Chapter 1

Encounter

A pair of formal dress shoes clattered against the cobblestone streets, followed by the remainder of a rather hurriedly applied suit. The only word capable of describing Arthur Kirkland at that time would be a mess. His shirt was untucked, spilling out from underneath his sweater, his tie seemed to be gradually climbing down his neck with each step, and he was pretty sure his trousers were going down the same route despite the support from his belt. If there was one thing that he hated more than anything, it was being late. He was accustomed to structure, everything being planned out beforehand, not a big mess of flinging on whatever was in sight and hurrying out the door in hope of only arriving ten minutes beyond the designated time. He wasn't even sure himself how he had managed to oversleep. He had prepared for this day for weeks, months, even. The margin for error on his first day of university was so tiny that he wouldn't even consider it earlier. But there he was. A dishevelled mess, even despite all of his work to prevent that exact outcome. This was an embarrassment, no, a horrible distress, the most he could hope for was that nobody would comment…

Unfortunately, he received no such luck. After bursting through the double doors of the area in which they were supposed to gather, a large hall, to be more precise, he was met with mocking snorts from all angles. He could do nothing more than clench his fists and stare at the ground in response.

"Ah, you must be Mr Kirkland…" Called out a bespectacled man, looking down his nose at the rather flustered lad. "Finally decided to join us, have you?"

"I apologise, sir, I ran into something on the way here that delayed my arrival momentarily. It won't happen again." Well, he wasn't exactly lying, he had run into more than a few lampposts during his journey. Not that he would ever say it flat-out, of course.

"You had best hope not. It would be rather a shame if you were kicked out this early on, wouldn't it?" After popping that rhetorical question, the elder begrudgingly put a green tick besides the latecomer's name to signify that he was in. "Anyway, due to your tardiness, you failed to receive a precise sheet of lecture times. I will do you the kindness of providing you with one just this once, though do not expect me to be so lenient in the future." With that, he forked over a singular sheet, gave a curt nod, and positively stamped away.

After scanning the contents of the sheet, he folded it as small as it could get (he really just needed something to do to keep his mind off his sheer nervousness) and placed it into his upper breast pocket. It was only after recovering from the haunting effect of the unmistakeable threat that the blond recalled his current state. A rather lengthy series of curses escaped pallid lips as he set to the task of making himself roughly presentable, however, he couldn't help but feel as though he were being watched… His fingers fumbled on his tie as he turned to his right just in time to have his suspicions confirmed. There, on the other side of the room, sat a man positively surrounded by girls. It had only been thirty minutes since they were supposed to arrive, how could he had built up such a legion? This was the least of his worries. The strangest thing about this was that he wasn't looking at the females swarming for his attention, but at Arthur. Well, at least until the latter noticed that the student had lowered the hand that was previously concealing his laughter. Arthur immediately whipped his head to the other side, dirty bangs sweeping over his eyes.

Just as soon as he was wondering whether any familiar faces were dotted around, a hand suddenly made contact with his shoulder. At that point it would not be an overstatement to say that he leapt a foot into the air. "Dude, you guys know each other?"

At last, a voice he recognised.

The Brit turned to face the direction of the speech. It belonged to one of his old friends from sixth form, well, if you could use such a term. He was more than certain that the bubbly American had just been using him to pass tests, but nevertheless, he was thankful for the companionship.

"Pray tell, Jones, what gave you the thought that I would have made any sort of acquaintance? Wasn't it you who would always say how incapable I was of accomplishing such a feat?" He retorted, a poisonously sarcastic air laced throughout each syllable. It wasn't that he was truly angry, more that he was uncertain whether he could deal with the inevitable dose of stupidity, especially after skipping his morning cup of tea.

"You seriously gotta stop calling me by my last name, man. It's like you're talking to your Dad or something… And I was only asking 'cause he seems pretty interested."

Now this the Brit took to heart. A glance to the peripheral of his vision, however, told a very different story.

The older chap seemed to have transfixed his attention onto the ever-growing mob, though there was something about his disposition that seemed a little…off. Did he want to get away? Well, serves the bugger right. Thought Arthur with a hardly restrained smirk. Who on earth bothers to go to school in designer clothing? Really, he looks like a teenage girl. Shoving such thoughts out of his head upon realising the amount of consideration he had put into such an analysis (after all, such a chap should be underneath somebody of his stature), he was brought out of his daze-like fixture.

"Hellooooo? Anyone in there?" A set of fingers were snapped directly in front of Arthur's view. "You totally look like a zombie, man." As if having reached some kind of utterly astonishing conclusion, the American's jaw dropped. "Bro, wouldn't it be cool if the place was overrun with the living dead? Hey, Keeks, dude, isn't that what one of your weird back-to-front comics is about?"

That name sounded all too familiar as well…

Occupying a seat a fair distance back from where the scene was taking place sat a smaller man with dark hair, currently hunched over one of said 'weird back-to-front comics'.

"Alfred-san, it would be very much appreciated if you would called them "manga"…" Kiku's tone was quiet, almost as though he was trying to go completely unnoticed in the hall teeming with students. Arthur couldn't exactly blame him if that were indeed the case, he felt quite the same way.

"Dude, there's no way I can remember that, that's like five letters!"

"A-ah… Alright then. Excuse me." He gave a bow of his head before returning to his manga, dusky eyes firmly glued onto the print.

Well, at least there was one other sane person within the place. It didn't quite matter that Arthur didn't know him as well as he would have hoped, that fact alone managed to at least numb any previous worry. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad… Well, at least if he didn't have any future encounters with that rather strange chap across the hall, still surrounded by females who looked as though they were willing to physically drag him off to gain his attention. Arthur didn't quite know what being noticed by him meant, but judging by his mocking demeanour, it couldn't have been anything good.

Cutting his train of thought (and simultaneously succeeding in almost rupturing his eardrums), the bell rang, a hideous, obnoxious sound that echoed off the walls of the hall like a bullet.

"Oh, by the way, they also gave us planners and stuff, but I guess you weren't here for that… If you look on the floor, I guess you'll find one. See ya!" Called Alfred, waving as he made for the door alongside the Ginormous Sea of students.

What a charming idea… A grimace rose onto his face. Trust that American to think of the most demeaning way possible to procure a simple planner. Unfortunately for him, Arthur didn't quite notice when his search took him to the opposite side of the hall, let alone the figure standing directly behind him as he reached to pick up a rather damaged but still acceptable planner.

"Bonjour!" Came a voice, cheery to a point that was beyond disgusting for the gentleman in front.

"What exactly do you want?" Pale fingers curling around the planner rather possessively, he directed a scalding glare toward the presumed Frenchman. Unluckily, he didn't seem to be phased in the slightest.

"Seeing as though I had my eyes set on that very book since it was first dropped, it would be appropriate for me to ask you to hand it over, oui?" He seemed to be exercising the power of persuasion, using a tremendous amount of energy to come across as reasonable and likeable as possible. For Arthur, however, it just increased the number of reasons he already had to fulfil the irrational yet immediate need to punch the odd fellow.

"If I may apply a rather childish turn of phrase: finders keepers, losers weepers." Even he winced internally at the horrible grammar. "Besides, don't you have a battalion of fans that you can call upon to provide you with one?"

"You wouldn't want me to inconvenience les jeunes dames, would you?" An unnecessary amount of emphasis was applied to his mother tongue. He could obviously tell that this usage was beginning to aggravate the opposition, and for that precise reason pressed on.

"Speaking French does not provide you with any sort of coherent argument, nor does it snag you a victory. If you'll excuse me, some of us actually care about being late."

"And you think that I do not? Cher, you insult me." A comical pout played across his features before it was swiftly exchanged for a wily smirk. Rather unexpectedly, he too reached for the planner, grip surprisingly fierce.

"Were you not listening, frog? Remove yourself this instant!" He had started to falter at this point; physically, he had never been the best at holding his own, a fact that was made all too apparent to his competitor judging by his never-fading amusement.

"Ah, but that would be no fun at all… You rosbifs like to express your superiority, oui? Then you should have no problem with proving it~!"

Lord, as if he hadn't wanted to punch the Frenchman already… "If you have some kind of score to settle, I'd be more than happy to settle it in some form that does not endanger my reputation!" He practically hissed. He could only imagine what the consequences would be if the man from earlier walked in.

"But this way is much more fun, don't you think? Besides, don't your people prefer to 'strike while the iron is hot', as they say? Now would be your perfect chance, although if I am the iron, there is no chance of it not being hot." He chuckled at the horrified expression of the Englishman, merde, this was almost too fun.

"If you were as successful at academics as you are at making sleazy remarks, lord knows what you could accomplish." His speech was fitted with a terribly snarky tone, closer to a sneer than to a remark.

"Oh? You make such assumptions at a first meeting? Well, I am glad you clearly think that highly of me, rosbif."

"Don't flatter yourself. It's glaringly obvious that you have the intellect of a toddler. Take your clothes, for example; it's more than obvious that you're compensating for something."

"You would make such an effort to look me over?" He engaged in a round of what could only be described as 'honning', head thrown back to release a laugh occasionally punctuated by a plethora of snorts. "I was not aware that you wanted to join the beautiful moi's fan club~!"

"As if I would stoop to feed your already swollen narcissism." Using this argument as a means for distraction, Arthur would give one final tug for good measure, even unsure himself why exactly he had risked this amount of time for the sake of keeping it going.

This was perfect. Oh too perfect. Just as Francis opened his mouth to make a comment about something else being swollen, the planner was almost wrenched from his grasp, giving him little time to utter a word, let alone yell a warning before the entire thing was torn in two.

Papers flew everywhere, like dismal confetti to celebrate just how done for they were. Of course, it didn't help the situation when the precise teacher who had taken register walked in at that moment to discover what was behind the racket.

"Kirkland! Bonnefoy! What is the meaning of this?" He stormed toward the two as fast as his stout little legs could carry him, face resembling a beetroot from sheer anger. Though he clearly had to crane his neck to meet their eyes, nevertheless, he attempted to maintain as much dignity as possible. It was hard not to laugh at this almost childish display.

"I apologise, sir. In hindsight, I suppose it was rather an immature squabble." As the gentleman, Arthur only thought it fitting to be the one to step forward. Of course, even whilst putting on this humble disposition, he couldn't help but glower at Francis' amused expression from the corner of his eye.

"You better believe it was. I'll be seeing you both in my office at lunch. Don't even think of eating beforehand. Also, clean up this sodding mess! Next time you decide to throw everything about, think of the ruddy janitor!"

"Oui oui, monsieur!" The Frenchman raised the wrong hand into a faux-salute, not seeming to care at all when he was shot a glare that Arthur was more than certain had the power to bore holes in steel. He almost wanted to root for the teacher at this point, however, his hopes of seeing his newfound enemy put in his place were quickly dashed; the man had retreated with little more to be said.

"What a bore… Give me a hand, oui? That is, if you are not too busy staring off into space. I cannot think you have anything interesting to think about, unless you have a thing for that unstylish toadstool." He gave a visible shudder before attempting to call forth images of a more fashionable nature to drown out the man's dreary uniform. Like himself. Yes, that would work.

"…Bloody git." Meanwhile, the Brit had reluctantly begun to pick up the scraps of paper, more than a tad irked at the fact he was here instead of attending a normal lecture along with the others. Just why did he have to clean up when it was that frog's fault to begin with?

"Ah? You English have such strange sayings." Oddly enough, he seemed perfectly content with brushing it off as nothing.

Did that frog truly think so little of him?

"Alright, what exactly are you trying to do? One minute you act like the conniving French bastard you are, the next you attempt to get 'matey' with the one you were previously fighting. Is there any particular reason behind this, or is your mind simply too shallow to comprehend what exactly doesn't fit?"

"Non non, rosbif, it is you who is confused. Hm… Well, think of me as a scientist." Smirking at the roll of his eyes the blond responded with, he continued. "If a scientist comes across a specimen that exceeds la prévision, he is granted permission to examine it, non? Would it be so wrong for him to be…intrigued?"

"…Where do you intend to go with this?" Tone devoid of any sort of amusement, Arthur provided a withering stare as he got to his feet, rather unnerved at the amount of space that had been closed between them.

"What I'm saying is, cher, that even though some may disagree with his motives, a mutual agreement can be met that will allow him to do… sans precedent things with the specimen… A marvellous comparison, is it not?" At this point, he had reached a location where his words sent a light gust of warm breath past Arthur ear. Whether he was blushing or red with anger, it didn't quite matter, as before a comment could be made, a vicious uppercut was sent into his stomach. Air completely knocked out of the older blond, he couldn't make a remark even if he tried.

"Ah… Arthur-san…" A quiet voice called from the doorway, belonging to none other than Kiku. But why was he not in a lecture? And more importantly, why was there a member of Francis' 'fan club' skipping in the hallway behind him?

"Kiss kiss fall in love~!" She chanted, oblivious to the confused stares directed toward her until Arthur cleared his throat nervously. Just what was going on? "Oh? Hey you two! We were sent to get you, yep yep!" She nodded her head furiously, causing her short, light hair to flip to each and every angle.

"Is that right? Well, I assure you that we'll head over shortly. No cause for concern." He took this opportunity to get as far away from Francis as possible whilst carrying the last few scraps over to the nearest bin.

"Alright! Be there soon, okay? There's this guy, Mr Beilschmidt, I think? He's crazy young, but he's the sub... Anyway, he's really cranky… He made this one guy drop and give him twenty just for arriving a minute late, talk about inventive learning methods…" She burst into a smile upon running her eyes over the horrified expressions the two 'enemies' shared. "Later!" With that, the young woman spun on her heel, virtually dragging poor Kiku with her, and leaving Arthur and Francis alone in the same room again.

The duo's eyes scanned over their counterparts, a battle of sharp, threatening green against the calm cerulean of the Frenchman. With little more to be said and done, the two exited via doors purposefully on opposite sides of the hall. After the footsteps that ricocheted off the polished wood came the click of the doors, and then…

An eerie silence returned.

Thank you for reading the first instalment! ^w^ More's going to come, and fast (well, as soon as I get used to uploading system), so don't fret!

Oh, and as a bonus, that rather odd fangirl was supposed to be a cameo appearance of Fem!America. I probably won't include her in the tags because it was such a tiny spotlight. uvu''