Part 1: Take Up Your Arms, For Tonight We Go To War!

He always seemed most at home in battle. When most of us went to war, we would go out for "the cause" and for "our people" but it was a duty, something to get out of the way so we could move on to better things. (And then there was me, who avoided bloodshed like it was my job.)

But not him. For him, battle was the better thing, what he strove for. He stood straighter in battle, moved with no trace of hesitation or fear, even as the bullets and bombs and shrapnel rained down on us. Even the bullets seemed to fear him as he charged forward, a battle cry surging from his lips. In the early days, as we prepared for war, the idea of defeat seemed all but impossible. Especially for him. It was nice to see him smile after two decades of poverty and turmoil, even if it was an awkward attempt at one (I don't think he'd had a lot of chances to practice recently.) But it was in battle that he truly shined. He'd found his pride again after decades of shame and degradation and he donned his new mission like it was a medal of honor, In the beginning he swept across Europe like a mighty wind, blowing past their defenses with ease. In those moments, there was no time for awkwardness—I never saw that uncertain flicker of a smile on the front lines and while I mourned for it, I was treated to something entirely different.

"Come on, Italy! They're retreating!" He would turn back to me and beam, and even I, with my cowardice and hatred for blood would pick up the pace just a bit, intoxicated by his confidence. He pulled me along as he went, and to this day I never figured out why he was so interested in having me at his side, unless it was to have a witness to his glory.

And he was glorious.

In the early days he was fighting for the pride of his people, for his place as a world power, for acknowledgement. In the early days it seemed nothing would stop him in his single minded determination. And while I hated war, hated bullets and marching and endlessly facing off against Britain, I loved watching him fight. (There were times where I wondered if, just maybe, I let myself get captured as a way to see that fierce fighting spirit just a bit closer.)

Japan was less obvious in battle. Like in everything else he did, he hid his emotions well in battle. But where as Germany fought with sheer force, no thought to anything other than speed and power, Japan fought with grace. He moved in silence and stealth and when his mark landed, it drew blood. It was no wonder why they had so much pride in their steel. In Japan's hand, a simple sword brought fear into anyone who had to face him. But it was more than that, his tenacity, his determination even gave the great America pause. Like Germany, Japan was also fighting for acknowledgement, for glory. He was an old country, far older than Germany, but they both yearned for power, for influence. Grandpa Rome would have said they just wanted a stake in the world they lived in. And for a short time, they were the powers, they were the influences, as country after country fell under their flags.

Yes, back then I felt protected. No one would mess with me, not so long as my friends were there. Sure, Germany would gripe about constantly having to come to my aid, and yes Japan would constantly chide me whenever I called him, but they never failed to save me. Even now, when I look back on those days, I remember the two of them standing before me, proud and strong, looking like the ancient marble gods in Grampa Rome's temples. I still remember the weight of Germany's gloved hand on my shoulder as he surveyed his hard won victories. "Soon we will be the axis on which the world spins." I still remember the determination in his eyes as he looked at me. "No one will ever ignore or bully us again, Italy. We will be conquerers." During those days, I even let myself believe it. I, who should have known better, who'd seen more than my fair share of would-be empires collapse under their own ambition, allowed myself to buy in to the delusion.

It had been such a nice dream.

xXx

Author's note: I think Italy has far more going on than is often shown. He's an old country after all. I think it's more of a choice that he acts naive and I love how he interacts with Japan and Germany who are both relatively new to European politics. I hope you like it. Please read and review!