All eight countries fell in the water by the southern shore of the island. China and Japan had been closer to start with so they arrived first, followed by America and England.
"There he is, there's America!" China, sitting on the sand with Japan, pointed to America falling into the water, England behind him. "I'm going to teach him a lesson for dragging us out here and making us ruin our suits, aru!"
Japan replied as soothingly as possible, "We should not attack him just yet, China-kun. He must know a way off of this island."
When America swam up to the shore, though, laughing his head off, China tried to silence it with a strangle hold. England and Japan kept China at bay, but they still asked America to explain what was going on. America only said, "Sorry, I can't start until the others are here!"
And with that, Russia floated in from the sky, as did Italy. They landed in the water and abandoned their parachutes to come ashore.
Italy ran up to England, full of hugs and thanks for leaving the message. This only caused England, however, to glare directly at America. Meanwhile, Russia stood off to the side, indirectly glowering at the world's most powerful country. By now, the other countries expected the island to fill up with countries, and the general sentiment of the group was notably anti-American.
Lastly, Germany plopped into the water, with France after him. They too escaped their harnesses and swam to land. Germany stormed up to America.
"How dare you trick and threaten us to come here for your stupid-!"
"All right, everyone, listen up!" America cut off the angry German, and found a large rock to stand on so that he could attract attention. This was pointless, though, because all eyes were already on him.
"Finally!" England rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, which was kind of uncomfortable because his sleeves were just as soaked as the rest of his ensemble.
"Welcome to Baker Island, four hundred acres of nothing but uninhabited grass and dirt!" America waved his right hand to the backdrop behind him. "The land is one mile wide, and about as long, too. This island has been mine since 1857, and I haven't used it for a while, so I had to clean it up before we all came here! I imported trees and sand and had base camps set up on the east and west ends of the island. I even got rid of the day beacon and the air strip so that we'd have plenty of room! Wasn't that nice of me?"
China shouted, "When do we get to go home, aru!"
"Not for a while! Nobody wanted to hang out with me; I called all of you guys." America grinned widely. "I wanted to do a reenactment of my revolution at my house next week, but England didn't want to come! So now, we're all going to reenact World War Two on this island together! Isn't that awesome!"
"Arsehole!" England murmured, but now all of the nations were feeling a little responsible for this situation. None of them had agreed to see America, except for Japan, but he said nothing about it.
"Well, you shouldn't have called us on such short notice!" Germany pointed out the obvious flaw in America's reasoning. "And now we're stuck here an indeterminate amount of time!"
"You got that right, Nazi!"
Germany froze. His face contorted in suppressed pain and frustration, and his blue eyes locked in place.
Japan was disconcerted, and Italy was frightened. The others made the effort to look away from the large German and keep their attention on America.
"Hey, don't be so serious! It's World War Two, now, baby!" America puffed out his chest. "Okay, time to get ready. Allies on the west, Axis on the east! I already broke enough rules having you guys come here paired up with enemies!"
That gave everyone except England a new source of embarrassment. Japan and China exchanged apologetic looks. Italy cried, but Russia seemed fine. France gave Germany a sorry face, even though Germany was still shell-shocked by America's coarse insult.
"What about the other countries?" Russia asked politely. "When will they arrive?"
"What other countries? Everyone who took part in the war is here, right?"
Even Italy shook his head. America's ignorance was something to be marveled at.
"By the way, you all have to play along, or we're staying on the island forever!" America chuckled and jumped off his rock. "Now, let's get going! By the way, I asked my guys to leave changes of clothes for everyone in the camps, so be sure to change. See you later, Axis powers! Meet us in the middle of the island in an hour!" He marched away, laughing maniacally.
They were all soaked, so they had to leave. Even so, no one moved until Russia began walking after America, smiling innocently. England grumbled and left with them, as did China. France hesitated, though.
America noticed that France was lagging behind and stopped to yell, "Hey, France, did Germany capture you already!"
France's eyes widened. Germany shut his eyes tightly, turned around, and walked away, his face red with anger and degradation. "Go on, France."
France watched his former enemy leave, and that was when he began concocting a plan. They may be reenacting the Second World War, but this time, somehow, he would defeat Germany!
France would get the self-hating workaholic to indulge for once.
Determined to win, the epicurean Frenchman joined his fellow Allies.
Japan was not given any orders but he still obediently followed the darkened Germany. Italy skipped alongside them, confused but oblivious. After all, Italy was his old friends again!
What could be better?
With that thought, Italy wrapped one arm around Germany's chest and one around Japan's neck. "Ve~!"
Japan blushed, and Germany face-palmed, wishing he could just sink into it and disappear.
"Don't you have any modern clothes, America? I don't wear this uniform anymore, aru!" China shouted from his tent.
"Ah, come out! I'm sure you look great!" With an unwavering grin glued to his face, America went into China's tent and pulled him out manually.
"He-Hey! Get out! Aru!"
"You're taking too long!" America picked the nation up and carried him outside.
"Release me! Release me at once- ow!" China was dropped to the ground, rewarding his clean pants with plenty of dirt. The dark green suit was a perfect replica of what he had worn during the war, and it even had the red band around his left bicep.
Russia came out of his tent, wearing exactly the same kind of outfit he always wears, which was a long, heavy tan coat. The only difference was that this one was not soaked with water and seaweed. The scarf, however, had not been replaced, yet was sparkling-clean anyway. "Do you not have any military uniform for me, America?"
"You wear a military uniform?"
England 'humphed' at America's ignorance. The British gentleman had already changed into his old green uniform. "Insufferable twit. I should box your ears for jerking us around like this!"
"Um, yeah, I don't know what that means."
"I believe it means to slap them, non?" France finally emerged from his tent, wearing a long blue coat and matching capelet with red pants. He had clearly taken his time with his hair and face, which were sparkling. "This style is rather outdated, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to, hmm, return to the basics."
"We're on a deserted island, aru!" China groaned at the French extravagance.
"Hey, you guys! No more fooling around; we've got to get this show on the road!" America looked up. "It's almost dark out, so we have to start the war now!"
England remarked, "You do realize that we cannot actually do anything without Poland here, right?"
"Who? Oh, yeah. Hey, that reminds of me a funny joke I heard."
"And we did not start the war, aru." China played a little with a frying pan he found near the bundle of wood, waiting to be used in a fireplace.
"No, but Germany and the Soviet Union started it, right?" America glanced at Russia. "So, go make an alliance with Nazi Germany, commie!"
Russia's face darkened and there was a glint in his eyes, but his relaxed body language suggested that he was actually enjoying this game. "Very well, capitalist pig."
It was probably a good thing that the 'pig' insult meant two very different things between America and Russia. America only thought that Russia was calling him greedy and contemptible, probably because Russia was envious of American wealth.
If America had known that the former Communist was actually calling him perverted, obscene, dirty, and evil, then maybe America wouldn't have laughed and replied, "You're just jealous!"
Japan and Germany had both deducted that given the width of the land, the whole island could easily be crossed within twenty minutes, even though America had said it was 'one mile' and not 'one point six one kilometers," which had quietly annoyed everyone. This gave them plenty of time to prepare for the war.
And no, it wasn't to prepare them for the Second World War, but for the war within themselves.
Poor Germany had not found respite within his tent. The uniform he was forced to wear resembled his old teal SS uniform, and there was even a Knight's Cross for him to wear, but on one sleeve of the jacket was a band with a swastika. As calmly as he could manage, Germany ripped the band into shreds before donning the suit and the cross.
He stepped back outside to see Japan in his old white outfit. Italy only had his old blue jacket on.
"Italy! Put on your pants!" Germany shouted, closed his eyes, and pointed sharply at the Italian's tent.
"But, Germany~! It's so warm outside!"
The German's left eyebrow twitched, and Italy quickly waved his white flag and retreated into his tent.
Japan, at least, was maintaining a calm and collected disposition. There was a wooden katana on his belt, but it was not Japan's, and he felt kind of strange having only a useless replica and not the real thing. "You look tired, Germany-kun."
"It has been a long day, Japan." Germany sighed and rubbed his face.
The two stood there in silence until Italy came back out, fully dressed. "Ciao, let's eat!"
"No, Italy. We have to meet the others in forty-five minutes."
Japan looked curiously at Germany. "Do you have a watch?"
Germany looked curiously at Japan. "No." The Japanese were certainly diligent workers, but they were not obsessive planners like the Germans, who made it their business to always be aware of the time. "I do have ein Handy, though." Germany took out his cell phone from his new pants. Miraculously, the phone did not seem to suffer from water damage. "Forty-three minutes."
"Oh, you have a phone, Germany?" Italy leaned over to the German to see what the photo on his phone was. "Aww, you don't even have a photo, ve~!"
Germany narrowed his eyes, turned his head to Italy, and closed his phone. "The phone is for business use only. In any event, there is no service in the middle of the ocean."
"Give me your number right now~!" Italy opened his own phone and clicked his way to the address book.
"No! Put that away."
"Here, give that to me!" Italy grabbed for his friend's cell phone. Germany pulled it away, but then Italy started jumping for it, and began pulling himself onto Germany's shoulder.
"Hey! Get off! Hör auf damit!" Germany kept his right arm elongated away from the Italian and pushed back with his left, working hard to keep the Italian at bay.
"Give it, give it, ve~!"
"Nein, you cannot have it! Stop this nonsense, Italy!"
Japan smirked a tiny bit and wondered if the camera in his own cell phone wasn't water damaged.
Germany ultimately pushed Italy down, and successfully kept his phone as far from the eccentric pasta-lover as possible. "It is for business use only. If I use it for personal calls, then it is no longer a business expense."
Italy stopped and allowed himself to think for a second. As he mulled over his options, Italy jumped up and down on the balls of his feet, causing the lone hair sticking out of the left side of his head to bounce. "Okay~!"
That ridiculous curl distracted Germany, so he looked off to the side. "Good."
"Aww, Germany's blushing!" Italy lifted up his cell phone and clicked a button on the side. Before Germany could refute Italy's claim, a flash went off from the phone's camera and blinded the large man. Italy brought the sceen close and admired it. "Germany looks so cute, ve~!"
"What!" Germany quickly snatched the device from the smaller man's hands with his left hand and stared at the picture. It was true; he had been blushing, and now his embarassment was surely giving his face an even redder hue. He harshly muttered "Scheiße!" and deleted it with a few twitches of his thumb.
He gave the phone back, or reached out to give the phone back, but Italy was no longer on his left side. Instead, he was now on the German's right, standing in front of Germany's now-empty outstretched right hand. Italy had taken the Handy and was entering his own number into it.
Italy smiled and accepted his phone back, and put Germany's number in it. "Grazie~!"
"…But…" Stunned and humiliated, Germany became completely motionless, looking like an idiot with one arm completely outstretched and the other slightly outstretched. His hard stare at Italy did nothing to discourage the Italian's happy humming and typing.
Japan quietly put his own phone away.
America, China, England, and France went prone on a small overhang in the ground, giving them something like a commanding view of the land. On an island whose highest elevation was eight meters above sea level, it was difficult to have much of a geographical advantage.
Russia waited in the small clearing ahead, where apparently America's guys had been lazy when planting trees. But that was keeping in mind that all of these trees had managed to grow so high only within a day. This elicited more than one remark about American overuse of chemicals from England.
On the other side of the clearing, Germany, Italy, and Japan appeared.
"Hey, Japan, Italy! Get off the field!" America called out, revealing the location of the hidden Allies, and instantly everyone around him groaned. "This is the Nazi-Commie meeting of 1939, so you guys aren't in the war yet!"
China growled, "But I was at war with Japan from 1937, aru! He started taking my home in 1931!"
Italy added, "I took Albania in 1938, and I had Ethiopia by now, too. I made the Pact of Steel with Germany earlier in 1939, ve~!"
Germany murmured, "I already had Austria and Czechoslovakia…"
"And I was fighting Russia at this time." Japan said quietly.
"You should have researched this better, America. And besides, what about the Munich Agreement in 1938?" England propped his shoulder up and rested his head on his hand. "But what else could be expected from the yank who joined the war a couple years late?"
"In retrospect, we should have noticed sooner that all of this was going on, England." France was filled with a sentimental nostalgia, seeing everyone dressed in old uniforms.
"Fine, just assume that the other stuff happened already!" America made gestures with his hands, as though he were an Italian directing a play. "Germany and Japan, make your doomed agreements with Russia in the clearing there! Italy, go hide somewhere!"
Italy nodded with a giggle, ran to a nearby tree, and climbed it. He sat at the top of it and watched.
Germany stepped forward to meet Russia first. Japan, honoring historical accuracy, waited.
"Treaty of Non-Aggression between Germany and the Soviet Union, 1939-!" America shouted out, but England clamped a hand over his mouth and pulled him down to the ground.
"Belt up, already!" England released him.
America gave England a funny look, adjusted his glasses, and then pulled up his pants.
"Idiot, I don't mean that literally!" England slapped America on the back of his head. "It means, shut up! So, shut up!"
Out in the middle of the clearing, reenacting one of the worst times of his life, Germany felt very dark indeed. Why was America making him repeat this nightmare? He didn't know what to say to Russia, so he simply muttered, "Guten Tag."
"You come to form non-aggression pact with Soviet Union, da?" Russia's violet eyes contracted and shined at the same time. He suddenly seemed a lot taller than the German, and was his forehead always so much darker than the rest of his face?
"Ja…" Germany couldn't quite look at those eyes. Instead, he kept looking between Russia's neck and the trees in the distance behind Russia.
America laughed in the background. "El-oh-el, look at Germany!"
"Belt up, wanker!" Another slap brought silence to the audience.
"In the event that either one of us is attacked," Russia leaned forward, and slowly his smile tightened. "The other will remain neutral in the conflict. Do you agree?"
"Yes." Germany did not want to be laughed at by America, so he straightened himself and chanced to look Russia in the face.
"Furthermore, we divide Europe into German and Soviet spheres of influence, respectively. We start with Poland and the Baltics. I take back my land, and you, take, back, yours." He smiled widely again. "Da?"
Germany nodded slowly. His gaze now locked on Russia's but the contours of his face still betrayed his true sentiments about this situation and his memories of the war.
As much as Germany tried to ignore it or suppress it or even bask in it, there was no cure for the peculiar ailment that he suffered from. Germany himself thought of his disorder as 'anti-nationalism.'
Others would have called it 'self-hatred.'
"Then our agreement is done." Russia extended his right hand. "We shake, da?"
German looked down at the hand. Should he shake it, knowing full well that he would break this pact in 1941 and directly invade the land of the Soviet Union? No, that would be ridiculous.
"You can do it, Germany!" Italy shouted from his perch in the tree, dangling his legs, and Germany looked back at the small nation. "Make lots of friends, okay~?"
"Damn it, Italy, shut up! You're not in this!" America shouted.
"Bái chī!" China whacked America's rear with a frying pan. "Italy can talk; he is allied with Germany!"
America yelped, rubbed his butt, and sneered, but otherwise remained quiet.
Russia waited patiently with one hand out and lips curved up.
Germany reaffirmed to himself that Italy was truly the most idiotic nation in the world. Only that and nothing else could explain Italy's undying loyalty to Germany, a despicable country.
The powerful but troubled nation took a deep breath through his nose and embraced his next move as an ultimate expression of his fierce anti-nationalism.
Germany's blue eyes opened wider, full and glazed.
He clasped Russia's handed with great strength, and he declared, "Nazi Germany pledges to keep this agreement… until… Operation Barbarossa at 03:15 on Sunday, 22 June 1941. I will have made plans with Finland and Romania by then," the man darkened, "and we will start with Russian-occupied Poland. Please forgive me."
Italy stopped dangling his legs.
Russia's own demeanor became softer, but his shaded eyes and wide smile shined gloomily through it all. "At least we will both have begun preparations long before then, da?"
Germany let go of Russia's hand and nodded solemnly.
Japan stepped forward to relieve Germany of his pain. "You are done here, Germany-kun. It is my turn."
"Ja." Germany stepped back a few feet, then turned around and left the grassy stage. He picked a tree- not the one with the watching Italian- and stood behind it. He nearly fell as he leaned one shoulder on the bark, gripping himself in anger and hiding himself rom the world.
"Huh? What's going now?" America asked insensitively.
China whispered something into his hear.
"Oh, okay." Then, America shouted, "Soviet-Japanese Border Wars, 1938-1939!" This earned him more funny looks from the other Allies.
"Please, stop that, mon cher." France gave America a pat on the shoulder.
Japan was a more composed actor than Germany. He said to Russia simply, "We sign a cease fire in Moscow. The Nomonhan Incident is over."
"You mean, the Battle of Khalkhyn Gol?" Russia grinned more innocently now. "And you concede to a decisive Soviet victory?"
"Yes. The borders of Mongolia are safe." Japan did not make any uneasy twitches. He merely shook hands with Russia and returned to his friends.
"That dispute was between Manchuria and Mongolia!" China mumbled. "Manchuria belongs to me, me, and I'm not even in this scene…"
The reenactment was over. Russia returned to the Allies. "I am enjoying this game. What shall we play next?"
"There's more? But night is falling, aru." China could already see stars in the sky.
"The sun's still up, though! Let's do one more event!" America tapped his chin with his finger. "I think we can fit in the Munich Agreement!"
That ignorant remark elicited a snap from the British gentleman. "You are an intolerable idiot!" England screamed. "The Munich Agreement was in 1938! Weren't you listening to me!"
"Oh." America scratched his head. "Bummer."
England couldn't stand this. How could America be so dense? If only to give himself a reprieve from such idiocy, England looked off to the side and suggested, "Fine, we can push it up a year. We'll just make it our sleeping arrangements for the night, all right? So, everyone who attended the Munich Agreement sleeps in the Axis camp, and everyone else sleeps at the Allies camp."
America contemplated the idea superficially for two seconds before shouting, "Great idea, England! You pansies can go work out an agreement while the rest of us get some sleep! Ha, perfect." America stood up. "Hey, Axis losers, listen up!"
Italy looked over to the Allies and waved, though rather weakly. Japan also gave them his undivided attention. Germany was probably listening but he remained hidden, standing behind his tree.
"Anyone who signed the Munich Pact, go to the Axis camp! Meanwhile, all the cool people sleep in the Allies camp!" America laughed and marched away.
However, America didn't know who exactly had attended that conference. He silently hoped that he wouldn't be sleeping alone in his camp tonight.
"Well, France," England stood. "Time to repeat history's mistakes."
"I do hope America comes to his senses soon." France rose and dusted the dirt off of his pants. "If not, we may have to live through the whole war again."
England and France walked toward the Axis powers, while Japan left his old friends to follow America, China, and Russia.
"Ciao, Japan~!" Italy waved and climbed down the branches. "Germany! England and France are coming to your house again, ve~!"
"I know! Be quiet." Germany replied dully, and came out from behind his tree.
Italy rushed to meet his old friend, expecting to be scolded by the strong German soldier.
Instead, Germany only looked at Italy with a combination of anger and resignation. Even though his shoulders and chin were kept up, and he stood as straight as ever, Germany was clearly suffering from something.
"Wah! Germany is sick!" Italy started crying. "We're stuck on an island and Germany needs a doctor!"
Germany narrowed his eyes, straining to keep his voice low. "I am not ill. Be quiet!"
"Hey, Italy! Germany! I say we make a different agreement tonight!" England pouted as he approached them with exaggerated slowness. "I say, we don't reenact anything at all and we lie to America about it in the morning."
"Ve~! Okay, but Germany is sick and what if he gets really sick!" Italy jumped about, gesturing widely. "What if he ate something that was really bad and he throws up and look at him, he has stomach pain-!"
Germany growled. "That's enough. Italy." With a few small looks at England and France, Germany turned away and led the march back to the Axis camp.
France began to shake. "Ah! G-Germany-y is m-mad at us!"
"Huh, what did we do?" England crossed his arms. "Maybe he's just upset about that awful reenactment!"
"He needs a doctor, ve." Italy replied sadly. "He ate bad food on the plane..."
France knew that wasn't true, because he had been on the same plane as Germany. Even so, France realized that this would be a perfect excuse for him to execute his plan. "Is that so?" He wore a comforting smile. "Well, then, I know how we can, eh, fix his stomach pain, non?"
Italy hoorayed, but England knew better than Italy.
Relieved that at least a few nations had not met at Munich in 1938, America yawned and stretched his arms up. "Ah, man, how awesome is this war? Pretty awesome, right? Hey, we should play something before we go to bed!"
"Here's a game for you, America: help make us some dinner, aru!" China found a match and lit the fireplace after a few tries.
"Where are the food and the water?" Russia also looked around. "You did bring food and water, da?"
"Yeah, but…" America drew closer to his Allies and away from Japan. "I can't show you guys the stash while the enemy is here!"
"Why not? Japan needs to eat, too!" China started looking around for any hidden trenches in the dirt. "And you're the only one of us who has a way off of the island, aru! We all need to keep you alive until we are home."
"Heh, true. Sometimes I forget how powerful I am." America went to his own tent and brought out some food to eat, plus bottles of water.
"You hide food in your tent!" China clenched his frying pan tightly. "Wǒpēi, aru!"
"Hey, quit shouting profanities at me that I don't understand!" America placed a rotisserie spit in front of the fire, armed with a large carcass of meat. "Check out that big hunk of meat, ha ha! Who wants to rotate the rotisserie? I bet Russia wants to do it!"
"That is a lot of meat, America. We share it with the others, da?"
"No way! They've got their own food." America laughed and picked up a can of diet soda. "…Although, we could share if there's too much. I don't want animals coming into my camp!"
Russia sat down to spin the rotisserie, and China worked to make the fire bigger. Feeling useless, Japan impulsively collected all of the soaked clothes that were lying around. "America-kun, where is a clothes line that I can use?"
"Uh, sorry, I don't have one."
"Is there soap or detergent available?"
"Probably." America gave a cursory glance to his belongings and spotted a box of detergent. "Yep, here you go." He offered the large box to Japan.
Japan's hands were already full with clothes. "Oh, eto…"
"Need help with that?" With one hand occupied with the detergent, America took the five filthy suits with his other hand, including the shoes and the soda can. Eager to prove himself to be the world's strongest country, he also grabbed a wheel of rope, balancing it on the arm that also held the detergent. "Here, we can use this for the clothes!"
That was all well and good for America, but now Japan was useless again. "Eto, America-kun, please allow me to wash those…"
Japan tried to take the clothes back, but America pulled them away. "Okay! I'll carry them for you, though, cause I'm the hero! No one can do anything without me!"
"Ha, hai?" Japan blushed, and followed as America sauntered away.
Satisfied with the fire, China sighed and sat down. "I should have never decided to rescue America from any financial crisis, aru…" He briefly closed his eyes out of exhaustion, but immediately remembered that he had to keep an eye on Russia and opened them again.
Seemingly unaware of China's careful gaze, Russia kept his right hand on the rotisserie spit while his left hand probed his coat for a bottle of vodka. However, his hand felt something else, something wooden. He produced it and found the music box that Italy had given him earlier.
Russia had never even opened it. With the curiosity of an innocent child, Russia sat the thing on the ground and opened it. Music began to play.
"Hmm? What is that sound?" China stood up and circled around the fire to look at the box. "Oh! Did you bring that, aru?"
Russia stared at the toy. If the box was Italian, then why was the music distinctly Spanish? Russia was not very familiar with Spain but as a patron of the arts, he was very familiar with Western music in general.
China looked shrewdly at Russia. Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, relations between these two countries became steady and acceptable, despite the occasional border dispute. Their military connections were good, but Russia refused to sell China any modern weapons technology because he knew that China would end up copying it. They also worked together economically in free markets, but this was mostly because they shared a common enemy in the global economy.
And they would never let America be the sole economic superpower.
But that didn't change the fact that Russia frequently stalked China, especially during the Cold War. China was always a little suspicious of the tall and intimidating nation, and the occasional shadows lingering on his face.
The music box seemed safe enough, so China picked up the box and looked at it. "Hmm? I wonder if I could make this at home, aru?"
Russia smiled. His head rolled a little to the side, and his eyes moved away from the music box to rest on China's shoulders. "You keep the box, comrade."
"Huh?" China lowered the box to look at Russia.
"It is gift, da? You have it now."
"Oh, uh…" China wondered why Japan and America were taking so long. "That's nice of you, but-?"
"Good! We wash off this new gift together." Russia gave China a magically-appearing bottle of vodka. He also opened one for himself. "Da?"
"Uh, s-sure?" With a shrug, China opened his bottle and poured vodka over the music box.
"Ah, the box!" Startled, Russia pulled the box away and dried it with his sleeve. "Careful, comrade, you spilled your vodka!"
China blinked and his face twitched pathetically. "Oh… m-my bad-d, I g-guess?"
"This is so awful!" England whispered harshly, trying not to be heard by the former leader of the Axis powers who had retired to one of the other tents. "I will have no part in this! Italy, please tell France to stop this madness at once!"
Italy shook his head. "I want Germany to be happy again! I'll do anything for him, ve~!"
"That's right, Italy!" France smirked deviously, fiddling with Italy's new costume, made of spare linens and parts of his old outfit that had not been ruined in the ocean. "This will make Germany feel all better, I promise! England, mon cher, why don't you go keep watch outside if you insist on making me tailor the clothes by myself?"
"Absolutely not! I don't want to chance an encounter with an angry German!" England grabbed part of the blanket that they had found in Italy's tent and started measuring out a length of it to match his own height. "Here, I'll help. Satisfied?"
"Not particularly, as I am fully aware of your taste in clothing." France took the blanket away from England. "And I am using this blanket, thank you."
"Bloody frog." England brooded aloud and sat in the corner of the tent. Then, he realized that there was a problem. "Wait, where am I going to sleep? The Axis camp has only three tents. And I am not sharing a tent with you, France!"
"Oh, do not worry about that, love." France whipped out a pocket knife that he had found in the camp and cut off some material from Italy's sleeves. "I have a feeling that Italy won't be sleeping in this tent tonight."
England rubbed his face with both hands. "I have to get out of here…" He stumbled out of the tent as if in a daze. "If France does anything funny, Italy, just shout or something! I need a drink."
"Ve~? France tries to be funny a lot, but I don't understand his jokes most of the time! Ciao~!" Italy waved goodbye to England with both hands.
Italy's rude remark, and his sudden movement that almost caused France to cut Italy's shoulder, gave France a total of two reasons to roll his eyes. "Ah! Hold still, Italy!"
"Yessir!"
England failed to find any beer in the camp but he located a sake barrel dated ten months old in Japan's tent. From past experience England knew that sake was a typical Japanese liquor, and that it was best consumed when it was about a year mature, so at least America had gotten something right when planning this whole farce of a world meeting.
With a shrug, England opened the barrel and poured some of it straight into one of the small ceramic cups by the barrel, completely neglecting to use the ceramic flask nearby that Japan would have used to serve the sake. Japan probably would have diluted the sake with water first, too.
England brought the cup to his lips and drank some. It tasted sweet, sort of like apples. England decided that this was a satisfactory replacement for beer and drank some more.
He had forgotten, though, that even the least potent sake available in Japan has twice the alcoholic content of the most potent beer available in England. By the time England remembered this trivial fact, he was already singing out profane songs from his homeland, thereby disconcerting one former Axis leader who was trying to get some sleep in a neighboring tent.
"Maybe we need some chicks on this island." America gulped down the diet soda, lounging about on the shore. "Or we could use some guns. It's a World War Two reenactment, and still they insist that I can't bring guns here, cause it's all protected and stuff! Bosses, huh?"
Japan kept his face impartial while scrubbing China's suit. He had already cleaned America's, Russia's, and France's, though for that last one Japan had asked to borrow America's gloves.
America swung his arms in half-circles. "Well, I see I'm distracting you with how cool I am. I guess I should go and let you work on the clothes there." America slowly stood up and ambled about, pretending to leave but really trying to get Japan's attention. "Yeah, I wouldn't want Russia and China to miss me!"
That completely unfounded speculation caught Japan's attention and he looked up from the suit. "Eto, America-kun, I don't think that they would miss you-"
"Oh, did you say something, Japan?" America turned away, then turned his head back to Japan and made it look like he was already leaving.
Japan looked back down at the business suit. America wasn't trying very hard to hide his social desperation, was he? The quiet, composed nation sighed. "Please, do stay, America-kun."
"Oh, are you sure?"
Japan grimaced slightly. "Hai."
"Great! I mean, that's all good, right?" America joyfully sat back down, closer to his friend. "Hey, thanks for agreeing to come, Japan! Not that I would've taken no for answer, but thanks anyway!"
"Yes…" Japan had not anticipated that the world's currently-strongest nation would even remember the cell phone conversation from before.
"It was getting kind of lonely around my house, you know? I mean, sometimes I hang out with my brother, whatshisface. And sometimes I think that he's around but I don't see him around, and it feels like there's a ghost! It's scary! You ever get that feeling?"
"Canada-kun?"
"Yeah, him." America finished his soda. "Ech, this soda sucks. I want some real soda. Oh well, that's the price I pay to be on a diet!" And with that sentiment America swapped out his soda can for a package of French fries.
Japan wanted to set America's mind straight about the real nutritional value of fast food but decided against it. Instead, he calmly set China's suit to dry on the clothes line and moved on to England's.
"France's food is usually strange, but at least he got these fries right!" America boasted his incorrect knowledge, and once again Japan kept quiet. "Maybe I should tell him to keep making more food like these. Really, I haven't seen him much lately. France and I, we should get together more, so I can show him how to make real food!"
The island nation only nodded as he took a brush to a dirt stain on the suit's collar.
"You get what I'm saying, Japan? Besides for the world meetings, I hardly get to see you, you guys anymore. And the last time I got to really chill with you other, less cool nations must've been, uh, like, I don't know," America popped a fry into his mouth. "World War Two."
Japan stopped his brush.
Oh.
His normally stoic face was lit with surprise, empathy, and even some bashfulness. "America-kun-"
"Oh, are you done?" America smashed up the now-empty package of fries and put it in his pants. "Finally! I'm so hungry, I could eat a cow!" He took England's suit away from Japan, put it on the clothes line, and marched back to the camp. "Come on, hurry up!"
Until now, Japan hadn't realized that America was so lonesome that he would strand seven other countries with him on an island, just so that he would have sympathetic friends!
Japan followed America, walking closer than before.
"England, please stop that singing."
The plea, made by someone outside of the tent, was ignored by England, who didn't even hear it. He just kept dancing around Japan's tent with a cup of sake in his hands, singing a slur of words that were supposed to be part of an old folk limerick.
"Please stop, England."
England heard it this time but he still ignored it, and cursed loudly. Every time he missed a word in one of the songs, he would swear, and he missed a lot of them.
"England, please shut up!"
England almost tripped over his own feet when he finally recognized that someone was talking. "Ey, so you think you can, hic, tell me what to do, cheeky bastard! I'm, hic, the greatest empire in the world!" England put the cup down and stumbled blindly out of the tent.
The neighboring tent was closed up. England now remembered that Germany was in the tent. Through the dense fog of alcohol England thought hard and tried to remember who Germany was.
Relations between England and Germany had once been laudable. Closely connected royal families and a clear geographical boundary between them had made them close allies. That was, of course, until the First World War came along, which also happened to the first war ever in which England and Germany were enemies. World War Two certainly didn't help things, either. Since the Second World War, associations between them were best described as lukewarm.
Still, an inebriated England is an irritable England. "You think you're better than me, just because you're, hic, a wealthier country, you get along better with your siblings, and, hic, you have a cute friend who follows you around while I've got no one? Well, hic, that's just smashing!" He staggered back and gave Germany's closed tent the two-finger salute.
Ironically, England's two-finger salute resembles the victory sign that America had made at the end of the Second World War, only with the palm of the hand facing in. It's meaning, however, was closer to that of America's flipping of the bird.
England wavered on his quivering legs before he fell down to the ground on his rear. Confused by the subtle change in elevation, he started drawing circles in the dirt. "Gah, I'll show you what happens when you humiliate me, Germany…!"
The tent opened, and a large, irked nation loomed over England. Dressed in his pajamas and seeming exhausted beyond a mere lack of sleep, Germany's face was colored with both embarrassment and anger. "Please get out of here."
"Try all you want, but you can't stop my fairies!" England chuckled darkly, etching more shapes and curvy lines in the rubble.
"Get up." Germany grabbed the drunken gentleman by the collar and began hoisting him off of the ground.
"Ah, release me, brute!" England fought back. "You're going to attack me again, hic, with your bloody Luftwaffe, hic, aren't you!"
Germany recognized the allusion to the Blitzkrieg and reluctantly let England back down. "…No." Germany glared sharply. "You are clearly drunk, England. Go to sleep."
"Ah, just a bit, hic, squiffy, hic, you bastard!" England wrote a few Latin inscriptions down before adding more geometric shapes. "A clockwise circle, chevron, clockwise circle, anti-clockwise circle…"
"England, stop this nonsense at once!"
"Ha ha, like I said, try all you want! You can't, hic, distract me from my spell, hic!" England slowly stood up, balanced himself by holding his hands out, and then brought his palms them together. His eyes were pools of darkness and his face bore an evil smirk. "I curse you, Germany-!" England failed, though, and fell again.
"And Italy thought that I was sick…" Germany groaned. In any event, he helped England back up and waited with boredom for the Brit to finish. After all, as soon as England was finished with his ridiculous game, Germany would be able to bring him back to Japan's tent, and then everyone could get some sleep.
"Trying to play, hic, nice cop with me? That won't, hic, work!" England shoved a finger in Germany's chest, earning a decisive frown. "You're not that great! Just because you, hic, have more friends and a cute boyfriend-"
"Nein! I do not have these things!" Germany's intense bark made even the drunk England cower a little. "I have few friends, and on that other point, I..." Germany rubbed his brow with two fingers.
It seemed a common joke among the former Allied powers to pair Germany up with Italy. This was certainly not the first time that England had made this accusation, and damned if it would be last. Germany did not understand why they continued to punish him this way, after giving them so much already. In fact, Germany did not fully pay off war reparations from World War One until just recently, in September of 2010! Why did they persist in tormenting him with talk of Italy?
Ugh, Italy. After the wars, Germany had remained allied with the blubbering nation during the Cold War. The two came out of World War Two in miserable states, but Germany worked like a madman to repair their economies, as his whole population worked hard for longs hours at full capacity to rebuild itself. Italy, on the other hand, stumbled upon some resources in his land that could be used in the production of steel, and he also sold fashionable clothing and cars, but he had intended this to be more of a hobby and less of a business venture. In any event, Germany and Italy experienced economy booms and became two of the most well developed countries in Europe.
Of course, there were some discrepancies between these very dissimilar entities. For example, Germany insisted on investing money, while Italy had the tendency to spend carelessly. And Germany was Italy's most important trade partner, even though the opposite was not necessarily true. Still, all things considered, they were very close countries, weren't they?
Germany thought about the third speed dial in his cell phone, the one that Italy had not known about when he had stolen Germany's phone, merrily oblivious to the fact that Germany had already recorded his cell phone number long ago and kept it as the third speed dial, just in case.
Yes, they were close friends, and that was all they should ever be.
Germany laid a heavy hand on England's shoulder. "I understand what you are saying, but I could never have… a boyfriend, as you say. I only want to sleep!"
"Huh?" England twitched an eyebrow. "You don't like Italy?"
"I said nothing about Italy!" Germany roared fiercely, to hide his indignity. He made sure to stay quiet so as to try and not disturb the other two people in the camp, but it was enough to make England shield himself with his arms. "Besides, Italy certainly could never be my boyfriend!"
England lowered his arms, seeming almost offended. He thought about the sudden worthlessness of all of France's work. "…What? R-really?"
Germany realized too late what he had said, and face-palmed. "Verdammt… I mean-"
"Never…? Never, you say?" England slowly grinned again. "Ha, we'll see!" He drew a few more shapes into the dirt, stood as erect as possible, and declared, "I, hic, curse you, Germany!"
"..Fine." Germany's tired reply was muffled by his hand.
"I curse you, hic, to be…" England's sinister smile was truly murky and bizarre. "To be stranded on this island until you admit your love for Italy!"
Germany lowered his hand and stared, almost too incredulous to be ashamed.
"In fact, I curse all of you damn nations, who take your happiness and friends for granted, to be stuck on this island!" England shouted into the sky. "By my magic, I curse everyone to remain here until they admit their loves! Ha ha ha ha! No one can stop my magic, the power of the pixies and the fairies!"
Germany's patience could only last so long. "Menschenaffe!" He grabbed England again and threw him into Japan's tent.
England rolled up against the small bed. Of course, England understood enough German to know that Germany had just called him an ape. But England didn't know that in Germany, an ape is someone who is mad, crazy, drunk, and raging.
Understanding the insult to mean that he was dirty, England fell onto the bed, dusted off his sleeve and yelled back, "Well, I wouldn't be, if America hadn't stranded us on an island!"
Thanks for reading, again! I hope you've enjoyed it so far. I will probably write more so, I dunno, come back in a month or so?