Holy Roman Empire quickly went to the doctor's encounter as soon as he got out of the room.
"How is he?"
"He seems to have suffered a nervous breakdown. I gave him a potent tranquilizer; he is sleeping now." The man, of white hair and a horse face, said. "He started screaming all of a sudden, you say?"
"Yes, we were talking, and just like that, he started screaming and crying, calling his brother Romano..."
"Did something happen, may I ask?"
"He...finished him some time ago."
It seemed the doctor understood that blood ties meant different for nations, because he just nodded in understanding. "I see...Perhaps he should see a specialist...It may be the effect of an unclear conscience...Do you know if these crises are frequent?"
"No idea, doctor. We've told you everything we know..."
"In that case, everything you can do now is let him rest and distract him when he wakes up."
"Thank you, doctor. Do you want a drink?" Prussia asked.
"No, thank you. I never drink while working." The man replied, and let Prussia take him to the door, while the nation talked to him about how admirable he thought his professional attitude was, at the same time he admitted he could never be an abstainer.
"I can watch him tonight, if you don't mind it." Japan offered to Holy Roman Empire.
Holy Roman Empire seemed to be about to offer himself, but in the end he just nodded. "Thank you...If something happens, anything at all, I'll be downstairs."
He was scared of him, wouldn't have denied him anything, Japan felt. And he couldn't blame him. The other him from this period had been working hard to create that impression on people.
After thanking him for his hospitality and kindness, Japan got inside the room and sighed at the sight of Italy. He, the one who made everyone smile with his joyfulness, was curled up against himself on Holy Roman Empire's bed, pale, at least to Japan's perception. Although the tranquilizers had made his howling cease and forced him to sleep, his face still showed traces of the anguish, the blush after having cried his heart out.
Japan lied down by his side and watched his friend during the night. It was all he could do for him, he was afraid. Not that he could have slept, after everything he had gone through those days. He spent hours attentive to every sound, every move from Italy. Sometimes he saw him shaking in his dreams, whined, maybe his mind making him remember that he had shot his own brother down, disposed of him during the building of his empire. Japan wished he could have said something, done something. All he could do was overcome his reluctance to physical proximity to caress the hair of his friend, place his hand on his, so he knew he was still there, he still had a friend by his side.
But for how long?
Everyone in the 21st century remembered how monstrous Germany had been during the war. Italy was much less important, perhaps got a joke or two about his poor performance. As for him...he was the one bombed by America. Not many questioned why.
He didn't like to think about that period, but those dark times had come to haunt him...What he did to people he now appreciated or at least tolerated. He thought he was superior to the other Asian races and civilizations, and it was his duty to conquer the inferior ones. He demanded his own people to give their lives, spill their blood for him. He was not that different to Germany. Germany ended up surrendering because he was so exhausted his convictions failed, he was cornered, his leaders were gone. He...He wanted to fight till the end. It was a matter of honor to him. He was a god, and gods deserve everything and are never wrong...It was taught at schools that 'Little Boy' and 'Fat Man' had been what made him surrender, but even after that, when his skin was practically falling, just like his hair, and he felt his bones melting, he still wanted to keep on fighting...It was Russia, crushing his army, threatening him, what convinced his men to make their nation stop, before he walked to his, their doom. And he spent years lamenting not having been crushed, instead of letting himself become the loot of America...He thought all those soldiers who kept fighting in lost islands decades after the surrendering had much more honor than the nation they were defending...
Now...America was never born...One of his best friends in the world had never existed...But his past self, the one who wanted domination, in a turn of events which would have been deliciously ironic if it wasn't for the fatal consequences, had access to his Manhattan Project and had used it on Russia not just to win their war more easily, but to prove everyone he was indeed a celestial being with power over life and death. China was under his control and was obedient, because he knew how little it would mean to him that he was wiped off the face of the earth...All of his underlings feared him...But if Italy was such a big empire now...Who told him that weapon wouldn't be used against him? Or Holy Roman Empire, or Spain, or...?
No one knew the effects of that bomb better than him. And he had to say, fortunately. He didn't want someone else to experience the burning inside and outside, the pain afterwards, the desolation, the nightmares. Everyone enjoyed his animes portraying orphans, mutants, abuses of technology, post-apocalyptic worlds, light attacks, but ignored—or preferred to ignore—how that helped him get what he had seen in Hiroshima and Nagasaki out of his mind. Thinking that he would be the responsible of that suffering now...At least America did it because he truly believed it was the only way to finish that bloody war and prevent the death of millions...He never used it again...His past self wanted the bombs to assert dominance...
They had to go back in time and prevent all of this to happen. Bring their lost friends back. Stop himself...He didn't want to lose Italy too...
When Italy woke up, he found Japan by his side, with his eyes closed.
"Japan..." He softly called him.
His friend opened his eyes immediately. Right after that, Italy's started to fill with tears again.
"I killed Romano, Japan...!"
Japan, unfortunately, didn't know what to say, or what to do to make him feel better.
"The angel told me I had to be tougher...Do everything at all, no matter who was in my path...It was me, Japan, I know now the angel was actually me, in the 1940s...We have to stop this...We have to make the Axis never find the sand..."
The door opened. Holy Roman Empire showed his face.
"Uh, sorry, I heard noise...Uh...How are you, Italy?"
As an answer, Italy sniffed and got up to wipe his tears with the sleeve.
"I'll bring you breakfast." Italy weakly protested, by Holy Roman Empire was firm. "You have to eat something, Italy. You barely touched dinner last night. You need to eat; it will make you feel better."
And so he disappeared.
"If things return to normal, he..." Japan observed.
Italy nodded slowly.
"He was your friend, am I right?"
"He was more than a friend..." Italy said. "...I wish there was a way to keep him alive, and make Germany return..."
"...But one cannot exist if the other..."
"Yes...If the other is alive..."
Italy was silent for a moment, gazing at his own hands. Then, his eyes looked at Japan again.
"...There are many things that didn't go as we wanted...But I suppose it is the way they should be. God allows many bad things because some good will come after them...I suppose we had to make those mistakes and pay for them, some nations and people had to be born while others died or never had the chance to exist...Our time was not perfect, but...It was what it was supposed to be..."
"So..."
"So...I am going to keep missing Holy Roman Empire and Prussia..."
Holy Roman Empire returned with a tray with an orange juice, toasts and butter.
"I want you to eat it all, okay? I'm watching." He said.
With the excuse of washing himself, Japan left them alone. This was the time for them to say goodbye once again.
There were so many things Italy wanted to tell him...He could barely eat thinking about it, knowing that, if everything went right, he would become a memory again...
It was the right thing to do but it was so unfair...
"Come on." Holy Roman encouraged him.
"Holy Roman...What you said last night..."
"Yes, about that...I'm...I'm sorry...I was a little too straightforward, right?"
"No, not at all. It's just that..."
"Well, you said it didn't mind to you that a man liked...uhm..." Holy Roman Empire cleared his throat, his face turning bright red. "I'm really sorry about that..."
"I have done so many things to get where I am. I even killed my own brother. Doesn't that bother you?"
"I know there are things that must be done. I am not innocent, either. Empires are founded on domination, you know..."
"...Mph...I guess so...You must really love me, if you are willing to overlook that and only see the good in me..."
Holy Roman Empire was unable to look at him to the face. His eyes never raised from the sheets of his bed.
"...I do...Since I was a child...I have been waiting for this moment, to meet you again in person, so you could see the man I have become and tell you..."
"I have also waited a long time to tell you..." Italy paused, aware that God had given him a second chance and he couldn't waste it. "I have never forgotten you."
"So...Is that a yes?"
"...I can't..."
Holy Roman Empire finally got the courage to look at him.
"...Why? Is my empire not big enough for you?"
"It's not that. You are marvelous the way you are. I would like you, even if you were as small as Vatican City."
"Then, what is the problem? I...I love you, Italy...I don't care what you had to do to become who you are. I would always protect and love you...I have waited so long...I could wait a thousand years..."
This was so difficult Italy wanted to cry again.
"...I need to go..."
"Where? And why is that an impediment?"
"I am going far, far away and I don't think we'll ever meet again."
"...You can't be serious, Italy..."
"I am."
"Where are you going?"
"I can't tell you."
"...Let me go with you. I will follow you to the end of the world."
"You can't come with me."
"Why?"
"..."
"...So...Now what?...Is this...farewell for us?"
Two centuries before, once defeat had humbled France enough to make it possible to have a friendly conversation with him, France had told him to forget about Holy Roman Empire. He was dead. Why hurting himself talking and thinking about him? But he hadn't taken his advice and had kept him in mind like a treasure. Now he was there, he was breathing, he was alive...and he would become a hurtful memory again soon...
"...No...I am sure we will meet again...somewhere..." Italy replied.
That last time, he kissed him...He told him it didn't matter how much time passed, he would always be his favorite person in the whole world...
Italy left the tray aside and placed his hands on Holy Roman Empire's cheeks to attract him for a kiss on the lips. He savored them for long, and then stood up and left the room, leaving Holy Roman Empire there, still sat, his gaze lost.
"Come on, Japan...I am ready to go..." He said to his friend.
"You're leaving? So soon? Oh, come on, we haven't-" Prussia said, walking toward him.
And he was left speechless when both Italy and Japan embraced him.
"...Goodbye, Prussia...We're sorry..." Japan muttered.
"...You will always be the most awesome of us all..." Italy said.
Without further delay, they left the house, aware that Prussia watched them walk from the door and Holy Roman Empire, from the window of his bedroom.
They walked until they left Munich behind. That little path was completely desert. Around them, they could only find some trees and a great are of pasture. There, they stopped. Italy put a hand inside the pocket of his pants and got a handful of sand he found there.
"So...Where to?" He asked Japan.
"Baumgartner...That soldier has much to do with the sands ending up in the Axis' hands...Perhaps we can..."
"Oh, no, you're not going anywhere!"
Their heart skipped a beat when they found they were not alone. They had been followed by Italy's 1941 self, who was holding a pistol and didn't know who to aim at.
"You are not using that!"
21th century Italy dropped the sand, but not because of fear. Seeing himself, still dressed with that rich military uniform, those clothes his child self identified as 'heavenly clothes', awoke something in him, a fury buried under all the pain. He pounced on his past self and tried to choke him with his bare hands.
"I-Italy!" Japan exclaimed, not sure whether to intervene or not.
"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! ROMANO'S DEAD AND I'VE LOST ALL MY FRIENDS BECAUSE OF YOU! IT'S YOUR FAULT!"
"They were enemies!" 1941 Italy exclaimed as he could.
Italy rolled on the ground and started hitting his past self.
"They were my friends! You ruined every chance for them to become friends! Everything!"
"I did us a favor! If we lost that war...everything awaiting us was to be judged, invaded, poverty, depravity!" Fascist Italy replied, getting to grab his future self's fist before it impacted against his face. "I wanted to save us suffering! I wanted to make our vision come true! The Roman empire rising from its ashes!"
"Idiota, idiota! What does being an empire matter if you have no one to enjoy it with, if you need to destroy friends and family to build it?! You think I am awful, but you have no idea...It's true that after the war came poverty and depression...But everything got better! It was not marvelous, but it was...good! I liked my life!"
Italy stopped hitting himself and his breath trembled as he spoke to the past version of him he was crushing.
"...In my times, there is no one telling you what to do, or think or forbidding you anything...All children, women too, can get an education and become what they want...They don't need to die young, there are plenty of vaccines and medicines for free...There are no wars to fight...Knowledge is accessible to everyone, no matter where they come from or what their income is...There is a new invention almost every day, which can bring people closer and leave a greener planet...That war you have been fighting has not been forgotten, but all of us have been forgiven...People from all around the world come to visit us, because they love our food, our art, our cities, they love us...France, England, America, even Russia are friends again...The whole world has never been so well connected...I can talk to my friends anytime, anywhere...That is, before you...you..."
Past Italy looked at his future self with his mouth slightly open.
"...Are you...telling me the truth?"
"Of course!"
"Will I be happy in eighty years?"
"As happy as one could be!"
"...But...your world looks nothing like the one we projected..."
"Because your project was awful..." Italy breathed deep and looked into his past self. It seemed to him that the nation in front of him was a hurt one, traumatized by a brutal war, forced to join another one and do things because of friendship, of the promise of a better life. He was someone who desperately wanted to believe there would be a happy ending. And that made him calm down a bit. "...I promise you, Veneziano: it gets better. It gets so much better..."
It seemed 1941 Italy was about to cry. A few tears escaped from his eyes, eventually. His future self helped him stand up and even shook the dust off his uniform.
"There, there..."
"I'm so sorry...That old man told us...We saw so many awful things we thought..."
"Life strikes." Japan said. "But in the end it helps us grow..."
"...Do you promise...the three of us...and the Allies...we will all be friends?"
"We promise." Italy nodded.
Past Italy sighed. "That man, Ernst Baumgartner...He told us he escaped from justice in 1945, when Germany fell. He said he lived in Argentina and found the sands somewhere in South America...You have to go back to the 21st century and stop him before he-"
"Ruining everything again, Italy?"
Another sudden apparition made the group freeze. The Japan from that time, after all, gave them the coldest look any of them ever had to endure.
"Japan...What are you doing in..." His partner muttered.
"I told you we would meet sooner or later. At some point we would have to fight, since both of us have expanded our territory...And now I find you helping those parodies of ourselves..." Japan walked to them, speaking calmly, but that calm in his voice was precisely what terrorized them, what made them draw back with each step he took. "You acted like you were friendly, pretended to be my friend and Germany's, and here I find you, helping them help those who want to destroy us...Somehow, I always knew you were nothing but trouble."
"Italy..." 21st century Japan whispered into Italy's ear. "Run."
"What?"
"I'll take care of him."
"But..."
"Japan, you..." 1941 Italy joined his future self, looking at Japan as if he was crazy.
"I need to do this. Please." Japan said so firmly Italy, past or future, couldn't question him.
His past self, guessing his intentions, was marching towards them, his katana drawn.
"Go!" Japan hurried them.
Italy only had one second to take his friend's hand before his past self wrapped an arm around him and forced him to run with him.
"I really don't understand myself." Imperial Japan muttered, shaking his head. "I am just doing what others would do: save myself pain, destruction, trouble. Accomplish my goals. Did those bombs fry your brain?"
"I am starting to believe I deserved a lesson in humility..." Japan firmly replied.
He was completely sure his past, courageous, heartless self was going to kill him like one kills an annoying insect. But, to his surprise, he stopped in front of him to toss him an extra sword he had in his belt.
"Show me I have not forgotten what I am." He said.
Of course. The code of honor said rivals had to be offered an honorable way to die, fighting for their lives.
He did not object to that. He unsheathed the katana and got into a defensive posture. He had not forgotten how to fight, but it was true that in those times of peace he had barely had the chance to use his skills. He was most probably rusty.
It didn't matter. It was all a matter of giving Italy a chance, and show that shadow from the past his will was intact.
1941 Italy extended an arm and sand seemed to rise from the ground and create a vortex in front of them.
"But what do I have to do?" His future self asked.
"Just think of the place and year you want to go to. You know that. I'll go with you. Take my hand."
But they stopped and turned around. Someone was approaching them. They distinguished Japan's silhouette in the distance. Italy called him.
However, as he got closer, it became clearer to his eyes that he was wearing a white uniform. That was not the Japan they were looking for. His katana was stained with blood and sand, which he cleaned with his own fingers.
Japan, seeing they were about to escape, started running towards them.
"I'll take care of him! Go!" 1941 Italy shouted, grabbing his gun, and before Italy could say anything, he was pushed into the vortex.
He couldn't see what happened next. He saw Japan and his past self facing each other, but nothing else, due to the sand wrapping around him, shaking him. He felt like he had been dragged by a hurricane, sand got in his eyes.
He knew he had to think clearly of what he wanted, where he wanted to go, but he was feelings so many things at the same time he couldn't focus on one thing. He had a very awful lump in his throat, he could barely breathe. He could only think about Japan, Holy Roman Empire, Germany, Romano, America, Prussia, England, Quadarella...All their faces were on his mind, like a torture.
Why did some have to die for others to live? Why couldn't he save everyone? He wanted to save them all but he couldn't.
How he wished, much briefer than an instant, to go to a past when he wouldn't have to worry about who lived and who died, because none of them, not even himself, had been born yet!
And his wish was granted.
