The Sound of Steps On A Path

Chapter 23

Germany forcefully shook the Italian in efforts to wake him up. Italy slowly woke, yawning and stretching. "Hello?" The German took in a deep breath, surprised at himself for the breath was quite shaky. He felt his face, to realize he was softly crying. Italy reached for Germany successfully grabbing the shirt that the blonde was wearing. Italy took a deep breath in through the nose, only to stop halfway in surprise. "What.. What is that smell, Germany?" Italy asked, a worried tone evident in his voice. Germany let out a shaky sigh. "Japan.. Is.. Dead.." Italy let out a small gasp, a frown appearing on his face. The small brunette immediately broke into sobs, clinging onto Germany. "He saved my life.." Germany whispered, a blank expression on his face. Italy moved closer to Germany, hiding himself within the chest of the larger man.

Canada's sobs were finally starting to slow down, being safe in the Prussian's arms certainly helping. He buried his face into the albino's shoulder, closing his eyes.

To China's right, a wall went down. The Chinese man immediately turn to the new section, surprised. There laid a man, covered in dust, sleeping. "Russia!" China rushed over and shook the man awake. "Russia! I thought you were dead!" Russia slowly opened his eyes. "Hello China...." The Russian's eyes immediately went to the scarf that was wrapped around China's neck, and his eyes lit up in delight. "My Scarf!~" China took off the scarf and handed it to Russia, a light tint of blush appearing on his face due to being caught wearing it in front of Russia. "Nyet, you keep it, it looks better on you. Or we can share it~" Before China could object, the scarf was wrapped around the two of them.

America reached a wall, the flames behind him catching up. He started to climb, slinging England over his shoulder. His climb was slowed down by the weight of the extra body. He looked down, seeing the flames right behind him. He knew he had to make a choice; his life or maybe saving England. Before he could do anything, the vines holding him up snapped, sending him and England falling to the ground. He held onto England, knowing as soon as he landed he'd be burning alive with no escape. "Goodbye, you jerk," he whispered. Fortunately for him, when he landed he landed on his head, successfully snapping his neck. He was dead before he completely hit the ground, suffering next to none.

Spain still sat there, waiting. He looked across the way, seeing smoke in the distance. He shrugged it off and waited, just sitting there in agonizing solitude.