Hey guys, Godsilla here. I don't normally like to add notes at the top, because I feel it takes away from the story, but I think I need to give some warning for this one. Notes will still be at the bottom. Well, here we go:


Disclaimer: I own nothing of Hetalia besides this story.

Nor do I own Higurashi

Forever an Axis

Part 1- Longing

This was turning out so wonderfully.

Gilbert watched over his Captain place the Italian on the table before him. He grinned, knowing his plan was coming together very nicely.

He couldn't imagine this going so beautifully.

After muttering a small note of dismissal and raising his right hand up in a familiar notion of hailing the Führer, the Captain exited the room. Gilbert watched him leave, waiting to hear the tell-tale click of the door shutting before approaching the table. He secured the other's hands in two leather restraints, keeping his arms above his head.

"Ah… meine liebe… it has been too long since I've last seen you." He whispered to himself, trailing a gloved finger up the man's cheek in an almost tender way. "It's too bad we must meet on such circumstances, but it can't be helped."

He chuckled to himself, knowing full well the other could not hear. He stepped back, taking a seat at a nearby stool. He fished out a pocket watch, its dull silver gleaming in the lamplight, and flipped it open. He closed it then quickly opened it, repeating this action to kill time.

He had to wait before the real fun could begin.

With a start, Feliciano roused from sleep. His eyes fluttered open, only to snap back closed because of the bright light overhead. He seemed delirious, or at least unaware of his surroundings. He casually went to move his hand, soon realizing it was bound.

This was not something he expected, for his prisoner to be up so soon. Damn cheap drugs. With pursed lips, Gilbert closed his watch and returned it to his pocket.

Feliciano's head snapped up at the sound. His eyes were squinted, but with the lock of confusion and fear in his gaze, the German could not help but smile.

"Ah, Dornröschen is finally awake, mm?"


"Guten tag, liebe." He strode over to where the other lay, lightly tugging on his restraints on his wrists. "…It has been awhile, Feli …Or should I call you Italy now that you are on the enemy's side?"

There is venom dripping from his tone. The German rested his hands on each side of the other's head, leaning to stare eye to eye with his former ally.

"Prussia?" Feliciano repeated drearily. He flinched at the feeling of leather on his cheeks. "W-what's going on?"

Just then the door eased open, its rusted hinges squealing in protect at being moved, gaining attention from both men. Another figure, dressed in a similar black uniform, stood beside the German.

"Sorry for being late."

Recognizing the accent, Italy asked, "J-Japan? Why are you here?"

It was really an accident as to why the Asian Nation was here. Considering he wanted the Italian all to himself, he planned this to be a solo mission. Kiku, however, found out along the way. Thinking he would be ratted out, Gilbert was surprised to learn that the other wanted in. He only let Kiku join because of fear his plans would be thwarted if he didn't comply, and because he knew the other had his own reasons for wanting vengeance on the Allies.

Kiku paid the question no mind. He just scanned his eyes over the Italian's body, probably checking for any sign of injury. "It looks like you waited for me."

"Ja, I know better than to start without a friend. I know how much you've been looking forward to today."

He flashed a toothy grin to his ally. When he looked back down to Feliciano, though, it turned to something much more sinister.

"…You're getting what's been coming to you for a while now, Italy." Gilbert finally explained. "You hurt my West. You hurt him deeply by fleeing to those five bastards. I'm here to do something he should have done when you announced your defection."

There was a metal trolley nearby the table, holding many shiny tools. Gilbert picked up what caught his eye – a stone hammer.

"West is too precious to actually do something about it though." With a twisted laugh, Gilbert assured, "But don't worry, this will only hurt …a lot. Kesesese."

Feliciano thrashed feebly, finally processing the situation. The sound of his restraints scraping against metal was like music to his ears. Gilbert could almost see the man's heart sink in his chest with the look in his eyes.

"N-no! It wasn't my fault! Please, no! Let me go!"

Kiku, unconvinced, raised a sarcastic brow to Gilbert.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." The German clicked his tongue as he toyed with some nails on the trolley. He rolled his fingers over them before picking a few up and heading to Feliciano. Gilbert twilled the handle in his hands as he leaned over to stare down into the frightened eyes of the Italian. "Surrendering isn't going to save you now, and West isn't going to protect you either. Hell, once I tell him what we did, he'll probably thank me."

He knew better though. If West were to hear of this, he would flip his gasket. He and Kiku both knew that this was never to leave the basement; but what the other didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Feliciano struggled against his restraints even harder, keeping his gaze on the hammer. "Please! No! STOP! Somebody, please, help me! White flag, white flag!"

"Not a very good listener, are you?" Gilbert mused, gently tapping the end of his hammer against his cheek to call his attention. The other let out a frightened squeak and stretched away from the touch. "There's no point in screaming. No one can hear you down here. You might as well just accept what is going to happen. But do not worry, we won't hurt your body, your head, or that little curl of yours."

He paused, setting down the items on the table as he set his gloved hands on top of the Italian's. "All we are going to change are your hands. They are the quickest to heal and we wouldn't want anyone to exactly come after us if we broke you too much."

Feliciano looked over at Gilbert, then to his former friend, and back to the albino. With tears pooling in his eyes, he shrieked, "Perchè?"

"Because you left us; you broke our hearts, liebe. And now we are going to break your hands." The German smirked as he pulled away, picking up the hammer and nails and took a step back, "if you ask me it is a very fair trade."

"'A fair trade'? My defection was n-never my choice!"

He chuckled a bit before he looked to his Asian ally, giving him a nod of acknowledgement before he stepped aside. "Ah, es tut mir lied, I haven't let our dear friend, Japan, talk yet; how rude of me. You can give your opening statement before we start the show." he told him, twirling the hammer in his hand patiently as he let Kiku approach Feliciano.

The Asian gave a nod to before standing beside the Italian. Though, he said not a word to the Nation, just scanned over him quietly with calculating eyes.

With a cold sweat running down his neck, Feliciano continued to struggle. "Japan! Why are you doing this? Ve, please tell me, Ki-chan!"

That nickname was what Italy had used to use out of fondness and respect for the Asian's culture, albeit now it unintentionally came out as an insult, a challenge.

"Don't you dare call me that!" Kiku snapped, his voice soft but brimming with cruelty.

Within a second, a knife is threateningly close to Feliciano's neck, cutting into his flesh in smallpox increments. He did not dare to even breathe, as he does not want the cold steel to plunge into his jugular.

They stare each other down for a moment, though to the Italian it seems like a breathless eternity. The blade is withdrawn and Feliciano draws in a huge inhale of relief. "Why?"



"Because you betrayed us! You left us to perish in war!"

Tears pool in his eyes again, but he does not sob. His brows lower, and he replied in an oddly calm voice, "I don't believe you."


"I don't believe you, Ki-chan! That's not how you work! You don't hold grudges! You don't act so easily on anger!"

"You are right, Ita. He is not prone to this, but this is something he has been holding in for while." Gilbert mused from where he stood.

"You think I have no reason to be angry?" Japan's voice rose. "You think I have no reason to hold a grudge?"

"I-I never said-"

"Well I do have reason! ...Hiroshima. Or are you still just 'too oblivious' to realize what happened?" Italy's eyes soften as his former ally continues, with small tears forming in all his own eyes. "Do you realize how many died? Innocent families! Children! My assignment was to take down a fort, and he returns by completely annihilating my Capital!'

"B-but I really had nothing to do with that! That was America's doing!"

Japan considers this, but soon replied. "I know. But you're an Ally; he is too... Same difference..."

The German walked over and placed a comforting hand on the Asian's shoulder.

"Once his rage is passed through into you, he will go back to normal. Think of it this way, you're helping mending his heart from being obliterated by America."

Slowly, he took his hand off of Kiku's shoulder to caress the Italian's soft cheek. Or at least he assumed it was soft; he couldn't tell with his gloves on. "And you're mending Germany's and mine but taking in all the pain we felt when you left. Remember, whatever happens today, you are a nation and you will live."

He pulled back, gathering his nails once more, off-handedly muttering, "Though you'd be surprised what a nation can live through…"

Feliciano's brow creased. Perhaps these two were right. Though, he never stopped struggling. He cringed when he was touched. "Porfavore! Porfavore!"

"Kesesese. I think he is right, Japan. I suppose we should stop with the introductions and start the show."

Gilbert turned on his heel, going to the Italian's hand, grasping it and keeping the palm open. "If you cooperate with us, we will make it quick and hurt less. If you fight against us, we will be slow and make it hurt more. Do you understand?"

He wanted the other's cooperation throughout all of this. Though, a bit of screaming would be good to him too.

"Si, si..." Feliciano replied nervously, his fingers twitching in anxiety.

"Gut." The German said with a smile before flexing out the others palm. "Now, what we're going to do is use these nails," he paused to show the other the metal nails in his hands, "And we're going to hammer them into every joint of your fingers. So that is roughly three per finger, fifteen per hand, thirty in all. Now, tell me that is a wonderful deal, mm?"

The other's eyes widened in fear. He shook his head violently. "No! No! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for whatever I did! But, please, don't do that!"

Prussia pursed his lips, glancing up to Japan for a moment before he once more set down both of his tools with a sigh.

"..Because I love you so much, Ita, I'm going to offer a trade. This was Japan's idea as well, be thankful for this." he muttered before he stood up to his full height, leaning of Italy so they were once more locked into each others gazes. "..We have a contraption here, one that can remove ones fingernails fairly easily. If you can use it to pull off all of your fingernails, all by yourself, we will let you go. If you falter, try to run away, or give up, we will strap you back down and nail your joints. Would you like to try?"

It only took a moment for him to decide. "Yes! Yes, thank you!"

What were his fingernails, which could be grown back within a month, compared to both of his hands? He could do that easily.

Or so he thought.

Kiku gave his partner a quick look before stating," very well. But do not try to run. I will not hesitate to shoot you, and I promise you it won't be a shot to kill. Prussia-san, undo his restraints."

Prussia nodded, undoing the leather straps from his wrists and gently pulling him up into the sitting position.

"This way, liebling." he murmured in a sickeningly sweet tone as he pulled the other gently to the metal trolley. The contraption he had referred to sat in wait. He took the hand he was pulling and place it against the machine.

"You put your finger here, and you pound on this hair, making this here rip your fingernail just like that." He took his hand away, stepping back, before he took out his pocket watch and clicked it open. "You have five minutes, starting from when you rip the first off."

That would give the Italian roughly thirty seconds per finger. It was a near impossible feat, but of course he would keep that information to himself. He only grinned widely. He looked over to Kiku to see he had a small smile as well; they both knew.


Feliciano studied the contraction, hand nervously sliding over the trigger. He looked up to his tormentors as if for approval. Then, drawing in a breath, raised his fist into the air. He hesitated, fingers shaking wildly in its hold. All enough, he brought his fist down on the metal bar.

The crunch made from his nail was sickening. The pain wad excruciating. He let loose a shriek. He couldn't understand how something so minor could hurt that bad.

"All right, five starting now." The German said calmly, looking to the fingernail now dislodged on the table.

With a hitched and tears filling his eyes, the Italian looked down to his fingertip. It was now red and raw, with a bit of blood running down the trembling appendage. The nail, stark white to the grey tabletop, landed in front of him.

"Take deep even breaths. Only nine more to go."

Feliciano tried to follow the albino's advice, but his breaths came out as ragged. He switched his targeted finger to the middle one. In another blunt swing of a fist, the crunch resounded. "Mio Dio!"

The pain in his first still tingled, setting his nerves on fire. Along with the new removed nail, he felt sick. He spit before aligning his ring finger.

Tears blurred his vision as he swept his fist down once again. Though his aim was a tad off-centered, and it only dislodged half his nail. Seeing it irregularly bent caused him to go into a panic. Oh, it hurt so badly but what was he to do now?

He hyperventilated, his chin drawn close to his chest, trying to calm down. He's spent too much time on this finger; the clock was timing out, he was sure. He still had another seven fingers to do, he couldn't waste time. Italy slammed down once again for the same nail with a cry, but his blow missed the trigger completely. His hand smacked painfully into the surface top.

Defeated, Feliciano let his head slump down. "M-make... Make it stop! ...oh Dio, make it stop!"

Prussia clicked his tongue, closing his watch and putting it in his pocket before he went over to the Italian's side. It was quite strange how such a simple thing could cause the man to break.

"Ssh, Ssh... It is okay, meine schätzchen. It's all over." He gently set his hands on the others shoulder, guiding him back on the table and oh-so softly pushing him to sit down. He pushed him down to have him lay down on it. "I'll give you a minute or so to settle as we hook you back up."

Gilbert flicked his head to give the sign for Kiku to help him tie the man down again.

With hesitation, but without the same kind of compassion, the Asian wrapped the leather straps around Feliciano's wrists tightly. The other was too trapped in a trance to notice.

"What are we to do now?" The he asked his partner. "He's too out of it now."

"Hmm..." Gilbert hummed, tilting his head as he thought about the predicament. "Well, we could pour water on him. Go upstairs and get the largest glass that you can, a pot if you need to. Fill it with ice water and we'll see if we can wake him up."

Kiku nodded, before leaving the room.

As he was left alone with the Italian, he pondered what to do with him. He noticed the bobbing curl jutting from the other's head. He thought about it for a moment curiously. West would at times use that curl to make him quiet, maybe it would wake him up?

He reached forward and gently took the curl in his grasp, twirling it in his fingers.

The Italian's sniveling stopped with a sharp intake of breath. He let out a different kind of cry, it almost sounded like a shameful moan. His breathing was still labored, but it was not as chaotic.

As the German continued to play with his curl, he noticed a bright blush spread on his cheeks and went back to his ears. He mouthed words, but they never quite made it past his vocal chords.

Once he bucked his hips, Gilbert put two and two together: Feliciano was aroused.

Gilbert blinked at such a reaction for one little hair, tempted to let go of it to give the other peace. But then again... he was dying; this could be his last chance. The German's eyes brightened and he let out an almost maniac laugh, the kind one has at a pleasant surprise. Was his sweet Italian a masochist? His grin spread to ears at the thought.

"Hm, liebe... do you like this? Mm?" He asked, his voice becoming no more than whisper.

His free hand trailing of to the Italian's side, rubbing into it a bit before having it lower and rub against the side of his hip. Oh, how he wanted this. He wanted this so badly. He leaned his head down, gently resting his forehead against the bothered Italian's, lips ghosting above the other's ones.

"Ich liebe dich, Italien. I know you only have feelings for West, but for tonight, you are mine. Isn't that so wunderbar?" He asked, twirling on the curl harder.

He wanted Feliciano to practically beg him for his touch, for his kiss, for his everything.

Tiny tears rolled down the other's cheeks. He kept his eyes tightly shut in shame. He moved his hips into his tormentor's hand, dying for any type of friction.

Finally able to say what he wanted to say, the Italian panted. "Y-you lied!"

"About what? Hurting your curl?" He smirked as he rubbed his thumb in a circular motion on his leg, wanting to tease the other a little bit further. "I'm not though; I am just simply touching it. If I would hurt it, I would be ripping it out of your head. But now that I know what it does, I'm going to make sure this curl with be safe on your head for as long as you live."

"P-please. Please." He whined.

"Please, what? You need to be more specific, liebling."

The hand on Feliciano's hip slowly slid closer to his inner thigh, teasingly rubbing him as his other hand twirled the curl around his finger tightly.

For a moment, The Italian was too ashamed to say anything. "...F-fuck me," he said desperately, "Porfavore!"

Gilbert's eyes widened in excitement, having waited so, so, so long to hear that request come out of his mouth.

"Oh, Italien. You don't know how happy you're making me." He said, leaning down and finally kissing the other on the lips, reveling in the taste that still vaguely held the taste of the tomatoes from an earlier meal. "Mm, ask me in German, liebe. Say it." He said, finding pleasure in ordering the other around.

His hand on his leg glided up to go under his jacket to the start of his pants, fingering at his belt as he waited for the word so he can simply undo it.

He was so close. Feliciano was so close to the stimulation he desperately needed. He tugged hard on his restraints.

"Fickenmir!" He begged. The language, which he learned through years of occupation, felt heavy one his tongue. It was just so robotic compared to Italian, the language only second in love. His accent made it sound weird as well. "Oh Gott, fickenmir, bitte!"

Ding, ding, ding.

The German practically melted at hearing his own language come out of the other's mouth.

"Mm, your wish is my command, liebe," he murmured as he stole his lips away again.

With a flick of his wrist, he was able to unsnap the belt. Though, he didn't go too far yet; he slid his hand back down over his clothed groin and pressed his hand into it, giving the Italian his much needed friction. He pulled his lips away to peck across his jaw bone before biting down on his neck.

Yes, yes, yes... Feliciano was finally his. All his. And by the other's choice. This couldn't have gone better!

The Italian's back arched in pleasure at the touch. His toes curled in his boots and he pulled on his restraints. He let out a wanton moan. "Grazie...!"

Prussia chuckled as he pulled back from his neck, licking the red spot that had been left behind. After giving another push into his groin, his hand slide back up, tugging as the zipper lightly.

"Ah-ah~ In German. Say the magic word and you'll get more." He murmured sweetly, his hand toying with his curl lightly batting at it now, since he knew he had won this battle.


"Good boy," Prussia murmured, proceeding to zip down his pants and slipped some of his finger beneath his underwear as well.

He felt the man wince away. Remembering he still had his gloves on, he took his hand out of his boxers, deciding to press down above them; he didn't want to hurt his sweet little Italian …yet.

At last, he took his finger away from the curl, moving it down to unbutton the man's jacket, then his shirt to reveal more skin. He leaned down and bit down on his collar once, lightly moaning to himself on finally being able to sample his sweet soft flesh. It was pure heaven.

Italy whined when Gilbert removed his fingers from beneath his waistband. His body arched once more at the attack on his chest. The feeling of a warm, wet tongue slide across his abs was unbearable. It was just as sensational as the first time he and Germany ever had sex, while on the African front, clinging to each other for dear life.

Blinded by ecstasy, Feliciano did not hold his tongue. "L-Ludwig!"

His eyes snapped open in fear at what he had just vocalized, especially with such lust in his voice. When the body above him, who was indeed not Germany, froze like a rock, it realized his fears.

Godsilla's two cents: Okay, we got part of the way done. This originally was going to be a oneshot, but it was turning out to be too long~ for my tastes. So I divided it to parts. There will be at maximum three parts

DON'T SHOOT ME FOR THIS, PLEASE! This plot bunny would not die until I wrote it out.

In this, Prussia was driven mad by his unrequited love of Italy - I'm going off from the Prussia Blog - and when he defected to the Allies, something inside his mind just snapped. Now he is very mentally fragile and confused. Italy calling out his brother's name at the end will not help his sanity.

It's actually quite funny. I love PruIta. I find it adorable. But I'm usually pretty fluffy with it. This will be my first time writing anything dark for this pairing~

The only real reason Japan is there is because I do not like him. He is one of my least favorite characters. However, he will progress the story-line later. I rarely ever right with him in it; so if his personality is off, I'm sorry.

Oh god, I feel so bad for Italy in this. I always love to torture him. ...Well ...because it's fun. But I always feel bad for him afterwards.

The Bad Seed has not been discontinued, or anything of the like. As I said before, this plot bunny would not die.

Tell me where I went right. Tell me where I went wrong. Compliment or berate me, I take any kind of criticism.