*Please note that I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia*
Days passed, and there was little change. The coroner was called, and Germany was hauled away to await the funeral. Since Germany's death, Italy had been staying at Romano's house. On this particular day, Italy happened to be sitting on the couch mumbling German fables to himself. Just then, the doorbell rang, and was promptly answered by Romano.
"Italy, Austria's here!" the brunette called to his brother, who ignored him and continued his conversation.
"I'm terribly sorry," the aristocrat apologized, removing his coat, "but ever since Germany died, Prussia's been acting strange, and he would've come with me today, had he not run off to God-knows-where. But anyways, what can I do to help?" Romano leaned in and, trying to be discreet, said,
"Well, I need you to help choose, and maybe help pay for, a casket," which, despite his efforts, made it to Italy's ears, causing him to shudder and babble louder. Austria nodded.
"Anything for my friends, Germany always spoke so kindly of you two," he said, stepping into the dining room with Romano where forms lay spread out on the table. "Now, Lovino, you know I mean well," the Austrian began when he was well out of Italy's earshot, "but shouldn't you get Italy some help? I mean..." he whispered, gesturing to the murmuring brunette on the sofa. Romano glanced at his brother with troubled eyes, then shook his head.
"No, Austria. I know Italy can handle this on his own. I know he never acts like it, but he has a brave heart," he said solemnly. Austria shrugged, then spoke,
"Well, alright, but don't blame me if-" Suddenly, the front door burst open, and in strode four men. The group was headed by America, naturally, and consisted of England, Russia, and the perpetually gun-toting Switzerland.
"Romano! Italy! We think we may have found some clues to find Germany's killer!" the American yelled, causing Italy to sob loudly. England stepped forward, shoved the blond aside, and spoke.
"We searched the whole vicinity, and found this," England said, holding up a plastic bag containing a single stand of silver hair. "We've questioned all the nations with hair of this colour and their peers. Every one of them has a solid alibi except for two. Belarus and Prussia were not at their homes on the night in question, and no one knows where they were," he said, causing Austria to furrow his brow in distress.
"No... i-it couldn't be Prussia...' he said tp no one in particular, pressing a hand to each of his temples. Russia, ignoring the dark-haired man, began to speak.
"Ve are goingk to visit each of these countries, and ve have brought along Svitzerland for some 'persuasion,'" he kol'd.
"No..." whispered a voice. Every set of eyes in the room turned to where Italy now stood. "Going tonight, before his... funeral... would disgrace his memory..." Feliciano said quietly, his eyes cast down. Switzerland was the first to speak.
"I agree. We should postpone the investigation until at least a week after the burial." Everyone nodded in agreement, including America, however reluctant. Italy wiped his eyes, then returned to the sofa and his conversation with himself as if nothing had occurred.
"Thanks for coming, guys, I appreciate it," Romano lied, waving everyone out the door. Austria followed, then turned back to faced Romano.
"Remember what I said," he murmured ominously before shambling out of the house and shutting the door behind him.