A/N: Wow, so it's been a week already! I've been a bit bogged down with work, but I managed to do a load yesterday, which really got me back on track, and I honestly wanted to make sure this was out on the right time, because I've been a bit bad with the whole posting of chapters.

I'd just like to say a quick thanks to everyone who's read and stuck with Gakutalia so far! Wow - it's reached over 1,000 views, which I'm seriously proud of! Thank you everyone for your support in this Fic and I promise, from now on, I'm going to desperately try and post it on time from now on, and I hope everyone continues to enjoy Gakutalia as much as I like writing it! Thank you!

So! This is the 10th chapter of Gakutalia (not counting the Prologue), so I'm rather proud to have gotten this far! I'd just like to make a brief shout out to WhiteWolf100101, who has shown continual support for this fic by dropping a comment each week! It's honestly a pure joy to hear that people like reading what I write, and I'm seriously grateful for the reviews and support!

Without further ado, the next chapter of Gakutalia is here!

L.B.

Ludwig was early to school that day, and he'd happened to stumble upon a poster for the Talent Show. Just looking at how it was advertised gave him little hope for how it would turn out.

It looked like a tacky advertisement for sweets, with a lot of bright red and yellow, and bold black writing to prove a point that wasn't actually proved. It was like looking at a stage, with the spotlight shining down the middle and a chunk of writing at the centre, explaining audition times as well as the date of the actual event.

He couldn't believe set up hadn't begun. He'd kept updated with Emma and there had been no action put towards the staging. Ludwig thought that was one of the most important parts. If something went wrong with the organisation, then the event couldn't function properly. Nothing could work on weak foundations, he believed.

"Are you OK, younger Beilschmidt?" Mr Saunders asked as he passed by.

"Oh, yes, Sir," Ludwig frowned.

"You're not thinking of entering that, are you?" his teacher frowned. "I'd be obliged to support you as one of my students if you did. That's something older Beilschmidt would've done, and let's face it, you don't want to follow in his footsteps."

Mr Saunders gave him a knowing nod and walked on, leaving Ludwig to consider what he held clutched in his hands. Entering? No, he hadn't considered that for a moment. However, the idea of orchestrating the entire event and getting the background team together sounded strangely appealing to him. He decided that was something that needed further pondering.

K.H.

He sat by a computer at break and logged in to check his e-mails. He saw he had received one by a certain Lucinda Reed. He clicked on it, out of curiosity, and saw it was a meek message from the girl in his manga club. He recalled that her name was, actually, familiar.

It was a message telling about photocopying the images of his Art book and sending them to her form room, which she'd also helpfully written in the e-mail. Kiku replied that he would get that sent to her.

He located his Art book from his locker (because he didn't have Art today, and didn't need it for homework, since Mrs Denvers hadn't set any) and opened it up at the figure sketches. Although he'd filled them in at this stage, they still would make suitable examples for her to have an idea about proportion.

Absently, Kiku carried his book to the photocopier. He joined the queue and waited patiently, keeping his face endorsed in his own space. The queue moved forwards, so Kiku did as well.

He raised his head and saw it was Yao in front of him. The other boy met his gaze, for he'd been looking at his work. Kiku snapped his book shut and they looked away from one another. They stood beside one another, waiting in the queue, Yao with a Maths book tucked under his arm, Kiku with his Art book held firmly to his chest.

The queue moved forwards. Neither said anything.

Finally, Yao reached the photocopier and wedged his book in between the scanner and the lid. There was a whirring, and a light flicked across. Kiku waited impatiently as the other boy closed the lid shut with a snap. Unfortunately for both, the photocopier didn't miraculously speed up.

"So, what are you here for?" Yao asked, deciding to break the icy silence between them.

"Photocopying," Kiku answered.

"OK… photocopying what?" Yao prompted.

"Stuff," Kiku replied.

"Whatever," Yao sighed as the photocopier completed its task.

He took his books and left Kiku standing beside the photocopier. Quietly, he fitted his book in place and contemplated what had just happened. Yao had attempted to make conversation, and he had bluntly rejected that proposition.

The question was, had he made the right decision in doing so?

Strange as that sounded, his once wonderful friendship with Yao had been blighted by the events of Year Four. There was reason they had stood in that line, awkward and unable to communicate effectively. Years of separation only emphasised how different the two of them actually were.

Kiku thought he had made the right decision.

Kiku hoped he had made the right decision.

F.B.

Francis had never anticipated that being manager of a band would prove to be so difficult. The announcement of the band's name had instantly put off two of the band's members. Recalling last week's flounder was enough to give him a headache…

"I find that both rude and offensive," Yao had said, instantly raising his hands from the piano.

"Say that again, and I'm never coming back," Ivan had added, standing and walking away from the drums.

"Hey, where are you going?" Alfred had asked him, shrugging his shoulders. "I could've done so much worse – at least I say Coms instead of Commies, right?"

"Not right," Ivan had replied, still on his path through the doorway. "And to answer your question, I'm leaving because your 'idea' was pathetic."

"Wait-"

"Say anything else, and I'll be tempted to quit," Ivan had brushed past Francis.

For a moment, Yao had sat at the piano, twiddling his thumbs whilst all eyes settled on him to make his own decision. He had then grimaced and stood, with a slight shrug.

"I think it's more appropriate that I leave as well," he admitted. "I guess we'll talk later?"

And then he had left.

"Am I right in assuming you're back to square one again?" Roderich had asked sceptically.

"Square one? What's that?" Alfred had frowned.

"Finding a band," the musical genius answered, and that seemed to make Alfred throw the glove of defeat down as well.

"I make one suggestion and it gets cut down," he'd complained, leaning the guitar against the wall. "I'm just as done as they are…"

He'd left as well, leaving Francis to deal with the musically talented.

"That could've gone a lot better, in my opinion," Roderich had said.

"It could've gone worse," Francis admitted, much to the surprise of both Roderich and Miss Lore. "The other two could've quit on the spot."

"They seemed about to," Miss Lore said. "Considering you're now their manager, I want you to find out whether this band is still going or not. Roderich is a student of significant musical talent and could be focusing his skills in different areas rather than teaching a few basics to his student friends."

"I'll have it sorted," Francis had replied, and instantly fled the room, no longer wanting to be under the scrutiny of both Roderich and the dreaded Miss Lore.

Now he sat in the library, a week later, reading an e-mail from Miss Lore that he interpreted as this:

"If this band nonsense isn't cleared up by mid-October, I would advise you abandon hope, as the Talent Show would be too close by then for them to actually accomplish something worthy of credit."

She didn't exactly write that, but Francis knew Miss Lore well enough to know that that was what she meant. He had been desperately attempting to contact the band members.

So far, he had had little luck and even less reception.

He had called Ivan on the night to attempt to reason with him, but he'd received the cruel reply of:

"Alfred can talk to me himself," and that was said in a text after he had instantly hung up.

Yao had been a little more reasonable. He'd said something like:

"I appreciate your concern, Francis, but I would much rather have Alfred apologise and speak to me face to face. I would also like him to do so out of his own decision… if that's possible."

He had expected Alfred to be a little easier than the other two. He had called him up over the weekend and he'd been very non-receptive, very much like Ivan. His only replies then had been "hmm" and "alright," and "sure, dude, whatever". Doubtful, Francis had waited a day, and then approached Yao after Maths to ask if Alfred had apologised yet. The answer was a curt "no".

That had led to further attempts of communication on Francis's behalf. Ivan and Yao seemed to have chosen to hanging out with one another, and although he would eat lunch with them, Francis found the sudden disconnection confusing. Alfred had chosen to completely avoid him and the others. Arthur had appeared infrequently throughout the week, leading Francis to wonder whether his childhood friend had chosen to the path of a social introvert, and Alfred wasn't hanging out with him. Strangely, he'd chosen to attach himself to his brother, much to the disdain of Matthew's friend, Carlos, who disliked Alfred greatly.

There was one time when Francis had caught Alfred. It had been Wednesday lunch when he'd approached the other boy to inquire about speaking with both Ivan and Yao. Alfred had nervously coughed and claimed that his time was now being devoted to his Maths education. After that, Francis noticed he strictly avoided him, even opting to abandon his brother and Carlos if he saw Francis in the corridor.

Francis drummed his fingers on the table and glanced around the library. That was when he noticed Arthur hunched over a computer. Curious, since he had seen extremely little of the other boy this week, he approached and glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was so endorsed in his work he didn't even notice Francis there.

His screen was lit up with hand to hand combat techniques, as well as methods on how to use guns and follow people discreetly.

Francis frowned. "Arthur, what are you doing?"

Arthur jumped in his seat and swiftly minimised everything. He turned in his seat, green eyes bright with surprise, but his expression quickly morphed into one of disdain.

"What the Hell, Francis?" he hissed. "Why are you sneaking around?"

"I should ask you the same thing," he replied. "I haven't talked to you in a while."

"I've been busy," Arthur said irritably. "Now, leave me to it."

"What is 'it'?" Francis pressed.

"That's none of your business," Arthur glowered at him.

"You're researching usage of firearms," Francis whispered, sitting beside him. "Also, we've been friends since before school. Tell me. I have a right to know."

"I know what you'll say," Arthur replied.

"Then you must be doing something bad," Francis sighed. "What is it?"

"Feliks and I saw Mr Vurkel in a picture and I went to the place in an attempt to find him," Arthur admitted. "I've been going there after school every day, but I have yet to find him. I'm brushing up on my abilities as a spy, just so I can be a little more subtle about everything."

"You're stalking an ex-teacher?" Francis gaped. "Arthur, I told you not to go looking for Mr Vurkel, not throw yourself into his arms."

"I need answers, Francis," Arthur replied. "You can't convince me otherwise. And I'm not throwing myself into his arms."

"I know," Francis sighed. "If things start going wrong, get out of there as soon as you can. And don't coming running to me."

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Arthur said stonily and opened up the tabs on his computer once more. "Now, leave me to it."

Francis shook his head and pushed away from the table. He left the library and met Alfred on the way in. He was sure the other boy had told him he'd had Maths tutoring that lunch…

"Alfred…?" he blinked.

"Oh, geez, Francis, dude, I was just looking for you and Matt said you were here," Alfred said, and Francis's hopes skyrocketed.

"What is it?" he asked, stepping aside from the doorway to let other students pass.

"I forgot what our Science homework was and wanted to ask if you knew…" Alfred asked.

"What about…"

"Hmm?" Alfred interrupted, homework diary in hands.

Francis blinked. "Our homework was questions two, three, four and five A."

"Hey, thanks dude," Alfred pretended to jot it down – Francis could tell from the obvious way his pen made no noise. "I gotta go now, so I'll catch you later?"

"Wait, Alfred, what about-"

"I've gotta run, Francis," Alfred was already charging down the corridor. "But we can always talk later?"

"What about the band?" Francis called after him.

"I gotta go!" Alfred ignored him. "It's urgent."

Francis felt the corners of his own mouth tug down as he watched Alfred pretty much sprint away in an attempt to dodge responsibility.

He texted Alfred after school that day. Although it said Alfred had seen his text, no reply was offered. So much for talking later…

A/N: Well, it seems the gang are having some issues concerning membership! Will they be able to resolve their problems, or will all fall to pieces? Find you next time!

Also, remember to leave a review! I love reading everyone's comments and thoughts; it's really interesting to see what others think of what I've written! Thank you very much for reading Gakutalia!

Roderich Edelstein: Austria
Matthew Jones: Canada
Carlos Machado: Cuba
Feliks Lukasiewicz: Poland