Hello there! This is my first time writing a Hetalia: Axis Powers fic. I have read a lot of stories here and wanted to try writing a fanfiction.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers in any shape, size, or form. If I did, my Philippines Trio OCs would have been here. (Besides if I owned it, Hetalia wouldn't be as awesome as it is right now)

Italy stared in horror at the area he was in. The sky and clouds were dark. The trees around him were lifeless. Raindrops and tears dotted the earth around him. He screamed in agony and sadness. He ran around, looking for some sort of comfort. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to believe it.

The memories flooded the personification's mind. Those horrible memories.

Blood speckled the ground. He couldn't forget the pained looks and the hurt in eyes of his friends. He was on the edge of breaking down and killing himself. He had been searching for them for a few hours now.

It was all because of a monster that had followed them into the forest. A monster that followed them looking for revenge. A monster that had taken the lives of innocent people who he mistook as the people who ruined his life.

The Italian continued in his search for his allies. He trudged towards the left. The path he was on was filled with dead leaves, dry twigs, and mud. Another tear escaped his eye as he stepped on a fallen branch. The walk wasn't silent as the ground beneath him made noise as he stepped on a branch or leaf.

"Why did this happen?" the country whispered, "Why did they leave me?"

He kept a good eye on his surroundings. He would see leafless trees, like the trees when it was winter. He would occasionally hear a lone bird in the trees. After about five minutes, he saw something in the distance. Something… blond? He dashed towards it. As he came closer, what he saw lowered his spirits.

"No, please, that can't be…" he muttered in horror. He saw two blond men on the ground in a pool of blood, hands intertwined. He recognized them immediately. He knelt down and stroked their faces.

"America and England…" he cried out.

The two personifications' bodies were very near each other. America's face had a sad smile on it, very different from England's pained expression.

The Italian smiled, but his eyes showed sorrow. He smiled because he was happy that the two got to spend their last moments together. America and England never really got along, but deep down they did care for each other. They did not know it, but all the other countries knew of their (not) secret love for each other. His eyes were filled with sadness because seeing them together brought back bitter memories of the monster.

Italy got up. He wanted to stay and believe that they were the only ones who have died, but he knew that it was pointless to just stay around and wait there. He took one last glance and left. He walked away with his heart empty of hope.

He saw that there were two paths he had to choose from. Since he came from the right, he decided that going left was the best option. As he walked into the much more wooded path, he looked down and noticed his clothes. His clothes were soiled by the rain. They also had bloodstains from the numerous but small wounds he had gotten. Overall his clothes were in shreds. He ignored this and continued onward.

"They're gone…" Italy said to himself.

So far he had already found the bodies of Japan, Prussia, Spain and the other Allies. Only two more people to find.

"Fratello? Germany?" he kept calling out (in case they were alive, but Italy knew that it was very unlikely that they'd be alive), "Are you there?"

Tears fell again. It was too much to bear now. There, a few meters away from him, was the familiar face of his friend, comrade, and object of affection, Germany. His normally red face (due to him yelling at Italy everyday and getting into awkward situations with him) was drained of color. The blue eyes he loved were now covered by his eyelids. His hair was messy, blond strands sticking to his face because of sweat and blood. His disheveled clothes were torn in many places; it was certainly not something that Germany would wear on a normal day. Italy fell to the ground.

"Germany? Germany? Wake up! Please…" Italy said, shaking the shoulders of his fallen ally. He desperately tried to wake up the personification. When he didn't, the Italian sat there and cried. Some people might have hated him now if they saw him crying like an idiot.

But they never knew what it was like to be all alone, surrounded by your dead friends. They probably wouldn't know what it feels like to be the only one left in the world. They would never know what it feels like to see the corpses of guiltless people who were killed by a madman; some of them slain right in front of you.

"I'm so sorry… I should be the one in your place right Ludwig?" Italy said, smiling like he was insane or something. He used the German's human name. He sighed, that name brought bittersweet memories with it. Memories like the times they trained together with Japan and the times when he would try to escape from training (and get caught). Memories from the war right down to days that he would come over to Germany's house just to cook pasta with him. He grabbed Ludwig's hand.

Italy tried to get a grip on reality. The reality that Germany, Ludwig, was gone. It was hard to accept it. He didn't want to leave him. His mind and heart felt so heavy. It was hard to move on. He forced himself to look away, to fight back the tears, to walk away, to forget. Against his will, Italy continued in his search for his brother.

The sun was setting. The sky was still dark, but not as dark and gloomy as before. Little orange patches were peeking from the clouds. The wind blew at his face. He saw a rundown house, its walls charred from a fire and one wall torn down. He could see inside the rooms of the house. This was the setting when Italy had to face his greatest challenge yet.

Italy froze. He could've sworn he saw a figure in the mirror of one room of the house. It had glowing, red eyes. He then noticed something a few meters away. He looked at it for a second, and looked at the mirror again. The image in the mirror was gone. He shrugged it off and focused his attention on the object he saw earlier.

"Fratello?" he called out. The object was a lone figure sitting upright in the dry field. Upon closer inspection, the figure was a male human, or so it seemed. The 'human' was clutching his right arm, blood flowing from it. When the 'human' heard Italy, he stared at him.

Italy cried tears of happiness. He found someone who was alive. He ran towards his brother Romano. He wasn't alone. He wasn't going to be the only one left.

Meanwhile, Romano wasn't in the best of moods. His arm hurt a lot and he had another deep scar down his leg. But when he saw his brother Veneziano, his eyes filled with relief. But what he was not happy about is that his brother was running towards him with a look that suggested that he had no intention of stopping.

"Romano!" Italy said. The last thing Romano could see before Italy tackled him was his brother's happy expression.

"Fratello, I missed you! Are you alright?" Italy asked Romano. Italy sat down. The younger of the two held the elder's hand.

"I'm fin- Ahhh…!" Romano replied. He clutched his arm. More blood trickled down it.

"R-romano?" Italy took his brother's arm. Romano snatched it away from him.

"It just hurts a lot- Damn!" Romano said, a very colorful string of words coming out of his mouth.

Italy looked at the floor. His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him. A pool of blood had formed around his brother, and judging by the pained expression of his brother, he couldn't hold on much longer.

"No, not again…" Italy thought. He couldn't afford to lose his brother now. Not here.

"Fratello…" Romano breathed out. He was slipping in and out of consciousness now. Italy wouldn't look at him.

"Fratello…!" he half- yelled and half- coughed at his brother. With every cough blood came out.

"Damn, I'm coughing out blood!" Romano thought.

"R-romano?" Italy said, sniffling at the sight of his brother. Romano looked so weak and defenseless, yet strong and powerful.

"Listen to me Italy…" Romano said but was cut off by Italy.

"R-romano? Did y-you just call me I-italy?" Veneziano said in between sobs.

"Yes, I did." he said weakly, "I'm handing you the title of Italy."

"B-but Romano that means that I'm… you're leaving me?" Italy said.

"I'm sorry fratello…" the older of the two said. He may act like he dislikes his brother, but he does care for him. Italy only sobbed harder at this.

"N-no, I want my big brother to be Italy with me!" Italy said, his cheeks wet with teardrops. Romano was getting annoyed at his behavior. So he did something to knock some sense back to him.

SLAP!

Italy's eyes widened. He stroked the cheek that Romano slapped. The spot was becoming red. He looked at his brother. Romano was red with anger.

"Fratello…?" Italy whispered to his brother. Romano rarely slapped him (but he did beat up and curse at his brother very often).

"Listen Italy, how do you say good bye in Italian?" Romano asked. That was a strange question for him to ask since Italian was his mother language.

"Arrivederci." Italy murmured.

"Say it louder." Romano told him.

"Arrivederci."Italy said clearly.

"Shout it out!" he ordered his brother.

"Arrivederci!" Italy shouted.

"Arrivederci, fratello, Italy, Venziano, Feliciano!" Romano shouted at him, smiling sadly at his fratello.

"You can do this Italy. I just don't think that you can do it, I knowyou can do it" Romano thought.

Romano took one last look at his surroundings and more importantly at his fratello. His eyelids fluttered before finally closing, never to open again.

Italy felt his brother's hand become heavier. When he let go, Romano's hand fell to the floor with a thud. Italy couldn't hear his brother breathing. Tears streamed down his brother's face, flowing freely since the person who held them did not fight them back.

"Romano? Romano…? Why? Why, Lovino?" Italy cried. He rarely used his brother's human name.

The nation hugged his knees and bowed his head. He was losing it. He felt so weak.

"Well then, it's just poor little old me here." he thought.

"Feliciano, Feliciano…"

"Huh? Is that you Lovino?" Italy said and looked down to his brother. Still dead. He heard his name again.

"Feliciano… Where are your friends?" the voice kept on saying.

Italy felt like he was going insane. No one else was here, well nobody alive that is. Only him. Did his mind with him? Did he have these hallucinations just because he wanted to comfort himself in some creepy, sadistic, eerie manner? The voice kept on calling him, beckoning him to its owner.

"Who are you?" Italy asked. He stood up and examined the area. The shabby house he saw earlier was nearer than he thought. He glanced inside and saw the mirror. He saw those red eyes again.

"I am you, Feliciano." the voice replied.

Italy stepped inside the house. He was frightened and scared, but curiosity got the better of him. He finally was inside the room that contained the mirror when the voice from earlier spoke again.

"Why are you all alone?"

An image formed in the mirror, though it was blurred. First were those red eyes from before. Italy walked closer to it. Whenever he took a step towards the mirror, the image got clearer. He was in front of it when the image became clear. It looked like a clone of Italy, though it was not his reflection. This version of Italy had red eyes, having a deadly glint in them. Its clothes were the same as the nation's, only black and red in color. It also moved on its own, like a different being. Its face had a ghostly smile on it.

"Who are you?" the Italian asked.

"As I told you before, I am you…" it replied, "Now tell me, where are your friends?"

"They're… gone." the nation replied, his spirits immediately lowered. They ended up talking for a long time, with Italy sitting on the ground and sharing his experiences, and the image talking to him about how lonely he got. They talked about many sensitive topics. By the time they started to quiet down, the moon was already high in the sky. The image saw Italy become melancholic again.

"Can I be your friend?" the reflection said, offering its hand, which had somehow crossed out of the mirror, and was now in front of Italy's face.

Italy was surprised by this, but place his hand in the reflection's. The image stepped out of the mirror and pulled Italy up to a standing position. It immediately wrapped its arms around the nation. Italy hugged back.

"There, there Feliciano… it would be all over soon enough." the reflection whispered into the country's ear.

Italy felt his eyelids grow heavy. His arms felt like lead. His mind started to shut down on its own, his heartbeat steadily growing fainter. The image from the mirror chuckled and let go of Italy, laughing evilly as it saw the nation fall to the floor.

"Good bye Feliciano…" it said, "Just as I planned."

Well did you like it? Hate it? Do you have any violent reactions? Please review! I would love to get some criticism on this.