Sorry I haven't updated for a while :/ Anyway, here's chapter 3!

Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. Or actual countries either.

Chapter 3

-Best Friend-

Afternoon. World War I.

It was midday. Sunny, bright, and excruciatingly boring.

Germany plodded through the forest, mechanically placing one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right, headed to virtually nowhere. He didn't care anymore. he needed an actual meal, some fresh wurst maybe, and a good drink.

But the German army had all but abandoned him, apparently, cowering back and shooing him ahead, making halfhearted excuses. "Go ahead," they said. They didn't want to be present in what was supposedly going to be an alleged "epic battle" of two nations. A descendant of Rome, a man Germany deeply admired and respected. Truth be told, being a nation was not as pleasant as the average citizen expected. Always ordered around, being caught up in politics and pressured for opinions, representing an ever-growing population, suffering a thousand deaths with every war, conflict, and plague-it certainly wasn't a piece of cake.

But now… Germany was often required to interact with other nations, but this new country that he was supposed to be fighting could be different. Was this country anything like his glorious ancestor? Tough, heroic, loyal to a fault even, everything Germany wanted to be? Perhaps they would understand the tedious business of being a country.

(None of them knew as of yet how wrong he was.)

If only someone could understand him…

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Germany stopped to catch his breath. Ahh, what he wouldn't give for an ice cold beer. But what good would a beer do, when the general found him screaming in his tent that morning and decided to ban Germany from drinking beer? He did have a bit to drink last night, but he never knew it would end up like that...

Perhaps he was hallucinating, or maybe the effects of the alcohol still hadn't worn off, or maybe he was still rattled by his boss yelling at him, but Germany gave a cry of relief when he found the most perfect companion to spend the rest of his days as a nation with. There, in the precise center of a lush green clearing, framed beautifully by the rays of sunlight, was his savior.

A beautiful wooden stick.

If he was in any sane state of mind it would be just a plain old twig, but THIS was special. This was something that would rewrite history. Picking it up gingerly, Germany gave a whoop of joy, though he was still a couple miles from the Italian border. The disoriented nation, which he would never ever admit to doing, began fussing over the poor stick. "Mein gott! This is no state for you to be in! Ah, Herr Schtick, please speak to me! The nerve of that dummkopf who abandoned you! You must be hungry, perhaps I'll give you…"

Germany began rustling in his pack until he saw a signal. "The signal! The troops have begun invading! We must hurry, Herr Schtick…" With new resolve, Germany proceeded, with his newfound friend in tow.

Later, the pair had successfully made it over the border, with Germany impressed by Herr Schtick's ability to knock people out with a single strike. Silently of course, the nation began conversing animatedly with his companion, and giving him updates on the life of a nation. Herr Schtick was such a good listener, although he rarely said anything. After proper introduction, the two became close friends, if Germany said so himself. (Later he denied knowing anything about Herr Schtick, but we all know better.)

As the pair strolled (or rather, Germany carried Herr Schtick), it struck him that they hadn't had lunch yet. Oh, such terrible manners, not taking your new friend out for a drink! Shame, Germany scolded himself. He apologized profusely and promised to share some delicious liverwurst, but luckily Herr Schtick did not seem to think it was a problem, judging from the silence. But what if he's giving me the silent treatment?! Germany worried to himself. I'm already making a bad first impression!

All thoughts of making it up to his friend went out the window when he saw a strangely placed tomato crate. In the middle of the woods. Suddenly remembering the mission he was sent to in the first place, Germany did a customary facepalm and proceeded with caution.

He would have said nothing else was out of the order when suddenly the box began to shake, a voice clearly indicating someone was inside, despite the voice's panicked pleas. "There's nothing in here!" a high-pitched voice cried in fear. But unless his enemy took Germany as stupid, which was clearly not the case, the voice seemed to be quite skittish.

Risking immediate ambush, Germany pried open the wooden crate, ignoring the shouts that got increasingly higher and higher the closer he got to opening the box. Herr Schtick proved quite useful in the task, as Germany wasn't sure how much longer he could take without suffering splinters, and injuries would me most inconvenient if there was to be a battle.

Slowly but surely, the lid lifted itself as the box began shaking frantically and babbling nonsense (Germany only caught two words: "tomato fairy")...just...one...more...centimeter…

With a shout, Germany was flung from the box as the lid finally detached. And there was quite the unexpected sight…

A short man, auburn-haired with a strangely familiar curl that Germany would soon grow accustomed to, pleading for mercy in a shrill voice slipping between Italian and English. Momentarily stunned, Germany quickly realized that this was easy bait, and he had stupidly walked straight into the trap. Looking around quickly to detect any signs of movement, he swiftly picked up the still-screaming Italian and hustled out of the forest. So much for an epic battle.

What he didn't know was that the two nations would become nearly inseparable and change history forever… But what did that mean for Herr Schtick?

-end of chapter three-