I own none of the Hetalia characters. Do I have to put this in every chapter?


A sigh exhaled from his thin, split lips. His gloved thumb smeared away the blood, looking at how much it was bleeding. "Bernardo, you fucking prick." Cesare glared at his brother, wising he could throw daggers at the bastard physically instead of mentally. "What the hell was that for?"

Bernardo merely shrugged. "Felt like it, bitch."

"Asshole."

"Dick-face."

"Complete hopeless ass-clown."

"Sorry fuck ankle-grabber."

"Snooty scrotum-slammer."

By this time, everyone was used to the constant bickering of the two, though it still annoyed them more and more each time. They were more like twins than their country counterparts. It was rather odd and somehow horrifying but ten times as annoying.

"Bow down before me you hypocritical, whimpering Neanderthal!"

Cesare growled at his brother. "Go fuck your tube sock, you cock."

"Your verbosity is exceeded only by your total stupidity." Verbosity? Did he even know what the word meant? Oh, well. He was going to use it anyway.

"You—"

"Will ye both jus' give it a bloody rest? Belay yer bilge comments so we can return to the bloody plans!" Edward yelled, drawing his sword and pointing it at the two, waving it back and forth slowly between the two. "An' if ye two dare speak another insult, I'll make sure ye both be joining that bilge rat in the brig!"

"Edward, as much as I'd enjoy watching these two beaten to a shivering pile of flesh, they are still important, da?" Vadim attempted to calm the pirate's foul temper, even though he could hardly suppress his own. In his mind he kept replaying images of him ripping the two open with his bare hands, gorging out their eyes, and ripping their innards from their bodies. The sadistic part of his mind he called his "happy place" was the only thing keeping himself from tearing the two idiots limb from scrawny limb himself.

A man dressed in casual clothes, armor resting on the sidelines, stepped forward to the two brothers. "Here's the deal," he began, "both of you stop fighting or else."

"Or else what?" Cesare dared the conquistador.

He merely chuckled and jabbed his thumb in the direction the ghostly sounds were being generated from the corner of the room. "I'm sure Swift Runner has been getting hungrier and hungrier."

The Wendigo slowly swiveled his skull encased head, the long curl drifting through the air. Purple, misting eyes stared deep into the two brothers' souls, followed with a deep, sharp hiss. "Feasssst, feasssst, musssst feasssst. Forever feasssting on the flesssh of the living, never sssatissssfied, never filled. Hungry, hungry. I grow ever hungry for the flesssssh and blood; of the next tassssste of blood and ssscreamssssssssss…"

A chill thundered through the air. Everyone was silent, not wanting to say anything. Swift Runner hissed slowly and returned to what he was doing before. He had been trying to control himself but the hunger was growing stronger and getting harder to hold back. He would go hunting for human meat that night, but until then, he secluded himself in the corner, keeping his mind at ease. Although it was difficult with those two bickering all the insane time.

The two Italians were shaking in their skin. How could he be scarier than them? He was hardly even noticed when he was part of Canada. No, this side of him only was noticed when he wanted everyone to notice him. It seemed to be one of his qualities that made him more frightening.

"Deal?" Hernan finally managed to ask.

"S-si," both of them shakily said.

"Now that you are paying attention again, let us get back to the plan, ahru," spoke the emperor. Ying waited before gaining everyone's attention to speak again. "Our first plan of action is to lure the nations to our trap. How we do this? Simple, ahru." Ying's eyes surveyed before meeting with the Yakuza's. "You will go in disguise, ahru. You will lure them to us. There, we will proceed with the plan. Kill them, ahru. Take what rightfully is ours."

"I can do that easiry," Shinobu smiled. "Arthough, my eyes may be harder to disguise."

"Do vat you vill, zen," Adolf said.

"If I might make a few suggestions for the plans," Octave offered. The Frenchman wore a brilliant grin, thinking his plan would greatly aid then.

Shinobu slipped away, keys jingling in his fingers. The walk to the door was silent, but enjoyable. His mind raced with thoughts, riddled on what he could do to the nation while he was still alive. With a twist of the key and a gentle push of the knob, the door swung open swiftly. There, right where he had left him, Shinobu spotted the nation, curled up. Was he asleep? Eh, he soon wouldn't be.

Shinobu pressed a sandaled foot to Japan's shoulder. "It is time to wake up." He shoved Japan to the ground. "You have something I need."

Through his shocking awakening, he gazed up to stare into those piercing, merciless eyes. All Japan did was stand and face his other. "Then you wirr have to fight me. I do not back down easiry."

A dry chuckle wafted out his mouth, titling his head slightly diagonal up. The smirk that grew on his horrendous lips taunted the nation. He was amused at his feeble attempts to fight. Still, he expected no less. "Very werr." He then took a stance of his own, a more relaxed stance.

The air went still as they both stood there, testing each others' patience. They thought and planned in their head, reading the aura of the other. In a flash, Japan jumped forward and threw a swift punch. Shinobu hardly had enough time to sidestep the fist, feeling the whip of wind on his face. Just as easily as he stepped, he grabbed Japan's wrist and vaulted him across the room.

The nation landed hard on his back with a pained grunt. Wasting no time, he stood shortly ducking a roundhouse kick. Japan retaliated with a kick of his own. His opponent stumbled back giving Japan enough time to produce a high kick.

Shinobu wheeled around and blocked the attack swiveling his fist and taking hold of Japan once more. Once again, Japan was tossed like a rag doll.

The breath was knocked out of him when he hit the vertical cement. He fell and heaved, desperately looking for his breath. If onry I had my katana. Glancing quickly around the room, he looked for anything he could improvise. Then he spotted something. It wasn't much, but it was something that could at least give distance.

He jumped up and made a run for the lone table. Shinobu knew his intention and tailed behind him. Japan lunged at the table and gripped the thin metal rod. The nation moved out of the way just in time as Shinobu's fist slammed down onto the metallic table.

Japan snapped his wrist and the pointer quadrupled in length. Giving it a quick swish through the air…

Thwack!

Shinobu stood still. His hand went to his cheek. He pulled away to look at the blood that seeped out his cheek. His eyes narrowed in anger. "I'm done praying." Shinobu lunged forward and grasped the nation's throat tight. "I am done messing around with you." He threw Japan to the ground and stomped his foot on his chest and kneeled, legs on either side holding his arms in place. "Time to get what I came here for."


Italy tapped his fingers against the windowsill, staring out at the land, the city, the sky, the beyond. How long had it been since all of this started to the present? A month? A month and a half? Italy lost count. It didn't matter how long this had been going on, not to him. Nothing made sense of it anyway. What were they going to plan on doing? Kill them? They were nations, they couldn't…

His eyes closed, thinking back on things. No, they could die. He remembered the mansion, he wished he couldn't. He remembered his first love. Why couldn't he have just listened? Italy balled his hand into a fist, shutting his eyes tight. He just had to go off and try to conquer everything. Look where that got him.

Tears seeped out of Italy's eyes and fell on the painted wood. He wished for once that things would go right without having to lose someone he cared so much about.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He didn't bother trying to hide the tears, they had probably heard him crying anyway. Italy looked at the hand before looking at the face. "P-Prussia?"

"Hey, kid. Vat's bodering you?"

Italy took a moment to answer, "Everything."

Prussia nodded, understanding. "Vy don't you come socialize? Everyone's been vorried."

"I'm fine, Gilbert. No one should be worried." Italy suddenly squeaked as Prussia wrapped his arms around Italy and threw him over his shoulder.

"Not awesome. You're coming veder you vant to or not." Prussia smiled even if Italy couldn't see it. "Besides, England has somezing for you." Prussia stepped into the living room and set Italy on his feet. "I found him."

The conversations ended as Prussia stepped in. England and Romano nodded to each other and England stood, supported by the crutches, and limped over to Italy. "We've all discussed it," began England, "and we feel it be necessary." He held out his hand and a tricolored orb appeared in his palm. Italy just blinked and stared at the glowing red, white, and green orb that gently floated, slightly drifting, on the nation's palm. Italy reached out and barely even touched the orb as it broke into three colored streams of light that encircled Italy's arm and absorbed into him.

Thoughts and voices flooded through Italy's mind. His soul felt stronger and more complete. He felt the everlasting rivers and mountains and the hustle and bustle of Venice flow through his veins. He never realized how empty he felt without his part of the country until it returned, became one with him again.

His eyes opened, a soft smile on his lips. "Thank you," he said gratefully and hugged England, and in return rested a crutch under his arm and gave Italy a one-armed hug and smiled back.

"You're quite welcome."

"Good-a riddance," Romano muttered. "That was really starting to get on my nerves. The happy was-a too annoying."

"Now we must focus on Japan, aru," China voiced, worried greatly about his kid brother. He still refused to show it most of the time.

"We don't even know where they could be," France said.

"Ze best zing vould just be to vait until zey find us," Germany agreed. "Ve vill have to capture one of zem."

"You can leave that to me," Russia spoke up. "I have interesting way to handle a situation just like this."

England nodded. "Then you will be in charge of that."

"Good." Russia stood up, looking around the room. "Prussia, if you will be of assistance."

Not fully sure whether to go with the man, Prussia simply agreed and followed Russia out of the room, a few paces behind him.

"Now that that's done, we must discuss how we will win against them," England began, eyeing each of the countries in the room.

Spain raised his hand slightly, hoping to get a word in before they moved on. "Being what they are, their weaknesses most likely won't be like ours. We have people that we love and care for that they will take advantage of."

"Spain's right." France sipped his wine before continuing. "I doubt they know love or friendship at all."

"And zat's our greatest veakness. If only zere vas a vay to evade zat." Germany sought aid from his many years of war and battle experience. "Ze only vay I see it…" He didn't want to admit it, but it might be the only way. "Ve have to break off every tie ve have vith someone. Friends, family, lovers."

There was silence drifting, rising and falling through the atmosphere. Everyone was contemplating it over into their heads. Could it really be the only way?

"I… I can't agree with that." Heads turned towards the once perky Italian.

"Vat?"

"The ties we have with each other are special. They make us who and what we are and influence us in strange ways. Without those ties, we would just be acquaintances, nothing strong to keep us together. That's what makes us as strong as we are. It's what makes us fight harder and stronger. Without the love from family and friends, then what do we really have?"

Everyone was in silent surprise. Germany didn't know how to react to Italy's disagreement. His mind had gone blank.

He spoke again, "It won't work. Come on, Germany. I know you can think of something. You're so smart and great with these battle plans. I know you can do it."

Germany stared into those eyes, that quirky smile of his. The exact smile that threw him off the edge every time. It was so full of sweetness and affection. He had to smile in return, almost like an automatic thing that clicked whenever he saw that smile. "All right, I vill zink of somezing else."

"Yay!" Italy cheered.

"Yo! What are we gonna do after we catch one of them?" America piped up after being so oddly quiet.

"We will figure that out later. Right now, let's leave Prussia and Russia to their business and get some rest. I'll take first watch." They all settled in the living room again. England flicked the light switch down and took a seat in the chair, leaning his crutches against the wall. He wished the wound would heal already. Sure, he could easily heal it with magic, but he needed to save his mana for when it was needed most. Deep in his gut, he knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. He let out an almost inaudible mix of a sigh and a grunt of annoyance and thought. His mind and heart knew the worst just might happen.

Deciding what was best, he reaching into his bag and pulled out a weathered, leather book with gold trim an inch from the edges. Opening it, he began to chant, "Invoco superiores vires me dare commoda mihi robur Ut…"