"No matter how many years pass, I love you the most in this world."

Italy thinks about Holy Roman Empire most days. His blonde hair, slicked-back, and huge blue eyes. Proud, confident and hard-working.

Holy Roman Empire stands, staring into the battlefield- his battlefield. He licks his lips, and they tingle, reminding him of his kiss with Italy. Oh, what he'd do for another kiss like that!

Italy remembers it clearly; Holy Roman Empire promised that he would come back. And Italy promised that he would wait.

Prussia eyes his brother warily. He doesn't like how half-hearted Holy Roman Empire has become. All because of that damned maid-girl.

"W-Where am I?" Holy Roman Empire opens his eyes, "What's going on?"

"Brüderlein!" Prussia collapses to his knees beside the blonde childe. "You were attacked, and you hit your head when you fell. Your attacker presumed you were dead, and left."

"Oh. Why was I attacked?"

"We're at war…"

"We are?"

"Ja… Brüderlein, what can you remember?"

"Not much. You're my brother, right?"

"Ja."

"…Who am I?"

"You're Holy- you're… uh… Germany."

"Germany…"

"No! No, no, no!" Italy screams, pounding his fists into Prussia's stomach. "He can't be dead! He can't, he just can't- he promised me he'd come back!"

"I'm sorry, Italy," Prussia pats the young maid's head, his false smile kind and caring. Even Austria believes him. Only Hungary sees through his façade.

Miles away, Germany sits in a medical tent. He's asked the doctors what they know of his past, but none of them are familiar with the name 'Germany'.

He tries to concentrate, but his memory's almost completely a blur. The only thing he remembers is a silhouette of a girl in a dress holding up a push broom that's far taller than her. He cannot remember a name, or a face, but as he keeps thinking of her, he feels a tingling sensation on his lips.

"Brüderlein?" Prussia pokes his head through the door. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Germany sighs. "I don't remember any of my past though."

"The past is the past. It's not important. All that matters is that we won this war."

"I guess you're right… but Prussia, can't you tell me about my past?"

"It's not important."

"But… I can remember a girl… a maid, I think."

"A maid… oh, ja, that was… uh… Sally… she was our maid, until the war started. The guy attacked you killed her."

"Oh. That's sad."

"H-he promised…" Italy weeps into Hungary's lap.

"If he promised, then he will come back," she says, stroking at the maid-boy's curl.

"He can't if he's dead."

"He was taught to never break a promise. He'll come back."

"He can't!"

"Trust me, Italy. I promise you that, one way or another, Holy Roman Empire will keep his promise."

"Germany, listen up! You need to learn how to be a man!"

Prussia is proud of how Germany as grown up. With no maid-girl around, Germany has studied well and learned plenty. He is disciplined and orderly, yet still the proud, confident, hard-working boy he was.

"Regel Eins of being a man; Make sure that everyone knows that you are the most awesome person in the room. Unless I am in the room, then make sure that everyone knows that you are the second most awesome person in the room."

"I don't see how that has anything to do with being a man. I think that's just your over-inflated ego."

"Regel Zwei of being a man; Drink beer!"

"Again, I don't think that applies to being a man. But, beer is nice."

"Regel Drei of being a man; Never break your promises."

"Ve, ve, Romano! Romano!"

Romano rolls his eyes, desperately trying to ignore his brother. But, Romano has very limited patience, and it's wearing dangerously thin.

"Romano!"

Growling, Romano grabs his playful sibling by the collar, and stuffs him into the closest container he could find; an empty tomato crate.

Germany smiles to himself as he gazes at the finished painting. There are only two things that can make him feel strangely happy. One is sweeping, especially with a push broom. The second is painting.

He doesn't know how he learned to paint. He knows he isn't any good at it, but this creation… he's quite proud of it.

The background is red. He's not sure why. A silhouette of girl has been painted in green, and she appears to be sweeping with a push broom that is far taller than her; Sally, as Prussia called her. And finally, in white, a sentence has been written, the letters filling the green silhouette; 'No matter how many years pass, I love you the most in this world.'

"Isn't it coincidental," Prussia freezes as the female voice sound from behind him, "That Holy Roman Empire vanishes, then suddenly, you get a new brother, exactly the same age as he was."

"I don't know what you mean, Hungary."

"I also find it strange how we never saw Holy Roman Empire's body."

"He was buried on the battlefield, the way he would have wanted. Besides, I don't think he'd have wanted Italy crying over his body."

"And how we've never met this 'Germany'."

"He's very hard-working, and devoted to his work and country."

"Whatever you say, Prussia. But, just so you know, Holy Roman Empire promised Italy that he would return."

"Then I'm sorry that his promise could never be fulfilled."

Germany stares at the strange man, confused. Why was this man in a tomato crate in the middle of the woods? He glares. There's something familiar about the man's face.

"I'm a good Italy. You're Germany, right? I have relatives in Bayern! So, please don't shoot!" the man wails.

Italy… that name's familiar.

Italy can't help thinking that Germany looks like Holy Roman Empire.

"Prussia, what do you know of Italy?"

Prussia freezes, and gives his brother the eye. "Italy?"

"Yeah. I met him today, in the woods."

Him? Good, he's not talking about the maid-girl. "Sorry, West, can't say I know the guy."

Italy and Germany have been in brotherhood for a long time now. Germany has never shaken the feeling of dèjá vu with Italy, and Italy still sees Holy Roman Empire every time he looks at Germany.

"Italy!" Germany shake the man roughly, as he tears up for no reason, yet again, "What is wrong with you?"

Italy shakes his head, "It's nothing Holy- Germany. It's nothing."

"This is the third time today! Tell me what's wrong! Are you injured?"

"No."

"Are you ill?"

"No."

"Then what is it!"

Italy wipes his cheek with his hand, but refuses to look up into Germany's face. "Germany, have you ever hear of the Holy Roman Empire?"

"Ja… I think so…"

"I knew him. We were… close. And… I was so upset when he died. And you… remind me of him sometimes."

Germany doesn't speak. He pulls Italy into a hug, and pats him on the back.

"He promised me he'd come back."

"If he promised you, then he will, somehow. He's from my bloodline, and we're taught to keep our promises, no matter what."

"He's dead, Germany. He can't come back."

"Trust me, Italy. I promise you that, one way or another, Holy Roman Empire will keep his promise."

"That's exactly what Hungary said."

"Hungary?"

"Si. She was a maid at Mister Austria's house."

"Austria?"

"Si. I was a maid there too."

"Y-you were?" Germany leans back, staring at Italy with wide eyes. "B-but maids are usually girls…"

"Si," Italy giggles. "Mister Austria thought I was a girl."

Germany backs away, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. Memories and lies collide within him, making the room spin, his ears ring and his head ache.

"Germany…"

The blonde's head snaps up at the sound of the name.

Germany stares at Italy, then suddenly, everything makes sense. Why he couldn't remember his past, why Prussia had lied to him, why he had took Italy in and looked after him, even after the war.

Germany shakily gets to his feet, and runs.

"Germany!" Italy follows the blonde to a small store-room; one of the few rooms Italy hasn't been into yet.

Italy peers into the darkness, edging his way forwards.

The door slams behind him, and a lamp in the corner switches on. Italy is trembling, and wants to run for the door, but he decides against running as he sees what the newly-lit corner holds.

An old push broom leans against the wall. And on an easel, stands a basic painting. The background is red, with a green shape filled with white writing. As Italy approaches the easel for a closer look, he can't help thinking that the painting holds the same colours as his tricolour flag.

The shape is the silhouette of a girl, holding a push broom that is much taller than she. And the writing; 'No matter how many years pass, I love you the most in this world.'

A pair of arms wrap around Italy's waist. Looking down, the arms are Germany's, with the sleeves of Germany's blue uniform and Germany's gloves. Looking up, the face, and the black hat, is not Germany's, but Holy Roman Empire's.

A smile dances across Germany/Holy Roman Empire's tingling lips. "I promised you I'd come back."

A/N:

I don't own Hetalia, or Germany's painting. If you draw the painting, please send me a link! Please!

-Laurel Silver