Canada simply leant against a bookshelf and smiled at the girl in front of him, bewitched by the Library, she hadn't even seen half of the Academy yet and she was already having a great time. "I guess she's just one of those peopleā¦" he muttered to himself, hoping that she could not hear him with the silence that accompanied this place of wonder.
Eventually the spell was broken and Michelle returned to her guide for a continuation of the tour. As the pair continued along they passed one particular room, the Newspaper Club. Inside as she passed she could see a large, blonde boy, possibly German from his accent, who was shouting at a redhead with a strange curl sticking out of his hair, something about too many weird clubs.
Along another few hallways it was not until their progress was impeded by a figure standing in the middle of the hallway, his face beaming with a smile that the two actually stopped walking. The figure in the way was another blonde, but this one had long and smooth hair and had stubble on his chin, there was an air about him that said he was important, but his mannerisms were fluent and flirtatious.
The pair recognized him immediately, France, the debaucherous debonair of World Academy. Word had it that women fell at his feet if he spoke even a sentence, but he usually dismissed such claims as propaganda not worthy of moi, or something along those lines.
"Oh, hello Papa, what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in art right now." He asked almost defensively, standing directly between him and Michelle, as if he did not want the Frenchman to see her.
"Ah that, well I got so bored, everybody there was doing such a fantastic job without me that I decided to take a walk, so who do you have with you, your girlfriend?" he asked teasingly, placing a hand on Canada's shoulder and moved him aside.
Michelle simply stood there in front of him, barely moving, not even wanting to twitch as he daintily lifted her hand and kissed the top of it softly. "Ah mademoiselle, you look familiar, have we met before? I am certain I would remember such beauty." He whispered softly as she blushed slightly, her cheeks changing to a few shades lighter.
"M-Michelle G-Gallaud, the S-Seychelles Islands." She stuttered almost as quietly as Francis, as he was best known by his friends.
France snapped his fingers and placed them on his chin, standing back up to his full height. "Of course! I thought you looked familiar, I'm technically your big brother, you may have been too young to remember but I raised you from a little girl." He said sweetly, closing his eyes and mentally recalling the memories.
Canada sighed, "Anyway Papa, I was just showing Michelle around, it's her first day so if you wouldn't mind?" he asked impatiently.
"Wouldn't mind if I tagged along and showed her as well? Of course not!" he exclaimed happily, linking arms with a surprised Michelle, still taking in what he had said and a frustrated Matthew, almost verbally protesting about linking arms with his father.
The newly formed trio proceeded at a slower pace than before but Michelle found it easier to take the place in, see the details better. Or she would have, if France did not have his head leaning on her shoulder half the time, making her unable to turn her head effectively.
Not to mention the smell emanating from him, a heavy scent of wine and roses and the soft hair of his that tickled her face. She could tell that Canada was also not enjoying this as he wore a grimace that grew with every step they took.
"Look, Francis, m-maybe you have something you need to be doing?" Michelle asked politely.
Francis lifted his head and raised an eyebrow before responding. "Oh of course, I'll leave you two alone." He said nicely, nudging Canada in the ribs as he left, as sort of nudge-nudge, wink-wink.
Seychelles and Canada continued moving about the Academy, until reaching what she figured would be the gymnasium, with the noise and cheers coming from it she had almost no doubt that it was. Turns out she was semi right, it was the Boxing Club's main room, and the old gymnasium. It no longer really looked like a gym anymore, most of the smooth floors were replaced with mats and there were plenty of wooden structures, tables and chairs.
There were weapon racks, suits of armour, a boxing ring, made of green velvet and wood with old fashioned rope for the ring boundaries. The spectator stands were just about packed with whom she suspected to be countries from around the globe and other important kids. Canada and Seychelles walked around the spectacle and stood next to the end stand, watching the fight at hand.
It was between two boys, one blonde with emerald eyes and bushy eyebrows and a brown haired boy with an ahoge and darker yet still green eyes, both of them shirtless and bruised. "Come on Arthur, I thought you were going easy on me!" taunted the brown haired boy.
The blonde, identified as Arthur, simply smirked and gave a shrug as the brown haired boy threw a punch in his direction. Arthur simply weaved out of the way, barely moving half a step. "Pfft, I thought you Australians were supposed to be good at this, pick up your game Jett!" Arthur taunted back.
Australia, Jett as he was known by his friends, took in a deep breath and was about to throw another punch. Arthur took in a breath through his nostrils and assessed the situation. First punch should be a left jab, blocking it will leave me open to his right uppercut that will follow. Strategy: Sidestep jab, block and counter uppercut, drive knee into ribs paired with fast strike to jaw. Then stamp on foot and drive elbow into the back of his head as he bends down. The world in his eyes seemed to speed up again after having simulated the situation and he executed his plan without a hitch, the fight was over in less than six seconds.
In summary: Winded, sore foot, possibly a broken toe. Sore ribs, dazed with a headache, nothing the nurse can't handle.
The crowd stood on the edge of their seats, wondering what had just happened, their eyes still catching up with their minds. Seychelles was the last to figure out what had just happened and could barely hear herself think over the applause the crowd gave their victor. "Wh-who is he, the blonde?" she asked cautiously, hoping she would not find herself in trouble with him at any point.
"Oh, Arthur? He's England, or as he would put it officially, the United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland. But that's just how he would put it formally and don't let the fight get to you, he really is a nice guy, just don't get on his bad side or spill his tea, you'll regret it if you do." He said matter-of-factly.
The two left the room not long after, as everybody else seemed to be leaving as well and as the two got the door, so did the rest of the spectators and Michelle got swamped in the crowd, being pushed every which way until she was forced out of the horde and right into Arthur Kirkland.
