Addio Per Sempre, Germania

By: Jackie Kinch

Germany sighed with frustration as he sat at his office desk staring down at a newspaper. The headline read "War Ended" in big bold letters across the top of the page. Normally people would be happy about the bloodshed ending, however Germany had been on the losing side. "I can't believe that after all that effort…" Germany mumbled as he slowly crumpled up the newspaper into a ball before throwing it at the floor. He stood up and started pacing back and forth across the room, looking for something to take his anger out on.

It just so happens that at that moment Italy walked into the room while humming loudly. Seeing Germany's enraged face Italy's humming came to an abrupt stop. "He-ey Germany, w-what's wrong?" The usually cheerful Italian stammered as he spotted the crumpled up newspaper on the floor. "Nothing Italy, just go away and make pasta or something… that's all your good for anyway." Germany responded in a harsh tone, mumbling the last part. However Italy had heard it loud and clear and it broke his heart. "Germany why are you acting like this…" Italy said slowly as he placed a hand on Germany's shoulder from behind him. Without meaning to Germany swung around and smacked Italy's hand away. If it had been anyone else there wouldn't have been a problem, but no, this was Italy, the same country who cried when a cat started licking him. Realizing his mistake Germany immediately tried to say sorry but no words came out. Italy started to slowly back up towards the door, staring at Germany with fear and resentment. Germany finally found his voice, "Italy I-"but it was too late. Italy reached the door, turned around and swung it open then bolted down the hallway towards the front door. As Germany heard the front door slam he began to start running after the food loving nation, but before he could even make it out of his office the phone rang. He would have usually ignored it given the situation, however it was his boss and his countries priorities came before all else. After a 30 minute talk about various things regarding the after math of the war, Germany finally set off on his search for Italy.

"Why does Germany hate me so much?" Italy said as tears started rolling down his face. He had run away out of fear and was now walking down a path him and Germany traversed frequently. Italy went to put his hands in his pants pockets of the blue uniform he wore all the time, when suddenly he felt a slip of paper. He took it out and noticed that on it there was a picture of him and Germany. Italy sighed and stopped walking as he remembered when Japan had taken that photo. It had been one of the first times all three of them had trained together and the Asian nation wanted a picture to commemorate the occasion. Italy of course asked for a copy and must have forgotten to take it out of his pocket. Germany stared back with a stern face while Italy stood next to him, small in comparison, smiling brightly. After snapping out of his memories Italy decided to throw it away," No point in keeping this anymore." He said under his breath as he continued walking again, leaving only the picture behind him.

Italy then came across a bench where he would always insist that they take a rest when Germany and he went out for a run. It was just a simple metal bench painted blue but it was directly in front of a lake surrounded by trees. The view was quiet beautiful and Italy enjoyed feeding the ducks that lived there, however today was different so Italy walked on with a sad expression on his face. As he continued down the dirt path he saw an American and a Russian solider talking as they made their way towards him. Italy stopped dead in his tracks searching for somewhere to hide, but it was too late. "Hey what are you doing here wimp? Upset about how we're better than you?" The American said finally spotting Italy. The two muscular soldiers approached him, thinking that he was a normal Italian, and leaned right into his face. Seeing the opportunity, the Russian punched Italy, square in the jaw, while the other solider followed close behind with a kick to the stomach. The first solider stepped back afterwards but the second was just getting started. After a minute of great effort Italy finally stood up to face the American. "Don't you ever get tired of being so weak?" The solider asked snickering. Seeing the fact that Italy was on the verge of tears he continued, "Go ahead say it, yell for a German to help you." That was the Americans first mistake, because in hearing this, for the first time since anyone can remember, Italy punched the solider. Not just in the arm or the leg, no, square in the face with enough force to bend metal. "You little-"The American began saying, but before he could do anything else another country appeared.

When Germany got out of his house he headed for the path he and Italy usually take for training. After about 20 minutes of jogging down the path he came across a picture. After closer inspection, sure enough, it was a picture of him and Italy. Certain that he was on the right track Germany carefully placed the photo in his pocket, so that he didn't bend it, and took off sprinting down the pathway with guilt beginning to form in his heart. He ran past the bench that Italy always seemed to like stopping at and came to a halt at the scene before him. Two men, one in an American uniform and the other wearing a Russian one, stood before a slightly bruised Italy. But what amazed Germany was the fact that Italy had his fist extended out towards the American who was now clutching his nose, which appeared to be broken badly. After snapping out of his daze Germany began running down the hill to reach the spot where Italy was standing. Hearing his footsteps, Italy turned around to face the strong nation and opened his mouth to say something. But before he could speak a single word, there was a loud bang, followed by Italy crashing to the ground. When he hit the dirt Germany could clearly see the other two men behind him, he could also see the obvious fact that one of them, the American, was holding out an object in front of him. It took a while for Germany to make out the object, but ounce he had his soul shattered, because the object that pointed to where Italy's back used to be, and the source of the previous sound, was a small black handgun. "Oh god, I thought it was empty, LET'S BOOK IT DUDE!" The American yelled to the Russian. They then proceeded to sprint away in the other direction.

Too shocked and too tired to chase after them, Germany rushed over to Italy who had been laying face first in the ground. When he reached Italy's side he knelt down and flipped the Italian on his back. "ITALY! ITALY CAN YOU HEAR ME? ITALY!" Germany yelled as he wrapped his arms around Italy's waist and slowly raised the upper proportion of his body off the ground. "G-Germany….?" Italy whispered as he opened his eyes slowly. "Don't worry Italy, I'll… I'll… Get help, yes, I'll get help! Hang on, you're a nation after all! You can't die you… can't…" Germany started to say franticly, while a tear slowly made its way down his face. "Too… late…" Italy said before being interrupted by a coughing fit. He put his hand over his mouth as a reflex, but when he pulled his hand away, it was covered with blood splatters. Germany was a solider, he knew what someone looked like when they were on their death bed, and Italy fit the description all too well. "No… no this can't be happening…" Germany trailed off as he found it harder and harder to hold back the tears. But no matter how hard he tried, within a few seconds Germany had tears streaming down both sided of his face, making tiny rivers run down his cheeks. "G-Germany?" Italy said staring up at the shaken country. "What is it Italy?" "Am I your friend?" the small nation asked, losing strength by the second. "Italy, you are the best and most cherished friend I've ever had the good fortune of knowing." Germany choked out between sobs. "I'm so glad we are friends Ger…man…y…" Italy whispered with a smile on his face as his eyes became dull and un-seeing. "Italy…?" Germany said cautiously. "Good… bye... Lud… wig..." Italy responded, and then with a final breath, passed out of this world. "ITALY!" Germany yelled, as he hugged Italy close to him while sobbing loudly. And so, Germanys one and only friend, Feliciano Vargas, left forever, with a smile upon his face and wonderful thoughts in his mind.

THE END