Author's note: Hi, guys!
Here I am again with more history, fluff and hurt/comfort! You like that, right? I certainly hope so. I know I do!
... And, before you ask, no, the fic's not over yet. Not for a while. XD We're in this for the long haul.
How long is the fic? I dunno, but my hope is that you're enjoying it.
Leave reviews and lemme know!
Please? XP
... Anyway, on with the chapter!
Chapter Six: Arm and a Leg
"Got any threes?" Italy asked with a smile.
"Nein," Germany replied. "Go fish."
Italy pouted. "Aww."
They'd been in this prison cell for three months now, waiting for Japan to surrender. Italy had to hand it to the guy; he was really stubborn.
Reaching down to the deck of cards that America had let them borrow, he grabbed the one at the top of the pile.
"Come here, fishy fishy~" he said, lifting it up.
He placed it amongst his other cards. Upon seeing that it was a five, he pouted again, making a slight squeak of disappointment.
Germany scanned his own cards. "Hmm... got any-?"
Suddenly, the door to their cell opened. Both heads spun around to see America shoving Japan inside, before shutting the door.
They stared at their former teammate in disbelief. His clothes were torn, frayed and dirty and his face was covered in cuts and bruises. He looked like he'd been run over by several trucks.
"Sorry again about the attack, dude," America said with a sympathetic smile. "Got a little carried away."
Japan self-consciously brushed himself down. "Don't worry about it," he replied.
"Although you were being a stubborn asshole about surrendering, it wasn't nice to hit you so hard."
"Rike I said, don't worry about it."
America paused a moment. "Well, if you say so, dude!" He put on a smug grin. "Well, now that I've caught 'em all, that officially makes me the hero! Not that anyone was surprised!" He laughed loudly. "I'll be sure to let you out again in... however long it takes to get your surrender signed! 'Cause your boss is being as difficult as you were!" Laughing again, he wandered off.
An awkward silence hung in the air as Japan slowly turned to look at his former teammates.
"Um..." After a moment, he bowed slightly. "Konnichiwa."
The silence continued for a long moment.
"... Wow, you're a mess!" Italy cried.
Blushing, Japan turned away. "Hai..."
Germany heaved a sigh. "Took you long enough to surrender..." he said.
"Hai... werru, I had to forrow se Bushido Code, so..."
Italy stared at him. "Um..." he replied, "bless you?"
Japan gave him a blank stare. "... It is a system in my country. Aruso known as 'se way of se warrior'."
"... Eh?"
Japan sighed. "Integrity. Respect. Heroic courage. Honour. Compassion. Sincerity. Royaruty. Most of sese prevented me from surrendering."
"... I'll never understand your culture," Germany said.
"Me neither," Italy agreed. "... You're going to be okay, though, right? That looks like it hurts."
"I'rru be fine."
"Well, okay." Italy paused a long moment. "So, you wanna play cards with us?"
"... Hai."
Over two weeks passed, during which time the former Axis Powers played card games, read books and told stories, until they were finally let out. Japan signed a formal surrender before being released. Germany, however, was kept behind. Italy had decided to stay with him, but was told to stand in the corner while matters were discussed.
"So, dude," America said to Germany, who was sitting on a chair. Four of the Allies were standing around him in a circle. "First order of business! We're liberating all the countries you invaded and annexed and are giving them back their freedoooom!"
"... Alright," Germany replied.
"Also! We've been discussing the matter of what to do, now that you've surrendered and stuff, and decided that we can't trust you for crap! So, we're gonna be taking pieces of your land to knock you down a few pegs!"
"... Vhat?"
"Oui," France agreed, "because you sorely need it, mon ami."
"Damn right he does!" America said. He held out a map and unravelled it, holding it in front of Germany. "Behold!"
On the map was the country of Germany, divided into four sections. The top left side was labelled 'Property of Tea-taxer', the top right side was labelled 'Property of Freedom-hater', the bottom left side was labelled 'Property of Statue-giver' and the bottom right side was labelled 'Property of The Greatest Country On Earth!'
"... You can't be serious."
"Oh, we're very serious! Right, guys?"
"Da," Russia replied with a pleasant smile.
"Oui," France replied with a smirk.
"Quite," Britain replied, lacking any sort of smile.
"And you have no say in the matter, if you wanna get in our good books!" America said, laughing again.
Germany gritted his teeth. They had him there. He could hear Italy whimpering slightly in the corner, but he tried to ignore it.
"... Alright, fine," he replied.
"Oh, that good, comrade!" Russia said. "I also take Prussia into my house, da?"
Germany did a double-take. "Vait, vhat?!"
"Da. I claim East Germany and Prussia technically East Germany, correct? So he come live with me!"
Anger surged up within him. "Nein! You can't-"
Russia turned to him, his smile tightening. "Can't?"
Germany hesitated, recalling the Battle of Berlin and that blasted metal pipe. His head stung slightly just thinking about it.
Clenching his eyes in defeat, he lowered his head. "Alright, fine... just... look after him, von't you?"
"Da~"
America laughed. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, dude!" he said. "And I can throw pretty damn far!"
"... You wish to start fight, America?"
"Ready when you are, bruh!"
"Oh, don't bloody start this again..." Britain grumbled.
"Oui!" France agreed. "If you are going to be doing ze glaring contest, zen take it elsewhere!"
"Alright, alright," America replied.
"... You're still bloody doing it!" Britain snapped.
Germany didn't even bother to look at them. What was the point, really?
"I'm sorry about your land, Germany..." Italy said sadly.
Germany sighed as he leaned against the building. Inside, he was sure that America and Russia were still glaring at one another.
"It's alright..." he replied.
"... And I'm sorry about Prussia, too."
"Me too..."
He glanced up at the sky. He could only imagine how his older brother would cope living in Russia's house. The man was a strong nation, sure, but he knew what Russia was like. He'd seen the other nations who'd lived in that house.
"... Well, I'm sure he'll be back before you know it!"
"Ja..."
"... And, well, you'll always have me!"
Germany turned to look at his friend, who was smiling encouragingly at him. He couldn't help the warmth he felt in his chest at the sight.
"... Danke."
Italy smiled wider. "No problem!"
Sitting on his couch, Germany looked around him at the empty living room. No longer was Austria sleeping over, eating his food and reading his books. Not now that he'd been 'freed' from his annexation.
It wasn't as if he was sad to see him go - he wasn't the biggest fan of his fellow German-speaking nation - but now it was deathly quiet in here. No sounds of kitchen explosions, complaining or piano-playing. There was no sound at all.
As the silence continued to drag on, he couldn't help but think of his brother, Prussia, again. How long would he have to live in Russia's house? How long would it be until he'd see him again? The man was loud, obnoxious and overly narcissistic, but he didn't deserve that.
He sighed heavily through his nostrils, trying hard to ignore how much less powerful he felt now. It was like he'd lost a large portion of what had made him so strong, so formidable. Perhaps he'd get it back one day, but, for now, he was powerless to the whims of the Allies.
Drowning in the ever-present silence, he tried to occupy his mind with what he'd be doing tomorrow. As he began to picture running laps around the training field, he was suddenly hit with a realisation; he wouldn't have to do that anymore.
In fact, now that the war was over, he'd have to adjust to a life of poverty again, wouldn't he? Working to pay off reparations to the Allies and trying to rebuild his reputation.
... Well, as long as he wouldn't have to make those blasted cuckoo clocks again, he might be able to cope.
"Moshi moshi?" Japan asked from the other end of the phone.
"Guten tag," Germany replied. "I vas just calling to tell you zat training is no longer necessary."
"I see. I suspected sat would be se case."
"Ja. I just zought I'd let you know, zough."
"Werru, arigatou."
Germany paused. "... Good luck viz everyzing."
"Hai. You too."
"Tschuss."
"Ja ne."
Germany placed the phone back on its hanger. After releasing a calming breath, he picked it back up again and dialled another number. He waited a few rings before someone picked up.
"Pronto~?" Italy asked cheerfully.
"Guten tag."
"Oh, ciao, Germany!"
"I vas just calling to tell you zat training is no longer necessary."
"... No training?"
"Nein. Viz ze var over, I see no need to continue."
"Oh, that's great! So, there's no more laps to run?"
"Nein."
"Oh, sweet relief!"
Germany felt a pang in his heart at that. "... Try not to sound too disappointed..."
"Sorry. It's just, you know, I never did-a like running laps."
"Nein, you really didn't."
There was a pause. "Oh, but we can still hang out, though, right? I mean, we're not training together anymore - which is a-okay with me - but you're going to need some company in your country's slump, right?"
"Vell, I..."
"Unless... oh, unless you think the pact has reached its expiration date, now that the war's over!"
"Italy-"
"And you don't-a want to hang out anymore, now that I'm no longer your soldier!"
"Italy! Ve are not doing zis scheisse again!"
"... What scheisse?"
"... Anyvay, sure. Ve can continue to hang out... even zough ze var is over."
"Oh, really?"
"Ja."
"Hooray! That's happy."
A tiny smile forced its way onto Germany's mouth. His friend was so kind. So loyal. It warmed his heart to know that someone cared so much. That someone wanted to hang out with him, even after their alliance was no longer necessary.
The second he realised what he was feeling, he forcefully squashed it back down.
1948
"So, what do you want to do today?" Italy asked cheerfully as he and Germany strode down the street.
It had been a few years since the end of World War Two and Germany had spent that time slaving away to pay for all the damage he'd caused. In the meantime, a lot had happened. The nation of Prussia had been dissolved - though, thankfully, Germany's brother was still around - and America and Russia's hostilities towards each other had steadily grown. The two would often be spotted either glaring across borders at one another or bragging about how much better their governments were. Germany had learned to ignore them, far more focused on other important things. Especially when Russia had decided to put up a blockade in Berlin some time ago, purely to annoy the other Allies.
"I don't know," Germany replied. "Vhat do you feel like doing?"
"Hmm... how about-?" Italy went silent as two very pretty German ladies walked past. He immediately dashed over to them. "Ciao, ladies~!"
"Oh, guten tag," one of them replied.
"You're both very bellisimo! In fact, one might say you're bellisimo belle~!"
"Zis charmer over here..." the other one said with a smirk.
"Hee, well, you know~!"
Germany felt his eye twitch at the shameless display. At the same time, he was trying to ignore the annoying ache he felt at that love-struck expression on Italy's face.
"Okay, vell, ve'd better get going," the first woman said. "Tschuss!"
"Ciao!" Italy waved as the two women walked off, giggling to each other. After a moment, he walked back over to Germany, a goofy grin on his face. "Hee~! Did you see the bosom on that blonde one? Quite impressive~"
Germany scowled at him. "Ja, I noticed how you vere ogling it."
"Hee~"
Germany grunted in annoyance. "Come on, let's go." He continued walking at a brisk pace.
"Hey, wait for me!"
As Italy walked, he couldn't help stealing glances at his surly best friend. The man was walking unusually fast and he had a large amount of frown lines on his face.
He knew that Germany didn't like it when he flirted with girls - he tended to call it a 'stupid waste of time' - but it seemed to annoy him a lot more as of late. Italy would put it down to stress, personally. After all, the man had been through a lot lately, so it was understandable. Having his factories torn down and his people put into labour was bound to make him surly.
Italy knew he was making Germany's mood worse, but he couldn't help it. Women were just so beautiful. All of them were. Their soft skin, their silky hair, their luscious curves, their supple chests. What wasn't to like? Every woman deserved to be told how incredibly beautiful she was. Their sparkling charm always dazzled him, no matter their nationality.
In contrast, the male body did nothing for him. He couldn't get excited by flat chests, muscle-y torsos, facial hair and excessive testosterone.
... He'd made a couple of exceptions to this rule, of course, but not because of their appearance. He'd opened his heart to them purely because of how they'd treated him. They'd been kind and caring, treating him like a friend, instead of an annoyance, or a piece of land to claim.
It was clear to him, however - due to their negative reactions to a same-sex relationship, as well as various books and DVDs - that they were both into girls.
The first one had backed away upon realising it and he just couldn't bear the thought of the second one doing the same.
... He'd prefer the status quo to losing him any day.