Chapter 4: Battle for Life

Just as France announced earlier that day, the Olympic Stadium – previously the ruins of Greece's homeland – was filled up with nearly every country in the world. All were coming to see not only if America had truly been reversed in age, but who would gain the rights to claim him as their own. Not everyone attended the stadium to watch the games, but there were enough visitors to psyche up the place.

"Welcome, one and all, to this special tournament for the rights to own America!" a shrill voice boomed into the microphone and out the many speakers. Sitting in a booth towering over the stadiums seats below was a short, blonde and very excited boy. "I'm the smallest county here and world's youngest Olympic host, Sealand!"

Only a small portion of the crowd cheered about this; most of them simply shook their heads or looked at one another confusedly. A good number of them were still confused about whether Sealand should really have the right to call himself a country yet. Whatever the case may have been, the crowds soon cheered on as the competitors entered the arena. Japan, Germany, Italy, France and China all walked out, some looking confident and others looking rather taken aback.

"Today's challenges are simple matches of skill! First one to finish each match wins!" Sealand continued cheerfully, spinning around in his seat as he chatted on. "Here with me to help judge the matches is the one and only founder of this land: Greece! Mr. Greece, do you have any words for the audience?" The young country asked, stopping his spinning long enough to shove the microphone at the older man.

Greece's head was tilted to the side; little snores escaping his throat. That man could sleep through anything, even all this excitement going on around him.

"Let the games begin!" he cheered with a small laugh. His index finger pointed up towards the sky as he began spinning in his chair once again. Soon afterwards, the crowd cheered along, filling the stadium with a loud buzz of excitement.

While France was out of sight – he had mentioned something about going to the dressing room earlier – China was pacing around in irritation, keeping his worried eyes on America. "Stupid France. I can't believe him!" he snapped, keeping his distance from the Axis, who had them outnumbered in strength for these games.

Sitting on a display where the trophies should have been was little America...sitting in what looked like a giant fish bowl. France had been careless enough to put America in a fish bowl for the remainder of the games. England was going kill them both when he found out. Luckily, he was not competing.

The boy did not look upset or scared at the moment; in fact, he looked pleasantly curious. America sat happily in the bowl as the games were introduced, looking around at the people cheering and clapping. The little nation had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, it sure looked like fun! America could only giggle, clapping his tiny hands as well, copying everybody else as most children do.

"Doesn't that kid know what were in the middle of!?" China slapped a hand against his forehead, hoping to get them both out of this mess as quickly as possible.

While France was still taking his sweet time doing who knows what, Italy and Germany were glad that Japan had showed up to help them out. The Japanese man seemed a little more quiet than usual. He was always fidgeting, always moving, always rubbing a hand over his chest, always in deep thought.

"Hey, Japan! Long time no see, glad you could make it!" Italy called to him in his normal chatty way. Japan, however, didn't do so much as glance over in his direction. Italy thought Japan may not have heard him over the crowd's roars, so he called a little louder. "Heeeeey, Japan!"

Japan turned his head ever so slowly and his eyes met Italy's. (Well, they would if Italy ever opened his.) He spoke no words, however.

Germany, who was standing beside his Italian friend, quietly hushed him. It was best not to get Japan into a foul mood. Was he already in a rut, though? Perhaps it was because China was around. Those two nations were not on the best speaking terms; not since their fights long ago, not unlike America and England some time ago.

In an attempt to avoid any hard feelings, Germany walked over and placed a comforting hand on the Japanese man's shoulder. "Thank you again for helping us out, Japan, but I don't want this to be too troubling for you," he said in the softest manner he could muster. Japan's dull eyes finally looked up and met Germany's fierce ones.

"Ahh, it's no trouble at all, Mr. Germany," he said in a small voice, also managing to give a sort of half-smile. "Forgive me, though, if I'm being too quiet...I have not been sleeping well."

"Are you okay to be competing, then?" Germany asked, growing slightly worried for his friend. Japan was close to Italy and himself after all – he was one of their very few best friends. "...Are you feeling okay?"

"Do not worry about me. I'm sure it's nothing," Japan said with a stronger smile. "I'll fight to the best of my ability for the Axis."

There was a small pause before Germany awkwardly smiled back, about to say something else, but Sealand's voice interrupted over the loud microphone before Germany could speak another word.

"Here we go, ladies and gentlemen! Round one will be...France versus Italy! Both competitors please report to the platform!"

"Oooh! That's me!" Italy laughed, "Wish me luck, Germany, Japan! Here I go~!" He climbed his way up the stairs rather shakily, but kept his smile on his face through all of this.

While Italy disliked fighting more than anything, he thought that it was lucky France was chosen instead of somebody else. France and Italy were half- brothers after all; surely France would end up going easy on him, and maybe France would even let him win! Italy felt strangely confident as he walked up the steps to the

"Hold it right there, little Italy! Here I come~!" called France at last, climbing onto the stage and joining him. Italy's eyes popped open once he saw France, and he let out a little squeak as well.

The crowd around them gasped and giggled at this French man. It was, all a sudden, not surprising why France wanted to having this contest at the old Olympic grounds now. France had always desired to play by the old rules...that rule being to compete stark naked.

China, on the other hand, was unamused. He could only shoot his most potent death glare at France and hope he'd be struck by sporadic lightning or something. "What do you think you're doing, Francis!? You dumbass!"

France simply laughed. "Aww, come on, China! Even you should have seen this coming~! And it's not like I'm forcing anyone else to join me," he said in a proud voice, turning to look at a now-trembling Italy. "I hope you're ready now, Italy~" he smirked playfully, edging over closer to the small Italian who was backing up as far as the stage would allow him to.

"Well, this will be fun," Sealand's voice echoed over the microphone again, "Alright! Round one! Let's have wrestling match! First one unable to battle or who steps out of the ring loses! Are you ready?"

"W-What?!" Italy cried, frantically looking around for the stairs to leave the ring. "N-No, please...! No!" France's taunting face and body motions were following Italy around the stage; that naughty laugh following shortly behind.

"FIGHT~!"

Right on cue, the French man launched himself towards Italy, knocking him down. Italy let out a horrified scream as France easily held him down. "Stop! Stop it, pleeeeeeease! You're scary enough with clothes on, France, please, let me go!" the small Italian squeaked out while trying desperately to get away from the Frenchman. After freeing one of his hands, he screamed down at Germany for help, as he always did when he got himself into situations like this.

The German's face was red with embarrassment and frustration. He pinched his brow and lowered his head, trying not to look up at the scene. "I can't help you, Italia. Come on now; you're going to have to fight alone," he murmured, though it pained him to say that. There was no way Italy could win like this!

"Germany...!" Italy screamed, trying harder and harder to leave, "I change my mind! I don't want to fight in the Olympics, I didn't know there'd be actual fighting, I thought it was games! I just want to go back hoooooome! Germanyyyy!"

"Haha! What's wrong, Ita? Giving up already?" France said, pinning Italy down onto the ground.

"Fraaaaance...! Stop iiiiiiiiiiiit!" Italy sobbed.

Everyone in the crowd was looking away for the moment. Even baby America was covering his big eyes with his hands.

It was hard for Germany to ignore the sound of Italy screaming like this, he had to resist several urges to go up there and beat the daylights out of France and leave this place with Italy. But after a few moments of this, a different sound pierced his ears; something he didn't wish to hear in a thousand years.

"Stoooop!" Italy cried, swinging his foot up and kicking France between the legs with his boot. The French man's face went white as sheet and his eyes shut tightly and his face distorted in pain. Not only did China and the crowd wince, but even little America looked like he understood what was happening. Slowly peeking over, Italy noticed his half-brother lying on the ground in a little ball, trembling in pain. "B-Big brother France?" Italy called in a tiny voice, kneeling down towards France, looking worried.

Germany stood there in total shock, not expecting Italy to do such a thing. Perhaps he was wrong. Maybe Italy was a lot tougher then he let on. Or maybe it was a complete accident. Either way, he was almost proud of his Italian friend.

"Well..umm, I guess that's that!" Sealand laughed nervously. "First round goes to Italy!"

Though Italy was still disturbed by what a freak his big brother France could be, he was also a little worried knowing that he could have seriously hurt France. He was pacing back and forth and almost wished France would come back.

"Stupid France..." China growled, looking back out at the fish bowl in the stadium. The kid looked bored and lonely, pressing his hands to the glass and looking out in China's direction. The poor thing wanted to be held and comforted.

"Don't worry America...I'm gonna get you out of this," he vowed. He hoped America could somehow hear this, let alone understand it.

Italy eventually calmed down and sat with Germany in the stands for the moment. The German had begun to lecture the poor Italian, as he usually did.

"Why did you want to quit the games? You did well, Italy," he said, still talking in a somewhat more gentle voice. It still disappointed him how Italy wanted to quit right off the bat like that. "I know you feel bad hurting France but-"

"I guess I found my one true weapon of destruction," Italy half joked, kicking his feet playfully back and forth. "And I don't wanna have to do that ever again...hahaha..." his tone was mostly one of embarrassment. "Don't bring upon others what you wouldn't bring upon yourself, after all. That's what I believe."

"Since when has this stopped you before when you were with me?" Germany asked. "You've always stood by me, even when I told you to go-"

"'Cause," Italy said simply, looking down with a blush. "No matter how scared I am...I feel safest and happiest when I'm with you! And, it's always a real adventure. Just cause I don't wanna play these games anymore doesn't mean I won't cheer my closest friends on! I would not wanna be anywhere else in the world."

Italy was a push over. A child at heart, a crybaby, and he always clung to Germany for dear life if anything went remotely wrong. But that Italian always knew exactly what to say to completely melt Germany's cold heart. He always thought of the right words when it really counted.

A light pink blush spread across Germany's surprised face. He gently placed a hand on Italy's shoulder and turned his head off to the side, covering his blue eyes with the brim of his hat he had worn today. "Italy..." he mumbled in a quiet voice, his hand slowly moving up from Italy's shoulder to his red hair, ruffling it gently. "...I'm glad you're here cheering us on too."

A delighted smile danced across Italy's face, and even Germany smiled back at him this time.

Since the beginning of the games turned out to be a rather interesting turn of events, Germany chose to opt out of the games and simply let China and Japan face off. It seemed unfair otherwise to continue the games with only one member of the Allies and all of the Axis members.

That, and Germany felt slightly guilty for fighting over a baby nation. But surely it was too late to turn back now...right? Win or lose, hopefully Japan and China won't hurt themselves hurt too badly. At this point, after all this trouble, it did not seem worth it to try and keep America away from everybody else. And Germany knew that beforehand, back when America was a child for the first time, England was the one to raise him. He figured England would eventually get America back in his possession.

While Sealand spun around in his chair, he playfully announced that China and Japan needed to prepare for the second – and final – match. "You have five minutes! Then get up there and let's have a swordfight from the world's most talented Asian countries~!"

China stood by himself across from Japan, his eldest son. And once again, they were fighting. He was honestly tired of this fighting. Sure, they were no longer on good terms from their pasts, but deep down inside, the Chinese man still cared. Japan was always family...wasn't he?

"Hey Japan! Are you okay?" Italy asked, walking over to the quiet man. China's frown deepened. That's right; Japan hardly did or said anything throughout this whole ordeal. The Japanese man sat alone on the bench, even farther from his two Axis members. Japan never raised his head up, even with Italy calling to him. "Japan!" Italy tried again, placing a gentle hand on Japan's shoulder.

Japan head slowly rose up. His dull eyes showed very few emotions, as always. He mumbled something with a straight face, and then looked confusedly up at Italy. "Sorry, was there something you wanted?"

"I was just asking if you were okay," Italy said, trying to keep his smile on his face, "Do you have a fever or something? Are you feeling okay?" Italy attempted to place his hand on Japan's forehead, but the Japanese man gently pushed it away. "J-Japan...?"

Though he lacked many words, Japan smiled up at his friend briefly before his face filled with mild worry. "I guess it's my turn, then?" Japan laughed a little bit, pulling out his sword from its sheath. "Once again, my apologies for before. I was trying to meditate a little bit before the match."

Germany seemed to believe this and patted Italy on the back shortly after. "See? Nothing's wrong, Italy. You should learn to take up meditation yourself," Germany gave a little half-laugh at this remark.

Italy's laughs came out much weaker; he was still not fully convinced about Japan's health. But, for the sake of the games, he kept his mouth shut. "J-Just do your best, okay, Japan?"

With a simple nod, Japan walked confidently up onto stage. "Of course. Anything for my friends," he said under his breath, keeping his eyes locked onto his rival as they both walked up.

"Last fighters! Are you ready!?" Sealand cheered, the crowd following suit. The competitors both nodded and narrowed their eyes.

"GO!"

Both blades were drawn, and he and Japan sped for each other and clashed swords. The harsh sounds of metal against metal echoed across the stadium. The crowd was silent; all of their attention focused on the two battling men. And with lightning-fast speed, the two men fought.

The longer the match dragged on, the worse it seemed to get for the two nations involved. Focus could easily be lost; one misstep and it was all over. Italy resorted to hiding behind Germany as the fight got bloodier, hugging him from behind and burying his face into the German's back. Never once, however, did Germany turn away. He rarely even blinked an eye.

There were horrified gasps from the crowd as both China and Japan were getting cut up by each other's sharp blades. Both of them were now injured, splattering blood across the platform.

This was enough to make little America tear up, seeing the his two old friends not only getting hurt, but the blood. All the blood. He didn't understand. What was happening? What were they doing...?

Pounding his tiny fists to the glass, America lifted his little head up and screamed. Harsh, miserable cries echoed out of the glass bowl and met everyone's ears. The crowd immediately stopped cheering as they all turned their head to the screaming nation. Soon to follow were China and Japan, both immediately dropping their weapons and whipping their heads around to face the crying child. It was a pitiful sight, and an even worse sound. For a long while, that was the only sound penetrating the thick silence of the Olympic stadium.

"What are we even doing...?" China broke the silence with a slow and pained voice, his hands in fists and shaking in rage. America continued to scream and cry louder, shouting over and over for somebody, anybody, to make this all stop. It was clear that this boy wanted to go home. This fighting was sickening, and America wasn't the only nation who realized that. China's head was down and his shoulders were trembling.

France, who had finally recovered from earlier, came out and noticed that the fighting had stopped. "I thought we were doing this to keep Allemagne from taking Amérique-" he said carefully.

"What difference does it make?!" China screamed, jerking his head up, his eyes fighting to hold back tears. "Look at him! Look what our pointless fighting has done! What kind of example are we setting for him!?" France quickly shut up as he noticed that hot tears were rolling down China's face as he shouted to everybody. "He finally gets a chance to start over his life, and we treat him like a trophy! We should ALL be ashamed, this is RIDICULOUS!" He had to stop at this point to prevent himself from further embarrassing himself.

Japan, who was on one knee catching his breath at the moment, finally rose again to his feet. He'd never seen China so emotional before in his entire life. He was so upset. It made his heart ache to see his fatherly figure acting like this. With a small sigh, Japan stood beside his rival.

"China is right. I cannot complete this fight if he is unwilling to battle. Nor is it right to do so, considering what we are fighting over," he looked to Germany and Italy, who were also looking rather ashamed of themselves. "Forgive me, my friends."

"You've got nothing to apologize to me for, Japan," says Germany, offering a hand to help his Japanese friend down from the stage. "Let's get your wounds patched up." Carefully, Japan descended the stage, taking one final look back at his father.

China had stopped his enraged yelling and was desperately trying to wipe his face dry. Once he managed to do so, France joined him on the stands. "Hey, are you alright?" France asked in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice.

"No, I'm not okay, aru!" China shouted bluntly to his friend.

"Sorry I asked..." France mumbled, backing away a little bit.

While everyone in the crowd, including Sealand, was thinking about leaving since the games were now over, a very angry and very British voice suddenly boomed out from the entrance.

"What the bloody hell is going on!?" It was none other than England.

The British gentleman quickly marched his way across the stadium to his crying son before China even had the opportunity to walk towards little America.

"Ahh, Angleterre!" France swallowed hard, sputtering out everything he knew. "See, this was all my fault! Allemagne was attempting to take Amérique so I came up with this brilliant plan to-"

"What is America doing in a god damned fish bowl!?" England screamed at him, quickly scooping the free nation out from the bowl and holding him in his arms, all the while shooting death glares in China's and France's direction. "I should have never left him alone for so long! I go to buy a few simple things and you pull this ridiculous stunt!?"

The Chinese man felt the most guilty out of the bunch. He lowered his head in shame, and wanted nothing more than to lock himself away somewhere and cry to himself. He dared not do so in front of England or France.

"Come on, China..." France muttered in a low voice, motioning for him to follow Britain back home, keeping their distance from the angry Brit. "We need to go home and treat your wounds, anyway."

It took a moment, but China eventually followed them home, not really in the mood to talk to anybody. He could only look up at America, who was finally starting to settle down again. He desperately wanted to hold that baby in his arms again, but it was clear from England's protective grasp that it would have to wait. The only things he was able to focus on were continuing to walk behind France and not breaking down into tears.

The crowd of other nations also took their leave soon after. Italy, Germany, and Japan – who was now being carried on Germany's back – were also heading home. Japan had eventually given in to the offer of staying at Germany's and Italy's house to recover. But for the moment, he had fallen asleep in Germany's grasp.

It was hard to blame England for still being in a foul mood when he arrived back home that evening. He was so angry he couldn't bring himself to even speak. He sat down heavily in a living room chair, keeping America on his lap, and he stared off into space, trying to think things through rationally and cool off a bit.

America was calmed down now and he sat there in comfort, snuggling up to his long-missed father. Every once in a while, however, he glanced over at the hallway, where he had seen France leading China.

China was placed on another couch by France. The Frenchman was cleaning and wrapping China's wounds before heading off into the kitchen. "L-Let me just...go and make us something to eat, alright?" France said quietly before skittering off out into the hall and down the stairs.

After making sure a few times that France and England both were out of sight and out of earshot, China thought about America and filled himself up with guilt once again, then lowered his face into his sleeves, uttering little sniffs and quiet mumbles as he wallowed in his own emotions.

Little America had seen enough hurt faces for one day, and he knew that China was still in pain, and it hurt him to see him like this. Quietly, and without so much as a fuss from England, America climbed down from his lap and crawled his way into the other room, towards the upset nation.

China did not notice America right away, and until a few tugs on his robes, he didn't even realize anybody else knew he was there. He looked down with a small gasp as he attempted to blink the few remaining tears out of his eyes.

America sat there for a moment, and then opened up his arms for China, wanting to be held. His big blue eyes shook with concern for this man. With a teary smile still on his face, the Chinese man picked up the child and rocked him in his arms, holding him to his chest. America cooed a little bit, playfully snuggling up to China, smiling up at him as if to say, "Everything's okay."

Regardless of this, a few more tears squeezed from the corners of China's eyes. His smile never left his face, however.

France smiled at this as he watched them quietly from the kitchen.

While Japan stayed with Germany and Italy long enough to treat his wounds, he insisted that he would go back home to his Asian-styled house as soon as he was well enough to leave. While it was true that Japan did not feel well due to his wounds, there was also a new ache in his chest to go along with the cuts and bruises on his body. This was no regular injury or sickness he had gotten. His chest was so sore. It hurt quite badly now. Perhaps it was due to the fight, or due to the fact that he was not feeling his best when he first entered. He only wanted to go home at this point.

Making his way down the halls now, while holding one hand to his chest, Japan tried to go downstairs to leave. He was clutching the railing as if his life depended on it. He didn't feel well at all, and it showed on his face and by the slow speed at which he was descending the stairs. He had only made it about halfway down the stairs when he noticed Italy rushing over from the kitchen. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pouted up at Japan, his hands on his hips.

"Japan, Japan! Don't go so soon; come on and eat some pasta with us! I just made it now, it's really good and it'll help you get better and you'll be happy again!" he rambled in his usual cheerful manner. He had no idea how much Japan was hurting right now. Japan came to a sudden halt on the stairs; his brown eyes widening in increased pain. His hand on the rail loosened, and soon both hands were clutching at his chest. "J-Japan, are you feeling okay?" Italy began, leaning forward a little bit towards Japan, "M-Maybe you should go lay back down for a little whi—"

Suddenly, the Japanese man lost his footing on the stairs and wobbled to the side a little bit. His face was pale as he leaned forward and winced in pain. His heart was beating unbearably fast. Japan soon lost his balance and tumbled down the stairs, all the way to where Italy was standing. Italy, meanwhile, was unable to do anything but watch as he fell, his heart leaping to his throat.

The Italian finally managed to get his bearings together and run over to stop Japan from landing quite so hard. He lied Japan down on the floor after steadying him. Japan's face was pale as a ghost and his eyes were dull and half-closed. He lied there where Italy placed him and wheezed painfully, sweat beading upon his brow and rolling down his cheeks. His hands were still over his chest, clutching his robes, and that was when Italy came to his conclusion.

Japan was having a heart attack.

Doing the only thing he could do at the moment, Italy stood up, both his hands shooting up to his head and clutching at his hair, and shouted at the top of his lungs with the most frightened scream all three of the household members had ever heard in their lives.

"GERMANY!"