Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

The latest volume of Knight or Never had been on the shelf, in the biggest bookshop in the city, for exactly two minutes before an eager hand reached out and grabbed it. Alfred's bespectacled eyes gleamed as he flipped through the pages with his thumb whilst digging into his pocket for some change with his free hand. A shop assistant frowned at him, implicitly asking whether Alfred was going to pay for the book. Alfred on the other hand had more pressing questions to find the answer to. Such as whether Sir Tobias Gallant and his reluctant sidekick Prince Quentin would survive the attack of the demon rabbits.

Feeling like the right thing to do would be to pay for the book before finding out, Alfred jingled his change. But before he turned towards the counter, he paused for a moment before picking up Volume 1 of Knight or Never, the only other book of the series on the shelf, as well. The new guy behind the till gave Alfred a friendly smile before picking up his purchase with a quizzical look on his face. "Not Captain America today, huh?"

"I read other things besides comics, you know," Alfred said proudly.

Well, manga was only one small step away from comic books, but the till guy was not going to press the point. He placed both books into a paper bag before handing them to Alfred, who practically danced out the door.

"Hey Artie!" Alfred sang, a massive grin on his face as he found his friend on a park bench. There were three main ways to spot Arthur in a crowded park full of young men with blond hair. One way was to scan around for the person with astonishingly huge eyebrows. Another was to look for the person who wore knitwear and Union Jack t-shirts. The other way was to see who was sitting alone.

The young Englishman looked up from his doorstopper of a book with an annoyed expression. "You're ten minutes late. Furthermore, my name is ARTHUR, for the ten-thousandth time."

"I know, I know, sorry!"

Arthur tutted as he looked down at one of the two plastic cups on the bench beside him. "I got you a nice cup of coffee too, but now it's gone cold," he sighed.

"You bought me coffee? Dude, that is sweet."

"I'm certainly not sweet," was Arthur's reply, but the way the frown-lines on his forehead faded indicated that he was slightly mollified.

Alfred sat down beside him. "What's wrong with Artie? It's a friendly nickname. 'Cause, y'know, we're friends?"

"Well, thank you, I suppose. But what if I don't want a friendly nickname?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Man, you're just like this dude from this series I've been following."

"You've said that before! Stop comparing me to people I don't know. I don't know whether you're complimenting me or insulting me," Arthur said indignantly. After a pause, he asked, "What series are you following?"

An uncontrollable grin spread across Alfred's face. "You're about to find out! I have a present for you, buddy!" The look of surprised pleasure and curiosity on Arthur's face gave Alfred a warm feeling, and naturally along with it, a temporary ego boost. "Presenting…" he enthused, slowly taking the first volume of Knight or Never out of his bag for dramatic effect. "…The best undiscovered work of literature to emerge in the modern era! I present you with-"

"If that was your attempt at an English accent, I am mortified on your behalf!" Arthur huffed.

"Dude, don't interrupt! I present you with-"

"At this volume, you're presenting the whole park with whatever this is," Arthur mumbled, looking around nervously at all the people staring at them disapprovingly, several of whom Arthur would have to talk to later.

Alfred ignored him, pounding his left hand on the wooden bench in a drumroll effect. "Ta-Da! Knight or Never!" he sang, revealing the book and waving it in front of Arthur.

"Huh." Arthur took the volume in his hands, looking at the front cover. Alfred scooted closer to him to look over his shoulder and was surprised when Arthur didn't move away from him. Arthur ran his index finger along the spine. "Has this been bound the wrong way?"

"No, they bind books in reverse in Japan. Cool, huh?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Japanese, hmm? I thought you were an all-American chap? At least that's what you said when I invited you to have tea and scones with me the other day."

Alfred laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Let's just say I had other reasons for saying no that day." Arthur's favourite scones made Alfred turn a little green just thinking about them, with their charred edges and underbaked insides that stuck in Alfred's throat. As it looked like it was starting to dawn on Arthur what said reasons were, Alfred quickly steered the focus back on the book. "Look, look at all the pictures on the covers, Artie! They're pretty neat, right?"

"You talk to me as if I'm five," said Arthur, frowning. However, his eyes were pinned on the book, his expression curious. "So what is this about? The blurb doesn't give much away."

Alfred grinned. "It's about a hero -"

"Oh no."

"Wait, listen! The hero is a knight who is sent to a faraway kingdom to rescue a princess, who instead turns out to be a grumpy prince who doesn't want to be rescued, thank you very much!"

Arthur chuckled. "Interesting." Then the penny dropped. "I'm the prince, according to you, aren't I?" At Alfred's sheepish expression, Arthur rolled his eyes. "So let me guess, you're the knight?"

"I'd like to think I am like him, yeah!" Alfred said with an optimistic smile. He reckoned it was saying 'I'd like to think' that redeemed him slightly from being accused of being egotistical, which seemed to be the fast-track into Arthur's bad books. "Anyway, the two kind of get thrown together after the kingdom gets attacked and the prince's castle mysteriously burns down. So, they are trying to get back to civilization, but instead end up going on lots of awesome adventures!"

"Right."

"Hey, it's fun, I promise! All their adventures are epic – they have to fight vampires, sea monsters, wizards…" Alfred laughed as Arthur's ears seemed to prick up at 'wizards'. "Enough magic and campfire rituals and stuff to fill your dorky dreams!"

"Says the lad who no doubt still dreams of being a superhero," Arthur remarked, but he was smiling. "What else do they come across?"

"Aw Artie, you really wanna know, don't ya?" Alfred said gleefully. "They run into some fire-breathing crocs at some point."

"Because fire-breathing dragons are too mainstream?"

Alfred took out his own new book. "The whole series couldn't be called mainstream, though sometimes I wish I'd find someone else who's read it. Anyway, I won't tell you everything, it's better if you find out."

"Well, with the way you're raving about it, it sounds promising," he said, opening the volume at about halfway through.

"Hey, don't spoil it for yourself!" Alfred exclaimed, whapping his hand down on Arthur's to stop him. Arthur's eyes widened in surprise, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. Alfred assumed it was because Arthur didn't like physical contact. He smirked as he remembered Arthur's face going ketchup red once when Alfred had decided to pick Arthur up and sling him over his shoulder like a fireman.

Like a hero, Alfred thought, taking his hand from on top of Arthur's and stretching his muscles proudly. He then lazily brought his arms down to rest along the back of the bench. "I just want to keep things intense for you, which wouldn't work if you knew what was going to happen next." He laughed when he saw Arthur had tensed up uncomfortably and was now glancing at Alfred's arm, which was nearly around his back. "Aw, c'mon! I'm not even touching you, you've got tons of personal space!"

Arthur shook his head. "No, it's just that I want to be able to lean back on this bench without it looking like…" He glanced back at Alfred's arm, watching the fingers happily tapping out a beat. "…Like you are an inch away from putting me into a headlock," he finished.

"That's not what it looks like, and you know it, man." Alfred pouted as if hurt and made as if to move his arm away. Just as Arthur let out a sigh of breath, Alfred suddenly grinned and swept his hand up to ruffle Arthur's messy blond hair. The alarming shade of red Arthur's face became, along with his livid expression, signalled Alfred's cue to run away back to work. He was hastily downing his cold coffee and shoving his new book into his satchel when Arthur stood up, eyeing him to get his attention.

Alfred held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I get it, you're not keen on me being anywhere near you!"

Arthur looked at him with an expression that appeared almost sad. "No…thank you." He help up his present before wrapping both arms round it. "Thank you for getting me something new to read. It's…especially thoughtful of you to give me something which you believe is of top quality."

This made Alfred go quiet for a moment as he searched Arthur's face, looking for the sarcasm or irony hidden within this acknowledgement. When he couldn't find anything but a glint of hope mixed in with serious gratitude, he shrugged, bemused. "I swear you change your tune like a dodgy radio," he mused. "One minute you look like you're about to explode, the next you're thanking me. I pity your wife of the future for all this mood-swinging, dude."

Alfred couldn't help but feel slightly regretful that the glint of hope disappeared from Arthur's face and the frown made its grand return. "Is that so? You think I am a mood-swinger?"

"Um…yeah," Alfred replied, believing this was a reasonable assumption.

Arthur folded his arms. "You've been acting all pally with me up until this point today, and now you call me a…a 'dodgy radio,' or whatever, whose wife of the future is already pitiable! How is that different?"

Alfred yawned as he began to stroll down the path leading out of the park. "My mood is usually prompted by something."

"Oh, and I suppose mine is not?"

Alfred grinned. "Yeah, that's about it. Anyway, my lunch-break's over. Peace out, Artie."

While he sauntered in the direction of work, Alfred couldn't help looking over his shoulder back at Arthur a couple of times. Arthur sat back down on the bench, defeated. Alfred felt a pang of uneasiness. He didn't like leaving on a bad note. "Hope you enjoy the manga!" he called out.

"We'll see," Arthur replied curtly.

Alfred smiled. "I think you will," he said before leaving the park with a confident stride.

Alfred had left too quickly to see Arthur's expression soften as he looked down at Knight or Never's front cover. "We'll see," he said again quietly.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Kiku Honda scribbled feverishly on his fortieth piece of paper that week. The small, dark-haired man craned over his work, his back straining from curving over at his desk for most of the day. It was night and tiredness kept trying to take over, but he forced himself to continue drawing and writing. After all, he could not just end it for the night with Prince Quentin halfway through telling Sir Gallant what he loved, could he?

PRINCE QUENTIN: I find it hard to put this into words, but one thing in this troubled world warms my heart no matter the weather. Whenever I rise, it's there waiting for me. When I feel hollow, it fills me up again. I've relied on it time and time again. It's my saviour.

He paused, poking his pen under his chin. He was not a very famous mangaka by any means and sometimes it felt like only his private team and himself actually cared about what happened to the knight and the prince over in Japan. But, for the sake of the few scattered fans over in the USA and himself, he would keep going with persistent dedication.

Kiku thanked his lucky stars for his international fans. Even though there were not many out there compared to other manga with a following in America, it was their attention, buying copies and praise that allowed him to continue with a job that was his life and passion. His decision to translate Knight or Never had been one of his best career-wise. Of course, he translated his manga into English himself, with the help of his editor, rather than hire a translator, which was not the best time-saving decision. Yet he didn't want a translator. He already saw two people on a regular basis, and that was quite enough for him.

He sketched the prince's indignant pout with a fine pencil. While he loved his fans, he also had a considerable amount of fun teasing them. He ended the prince's romantic speech with, 'And that is why I love hot bread' before turning in for the night.