Hetalia Academy of the Arts (HAA) is the foremost recognised academy of creative arts in the world,
the film team for "In Depth" and myself are the first outsiders to be invited within the walls of the institution for nigh on a century.
The students have all been individually scouted from the four corners of the Earth, where they stay for an undisclosed time...
"Excuse me, but..." I looked up. One of the talented student of HAA stood on the opposite side of the table, one of the most well-known in the outside world, Gustave Engels. Although he was not one of the most talented and certainly not one of the most popular, the boy with the chestnut hair that curled freely around his shoulders ran Radio Luxembourg, the program that broadcast from the Academy, relaying news to and from the world outside the walls, and had singlehandedly turned the radio room that Alfred F. Jones had built from Arthur Kirkland's discarded designs into a successful company of its own, that was mainly for the benefit of the students but widely enjoyed everywhere else as well.
"Yes?" I asked politely. I was myself an interested listener, and was interested in the child - for he was still but a child - that had managed to create such a successful program. He didn't appear in the program as often as I'd have liked; after an internal vote by the students it had been decided that the broadcasting of music expand, and since the program already before that allowed students to broadcast their own submissions for various purposes the time for the leader to appear was severely restricted. According to the child himself it was good; it made the students happy and left him with more time to pursue his other projects, mainly paintings and sculptures.
"This piece of information is false." He smiled apologetically and tapped the paper I was writing on. "Not all students have been scouted, quite a few actually half blackmailed their way into the academy."
I was genuinely surprised, it was the first I'd heard of it. "Really?"
"Yep. For example, there's Peter Kirkland and Willa Kirkland, Arthur Kirkland's cousins, and Oskar Vilks, Berwald Oxenstierna's half-brother and quite a bunch of others. They're all kids too, so it was quite impressive," Gustave chuckled. "Anyway, that's not why I came. The film team's taking a lunch break, so I came to make sure you weren't forgotten."
As I followed the boy over the grounds towards the dining hall (and what a magnificent hall it was!) I asked some more questions that he politely answered with great accuracy.
"There's no real teachers, we all teach each other with the help of the books in the libraries, of which there are many. But the rooms are divided up for different uses, so in the end we sort of form 'classes' on our own. The works we produce go on sale, students get a chance to buy them first before they go on the market, but most still get sold to the outside world. The money earned gets converted to the currency we use here, Internationals, Í. If we go outside on trips or the like we can then convert them to the needed currency, but most tend to circulate within the walls."
"Don't you miss your families?"
"Of course we do," Gustave said, smile not faltering for a second. "But once you've enrolled, you simply don't leave."
DUN DUN DUN DUNNNN~
So I started another fic instead of updating the others. I'm amazing. Anyway, this will be a collection of one-shots that eventually may or may not result in a greater plot. They won't be chronological either, most probably. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in, but in the end please be aware that they may not be kept, since I'm a terribly irresponsible person.