Training went along in the usual fashion: Germany would try to teach us some new technique for killing people, Italy would be clueless, Germany would threaten to kick him out, he'd start to cry, Germany would break down and let him train, Italy would almost kill us all, and Germany would get pissed. Well, by the end of the day, I guess he'd had enough of it, because as I was jogging along the dirt road behing the courtyard, Italy came bolting down the track, screaming "Dakotah, Dakotah, Germany's going to kill me!" with Germany following right behind him. He took cover behind me as Germany reached for his throat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, ok, what happened?" I said.

"This schwächling can't figure out how to hold a gun!" Germany said, using the German word for weakling.

"I didn't know the long part was supposed to go in front of you!" Italy cried from behind me.

"The barrel, Italy, the barrel!"

"What barrel?"

"You. Are. IMPOSSIBLE!" Germany shouted. He turned and walked off, muttering "Dumb as a stump."

"Whew! That was a close one, eh Dakotah?" Italy said after he had gone.

"I think he was really upset this time, Ita-chan."

"Oh, he always gets like this. He'll calm down eventually."

"I don't think he will this time. He seemed more P.O'd than usual."

"Does this mean I'll have to leave and go home? But I don't want to go home! Romano will laugh at me and I don't want my own big brother laughing at me!" Italy started to cry again.

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I could help you, though!"

"Really?"

"Sure, I don't see why not. Maybe tonight after dinner. That's when Germany goes to his workshop to make cuckoo clocks. If he catches wind of this, we're both leaving."