SOY: I finished NaNoWriMo and to remind people I am still alive and writing, I decided to post this short (rewritten) drabble while I work on my other fics once again :D
It has a darker edge to it, so be sure to check the warnings before reading it. ^^
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Rating: T.
Warnings: dead soldiers, maybe a bit of a dark scene, but not described in detail. Angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
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Silence (WWII)
One–shot
Italy was happy.
The Axis Powers had been walking all day down a small, unmapped pebble road in the middle of a mountain forest, with Italy bouncing around, smiling and stopping every now and then to observe a particularly colourful flower or a tree.
The day had been quiet and beautiful so far, and Italy was simply happy because they were together again, travelling through mountain territories and moving towards France, and Germany had promised him that for lunch he could prepare some pasta for the three of them.
Relishing the peace, momentarily feeling as if they were not in the middle of a horrible war but actually simply enjoying each other's presence, Italy fidgeted with the map he was carrying, holding it up to his eyes and inspecting it.
If there was something he was good at –aside for drawing, composing poems and cooking– it was orientating himself no matter where he was.
With a joyous gasp, Italy realised that they were closing in on a small meadow where they could stop and rest for a while, and smiled.
Maybe there would be more flowers! They could have pasta and play!
Italy had bounced ahead a bit, so he waited for Germany and Japan to appear from behind a small group of trees and then waved at them, ignoring Germany's exasperated face at his cheerful attitude.
With a small nudge indicating where he was going, Italy took off without waiting for his superior's approval, and rushed forth, giggling and bouncing.
The sun was shining brightly above their heads, and they were about to rest and have some pasta, and Germany had decided they wouldn't train today… yes, all of that made Italy happy and relaxed.
These moments helped him forget there was even a war, so he cherished them greatly.
He could close his eyes and pretend that his body wasn't hurting, that his people were not dying, that his territories were not under attack and were not being burned and sacked and attacked…
He hoped, against all hope, that the war would end soon, and that no one would be hurt anymore, and that things would be good again.
Reaching the top of the hill, Italy braced himself, muscles tensing up in prospect of bouncing down into the meadow to roll around and rest while he waited for Germany and Japan to arrive, already picturing the lush, green grass there would be and the flowers and–
And then he froze.
Brown eyes dulled instantly, muscles relaxing as his arms fell slack at his sides, his huge smile fading away into a tight grimace.
Italy blinked, then blinked again, and his entire body started trembling.
Corpses.
Hundreds of corpses were sprawled around, scattered on the grass like unwanted trash, the green of the grass lost under the deep maroon of dried blood.
So many soldiers, dead–
His lungs constricted under the assault of the stench of death coming from the carnage in front of him, and his stomach lurched in pain, nausea filling his throat with the bitter taste of bile…
Corpses of soldiers, his own soldiers, and Germany's soldiers, all dead, unmoving, some with their eyes open to blindly stare at the sky, some with their eyes close to stare at eternal darkness, some with missing eyes, and blood everywhere–
So much blood.
Wherever he looked, he could see the crimson colour coating the meadow.
Italy's legs gave out under him, and he fell to his knees next to a soldier whose chest had been torn open by a grenade. Part of his head was blown away, making it impossible to recognise who he was, his name lost forever, without hopes for his family to know how or where he'd died.
Unblinkingly, Italy searched for a tag with the name, but he couldn't find it. The nameless man didn't have one on him, so he couldn't know whether he was Italian, German or…
At his side, another dead man, with both hands clenched on the dirty grass under his body. He had probably taken some time to die, slowly, agonizingly, praying and crying alone, in the middle of nowhere, with only corpses surrounding him.
Italy's lungs were burning with the need to breathe, but he couldn't.
This was war.
Italy cried.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he cried silently, shaking in a desperate attempt not to let go of the sobs and gasps he was holding, and he looked up at the sky above.
Despite the carnage there, the sky still looked beautiful and clear, but in front of them there was only a long, endless path of death.
Italy cried, and as he cried, he prayed for every single soldier in the meadow, offering them one heartfelt eulogy for their lost souls.
Still trembling, Italy managed to stand back up, and wiped the tears away, his face taking on a resolute expression.
With a last glance at the carnage, making sure to remember where that meadow was in order to return lately and help recognise the soldiers who were not disfigured in death, Italy turned around and started running.
He had been unable to sense the scent of corpses until he'd been close enough, so maybe the meadow was downwind, and that would mean he had only one chance to get to his allies, his friends, before they got there themselves.
He ran like the wind, using all his energy, and rushed down the hill, until he saw Germany and Japan as they were about to walk up the steep road.
Licking his lips, Italy leaped, colliding with both of his friends and sending them flying on the ground with cries of pain and surprise.
They rolled onto the grass, Germany absorbing most of the fall and grunting out in pain, Japan yelping in an undignified way and trying to squirm out of Italy's grip.
He Italian Nation's lips twitched into a happy, delighted smile. "Ve~ Germany, Japan, let's not go up there~ it looks boring and there's just more and more trees up ahead… why don't we head for the river and get to a city? I want to charm pretty girls!"
Germany grunted, pushing Italy away and standing up, brushing his clothes as clean as he could. He mumbled something under his breath but then stared at Japan, who simply shrugged.
Neither had any preference where to go, and they both had expected Italy would be tired and whiny about stopping, but if he was the one wanting to walk some more, they would both happily oblige.
Besides, as long as they reached their destination, which path they decided to take had no importance.
"Just as long as you don't whine about it later," Germany sighed, shrugging.
Both Germany and japan followed the happily bouncing Italy as he steered them to the right, bypassing the hill and as far from the meadow as he could, in order not to let them catch even a glance at the gruesome sight.
As he led the way, Italy did not turn to look at his friends for a long while, and when he felt the tears resurface again –he wasn't strong enough to hide all that pain yet– he simply let himself fall into the river, mixing the pain of the fall with the pain he felt inside.
He had managed to prevent Germany and Japan from seeing another massacre, and that was good.
He knew he couldn't protect them much longer, but this was something he wanted to do, and if that meant bearing that sort of sight all by himself, well, he could do it.
If it could spare his friends this same sort of pain…
So Italy simply walked faster, scouting ahead, and fervently praying for the war to end.
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SOY: so that was it. I hope someone appreciates :D please drop by a review?
