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Literature Text
Chapter Eleven: King of the World
They ran together, Japan being breathlessly dragged along. What he had done to
America had been exceedingly undignified and dishonorable, but he felt a reckless
thrill nonetheless. Maybe he was becoming more like Italy. He made a mental note to
control himself more.
Italy stopped by the restaurant, instructing Japan to remain outside. Japan tapped
his fingers on the railing, idly watching the clouds and the endless sea. Morning sun
danced across the water, and Japan sighed and enjoyed the reprieve.
Said reprieve was interrupted as Italy bounced into him, holding up two round
pastries. He passed one to Japan and climbed up to sit on the railing, swinging his
legs.
"What are these?" Japan questioned, holding up the pastry. His fingers were coated in
powdered sugar.
Italy gulped the gigantic bite down and grinned.
"I don't even know, but they're really yummy!"
Japan turned over the puffed roll and discovered a small bite taken out of the side.
Italy blushed.
"Oops, that was me…"
"It's all right. You can take it, I will eat later."
"Okay."
There was nothing but the sound of the waves and Italy's chewing for a minute, then,
he gulped and stood up. He wiped his hands on the front of his pants.
"Hey, do you wanna come below deck tomorrow?" he asked, hopping up so both of them
were leaning over the edge.
"Why would I?"
"The Italians are having a party, with lots of music and food! Please?"
"America wants to take me to another party then."
"You don't have to go."
"I'm already in enough trouble, Italia-kun."
"Oh."
Italy seemed to physically deflate, hanging his head between the metal bars. "I like
youuuuu, I want you to coooome…"
"F-fine, I'll think about it."
Japan sighed and rubbed his forehead. Italy began to hum loudly.
"When the moooon hits your eyeee, like a biiiiig yummy saucy cheesy pizza
pie!..."
"…Italia-kun."
"Hmm?"
Japan turned to look directly at him.
"First off, that humming is very annoying. Cease at once. Second…" Japan took a deep
breath, "What do you mean when you say you like me? You've said it before, and I want
you to clarify it."
Italy seemed genuinely confused.
"Um, it means I like you...? How else do I say it?"
Japan shook his head, flushing.
"N-no, I mean do you like me as a friend or something else? You've always said since
the beginning how much you liked me. What do you mean by it? What is so interesting
about me that you always follow and accompany me everywhere? What do you see in me? I
am only an old man who has lived too long…not to mention how inappropriate the
prospect of that would be—"
"Wow," Italy interrupted, golden-brown eyes wide. "You…thought a lot about this. And
I think that was the most words I've ever heard you say."
"I-I'm sorry," Japan flustered, "I j-just wanted to know, do not be offended—"
"Um," Italy's tan skin was as red as Japan's by now, "I guess…you're special.
I like talking to you. You're nice."
"Is that all?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing."
There was an uncomfortable stillness, and both of them gazed out at the horizon.
Then, Italy grabbed Japan's hand by the wrist.
"Hey! Can I show you something?"
"What is it?"
Italy had seemingly snapped out of the discomfort that had permeated the air only a
moment ago.
"Its fine, I found it out yesterday when I was waiting for you. Come ooooon…"
Japan allowed himself to be tugged off the railing and onto the deck. A warm hand
covered his eyes, and he shifted in irritation.
"It's a surprise, that's why—"
Italy guided him up onto something, supporting him carefully. He pulled his hand off
his eyes, laughingly warning him not to peek. His arms were slowly let go of.
"Open your eyes!"
Japan opened his eyes. He felt disoriented and puzzled for a moment. He was floating
over the sea, and nothing was below him. Italy laughed behind him. He looked down and
realized they were on the mast, on the very edge while the wind was in their faces.
"Isn't it beautiful like this?" Italy whispered in awe. "The ocean is so blue, and it
seems so much closer. The way the sun dances on the bends of each wave. The way we're
both up here, flying!"
"Italia-kun," Japan interjected. He swayed slightly. Italy continued as if he had not
heard him.
"It's like…it's like we're kings of the world, Japan! It's so wonderful! I want to
paint it!"
Japan gripped Italy by the shirt front and buried his face in it, refusing to meet
Italy's startled eyes or even look at the water.
"Italy. I'm afraid of heights."
Italy panicked, scrabbling to get off.
"E-eh?! I-I'm so s-sorry! Eeep!"
Japan vomited onto Italy's shirt.
* * *
They ran together, Japan being breathlessly dragged along. What he had done to
America had been exceedingly undignified and dishonorable, but he felt a reckless
thrill nonetheless. Maybe he was becoming more like Italy. He made a mental note to
control himself more.
Italy stopped by the restaurant, instructing Japan to remain outside. Japan tapped
his fingers on the railing, idly watching the clouds and the endless sea. Morning sun
danced across the water, and Japan sighed and enjoyed the reprieve.
Said reprieve was interrupted as Italy bounced into him, holding up two round
pastries. He passed one to Japan and climbed up to sit on the railing, swinging his
legs.
"What are these?" Japan questioned, holding up the pastry. His fingers were coated in
powdered sugar.
Italy gulped the gigantic bite down and grinned.
"I don't even know, but they're really yummy!"
Japan turned over the puffed roll and discovered a small bite taken out of the side.
Italy blushed.
"Oops, that was me…"
"It's all right. You can take it, I will eat later."
"Okay."
There was nothing but the sound of the waves and Italy's chewing for a minute, then,
he gulped and stood up. He wiped his hands on the front of his pants.
"Hey, do you wanna come below deck tomorrow?" he asked, hopping up so both of them
were leaning over the edge.
"Why would I?"
"The Italians are having a party, with lots of music and food! Please?"
"America wants to take me to another party then."
"You don't have to go."
"I'm already in enough trouble, Italia-kun."
"Oh."
Italy seemed to physically deflate, hanging his head between the metal bars. "I like
youuuuu, I want you to coooome…"
"F-fine, I'll think about it."
Japan sighed and rubbed his forehead. Italy began to hum loudly.
"When the moooon hits your eyeee, like a biiiiig yummy saucy cheesy pizza
pie!..."
"…Italia-kun."
"Hmm?"
Japan turned to look directly at him.
"First off, that humming is very annoying. Cease at once. Second…" Japan took a deep
breath, "What do you mean when you say you like me? You've said it before, and I want
you to clarify it."
Italy seemed genuinely confused.
"Um, it means I like you...? How else do I say it?"
Japan shook his head, flushing.
"N-no, I mean do you like me as a friend or something else? You've always said since
the beginning how much you liked me. What do you mean by it? What is so interesting
about me that you always follow and accompany me everywhere? What do you see in me? I
am only an old man who has lived too long…not to mention how inappropriate the
prospect of that would be—"
"Wow," Italy interrupted, golden-brown eyes wide. "You…thought a lot about this. And
I think that was the most words I've ever heard you say."
"I-I'm sorry," Japan flustered, "I j-just wanted to know, do not be offended—"
"Um," Italy's tan skin was as red as Japan's by now, "I guess…you're special.
I like talking to you. You're nice."
"Is that all?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing."
There was an uncomfortable stillness, and both of them gazed out at the horizon.
Then, Italy grabbed Japan's hand by the wrist.
"Hey! Can I show you something?"
"What is it?"
Italy had seemingly snapped out of the discomfort that had permeated the air only a
moment ago.
"Its fine, I found it out yesterday when I was waiting for you. Come ooooon…"
Japan allowed himself to be tugged off the railing and onto the deck. A warm hand
covered his eyes, and he shifted in irritation.
"It's a surprise, that's why—"
Italy guided him up onto something, supporting him carefully. He pulled his hand off
his eyes, laughingly warning him not to peek. His arms were slowly let go of.
"Open your eyes!"
Japan opened his eyes. He felt disoriented and puzzled for a moment. He was floating
over the sea, and nothing was below him. Italy laughed behind him. He looked down and
realized they were on the mast, on the very edge while the wind was in their faces.
"Isn't it beautiful like this?" Italy whispered in awe. "The ocean is so blue, and it
seems so much closer. The way the sun dances on the bends of each wave. The way we're
both up here, flying!"
"Italia-kun," Japan interjected. He swayed slightly. Italy continued as if he had not
heard him.
"It's like…it's like we're kings of the world, Japan! It's so wonderful! I want to
paint it!"
Japan gripped Italy by the shirt front and buried his face in it, refusing to meet
Italy's startled eyes or even look at the water.
"Italy. I'm afraid of heights."
Italy panicked, scrabbling to get off.
"E-eh?! I-I'm so s-sorry! Eeep!"
Japan vomited onto Italy's shirt.
* * *
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LOL "Japan vomited at Italy's shirt"
-that was surely a great way to end it X3
-that was surely a great way to end it X3