A Hetalia Fanfic: Of Knives and Friends Part 1

Warning: Some OOC-ness



Italy leaned against a nearby tree, clutching his side. His uniform was drenched in his own blood.

"G-Germany!" He called out, stumbling forward. "Germany!"

He fell to the ground, coughing up blood. What happened?  He tried to remember. He glance up at the sky and saw a cloud that slightly resembled the figure of a fairy. Oh, that's right... England...I surrendered, but he stabbed me anyway...
He wished Germany was there to protect him, like he always had.

He closed his eyes, feeling so helpless... so... alone...


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"Italy!" Germany called out for his friend,"Italy! Vhere are you? Italy!"

Italy was supposed to meet him somewhere, but never showed up. He continued walking. Italy had to be there somewhere.

Hey, vhat is zat? He noticed a small, curled up figure lying in the grass, surrounded by what looked to be blood. Germany walked closer to get a good look. Then he realized who it was.

"Oh, Gott", He gasped, "Italy!" He ran towards Italy and knelt down beside him. Italy's breaths were shallow.  There was so much blood....

"Italy!" Germany gently shook him. He felt himself begin to tear up. "I-Italy..."
The young Italian began to stir. "G-Germany?", he whispered, opening his eyes slightly, "I-I'm so glad you came..." A tear rolled down his cheek, "I thought... you'd never come..." He closed his eyes again.
Germany lifted up Italy's head to his chest. "I'll always be there for you" He whispered before planting a soft kiss on his forehead.


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England quietly sobbed in a bush close to where Italy and Germany were.  He had seen the whole thing. Why did I stab him? He wondered. It was obvious that he surrendered. What came over me? Oh, God, what am I going to tell America if he dies? And at the hand of me, nonetheless. All of these thoughts raced through England's head. He wanted to die. He looked at the knife covered in Italy's blood that lay beside him. Then another horrible question entered his mind: What were we fighting about again?

He began to sob even more. He had stabbed Italy for some stupid little reason that he couldn't remember. Sweet, innocent little Italy. He began to feel even worse. I don't deserve to live, he thought to himself.  He picked up the knife and began to cut himself.


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Italy awoke in a strange, white room. "Where... Where am I?" He asked. He tried to sit up, but it hurt to move. "You're in the hospital", Germany, who was sitting next to the bed, responded.

"Dude, we're so glad you're alright!" America yelled in his usual loud voice. "We were so worried!"

All the countries in the room nodded in agreement. Italy was happy to see all his friends. He didn't realize how much he meant to them.

"Hey", Canada said, "Where's England?"

"I don't know", America answered, "Well, anyway, back to the matter at hand!" He turned to Italy. "Italy, do you know who did this to you?"

Italy didn't want to say. He could only imagine what pain and agony America would feel if he told him England had done it.

Japan, being the master of reading moods that he was, quickly picked up on this. "It was Engrand, wasn't it?"

Italy immediately began bursting into tears. America looked like he was going be sick. But then he turned red with anger.

"DAMN BASTARD!" America hollered as he quickly exited the room. He HAD to find England.



To Be Continued....