he meant earlier. That's why everyone was gone. They were leaving me. Every single one of them. The Russians were selling Russian America. To the United States. I would now have a new father.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Russia motioned me to silence with his finger.
"No need to say anything." He told me. He thought that he knew what I was thinking. "Everything will be alright. Who knows, I may visit you again sometimes." He tried to hide his concern, holding back the tears. What was he crying for? Wasn't he selling me in the first place? Why the tears? I thought while I tried to hold back my own tears. Big boys don't cry. Turning away from the America and I, Russia didn't look back. I stared at his back for awhile before the American loudly told me that we would have to leave soon. I only quietly nodded to show my understanding to his statement.
We slowly departed from the place where we have met. Not so long ago, I have been Russia's child. Now I was America's.
-----------------------------
I couldn't hold back my tears. I cried. America was patient to me. This confused me. The nation seemed so loud and careless. He didn't seem to be the type to comfort. He noticed that I was tired and offered to carry me on his back. I couldn't reject his kind offer and soon found myself on the man's broad back. Now we were running. He no longer had to worry about my slow walking pace. It felt like I was flying! He was a fast runner, he never seemed to stop! I was too amazed by the speed to really cry anymore. Trees and heaps of snow and glaciers passed by. We soon fell into a strange conversation.
"How did you get here?" I asked me. There was no way that he could have gotten here just by walking. It was too far from where he lived. He came from all way from the south eastern part of the continent.
America looked up. "Hm?" His eyes lit up. "Curious are you?" He sounded quite happy and simply told me. "I came here by whale."
I stared. He was kidding, right? "Excuse me?" What this crazy man talking about?
"I came here by ridding on a whale." He said it as if it was normal. As if it was typical for blond nations to travel to the artic by ridding on whales. I could almost too easily imagine the American sitting on the mammal as he swam his way here. The idea was too ridicu-
EEEEEEEEEKKKK
A shriek filled the air. What was that sound?
"Whale-san (1)!" America beamed. As he said, there was a whale arising from the water at the edge of ice. I gawked as the nation affectionately hugged the giant animal. I could have sworn that there were huge pink hearts forming around him. Damn. He was serious. He really did come by whale.
America grinned. "Told you didn't I?" I only continued to stare. "What are you waiting for? Climb on!"
I numbly jumped onto the big thing, careful not to harm it in any sort of way.
"Be sure to introduce yourself!" I heard him shout from one end of the animal. I felt stupid as I tried to talk to the whale.
"Um, hi." This is stupid, I thought. "I-I'm Alex. Pleased to meet you."
"How come you won't talk to me like that…" I heard America mumbled.
"I don't know what to talk about, father." I flatly told him.
The American pffed. He corrected me. "Don't call me that. It feels so formal…" His eyes looked down at the passing waters. "Call me Dad."
I tried out the word. "Dad." It felt strange to say the words. The 'a' stretched out too long on my tongue.
"That's it…" He whispered. Now he was the one who was hugging me. Instead of Father. "You know, you need a new name." I said nothing. "We can't just refer to you as 'Russian America' anymore." I knew that the we part was referring to the other states. My new family.
"What kind of name?" The American ran his fingers though his golden hair, pressing his index finger against his temples.
"Alaska (2)." Hm… interesting chose. It sounded like he was thinking about it for awhile.
"I thought you didn't know Aleut."
"I don't. I just chose a word from the language I thought fitted best for you." 'Dad' told me. "I spent some time with one tribe you know. I was bound learn a word or two from them."
I popped in the question. "Will they like me?" Dad knew who I was referring to.
"Of course they will." He was careful to answer the question. His face was carefully hiding away his actual thoughts.
"Look, your siblings just had a big fight…" That's an understatement, I thought. "And they're still trying to recover… They're still wary about having another brother, but they'll learn to love you." I didn't like his answer. Oh well, it was too late. The deal was sealed. I didn't get the chose. I was now Alaska. The Last Frontier (3). Where the sea breaks against. I was no longer Russia's little boy. The sun was set high in the sky as I sat with my new Dad on the back of a whale. North to the future (4).
--------------------------------
Author Notes:
Whale-san (1) - Yes, this is the same whale that America befriended when he went to Japan.
Alaska (2) - In Aleut, Alaska means mainland, or more literally, where the sea breaks against.
The Last Frontier (3) - Alaska's state nickname, bringing to you the origin of this fanfic's title.
North to the future (4) - Alaska's state motto.