Training was not his expertise, he was simply not fit enough to part take in any activities that required too much effort. It was no secret that young Italy's body wasn't built for extreme exertion, unlike his blond friend. Being strong and courageous had always been a dream of his, but at this point there was little to no hope of that happening anytime soon. Instead of giving up hope, Ludwig insisted he'd train harder, to become stronger and to be able to fight his own battles.
Because, seriously, every single day he'd frantically call his office, screaming that some stronger country had beat him up.
Italy had weak arms, he was a thin man, slightly toned, but that had puberty as cause. He didn't eat much fatty food either, since his breakfast, lunch and dinner consisted of mostly pasta, cheese and soup. His diet lacked variation, this made him weak. The small nation tried his best to do push ups, well, if he could hold his body up long enough. Ludwig watched the struggling boy from a small distance, shaking his head in disapproval, he and his brother had trained the kid for years now.
No progress whatsoever.
"Germany, can we stop now? I'm-a very tired." the northern half begged as his arms gave out, he nuzzled the grass below him, ready to just take a siesta right there. The taller nation grabbed him by his color, holding him up. Italy was already asleep, but what's to be expected from Veniziano? Just as he was about carry the small Italian inside, his sister, Katarina, had witnessed her exhausted brother passing out.
"Stop working my-a brother so hard! He's gonna die!" usually, their celestial activities didn't bother her, nor did she care about what they were doing. Veniziano had promised her, as long as she lived with the former axis in Germany, he would cook her up some pasta whenever she wanted. Though she wouldn't admit it, he was the better cook of the duo and Ludwig was ruining her mealtime.
"It's not my fault he's built like a twelve-year-old girl! He needs to train!" Ludwig retorted quickly, annoyed at the unnecessary loud volume of her shrill voice. Both walked into the German's home, the blond wanting to put his sleeping friend to bed while the southern half just nagged at him for wearing out her younger brother. Oblivious to the situation, the subject of their argument slept rather peacefully.
"Not every guy has to be a tank, his body is-a perfectly normal. Leave him alone!" Katarina frowned at the taller man, now that her brother was asleep , she had to cook herself. Ludwig covered him with the blanket he always clutched when they used to sleep in the same bed, trying to refrain from yelling all kinds of profanities back at the complaining Italian. South firmly placed her hands on her hips, scowling at the German.
"Normal? Vhat do you mean normal? Look at him!" Germany yelled, that was one of the most ridiculous statements he had ever heard. Italy wasn't only short compared to most other nations, but even the more feminine nations among them were broader, or at least slightly broader than him. He had always thought if you're girlier than Poland, you have a long way to go.
"There is-a nothing wrong with him!" her face faltered, there was a lot wrong with her little brother, too much to mention too. Katarina noticed that the tall nation had the same opinion, with the way he looked at her. South rolled her eyes and sniffed, "You know what I mean."
"He's veak und he eats too much pasta-"
That's where Katarina drew the line.
"There is-a nothing wrong eating pasta! You Germans are bloated, potato sucking bastards who can't appreciate delicious food!" she waved her finger in his face, pointing directly between his eyes. He took her much smaller hand in his, and lowered it slowly. Katarina was silenced, Ludwig had rough palms, probably from all the training he had done to become so strong. Suddenly she wondered at what age a guy like him starts thinking he wants to be built like a Greek God.
Ludwig led the Italian elsewhere, though he found siestas of no use, he didn't want to disturb his friend during one. The younger Italian fell like a rock and slept like a rose, but having him hear the conversation wasn't neccasary. "He said it himself, he vants to be stronger! Maybe you should train alongside him, you zwo are siblings afterall."
"Oh no! I'm-a not some burly, rugged, ugly German! That your women look-a like professional wrestlers is fine but don't try that on me!"
Burly? Rugged? Ugly?
"Hey! Our women are beautiful UND strong, zhat your men are bunch of crying pansies on zhe other hand." he retorted. What did the two Italians have against women from his homeland anyways? The younger half had admitted in a song he wrote that he was afraid of German women, because they were, according to him, larger and manlier than him. But that wasn't it, Ludwig concluded, he was merely too girly.
Katarina closed in, again pointing accusingly, "You take-a that back! There is-a nothing wrong with gentlemen, you are all muscle, no feelings. Our men know how-a to treat a lady as they should, they aren't cavemen like-a you all!"
"Sure! Having women think zhey are only one when you have about seven others is totally respectful!" for a self-proclaimed poor virgin, Veniziano was quite the playboy, in the second world war he took it on himself to create a battle record, which was merely a photo book containing pictures of him with different women in various countries, from Russia to France. America described it as 'having hoes in different area codes'.
The southern half huffed as she circled around the taller nation. She paused, again planting her hand on her wide hips and quirked her eyebrow. The stray curl on her head was crooked and erect, this was probably another side effect of feeling irked besides the shrill shouting. Somewhat smug of being part of the romantic country, she flipped her auburn locks, "Love is-a meant to be shared with everyone, too bad you barbarians never feel love, or any other emotion for-a that matter."
Stoic bastards.
Ludwig gave up, it wasn't like anyone could change her mindset. The tall nation stretched, it was already noon and his brother was probably waiting for him to start their own training. Prussia loved teasing his brother while lifting, since the albino had just a little bit more stamina. Germany quickly disregarded the discussion, Gilbert was an impatient man,"Katarina, you are impossible."
"Whatever, go to-a hell, potato sucking bastard." Seconds later the blond slid off his coat and neatly folded it, Katarina smiled inwardly. So, it was training time yet again? Spending years with Antonio sometimes had it perks, she learned a man's charm increased so during training. Sure, when her brother or Japan trained, they looked flat-out pathetic, trying to keep up while red in the face and panting like dogs. But with muscular men, it was a whole different story, it was more appealing.
Or rather, irresistible. She might have hated him with a burning passion, but she was just a regular lady after all.
Maybe the hunger skipping lunch had caused, could be satisfied with something else.
Or rather, someone.
Sue me for liking Fem!Romano and Germany. I suddenly liked Germano, so I wanted to share this with you. Let me know if you find errors.