"Buon giorno, Germany!"

"Guten morgen, Italy. Shall I bother asking how you got into my bed?"

"Ve~ it's simple," said Italy matter-of-factly. "I got lonely because Romano's spending all his time with Spain and I wanted to come visit you because I like you, Germany."

Germany smiled.

"I like you too," he said bashfully.

As Italy was getting out of bed, the tall blonde noticed that something was missing.

"Italy," he said, "where is your wheelchair?"

"Ah, that?" Italy said. "Ve~ I don't need it anymore. I started the rehab and I'm doing really well. I only need crutches now!"

There had indeed been a pair leaning against the side of the bed. Italy slipped them on and pulled himself to his feet.

"I can walk again, see?"

Germany got up and pulled him into a hug.

"I see," he said, "and I am very proud of you."

Italy was happy to return the embrace.

They made their way downstairs to get some breakfast, Italy smiling and chattering about his legs all the way.

"…and it still hurts sometimes, like when I wake up in the morning, and Kid's told me that I shouldn't try to get all better in just one month, but I know I can do it because ever since I met him I've been doing things I never even thought I was capable of and-"

"Italy, you're babbling."

"Oh! Sorry!"

They reached the kitchen.

"Italy," said Germany, "despite how it may appear, I am pleased that you could come to see me. There is something I have been meaning to tell you for quite some time."

Italy's face fell. He was worried.

"Ve~ what is it?" he asked. "Is something wrong? Are you okay? Are you sick?"

"Nein, I am not ill," said Germany. "Please brace yourself: this may come as rather a shock."

He closed his eyes in concentration, clutching his right arm just above the elbow, fingers twitching and his fist clenching and unclenching as…

There was a flash of light.

Italy jumped back in shock and almost fell over, staring at the change to his BFF's body.

He reached forward, fingers trembling slightly as he felt it, running his fingers along the shaft. It was long and smooth, but warm to the touch, not as he had expected it to be. He held it up to his face for closer inspection, feeling the head with his thumb. The blade was smooth and sharp and shone like the moon. Germany pushed his hand away and felt it himself, wincing a little as he accidentally pricked his fingertip on the needle-sharp point.

"Germany," Italy gasped, "this is huge."

"I know," Germany replied. "I didn't wish to tell you because I was uncertain how you would react."

They both stared at where the taller man's hand should have been.

"Germany," said Italy, trying his best to breathe, "you're a weapon?!"