The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is the fear of the unknown.
- H.P Lovecraft
If there was one thing Italy didn't like, it would have to be cold pasta.
Or a cold bed. Either one.
Unfortunately for Italy, his pasta had gone cold when he was out with Germany and Japan earlier that day. Coming home from a day's workout training, strictly designed by Germany to keep them in tip-top shape, Italy craved for his beloved meal. Running away-away? Italy preferred the term 'ahead'-from Germany was tough work, even if he did happen to get away far enough to rest for a few minutes.
Italy poked his fork at his pasta tentatively. It would be easier to put the plate of deliciousness in the microwave and heat it up, but could he stand to have that done? Microwaving a delicacy like pasta in a common fashion? Surely his afternoon snack-could it be considered a snack? If breakfast and lunch was called 'brunch', then would lunch and dinner be 'dunch' or 'linner'?-needed more dignity than that!
No, he'd have to start all over.
Sighing, Italy wistfully scraped the cold pasta off the plate and into the horrible, dark pit that the world had come to know as the trash can. "What a waste of pasta," Italy sighed.
After taking a small moment of silence, Italy scoured his kitchen for his cooking pot and set it on his stove. Searching the pantries for spaghetti, Italy frowned as he groped the empty bottoms. His hand brushed across empty boxes of pasta, boxes that he forgot to throw away after he had boiled the noodles, a couple of times but none spared him any for that day's dunch.
"Ve..." Italy closed the last of the pantry doors and stared at his trash can. "Those must have been the last of my stock...a waste. Germany would scold me for that," Italy smiled to himself. "And Japan would offer me ramen if I don't have pasta. That's so like him,"
Italy glanced at his watch. Perhaps his stomach could hold on just a tad longer if he ran to the market quickly. Yes, in fact, he was able to survive until then.
Before he left, Italy checked the remaining ingredients in case if he needed to replenish his supply. He took note that he was running low on tomatoes (maybe he should ask Romano to go get some from Spain later) and basil.
He also wrote a hasty note for Romano in case if he wondered where he went and stuck it on the refrigerator door with a magnet, right next to the handle so that it couldn't be missed. Of course, normally Italy wouldn't have left a note; he went out so often that there were no worries, but by the time he might get back, it would be lunchtime and Romano wouldn't know that Italy had gone out to buy supplies. If he wasn't informed, then they'd both be buying ingredients and there would be a major surplus since they both liked to buy enough for months to come.
Actually, no, that might be a good thing. Italy halted himself at the doorway and turned his head back towards the kitchen. Then he shook his head and laughed. "Ah, if we both went out to buy food, we'd only be wasting our budget!"
The market wasn't too far from Italy's house. It would be a quick walk of ten minutes, unless there were street vendors randomly posted at random corners or one of those traveling merchants. If Italy was lucky, he'd run into one of those vendors and he'd be able to get home quicker for his pasta.
He didn't.
But that was okay because he was starting to see the crowds of people weaving in and out of each other on the streets, leaning over fresh produce and goods while chatting warmly with each other. Italy smiled at the sight. It made him feel relaxed and warm inside.
"Ciao, Mr. Italy," a cheerful voice called from the cheese stand.
Italy glanced to the side and grinned broadly at the man behind the stand. Italy was a regular customer of the man's cheese and often they'd struck up long conversations that seem to have no end.
"Ciao! Ciao!" Italy greeted, approaching the stand.
The vendor leaned on the side of the stand and cocked his head a little. His slightly worn face was starting to show his age, Italy noticed, yet his bright eyes still showed compassionate youth. Rubbing his prickly chin, the vendor asked, "What brings you here today, Mr. Italy?"
"I ran out of pasta," Italy answered.
The vendor nodded. "I heard that Rosetta's having a sale on fettuccine. Nice price too,"
Italy considered the sale for a few seconds. It had been approximately four days, seven hours, and fifteen minutes since he last had fettuccine. It was four days, seven hours, and sixteen minutes when he politely declined the bit of news. "Romano had that yesterday. I think he might get tired of the same type of pasta if I serve it again today," Italy laughed.
They chatted for a while, discussing current politics and the economy. It was difficult for Italy to talk to his boss about the economy lately because his boss was always so stressed and everytime Italy tried to bring it up, his boss would avoid the conversation, even if he had to change the subject conspicuously. Lately, Italy had headaches here and there, but not as bad as Greece who had been dealing with a cold.
If Italy had leftovers, he'd be sure to go visit Greece and give him the rest in hopes that he'd feel better.
Then they talked about strange things they've heard over the week like how there was a small stampede of bulls running around the streets of Spain (Italy wondered if Spain had to go around and round them up) or the claims of someone finding gold at the end of a rainbow in England (if that was true, England might be bombarded with other countries asking him how it happened and asking if there were chances that it would happen in their house too).
Though one in particular piqued the best of Italy's interest.
"Have you heard about the ancient castle found in Germany?" the vendor asked after the topic about brain implants in monkeys subdued.
"There are a lot of castles in Germany," Italy said.
"Yes, but this was found last week,"
Germany hadn't mentioned a new castle that was recently discovered. Italy inquired on about it.
"It's enormous, according to the reports." the vendor continued on. "And usually people would spend months, maybe years, searching through places like these, trying to find artifacts and hints about the past, yes?"
Italy nodded, intrigued.
"Well, they gave up investigation this morning. Isn't that odd?"
"So fast!" Italy exclaimed. "Only a week, ve?"
The vendor nodded.
Italy and the man bid each other farewell after another hour of talking; the man had to go out and have lunch with his wife and that reminded Italy he still needed to finish his errands.
His watch read 12:26 P.M when he continued on down the street towards Rosetta and her pasta stand. She sold all sorts of noodles and occasionally, she'd give a few packages to Italy and Romano for free.
"Bella! Bella! Ciao!" Italy had greeted her warmly, waving enthusiastically.
"Ciao Italia!" she had greeted back.
And so Italy bought a surplus of pasta from Rosetta, nearly cleaning out the entire stand.
"Do you need any help?" Rosetta asked him.
Italy grinned at her. "No, it's okay. Grazie!"
On the way home, he stopped by another vendor, Matteo, for basil and happily went home.
Romano had yelled at him for being late but Italy didn't mind. He only patted Romano's shoulder and said, "Ve, why don't we cook pasta together?"
Romano sniffed, "Hell yeah we do. Cook fast. I'm starving you know,"
It wasn't until after Italy had dropped off leftovers at Greece's house around three in the afternoon when Italy remembered the castle in Germany. Surely Germany would like to have it investigated; who knew what could be in there and with the struggling economy, maybe there might be treasure.
An adventure!
Italy ran towards Germany's house, careful not to trespass over Switzerland's backyard, and knocked on Germany's door with vigor.
Upon the twentieth knock, the door finally swung open to reveal a disapproving Germany staring back at him with steely blue eyes. "Why are you knocking so loudly?" he asked, somewhat irritated.
"We should go and get Japan and investigate that new castle of yours!" Italy blurted.
Germany blinked. "Since when did I get a new castle?" he asked.
"Um, well, I mean that castle that was just found a week ago. I heard that no one is investigating in that place anymore and I thought that it should be because there might be treasure! It'll be fun, right Germany?"
Germany stared at Italy for a while. Italy, unfazed, just stood there on the front porch, smiling his happy-go-lucky smile. Then Germany sighed and opened the door slightly wider, crossing his arms. "Italy...there's a reason why I've stopped those investigations,"
It didn't seem like it had any effect on Italy. "Why?" he asked.
Germany frowned, thinking. The investigation team had been missing ever since the first day and the others had lost contact with them. The fourth day, rescue teams had scoured the castle but no one was found. Many of their reports, however, had shown that there was something wrong with the atmosphere in the castle, as if there was a dark shadow cloaking the perimeters. It wasn't until they stepped foot off castle grounds that they felt relatively better.
Then again, Germany wasn't one to believe so easily in superstitions. Perhaps the investigation team was still there, surviving off of whatever they could find. Perhaps their radios had drained all their batteries, thus the reason why they were no longer reachable, and maybe they had hidden themselves in some secret room and that was why the rescue teams couldn't locate them.
It was worth a shot. He couldn't let his people who were possibly alive die in a weird place as that castle.
"Never mind, Italy," Germany said, "We'll go tomorrow with Japan, alright?"
Italy bounced lightly on his toes. "Yay! Yay!" he exclaimed, "We're going to have a big adventure, Germany! And the treasure we'll find will be beautiful, ve!"
Germany sighed heavily and placed a sturdy hand on top of Italy to keep him from bouncing. "Fine, fine, just...just stop hopping around. You're shaking off dirt from the soles of your shoes onto my welcome mat,"
Italy gazed up at Germany and smiled. "Sorry, Germany. I'll help you clean it up, okay?"
Germany took his hand off of Italy's head and crossed his arms again. "Alright, I'll get the vacuum,"
America stared in front of him. He was sure that there was someone sitting on the opposite side of his kitchen table, but he wasn't sure. Was it...a ghost?
"Ahh, no, dude, that's too much!" America cried, blocking his eyes with both of his hands firmly, scooting his chair back.
"A-America? What are you doing?" Canada asked quietly, watching his brother in concern.
America stopped thrashing and cocked his head, peeking from behind his gloved fingers. "Canada, bro? Is that you?"
Canada wasn't sure how to react to that. Either he was annoyed that America had forgotten he was there again or he was relieved to finally get his attention.
Maybe a mix of both.
"America, we were just talking about horror movies and you stopped talking a minute ago," Canada said. "It was like you were in a trance. Did something happen?"
America laughed, lowering his hands from his face after he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Sorry dude, I kinda blanked out. I just remembered this freaky rumor on the internet when we were talking about those scary movies. It was weird,"
"What was the rumor?" Canada asked.
America scooted his chair back up to the table and picked his extra-large soda back up and sipped it noisily. "Mmmmrr, mm," he said through the straw. "Mmmmph mmmphrr!"
"I can't understand you at all," Canada sighed.
America lowered his drink, gulped, and said, "I said that there's this castle in Germany, right? Like, a big one, like the ones you'd see in movies,"
Canada nodded. "Continue,"
America placed his drink back down on the table and pounded his right fist into his left hand. "People who had gone in there went missing when they searched the castle. That was a week ago and they're still missing. Sounds like they need a hero, am I right?"
America tilted his head thoughtfully as Canada stared at him. "Man, I wonder if Germany's gonna save 'em. If not, I'll gladly be their foreign, western hero!"
"I'm pretty sure Germany has it covered," Canada said reasonably. "The missing people will show up soon, I bet,"
"Yeah, maybe," America said, somewhat disappointed. He stuffed a couple of fries into his mouth, leaning his head on the table and chewed slowly, eyes lost in a daze.
Canada looked down at Kumajiro and whispered, "Should I offer him my opinion?"
"Who are you?" came the expected question.
"I'm Canada,"
The small polar bear wriggled out of Canada's arms and plopped down on the floor, rubbing its furry little chin thoughtfully. Pointing a paw up at Canada, Kumajiro said, "Say what you like but don't make him do something stupid,"
Canada scratched the back of his head. "Is that possible?"
"Or you could say nothing at all," Kumajiro said.
Canada glanced back at America, who seemed lost in a trance again. "He might go to the castle anyway," Canada sighed.
"But maybe you could go with him if you can't stop him," the bear said pointedly. "Then you can stop him from doing something physically stupid,"
Canada pounded his fist into his hand, a trait he shared with America, and exclaimed in his quiet voice, "Yes, perhaps! I think I can do at least that much! Thank you Kamahiru!"
The polar bear stared at him, but Canada was oblivious to its stare. Knowing America, he'd hop on a plane to Germany and play 'Hero' again.
Minutes passed in silence and America suddenly sat up straight in his seat and declared, "Yes! I'm going to go to Germany's house! If he's not gonna do anything about it, I will because..." He stood up abruptly, jerked his thumb dramatically to himself, and grinned a winning grin at Canada. "I'm the hero!"
"Of course," Canada said wearily, though his meaning of 'of course' was different than the meaning America thought it was.
"Yup," America chirped. "And you..." America pointed a dramatic finger at Canada, "are my sidekick!"
"Of course,"
They both, again, had different interpretations of the 'of course'.
America laughed and sat back down, reaching for his cell phone that was resting next to his large plate of burgers. "I'm gonna text England so he can back us up. Ooh, and maybe France will like to come. Maybe we can use him to back us up. Japan can come too, and maybe-"
"Let's not invite the entire world, America," Canada interrupted.
America stopped. Then he chuckled, rubbing his chin. "Yeah, you're right. They'll all take my spotlight, wouldn't they? Okay then, I'll ask England and France, Japan's good friends with Germany so I bet he'd already know about it,"
Canada only watched America busily texting away and sighed. Somehow, he had a bad feeling deep down inside.