This is Project Y (Corpseflesh and mystik-dawn) here with our very first story, an Axis Powers Hetalia high school AU (with supernatural themes). The main pairings here are PruCan and RusAme, but there are many more that will be revealed as the story progresses.
He stepped off the bus confidently, his twin brother trailing behind him, knowing that it was going to be a great first day of school. Ever since moving to this new town, he had felt nothing but optimism. It was a new school and a whole new state, even, for them. Their father had made sure that they would go somewhere like this, a little hick town in the middle of nowhere.
Their bags—brand-new backpacks courtesy of their father—were slung over their shoulders as the early-autumn breeze caused a slight stirring chill. He had made sure to wear his precious bomber jacket over top of the jeans and grey t-shirt with the American flag imprinted on the front that he sported, while his brother was only wearing his favourite red hoodie and jeans.
"You cold, Matt?" he asked cheerfully as he began to drag his brother towards the building. The other didn't even try to resist, instead choosing to run to keep up. "Slow down, Al!" the older one said quietly—he wasn't really a talker—"we're not late yet! We have," he checked his watch, "twenty minutes still!" Alfred immediately slowed down as per his brother's request.
"Sorry, Mattie," he apologized as they both stopped and a boy with dark blonde hair to his shoulders who was holding the hand a considerably younger girl—probably his sister—with an identical haircut hurried past them, giving them a quick and confused glance. For a second Alfred thought that there was something strange about the boy, but he turned away and continued walking.
"Come on, though," said Alfred, "I want to quickly put all my stuff in my locker." Matthew sighed and resisted the urge to say that it was only because he had forgotten to bring everything to the school at the previous day's new-student orientation. "Fine," said his older twin, and they continued walking.
Still, Alfred couldn't shake off the feeling that there had been something strange—a certain sort of look—in that other boy's eyes. He looked the same age as them, but there had been something almost probing, something as though the other was seeking a piece of something from them, as he looked them over.
He shook his head and tried to forget about it, but one thought never escaped his head: that it couldn't have been about the Evil, could it have been?
No, it couldn't have been. They were in a whole new state, for crying out loud; no one knew about what had happened before, and no one ever would, if they both kept their mouths shut. And with that, he let the thought of the blonde boy and his sister escape his mind.
"Good morning," said the teacher as they walked into the class, "I'm Marcus Vargas, and I teach world history here. This class is going to be your homeroom for the rest of the year." Matthew looked around the room and was highly impressed. There was a large globe on the teacher's desk, along with several small statuettes that looked as though they could've been ancient Greek or Roman sculptures. World maps hung from the walls, which were painted a shade of watercolour-paint red.
"Why don't you introduce yourself?" Mr. Vargas suggested. There were only about 6 other people there—this was a rather small high school, after all. One had ash-blonde hair and wore a beige scarf, another had slicked-back flaxen hair, and the boy sitting next to him had obviously dyed silvery hair and crimson eyes—probably contacts. Then there was a girl who had long chestnut brown hair with a flower tucked behind her ear, a blonde boy of medium height with silky hair, and finally a youthful boy with auburn hair that had a large curl sticking out of it.
"I'm Alfred F. Jones!" said his brother energetically, "and I'm a hero! I'm always the best at everything, because I'm the best! I hope we can be friends! Oh, and this is my brother," he grabbed Matthew and pushed him in front of him, "his name is Matthew Williams, but we're still brothers. I hope we can all just get along!"
He dragged Matthew to a seat.
Alfred looked over at what the others were doing; Scarf was studying him intently, Blondie was looking at him discreetly, and Vamp was openly staring at Mattie—wait, staring at his brother?—while the girl fiddled with her clothes nervously, Silky fixed his hair, and Cowlick looked at the posters hanging on the walls.
"Padre," asked Cowlick finally, "can we go to class now?" The teacher looked up from the book he had been reading—Matthew saw that it had an erotic cover—and nodded. "Oh, si, si, sure. I'm sorry for keeping you. If you're late, just say it's my fault, okay?"
Homeroom had been boring enough, but why was everyone staring? Matthew shook off the residual paranoia—they couldn't know about the Evil—and walked to his first class with his brother. He was lucky they were in all the same classes together. He didn't know how they'd survive without each other.
First class turned out to be English, a class that they shared with Ludwig (Blondie, the one with slicked back hair), Scarf, and Feliciano (Cowlick, who turned out to be Mr. Vargas's son). The other three members of the class were either sophomores (Mathias, the Norwegian with nice hair) or seniors (Gilbert, the albino who was Ludwig's older brother, and Elizabeta, the girl with the flower.)
They spent most of the way there speaking with Ludwig and Feliciano, who they learnt had been close friends since they were children, while Scarf remained silent. Alfred and Matthew still didn't know his name, and it was clear that Ludwig and Feliciano were pointedly pretending that he wasn't there. Ludwig began speaking. "Our father teaches this class—my older bruder and mine, I mean." Feliciano kept shooting them concerned glances, as though he was worried—or as if he knew something.
They arrived and Alfred saw a man with long flaxen blonde hair that went past his shoulders (with braids in it as well) standing at the front, writing something out on the whiteboard. "Guten morgen, everyone," he said as he turned around. "Oh, Ludwig!" He said something to him in German and Feliciano laughed.
Scarf had already started to put down his bookbag (which was a deep shade of scarlet) when Alfred suddenly stepped in front of him. "Hey! You never introduced yourself during homeroom!" he yelled, loudly enough for everyone in the class (and probably the next one over as well) to hear.
"My name," said the boy with ash-blonde hair, "is Ivan Braginski. I am from Russia. Now leave me alone. I don't wish to talk to you now—or ever." He bent down to pick up a sheet of paper that had fallen out of a binder; Alfred snatched it up before he could take it.
"Nuh-uh, red," said Alfred, "now what's this?" He picked up the paper and looked at it; it looked to be an application of some sort, written on light blue stationery in girly handwriting and had a picture of a well-endowed girl with the exact same hair colour as Ivan's attached to it with a pink paperclip. "Who's this, red? Your girlfriend? Nah, probably your sister; she looks too much like you do."
Ivan snatched the stationery back, "I told you not to talk to me," he snarled, "but clearly you're not very good at listening, are you, Alfred Jones?" Alfred only shrugged, "Hey, well, all I can say is, your sister's pretty good-looking for the sister of a Russian commie like you."
"What did you say?" asked Ivan coldly, a threatening smile cracking over his face. "I just called you a commie—commie bastard," replied Alfred conversationally—calmly. "I," said Ivan, his face frozen in a rather frightening smile—a grin, "am not a communist, you idiotic American pig. You would do well to remember that in the future."
With a cry, Alfred launched himself at Ivan. The other didn't step backwards in time, and they were suddenly tangled up together on the floor of the English room. Alfred managed to land a punch on the commie's big fat nose, while the Russian had retaliated by kicking him in his vital regions.
"STOP!" shouted Mr. Beilschmidt, his pale eyes blazing as the rest of the class stared on in horror: "Both of you, go to the nurse's office right now! I'll deal with you two later!" Matthew looked at his twin in absolute terror as they both slowly stood up. Blood was gushing from Ivan's nose and Alfred was clutching at his crotch in pain, but other than that they were mostly unscathed.
They walked out of the classroom in silence as Mr. Beilschmidt introduced himself to the newcomers, the last of whom had just finish trailing in.
Finally Ivan spoke. "You know, подсолнечник, I must admit that I did not think you would attack me." The other responded hotly, "It was... what's that term they use on TV... pre... mediated! And what did you just call me?" They were still walking down the second-floor hall.
"Firstly, you attacked me first by calling me a 'red' and a 'commie bastard', if I remember correctly, when I am clearly not a communist. Secondly, подсолнечник is a... what is the word... term of endearment in Russian. It is... somewhat like a nickname." Ivan smoothed back his hair; they were approaching the stairwell to the ground floor.
""Hey, y'know," said Alfred suddenly, "being the epic hero n'all, I've decided to forgive you. You're not awesome, really, but you're all right. You're pretty cool... and stuff." He looked at the taller one brightly. "So, have you got any siblings?"
"You already saw one of them," replied Ivan; he could afford to be benevolent as long as the other was willing to act the same way, and smiled that disturbed grin once more. Alfred still didn't trust him. "Her name is Ekaterina—Katyusha. My other sister," he paused as they walked down the stairs, a troubled look on his face, "is a year younger than me, and quite..." he searched for the right word, "attached to me. Yes, that's it."
"What does your older sister do?" asked Alfred, "that was some sort of application form, wasn't it?" He ran ahead, forcing the Russian to lengthen his steps even more. "Both of my sisters are models," said the other, "but my younger one is a runway model and is always travelling. My older sister works in an office most of the time nowadays."
"I sometimes wish I had more siblings," said Alfred wistfully, "but all I've got is a brother and a snotty British cousin." He cheered up, "my father works in an office too! I don't know what happened to my mother, though..." he said, trailing off. "Mattie took her last name, while I got my father's."
"My parents are dead," responded Ivan curtly—factually. What a monster, Alfred thought, he doesn't even care that his parents died. "They died in a car crash about four years ago." He smiled ruefully. "I, too, have an irritating cousin. Unfortunately for me, he also happens to attend this school."
They lapsed into silence, Alfred not quite sure what to say. What do you tell someone who's just told you that their parents died in a car crash? He wondered this briefly as his head was starting to ache quite a bit. Strange, since he'd slept for at least 12 hours last night.
"Don't say anything," advised Ivan suddenly. The American looked up, surprised. "What? I didn't say anything." Ivan turned away quickly. I wasn't supposed to let that out, he thought, admonishing himself silently. But he knows anyway.
Before he could think twice about it, he found himself talking to the hapless American once again. "It's not evil, nor is it a curse, Alfred F. Jones," he said quietly, that creepy voice not much more than a whisper (it scared the American so much), "It is not bad if you can control it, dreamwalker."
Head-splitting pain ripped through Alfred's mind as he turned, grabbed the Russian by his scarf (an admirable feat, since the other was 4 inches taller and considerably heavier than he was). All muscle, he thought through his fogged-up mind, before he swung Ivan into a locker.
The Russian angrily turned back around to face Alfred—his nose was definitely broken now, if it hadn't been before—and, to the other's surprise, closed his eyelids tightly, a look of serenity perched on his pale face. Alfred felt another burst—more like a wave—of searing agony crash through his skull as he reached out for the scarf, ready to grab the end again.
Stop moving, there was a whisper in his head that gradually grew in intensity. Stop fighting. Alfred couldn't resist the voice any longer; he looked around the hall frantically. There was no one in sight. No one had heard the smash of the locker as Ivan's face collided with it.
Speaking of Ivan, he was opening his eyes—god, he didn't notice how pale and violet they were before—and smiling maniacally. "Presently, only about eight people here know about you and your brother," he said as the psychopathic light disappeared from his eyes, "but it doesn't matter either way."
"What? Why?" asked Alfred, the pain in his head retreating rapidly as Ivan's breathing became smoother. "Because," Ivan smiled again, coldly, "you see, little American, we all have powers as well."
He wiped his nose on his sleeve—it was completely drenched in blood now—and they spent the rest of the walk to the nurse's office in mildly uncomfortable silence.
Matthew looked around the classroom, trying to get a glimpse outside the door, which was squeaking and slightly ajar. He hadn't seen Alfred at all after the incident with the Russian who was in their homeroom. Instead of accompanying Alfred to the nurse, he was forced to continue attending Mr. Beilschmidt's class as though nothing had happened.
When will Alfred ever learn to keep his mouth shut? wondered Matthew, as he nervously shifted in his seat, sometimes people just want their own space. I wonder whether he got fixed up by the nurse... that strange kid was rather... large, and Alfred was definitely no match for him.
Matthew gave a tiny sigh, and attempted to concentrate on Mr. Beilschmidt's droning on about the fall of the Roman Empire, which was a topic that he seemed to be rather passionate about. Normally Matthew would have attempted to look interested, yet worry and curiosity kept gnawing at his mind, and Matthew finally resolved to leave and find out what happened to Alfred.
Looking for my twin brother is a good reason to leave class. He slowly raised his arm, and Mr. Beilschmidt looked at his direction. "What?" he asked irritably. Throughout the entire class, he had been irritated by that Italian from Matthew's homeroom, who never seemed to stop talking or asking questions as Ludwig attempted to shush him.
"Um..." Matthew whispered, "Can I..." Mr. Beilschmidt simply looked at him and said dully, "You'll have to speak louder, I can't hear you over... certain individuals here." He cleared his throat and tried again. "May I please go to the bathroom?" His teacher nodded. "That's fine, just be quick about it." Matthew stammered a thank-you, and quickly fled the class.
He closed the door behind him, breathing deeply. He looked around the bare hall, wondering where to go. At that moment, an idea sprang into Matthew's mind. I'll just use my power, Matthew thought, I'll turn invisible, so that nobody will notice me!
Matthew closed his eyes, and willed himself to turn invisible. A cool feeling washed over him, and he opened his eyes. He looked down at his hands, and was quickly satisfied to see that he had become completely transparent. Now I can go and find out where Alfred is, Matthew thought. It's time to somehow find the nurse's office.
He turned left from the classroom, and began to walk down the desolate and empty hallway. As he walked, he heard footsteps behind him. Out of fear, Matthew began to walk a little faster. As he did, the footsteps behind him grew a little faster as well. Suddenly, a voice behind him called out, "Hey, wait up!"
What? Why would that person be talking to me? Matthew wondered. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that the person had silvery hair, with the palest skin he had ever seen. He looked somewhat familiar—oh! He was the albino from his homeroom!
I can't believe it! He can see through my power? Matthew frantically thought, searching through his mind. No, everything was right. Or could it be that it never worked? While he thought this, the guy caught up with Matthew's steps. Matthew couldn't help but notice the piercing crimson eyes that lit up the whiteness of the other's face as he pretended that he wasn't there—he was one of the boys from his homeroom.
"Hey, I remember you! You're one of the twins who are in my homeroom!" the guy said enthusiastically, "My name is Gilbert! What's yours?" Matthew wasn't sure whether to respond or not. Hopefully he'll get caught by some teacher, thought Matthew, or perhaps he's just a psychopath like that Russian.
"Hey, blondie, I'm talking to you," Gilbert said. Irritation was creeping into his voice, and Matthew was starting to seriously consider just running away. The white-haired boy seemed to have become agitated. He stopped in his tracks, and started to stare intensely at the floor. Matthew suddenly noticed that his eyes were like glowing embers.
Suddenly, Matthew felt as if someone had poured cold water down the collar of his shirt and it was trailing down his back. He blinked several times, and looked down. Suddenly, his hands weren't transparent anymore as he looked down—he was no longer invisible!
"What?" whispered Matthew—this had never happened before, ever. No one had ever been able to see through his power. Gilbert grinned and said in a rather lofty voice, "Allow me to introduce myself again... my name is Gilbert Beilschmidt, and I am the awesome King of Shadows!"
Matthew stared at Gilbert, mouth slightly agape. "So then... do you know about... the Evil?" he whispered shyly. Gilbert smirked and replied, "You mean that you can turn invisible? Not at first... I just saw your faint shadow. All I did was darken your shadow, and voila! You appeared!"
Matthew wasn't sure what to say. His head was still spinning at the fact that someone—apart from Alfred and their father—knew about the Evil. He wondered if this boy knew about the Evil that had happened before. "I must admit, I was sort of expecting this from you," Gilbert continued. "Wait, what?" Matthew asked dumbly, his mouth dropping open again. They were still walking down the hall to no particular destination, it seemed.
"Well, whenever people see you and your brother together, your brother is constantly talking and never letting you do anything at all. Compared with him, you're just like... just like a shadow. His shadow, I guess... something awesome like that." He tipped his head back and let out a roaring laugh. Matthew asked quietly, "So you have an... ability... as well?"
Gilbert shrugged and said, "If you want to call it that... I'd prefer it being called an awesome power... my awesome power!In fact, about one third of the people at this school have powers! That's why we're all sent here!" Silently he added, We're all freaks here. But he didn't say that. He didn't want to scare the underclassman too much. Yet.
Matthew's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked, "What about the teachers?" Gilbert again shrugged his shoulders. "There are about five of them here who know about us and about our special abilities, but the rest don't know anything about them. The ones who do know often help us, and treat us with respect because of them. This school's about the survival of the fittest, and, of course, the most awesome!"
Matthew shifted on his feet uneasily. He wanted to continue talking to Gilbert, but he had to find Alfred as well, and he couldn't have both. He realized that he didn't know where the nurse's office actually was. Gilbert continued his easy bantering. "So, why do I find you walking around the hallways, being invisible?" Matthew felt his piercing gaze, scrutinizing the blonde's face. He flushed and quietly answered, "I was worried about what happened to my brother. I decided to go to the nurse's office and make sure that he's okay."
"Wow, you're that concerned about someone who barely pays much attention to you?" Gilbert asked. Matthew only blinked. "What are you talking about?" he asked, wariness of the other quickly growing in him. Gilbert simply waved his hand, dismissing the topic, and replied, "Never mind... well, I'm not in the mood to go to my trigonometry class, so I'm coming with you."
"You're not going to your trigonometry class?" Matthew asked, quietly horrified that someone could just leave a class like that. Gilbert grinned—a smile that only a juvenile delinquent would be able to pull off properly—and replied, "I prefer the term ditching. Or skipping, I guess. Besides, you do need someone to help you find where the nurse's office is, right?"
"...I guess so," whispered Matthew. He'd never met someone quite like this. "Great! Let's get going!" Gilbert chirped—like a bird. He started to lead Matthew to some stairs at the end of the hall. As they walked, Matthew accidently voiced his thoughts out loud, "I'm surprised that you remembered me... compared with my brother in our homeroom."
"Yeah, well, you may appear like a quiet and good little mouse, but your eyes seem to hold more meaning than one would think. Wasn't there some awesome quote that said something like, the eyes are the windows to the soul, or something like that?" Gilbert replied casually. "Besides, everyone knows that good little boys are never really as pure as they seem." He grinned again.
Matthew couldn't help but wonder what Gilbert was saying. Is he actually more interested in me than Alfred? Matthew thought in amazement. They arrived at a white door. "Ah! Here we are!" Gilbert announced gleefully. "This is Nurse Kjær's room."
"Wait, Nurse Kj...?" Matthew struggled with the nurse's name. "Nurse Kjær," Gilbert patiently said, "You pronounce it as: Keeyahr.She's related to four of the students here—she graduated a few years ago, and she's the birth sister of a junior who I'm sort of friends with, Gunnar Kjær."
"Wow," Matthew replied, looking around. Where is Alfred? Matthew thought, as his eyes continued to scan around the room. Gilbert seemed to have read the other's thoughts. "Your brother would be in here," gestured Gilbert, towards a window that was a couple of meters away, "This is just her office. Alfred would most likely be in the sick room." He led Matthew towards the window in the wall. "Let's look in the window," he suggested cheerfully. "You can only get to the sick room from her office."
A thick window was next to the door. Gilbert and Matthew peered through the window, and Matthew gasped when he saw a bandage covering one of his brother's cheeks. He also stiffened when he saw the same creepy blonde Russian in the room with a bandage over his nose and another on his forehead.
"Who is that weird Russian boy with the scarf? He was in our homeroom, I think," Matthew asked. "Oh, him? That's Ivan Braginski," Gilbert responded, "You should always stay away from him... they say that he's a bit... special, and by that I mean psychopathic. He has... certain powers... that he can barely control, since he's one of the strongest of us in this school.
Matthew gave a tiny nod. Suddenly, Ivan stood up and started to walk towards Alfred. Matthew felt Gilbert shift behind him. "What's wrong?" whispered Matthew. Ivan started to peel off his tawny brown leather gloves, and slowly brought up two fingers towards Alfred's face... higher... and higher...
"Mein gott," Gilbert growled, his previous cheerful and carefree demeanour gone, "We have to stop him before he...!" He never finished his sentence, beginning to crouch. "What? Why?" Matthew asked. Gilbert didn't answer, and instead began to leap towards the window. Realizing what he was going to do, Matthew jumped after him and they both crashed through the window as Alfred and Ivan looked up and started to stare.
Ivan grabbed the sleeve of Alfred's bomber jacket and pulled both of them behind the bed as glass sprayed everywhere and both Matthew and Gilbert spilled out into the ward. Alfred yelled, Gilbert howled in pain, Ivan ducked, and Matthew felt the world spinning around him as he hit the ground.
Alfred shouted, "Mattie!" and Matthew felt a warm hand on his face as he faded in and out of his consciousness.
Then there was nothing but darkness.
Roderich, Elizabeta, Yao, Ludwig, and Vash had called a meeting. This was what Ivan learnt as he probed through people's minds, making sure to leave not a trace of himself. He was certainly capable of that, now, though clearly the stupid German who had foolishly chosen to leap through the window—to "protect" Alfred, no doubt—hadn't known that, which would explain why the school nurse now sat next to him and painstakingly picked out the last shards of glass.
There was a student who had been in his homeroom—his name was Matvey or something of that sort—who was Alfred's twin brother. He had fainted after the idiotic so-called Prussian had landed on the nurse's office's floor.
What of Alfred? The usually-talkative American paced over his twin, eyebrows furrowed, occasionally casting a glare at Gilbert and then at Ivan. Gilbert winced as the last fragment was removed, at which point Margrethe left the room, no doubt to procure some bandages for the albino.
Speaking of the silvery-haired boy, he stood, and angrily began to yell. "How could you have even tried to do that to Alfred Jones 'the Hero' over here? You know you can't control your power! You know about the damage this could have caused! So how could you have done this?" He raged, his crimson eyes glowing almost-demonically.
He wished he was someplace else. Somewhere quiet, where the only sound was that of the blades of his skates scraping over worn ice, where it was cold, so mind-numbingly cold and perfect, where he could close his eyes and just get away from it all.
"Actually," said Ivan in an icy tone, that same sinister smile that was growing so familiar to Alfred spreading across his face, "if you had simply paid attention during the meetings, you would have known that I have been successfully able to enter others' minds and touch them with my hands without any pain. Obviously, you haven't even been attending the recent meetings, so I suppose it's not much of a surprise that you don't know, is it?" As he said this, that sick smile had turned sweet and maddening.
"...Scheiße," muttered Gilbert as Alfred turned to both of them and yelled, infuriated, "My brother is passed out on some bed, there's a broken window that two people just decided to jump through, I just got into a fight with some dude, and the best thing of all is that it's all my fucking fault! Could you just, I dunno, shut up for a second?"
Gilbert looked at Matthew, who was just beginning to stir—he couldn't deny that the younger boy was attractive—and said meekly, "I can pay for the window, if that's what will make you feel better."
"You'd better," said Nurse Kjær, in a nearly-dangerous voice as she walked back in from the other room, bandages in her hands. "Now sit. Is this... Matthew boy... waking up yet?" Alfred retorted defensively, "He's my bro!" Ivan simply sighed as Gilbert fidgeted. He had never liked bandages. She was eventually finished, and left in silence.
"We have a meeting during lunch period," said Ivan dully, "and that includes the two of you, as well. Maybe you should try to attend this meeting, so you might actually be up to date with your information, да, Gilbert?" he smiled sweetly. "Maybe then you might be accepted by the rest of us, don't you think?"
"What?" asked Alfred, "We have to go to this fucking meeting thing?" he asked disbelievingly, his tone of voice clearly showing just how excited he was at the prospect. "Yeah," said Gilbert, "you sorta do." He leaned back on the bed and folded his arms behind his back, looking bored.
Matthew opened his eyes groggily and looked around. "...What time is it? What's going on?" he mumbled, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Oh! Mattie! You're awake!" Alfred yelled joyously. "There's a meeting going on at lunch and right now it's 9:26 in the morning!"
Matthew groaned and closed his eyes again.
Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please review, we appreciate it. We'll probably update once a week, more or less, but the chapters are also very long, so don't expect too much. Пока and ja ne!