It's over, he thought.

The declaration had been sent.

Italy knew that a letter of that importance would be delivered the same day. It had already been typed up and everything. All that was needed were the signatures. You can tell a lot about people from them. One was signed gracefully, yet flourished. It had been art in itself the way it had been written, radiating true joy and happiness:

Italia Romano.

Romano was in a joyous mood, why wouldn't he be? Not only was he joining the winning team, he was declaring war on that Potato Bastard! His mark on that paper was much more beautiful than that of his younger.

Italia Veneziano.

It was slow and choppy, with blots of ink from when he had paused, wishing for this all to be a terrible dream, to wake up next to his comrade in bed, where he wanted to be the most at that moment. The sudden jerks of ink from when his brother shouted, "Hurry up, dammit! The sooner that kraut gets it, the better!" There were also blotches of smeared ink, weak paper, and the telltale scent of salt from the tears that had fallen onto the paper. They were Italy's tears, making their own signature. All too quickly, the letter was sent. The title was burned into Italy's mind:

Declaration of War.

It pained him to see those words. How could he declare war on his comrade, his ally, his best friend? He thought of when they had first become allies. How they had formed their pact of steel, how Italy came up with the name, Axis Powers. He also remembered the damned promise he said he'd keep.

"If I'm ever in a pinch, you can help me. And if you're ever in a pinch, I'll help you."

Italy choked on that thought, knowing that he hadn't helped him at all. It was always Germany coming to his rescue, Germany saving him from England, Germany saving him from traps, Germany knowing he was too weak. And what had Italy done to repay him? Side with the Allies! Bitter tears stung his eyes, much like the ones that sealed his name on the letter. The third signature. The one of guilt, depression, and betrayal. On this autumn day, those emotions were spread, knowing that the next victim would be the recipient of these terrible emotions. Germany would soon find out, as he opened the envelope.