The three Axis-powers camped out on their beloved southern island for the last time. This was it- their war was over- they had lost. Japan was unconscious, closer to death than the other two. He was covered with horrible burns and scars. The saying echoed in North Italy's head-
"If you value your life, don't mess with the American."
He closed his eyes; he didn't want to look at Japan anymore.
Germany was not much better.
Blood-stained shirt, dirty face, and skittish at everything- he was not acting near his normal self.
He started the habit of constantly carrying a loaded pistol in his hand, sometimes even caressing it and whispering weird things to it.
Their campfire crackled and Italy looked up into the deep night sky. He wasn't faring well either, but it was his personal mission to keep as positive an attitude as he could.
"Doitsu?"
He asked softly, peeking over at the huddled, sleepless form of his friend.
"What is it Italy?" the German sighed, pain and regret laced through his words.
"Doitsu..I was thinking. Maybe tomorrow I can make us a nice pasta meal. That'll cheer you up, right?"
He tried to smile, but he just couldn't.
Germany sniffed, smiled sadly, and turned to look back at his gun.
"I don't think there will be time tomorrow." He whispered, fingering his gun aimlessly.
Italy's face fell, but brightened up again.
"Hey, I heard that England and France have pasta! I don't know if it's any good right, but any pasta would be good right now!"
He held his stomach to show Germany just how hungry he was.
Just then, Germany's emotionless face screwed up in complete and utter pain.
He hands clutched his gun until his knuckles turned white. Grimacing, a red bullet-wound appeared right above his temple.
"Doitsu??"
Italy whispered completely terrified as to what was happening to his friend.
Germany's face then relaxed. For a few seconds, his expression was that of pure peace, followed by a river of tears.
Not tears of pain, but those of joy, relief, regret, and forgiveness.
Italy had never seen such an emotional outburst from his militaristic friend, and instantly jumped up and hugged him.
"Germany? Doitsu, it'll be alright. The Allies won't be too mean to us."
Germany continued crying, but was able to speak.
"He's dead. That maniac is dead. He is finally gone."
After these last words, the forever strong Germany broke down again, sobbing even more uncontrollably.
"He made me do it."
He chocked out.
"He's the one who told me to hurt those other countries. And now he's dead. Gone."
Italy was still stunned as he held Germany in a comforting embrace.
And that is how our Axis-powers spent one of their final nights together on their beloved southern island.