"DIE!" A voice screamed. A sharp sword swung down next to Japan's right foot. It was so close he had been able to hear the weapon whizzing past his ear. The source of the voice jumped off the short ledge nearing Kiku, who was backing away.

The voice was Italy Veneziano.

He snapped. He was insane.

The stress of war must've finally gotten to him. Who knows how long it would last—or if it would ever wear off.

Current situation: Italy was after Japan with the intent to kill him.

Italy's weapons: Sharp sword and increased strength and stamina. Not the usual Italy.

Japan's weapon: His usual Japanese sword. His goal was defense, but he hadn't any time to prepare.

The night before, Japan was in his bed sleeping. Italy, all of a sudden, crashed through his window yelling. As soon as Japan's eyes opened he jumped up, grabbing his sword before he was even totally awake. The second the kata guarded his body, Italy's sword collided with it, pushing Japan out of his house into the night.

Japan ran to the woods, wide awake but confused. This was not normal for Italy. Japan was in love with Italy. He couldn't kill him…. He could only run. Besides, this side of Italy was probably stronger than him anyways; he had no choice.

With a wild screech, Italy appeared in front of Kiku, jumping down from a tree. Kuso… Japan thought, stopping his feet and running off to the side. This time, Italy chased him still in sight. That's right, Italy's always been a fast runner...

"Why are you doing this?" Japan yelled, glancing back at the killer.

"You've betrayed me! And now you will die!" The Italian gained speed, closing in on the Asian man. Thin tree branches whipped Kiku's face as he quickened his run, going so fast he couldn't even feel his feet. Trees, trees, and more trees rushed by in a blur, the sound of his panting and Italy's yelling loud in his ears. I'm getting tired… I can't run forever… Kuso, what do I do?

Sharp, cold metal stung his skin. The snapped nation's sword had cut his shoulder, blood now soaking his white naval uniform. Only the tip had nicked him, barely hitting him, and yet such a deep wound and immense pain had been created.

Distracted by the cut, Japan tripped over a branch in the dark. God, no—

Scrambling to his feet, he received a slash on the back of his calf—not far from his ankle, which would have resulted in far too much blood loss.

Japan ran with all his strength. His heart raced and pounded in his chest. His head was spinning; he was becoming dizzy. I can't run much longer…. I'm too tired….

They reached the end of the forest. A rocky cliff awaited them, barely visible in the dark. Kiku stopped running, too tired to continue—and because there was a large cliff waiting to swallow him up ahead.

Japan let out a loud cry of pain as Italy swung his sword down on his back, creating a serious injury. Blood soaked through the perfect white clothes covering his body. Staggering, the Asian man fell on his knees, the intense pain overcoming him. He gasped for breath, sweat running down his face. Through squinted eyes, Japan saw the insane country towering over him, raising his sword.

"DIE!" the redhead screamed.

"ITALIA! Please don't! I love you—"

The smaller man's mind went blank—and when it began working again in a second, he was screaming. Pain darkened his vision, his mind spinning, and he was helplessly trying to stay conscious but to no avail.

I'm dying

The two words flashed through Kiku's mind, over and over. He was dying. Panicking. He heard Italy come near out of the darkness….

"LAMENTABLE THOUGHTS!" Japan yelled.

"What the—"

The ground started to shake. Cracks began to appear in the ground, swiftly appearing toward Italy. Suddenly, a wide, gaping trench opened up, rocks and debris flying through the ear near Italy.

"This isn't good—" Italy ducked a boulder.

My energy is gone…. Italy… I love you… I hope you survive…. Japan collapsed in a forming pool of his blood.

Italy regained consciousness. His back was sore—there was a big rock on top of him. Coughing, he pushed himself up until he was on his knees. Every part of his body ached, his head throbbed. What… happened…?

The redhead looked around. The sky was becoming a little brighter; the night was beginning to end. Feliciano looked at his hand and saw blood. A sword lie by his side covered in dirt and the red substance. God… what did I do?

Italy stood, letting out a cry of pain. Suddenly, memories from the before flashed into his mind.

No… Kiku can't be dead… No way…..

Italy looked around, scanning the area. A lump of isomething/i the colors of the Japanese flag caught his attention not too far away.

No… It can't be…

He began to walk closer.

No….

He started to run.

NO….!

Japan was lying on the ground, soaked in his own darkening blood. The white of his naval army uniform contrasted the crimson color—the colors of the flag of the rising sun.

Italy approached the body slowly. Kiku's frozen expression seemed peaceful, yet pained.

He's just passed out… right….? Right?

"Right?" Italy yelled brokenly, beginning to cry. He fell to his knees, gasping a little at the pain that shot through his body. He slid his dirtied hand under Japan's head and neck, lifting him from the ground. The European nation pressed his fingers on Kiku's cheek. It was bruised, cold, pale, bloodied—horrifying.

Italy's eyes widened and filled with tears, his breath quickening as he hurriedly scanned over the body—the damage he'd done.

"No, you can't be dead Kiku…! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I LOVE YOU! You can't die!" Italy choked out frantically through his tears. "You can't be dead…." He bowed his head, his forehead against Japan's cold skin. Warm, wet tears fell, landing on the Asian's cheeks. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry!"

Silence.

Italy raised his head, surveying the body that used to be so beautiful, the man that was so perfect.

Then, something caught his attention. Something that looked like writing. It was small, and blended in with the blood soaked through the front of his coat, but on his left side, over his heart, Kiku had written "フェリ " The characters for "Feli"—part of Italy's human name—in his own blood.

Upon seeing this, the redhead had began crying harder, sobbing. "Kiku… Kiku I love you too…. Why did you have to die…. Why did I have to kill you?" He screamed brokenly, tears flowing down his face.

Picking up Japan's sword, he cut his leg, just enough to make him bleed some. Then, carefully, he took his index finger and, with his own blood, wrote his late lover's name above his own on the body's canvas: "Kiku ". Sitting back and looking at his work, he began to wail, his pained cries echoing, disappearing, into the ending, agony-filled night.