A/N: Another update! The chapter's still not quite finished yet. Which is really a shame. I haven't even introduced 'Momo' (Mystery character) yet. Or the witch I mentioned last chapter... hmmm... I should write that...

Hetalia: The Last Pastabender – Chapter 3 – Part 1 - The Southern Tomato Temple

It was a face-off.

Or at least it would've been, had either party been aware of what was going on.

As Romano descended, America and England came running out onto the deck of the abandoned ship. Germany and Italy dismounted as the brother and sister hopped off the deck into the soft snow on the ground.

Confused green eyes met bewildered blue eyes, and closed brown eyes met surprised… other blue eyes. A long silence stretched between them. Which Italy broke, of course.

"Veh~!"

The Italian stepped forward, big, goofy grin in place. Germany face-palmed at this behavior. His companion knew nothing of tact. Contrary to the German's expectations, the blonde stepped forward.

"Hi!" she said cheerily, starting forward with her hand extended. England held her back.

"Did you come to see the fireworks, too?" Italy asked.

"Er, no," England said quickly, taking his sister by the arm and leading her away from the scene. "We were just leaving. Good day."

America smiled and waved at Italy as she was pulled away.

Germany walked up to Italy, who was still grinning and waving after the girl. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he thought, What am I going to do with this guy? The natural course would be to leave him behind and continue my search elsewhere. However…

He cast a look at Italy's still-grinning face. The girl was long gone by now, although he continued to wave like an idiot. Somehow I doubt this guy would survive for very long in the arctic on his own.

Sighing, Germany reasoned that he could think it over later.

It was only when Italy looked up at him that the German realized his hand had been on Italy's shoulder for a long time. Hastily retracting it, he scrambled for something to say to fill the awkward moment. Luckily, he could count on Italy to fill it for him.

"Pasta~!"

"Iggy why'd you run away so quickly back there? That boy looked nice…" America asked with a dreamy twinkle as England continued to pull her along. England didn't answer, not stopping until they were all the way back safely inside their igloo.

"Stay away from those guys, Amelia," England said suddenly, pacing.

"Whyyyyy?"

"You saw the way that boy kept his eyes closed all the time. It's unnatural; he's definitely hiding something, showing up out of nowhere like that." America opened her mouth to argue, but England bitterly continued, "And did you see the way they were dressed? Who wears light clothes like that in the freezing cold! And the other guy's coat looked Fire Nation to me!"

Amelia opened her mouth, but her brother started again vehemently, "And the blond one looked suspicious too. Did you see his eyes? They're constantly narrowed in concentration, like he's imagining what he wants to do to children." At this, America fixed her brother with a 'You're-taking-this-wayyy-too-far' glare, and as a rebuttal formed on her lips, he said, "And what was that furry thing they were riding on? I could have sworn I saw it fly! They're witches, Amelia, using black magic! And I know black magic!" At this she just rolled her eyes. "They're witches, I tell you! Evil, Fire Nation witches, and…"

England's rant was interrupted by shouting outside.

"Veh! Germany, what a cute little village, the houses are all made out of ice! Germany, look, a snow fort just collapsed! It's just a big pile of snow now!" America laughed heartily when her brother made what she called his 'constipated face'. His eyebrows knitted together, his mouth formed an 'O' shape and his stare was completely blank, as though the irises had vanished into thin air. "Germany, Germany, can we make a snow man? Can we, Germany?"

"No!" the voice was gruff and commanding. "And keep your voice down! You'll wake everyone in the area!"

"But Germany, it's only four o' clock!"

"Stop saying my name so often! I told you not to wear it out!" the voice boomed.

The rest of the conversation was lost on England, as he was still wearing his constipated face and fretting over the collapse of his 'fort'. Slowly, he drifted outside, and made a 'gah!' face when he saw the pair standing in front of his igloo.

"Gah!"

"Veh!"

"Allo."

America stepped out of the igloo. "What is all this commotion out here? And why isn't it about me?" she demanded.

"Get back inside, Amelia," England warned, "There's no need to socialize with these – "

The American completely ignored him, instead appearing at Italy's side to flirt with him. "You must be so cold out here, I can tell you're freezing," she fretted, cutting off her brother's lecture. Smoothing his exotic shirt she purred, "I can tell you're not from around here. It takes time to get used to the temperature, you know! Come inside for dinner!"

"Thanks!" he returned, smiling. "I have been feeling a little cold since I was trapped in that ice. BY any chance will there be pasta?" he asked as she led him inside. Shrugging his broad shoulders, the German followed. England would have protested, but then he caught sight of the collapsed snow 'fort' he'd built and stood transfixed at the sight.

"Trapped in ice, hm? That's so interesting," she said, not having listened to a word Italy had said. "Pasta? Never heard of it. Although I did make seal gut hamburgers! My own invention! Hahaha!" She moved to make Italy a plate as the German ducked his head through the doorway.

Italy froze. Never heard of… pasta…?

He sank to his knees, clawed out his face, banged his head on the wall, ran around the room screaming like an idiot, and finally wailed, "GERMANY! The world… has changed… Pasta is gone forever!"

The German responded gruffly, "Pasta? Is that anything like Wurst?"

The Italian could have died. He could have died right then and there. He was absolutely lost. A world without pasta was like… a world without cookies. In noodle form.

NOOOOO!