Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia.
Because I Love You
VI.
Snow. Small, white flakes, soft to the touch, the innocence in their pearlescent glow luringly elusive. As though like feathers they glide lightly down the spiralling slopes on their descent from a seemingly endless sky down to the earth below, entrancing the souls of any observer.
Their playfulness, as they gather on the ground, redolent of a long lost, happy childhood.
"Run!"
Tearing blindly through the savage blizzard, he could only pray that he would not fall behind. The sound of staggered, laboured breaths of the other, catching in the wild winds was his only assurance—the very source compelling him to keep moving despite having long before reached his physical limits.
Strong gales were thrust fiercely at him; one moment threatening to throw him backward then suddenly pushing him from behind in the next. His mind was slipping sporadically into moments of unconsciousness; flashes of white pervading his senses while he mustered every last drop of energy left in him to rid himself of them. Alas…
"Ger…many…Mi dispiace…"
An apology. A confession of his withering willpower, of his intention to surrender himself to the snow, and in turn, abandon the man of the same name he had just uttered. His feet slowed and almost came to a complete halt when—
"Italy."
His hand was grasped firmly, the familiarity of the touch warm even through the thick material of their gloves. Ordinarily, only the prospect of dining on exquisite Italian cuisine with an equally exquisite young lady to share the meal with would have motivated him to put himself through any kind of tiring physical exertion. However, this time it was an assuring tug of his hand that spurred him on through the dark blizzard.
::O:::O:::O:::O::
A forest of trees covered in brightly coloured, healthy leaves stood all around. The screeches and songs of creatures inhabiting the surroundings echoed into the sky as earthy scents wafted in the moist air. Two pairs of boots tracked over dampened soil at a consistent, rhythmic pace.
"Well isn't it great? We made it through the blizzard!"
A tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed German nodded with a grunt of acknowledgement, the man keeping his eyes set straight ahead of him.
"Ludwig, where are we going? Ludwig, do you think this is edible? Ludwig, don't you miss the others yet? I do. Ludwig, why are we all by ourselves? Ludwig—"
"Feliciano, why don't you ever pay attention?" Exhaling deeply, Germany shook his head muttering a quick 'mein Gott' under his breath. Then, before his Italian companion could spring anymore questions on him, he proceeded, "The others are with Russia—"
"Why?"
"—Let me finish, Italy!" Ludwig chided. "They are with Russia because they are cowards, idiots."
"Oh…"
While Italy slowed, dispirited, Germany walked on unaffected, leaving Italy a pace behind to stare sadly into his back. Germany's arms were crossed and shoulders were slightly raised, a sign of how tense he really was if the hardest jaw and creased forehead wasn't a sound enough indication of this.
Germany was not pleased. He was angry. If serving under Russia was what America, France, England and China wanted, then so be it. But so long as they remained a part of this positively preposterous arrangement, in the name of a 'alliance', none of them would be given any sympathy or mercy—at least, not from him. He could not comprehend why anybody would want to participate in such absurdity. And if there was one person whom he could not bear to see fall into such a cruel fate, it was…
"Ludwig, is it time for a siesta yet?"
It was this lazy, whiny, airhead.
Turning sharply to face the Italian, Germany almost roared out of frustration. "No Italy, we can't take a siesta! Can't you see where we are for Gott's sake?"
With a nervous laugh and a precautionary step back, Feliciano darted his eyes over their surroundings. "Um, no…W-Where are we exactly?"
"Italy, I don't know! That's exactly the problem," was Germany's stern reply. "If you don't want to spend the rest of your life in this forest, I suggest we keep moving. And quietly if that's actually possible in your case."
Gruffly, Ludwig resumed his endeavour to get them out of the forest. With his march-like gait, Germany's boots hit the ground with heavy, forced stomps. Again, Feliciano was faced with Germany's back and he frowned. Before the distance between them could grow too large, Feliciano jogged forward, throwing an arm out to clasp a hand around a crooked elbow. This effectively took the other by surprise, causing him to falter in his tracks, much to Italy's relief.
Sliding his hand from Germany's elbow down to wrap around his coarse palm, Italy gave the German a gentle squeeze. "I know you're worried Ludwig but we can't go on without taking any rest."
Whether it was out of his utterly fatigued mind, inducing a state of irrational judgement, or if it was the compassionate strength with which he was lead by the hand to a shady refuge, Germany had for some reason allowed himself to do as Italy desired.
For this short time, Germany let himself relax.
"But Ludwig, don't be so angry at Big Brother Francis too," Italy was saying. He had found some soft grass to lay himself down on, his arms splayed carelessly on either side of him, his eyes wondering up into the clouds floating in the azure sky engrossed in the task of tracing faces and creatures in the puffs of white. "Big Brother Francis didn't want to follow Russia."
"I know, I know." Ludwig had his back leant against a thick tree trunk; his hair in a mess having had taken off his Schirmmütze, and his stiff jacket discarded on the ground by his feet (albeit folded neatly of course). His face looked pleasantly drowsy, completely losing all the tautness that had cramped his features for days. As for Francis, inside he knew very well how much the Frenchman had tried to avoid any unnecessary conflict. The man had gone as far as to join efforts with England and that action spoke for a great number of things neither Francis nor Arthur had wanted to voice. Nevertheless, in the end both France and England had been weak, their resistance ultimately fizzling to subordination."Ludwig?"
"Hm?"
Italy's head rolled to the side, his eyes peering up to look over at Germany's sidelong face. "Aren't you scared?"
Germany blinked. He hadn't considered any such thing before. Circumstances were things one simply dealt with, and emotions were suppressed in a similar fashion. But why was it that whenever he was in the presence of this man that those feelings somehow found themselves bobbing to the surface?
"Italy, it's okay," Germany said eventually using a soft tone. A tiny smile crept to his lips. "If things work out, we won't be alone."
Just as Ludwig had presumed, Italy jumped up with curiosity lit in his confused eyes. "B-but all the others joined Russia. Didn't they?"
Standing up, Ludwig stretched his muscles, fixing his cap back onto his head and throwing his jacket over his shoulders. He motioned to Feliciano for him to also get up—that it was time to go.
Jumping to his feet, Italy hastily followed after his companion. "Ludwig, what do you mean?"
"We're going to Japan." Germany declared as he took confident strides.
"Che cosa?"
"Japan," Ludwig repeated, pausing to let Feliciano catch up to him. "Supposing the rumours from all those years ago are true, then he's the Nation we're looking for."
The young, mysterious Nation who had beaten Russia single-handedly.
Italy's eyes widened, Germany's intentions sinking in. Then, an anxious look flickered in his eyes. "Germany, I thought China raised Japan."
Hearing Italy's statement, Germany gripped his sleeves, his eyes falling to the ground a short distance away. "Ja."
"But China and Russia…"
"Italy," Germany uttered quietly. "Just think about beating Russia for now. And for that we need help from Japan."
Seeing the way Feliciano opened his mouth to protest but then hold himself back made Ludwig bite his lip. He knew what was going through Feliciano's mind and he knew the Italian was right. But he was grateful Feliciano had refrained from voicing his thoughts out loud because somehow that made it easier on him. And he hated himself for feeling that way.
But it was this man, with his big heart and kind nature who he wanted to have by his side.
The one that he would protect.
::O:::O:::O:::O::
Kiku endlessly berated himself, for what else could he do about the unthinkable choice he was about to make? His head was heavy in the palms of his hands and a long sigh found its way passed his lips, as though he were heaving out all the air from his entire being. Why was he going to do this?—He truly had not a clue. But if anything was for certain, it was that his life was going to take a drastic transformation, one he could never erase.
This transformation began with two men sitting in his living room, and to Japan's sheer horror, they had entered his humble home without removing their boots. Unfortunately, Japan had been too shocked to advise his guests otherwise and also feared to anger them by being impolite in any way. If these men were as barbaric as to trail dirt all over the tatami mats of another person's home, then he could only dread what they would do if something were to displease them.
"Are you alright?"
"Ah, y-yes. So I shall press my seal here?"
"Ja, that's right."
As though it were a dream, Japan stared at his own red seal, pressed cleanly onto the white page. Above his seal were Italy's and Germany's signatures. The three Nations were now comrades.
Wearily, Kiku glanced between the two men seated on either side of the low table. Neither of them assumed a seiza position—the mannerly way to seat oneself. Kiku was able to recognise both Ludwig and Feliciano from pictures of them he had seen back in Yao's house, but it had been a long time since he had come face to face with a foreigner. In fact, he had not seen any since his fight with Russia. To be honest, these men were quite intimidating. They were just, very big compared to himself.
Luckily though, there were some comforting traits Japan saw in the two men. Japan felt this especially with Germany, immediately having detected a genteel properness about the man at the moment of meeting him. This instant connection had most likely been the reason why Kiku had even considered to listen to what the intruders had to say to him. Otherwise he would have done everything in his power to drive them off his shores.
And Italy. Judging by first impressions, Kiku was honestly worried for how things might turn out between them. The man was simply unpredictable. But somewhere inside, he could sense something similar between Italy and himself. This notion was strengthened when the Italian expressed admiration of all the artwork that was displayed around Japan's house. Sharing a taste for art had to be a good starting point.
"Japan, I'm sorry for jumping straight to the point," Germany apologised, "but could you show me some of your weaponry? You see, we don't have a lot of time."
"Of course." Kiku stood, leaving the room for only a few moments before returning again and laying something proudly across the table.
Immediately, Feliciano leant forward as soon as he saw what Kiku had placed there, his eyes dancing. "Wow, look Ludwig! I remember using these! Well, not exactly these but…"
Ludwig did not speak and this was a cause for panic on Kiku's part. Had he disappointed his new ally? Had he done something wrong?
"G-Germany-san?"
Germany took a moment to collect his thoughts, running a hand through his hair, all the while attempting to filter Italy's maundering out of his head. It had been a while since he had considered swords to be legitimate additions for infantry. Germany cleared his throat before speaking, keeping in mind to remain composed.
"Do you have any missiles? O-or maybe rifles or grenades or machine guns…" The blank expression in the Asian's face gave Germany enough information to answer his question. Then before producing his own gun and laying it on the table next to Japan's sword, Germany asked, "Japan, have you ever used a gun before? Or, have you ever seen a gun?"
Japan now realised that there was still a long road ahead.
Slowly but surely, white spreads over vast land, greed overtaking. It smothers whatever inferiorities lie beneath, deftly sealing the edges. As its weight crushes mercilessly and its iciness chills to the bone, innocent smiles still remain in its discordant pure appearance. Snow…
::O:::O:::O:::O::
Translations
Mi dispiace: 'I'm sorry' in Italian.
Schirmmütze: Peaked cap worn as part of the German military uniform during WWII (I think, I'm not at all positive).
Che Cosa: 'what' in Italian.
Seiza: A kneeling position with legs folded underneath the body.
NOTE:
Hello, um, I hope somebody remembers this fic? Because it's been so long since my last update. And I'm really, really sorry about the delay! I am so sorry! And I can't thank you enough if you're still reading! Thank you so much! It means a lot to me!
I hadn't written a lot of Germany or Italy until now, so I had some fun experimenting with them in this chapter. I'm not sure how well this chapter turned out to be but I just hope you enjoyed it!
Thank you again for reading and please leave me a review!
Tschüß!
