"[scared]Gyaaaaaah!" A Roman morning began with a piercing shriek. In front of the small kitchen mirror, Italy Veneziano couldn't tear their wide, amber eyes away from their own face. Soft, curling brown hair flowed gently down to their shoulders. The single cowlick on the left side sprang up as always, but everything else was completely, utterly wrong. "Wh-what is this... I'm me, right? But, huh?" Staring back from the mirror was, by any possible measure, an adorable girl. Their voice was high. Incredibly high. Even that scream just now had sounded like a little bird's chirp. Their body felt strangely light, their limbs slender. Hurriedly, they touched their chest and found a soft swell there, the buttons of their pajamas digging in so tightly they seemed about to pop. "I just wanted to boil some pasta...!" Morning sunlight streamed across the terracotta-tiled floor. Birdsong drifted in from outside the window. It was the same peaceful morning in the Roman suburbs as always. And yet, they alone were not the same as always. Italy peered into the mirror once more. (...But, this is kind of cute, maybe.) "...Ve~" They tilted their head without thinking, thoroughly inspecting their own appearance. Long eyelashes, plump lips, a slender neck. Their wheat-colored skin was fine-textured, faintly lustrous in the sunlight. (Wait, this is no time for that!) Italy shook their head vigorously. "Germany! I have to get help from Germany!" They burst out the front door. Still barefoot, they slipped past the olive tree in the garden and raced through the streets of Rome. Cobblestone alleys, the scent of a bakery starting its early-morning preparations, the spray of a fountain. All of it was the usual scenery, yet only their own footsteps felt strangely light and unsettling. "Germanyyy! Something terrible's happened!" In a deserted early-morning back alley, Italy used magical translocation to leap across the distance in an instant. Nine hundred and twenty kilometers as the crow flies to the outskirts of Munich. In their panicked state, that was the one thing they remembered. They landed in front of Germany's house, where the scent of trees hung thick. "Germany! Open up!" They pounded on the door. They were out of breath. Their chest felt tight. The buttons of their pajamas felt even more constricting, which only made them want to cry more. A few seconds of silence. Click. The door opened. "...You're loud, Italy. What is it at this hour of the morning?" Italy's tears stopped dead. "......Pff." "What's so funny?" "...Pfft, ahahahahahaha!" Standing before the laughing, doubled-over Italy was a muscular, blonde warrior woman. The massive hundred-and-seventy-eight-centimeter frame was unchanged; the muscles of their shoulders and upper arms strained against the fabric of a blue dress, looking ready to tear it apart at any moment. The swept-back blonde hair with its single falling forelock was the same, and the sharp blue eyes held their usual earnest, serious light. Except, despite having what was clearly a woman's body, their tone and attitude were unmistakably Germany's. "This is no time for laughing! I'm confused too — hurry up and explain the situation!" "B-but... Germany, what is that? A warrior woman? A wrathful goddess?" "How should I know! I woke up and this is how I was!" Germany's voice had changed to a somewhat lower female voice, but the way they shouted was exactly the same as always. That gap made it even funnier, and Italy clutched their stomach, tears welling up. "Even you've become a girl... This is no ordinary matter." Germany folded their arms, carving deep wrinkles into their brow. The sleeves of the dress made faint straining sounds. "Anyway, come inside, Italy. Don't just lie there laughing." "But my stomach hurts..." The inside of Germany's house was as orderly and spartan as ever. A large oak table, a well-worn leather sofa. Morning light streamed through the window, and the fir trees in the garden swayed in the wind. Italy perched on the sofa, and Germany settled heavily across from them. The way they sat with their knees neatly together was exactly like a prim and proper woman, yet the straightness of their back held a hint of military bearing. "...Now, explain the situation." "I woke up, went to the kitchen to make pasta, and the me in the mirror was a girl." "Same here. I woke up, looked in the mirror, and this is the state I was in." Germany tapped their own upper arm. "However, my muscle strength hasn't decreased much. Curious." "More importantly, Germany, this is someone's magic, right? It's weird that we both got weird at the same time." "Magic... Then it must be England after all." Germany said this with a grim expression, and it was precisely at that moment. Something glittered outside the window. The flutter of wings could be heard, and a small white bird perched on the windowsill. No, looking closer, it was a bird folded from paper, holding a small envelope with a wax seal in its beak. "Magical post." Germany opened the window, and the origami crane — no, an origami swan — fluttered in and dropped the envelope onto the table. The wax seal bore the mark of "World Conference — Emergency." "What is it, what is it?" Germany broke the seal and read the contents. Their face visibly paled. "...Tomorrow at noon, all personifications are to assemble at the Pavillon des Nations on the outskirts of Geneva." "Eh, a World Conference? Tomorrow!?" "Yes. And the chair is Switzerland. That one is strict about time. Lateness will not be tolerated." Germany slapped the letter down onto the table. "I cannot attend an international conference looking like this. In the first place, if we violate the Concordia Treaty, do you know what will happen—" "A joint reprimand... Everyone will scold us..." Italy imagined it and shrugged. The World Conference was held four times a year, a place where the personifications of nations gathered to discuss international issues. Attendance was mandatory. Unexcused absence was a treaty violation. But... "I'm embarrassed to see everyone looking like this~" Italy clutched the hem of their skirt tightly. The indigo dress was borrowed from Japan. That morning, when they were at a loss having nothing to wear, Japan, who had called by chance, had sent it over. They didn't know how Japan had realized so quickly, but that was Japan for you — there was something mysterious about them. "Anyway, we'll find the cause." Germany folded their arms and looked down, deep in thought. "It's the presence of magic. This is undoubtedly England's doing. That one has a magical workshop in the Cotswolds, outside London. A large-scale one, three levels underground." "England's magic is Celtic nature magic, right? And they're friends with fairies, aren't they?" "Yes. But this time, it's clearly a failure. Most likely, it's related to Chapter 7 of the grimoire they possess — the Grimoire of Calandria." "You know a lot, Germany." "Naturally. If something happens to an ally, information is shared." (They're really so serious...) Italy felt a slight, ticklish sensation deep in their chest. Ever since they'd become a girl, it felt like Germany was looking at them even more earnestly than usual. For some reason, it was ticklish, but not unpleasant. "First, we'll confirm the situation with the other nations. I'm making a call." Germany stood and picked up the receiver of the old-fashioned telephone by the wall. The nostalgic click-click-click of the dial turning. "I'm calling Japan." The ringtone. Twice. Three times. Click. '...Hello, this is Japan. Good morning, Germany-san.' What came through the receiver was a calm, yet slightly higher, female voice. Graceful, quiet, like the murmur of a stream. "Japan, you too." 'Yes. I have also acquired a female body.' At that utterly matter-of-fact tone, Italy's eyes widened and they leaned closer to the receiver. "Ehhh~! Japan, aren't you way too calm!? You're already wearing a kimono!?" 'Yes, I changed into a women's kimono a short while ago. It's surprisingly easy to wear. And Italy-san, your voice... it's become quite adorable.' "Ehehe, really?" "Don't get flustered, Italy. ...Japan, aren't you just suppressing your agitation?" When Germany said that, there was just a moment of silence on the other end of the line. '...As expected of Germany-san, I'm no match for you. It's true, my heart is a little unsettled. However, I cannot afford to panic when my friends are in trouble.' Sensing the faintest shadow deep within that voice, Italy felt a small pang in their chest. "Japan... thank you." 'Not at all. More importantly, let us hasten to resolve this situation. I believe heading to England-san's magical workshop is the first priority.' "Yes, I agree. Let's rendezvous. First, we head to England's location." 'Understood. Then I shall head there as well. Ah, also, it might be best to contact America-san and France-san. There is a high probability that something has happened to them as well.' "Understood. I'm hanging up." 'Yes. Until later, then.' Click. After the call ended, silence returned to the room. Outside the window, the morning light had grown a little stronger. The birdsong was no longer audible. Instead, the faint sound of wind could be heard in the distance. "...Okay, so next is America and France." "Yes. But what on earth is going on with this curse? Its range is too wide." Germany folded their arms with a troubled look. The fabric of the dress creaked again. Seeing that, Italy suddenly thought: (Ah, Germany, your clothes are about to rip... But, somehow, it feels like you'll protect me, and that's a little reassuring.) A girl's body felt unreliable, but just having Germany by their side made them feel like they could somehow manage even this morning where the world had turned upside down. "Alright, I'll make the next call, and then we head straight for England. Understood, Italy?" "Yeah! But, before that, I kind of want to eat pasta..." "Later!" Germany's voice echoed through the room. But that voice sounded just a little — just a tiny bit gentler than usual. (Well, Germany's trying so hard like this, so I have to do my best too.) Italy tightened their grip on the hem of their skirt again. The indigo dress had a calming scent of fabric. It resembled the scent of Japan's house — like tatami, like tea, a gentle scent. Right now, all across Europe, their comrades were in the same state of confusion. Thinking of that, it was scary, but they felt like they weren't alone. "Germany, let's do our best. I'll do anything I can." "...Is that so. I'll gratefully accept those words for now." Germany's mouth relaxed just a little. That made Italy strangely happy, and their heart gave another small leap. Outside the window, the June wind swayed the fir trees. Tomorrow's full moon watched over this situation from afar, silently.