Four Seasons and a Year

by Ms Towa

Lovino Vargas enjoys a simple life with little difficulties and complications, and other than being known as "Feliciano's Brother," there were no hiccups in his way of living... until he met Arthur Kirkland. See, Arthur has a reputation, and people tend to avoid him. Lovino was one of those people. Was.

25. Chapter 25 - Show Time

Chapter Twenty-Five: Show Time

"Ve, I wonder what they're planning to do," Feliciano chimed as he clung onto Ludwig's side like a leech. Lovino glared irately at the German before giving his younger brother a brief glance of disdain, pulling his eyes away from the two - obviously mismatched - best friends. His hazel orbs skimmed over the dimly lit auditorium, scouring the audience for a certain young woman wearing Parisian designer clothing, before falling upon the back of a familiar French twist sitting two rows in front of them in the center section of the audience. Since the auditorium had filled up pretty fast, Lovino, Feliciano, and Ludwig were stuck sitting in the far back - and they had gotten there early! "I heard Antonio and Alfredo are in it, too!" the younger Vargas exclaimed in excitement, jumping in his seat. "It must be a big production, ve!"

"Yes, I've heard about that. It appears that Mathias Kohler and Ivan Braginski are participating as well," Ludwig contributed nonchalantly, sitting straight as a board in his seat. "Though I doubt that it would be a big production, Feliciano, I'm sure that it is moderately sized, especially in terms of cast and crew."

"Ve~" Feliciano exhaled. Maybe it was a sigh. Lovino didn't know. What did Feliciano even have to sigh about? "I guess you're right, Ludwig! If it was a big production, there would be lots more people participating in it!"

Ludwig gave a half smile and mentioned, "Knowing my brother, however, this production may be big regarding... effects or something of the like. You may not be disappointed then." Clearing his throat, Ludwig recited, "'It's going to be awesome, so you guys definitely have to show up!' or so he said."

Jeez, how did this stick in the mud come from the same genetic pool as the albino bastard?

"Ve, remember to save a seat for Mateo, Jia Long, Xiao Mei, Emil, Roderich, Lukas..." and the list went on and on and on. Lovino began to tune out his brother as he rambled on and on and on. Those bastards could find their own seats or just stand in the back and watch for all he cared. Hell, they probably already found seats! The place was so crowded that it was difficult to find one another and rendezvous! The only reason he was stuck with his brother and the potato head was because they came from the same room, off the same shift.

Cheh, Lovino clicked his tongue, not wanting to admit that the bastards had done a good job promoting. The posters and flyers for their show, The Tournament of the Rampant Lion, were posted everywhere - in every building, in every corridor, in every room, in every crook and cranny! He had even spotted a few brochures in the men's restroom! There were even rumors flying around about how DVDs were to be recorded of the event and sold by order. They were really raking in the profits; Lovino wouldn't be surprised if they won the prize for the best event at the festival this year.

Slouching in the chair of his auditorium, Lovino checked the time on his phone. It was already six o'clock, and from what he was aware, it would take another ten minutes until the show would officially begin. Glancing at the stage, he saw a movement in the red curtains but dismissed that easily. Someone was probably taking a peek at the audience. There was always someone who did that in the movies.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed in the auditorium, effectively silencing the audience. When the curtains parted, there was light applause to greet the cast, but they were only witness to a glowing projector screen and a light fog drifting off the stage into the audience. On the screen, a rustic tome opened, and its pages flipped to a page depicting two blond boys as though the wind had done so purposely.

Overhead, Arthur's voice poured through the speakers, speaking, "Once upon a time, there lived two brothers." The page of the book flipped, illustrating the two boys running together, fishing together, eating dinner together, sleeping in bed together. "They played together, worked together, ate together, and spent the entire day and night together. They were one another's best friend. None in the village were closer than they." The page flipped, showing the boys walking into a dark, eerie forest. "However, like all children, the boys were curious. Dangerously so." The page flipped, and one of the boys was carried away by a gust of wind. "They wandered into the neighbouring woods haunted by a phantom spirit. The demon spirit quickly took siege of the elder brother's body and transformed him into a beast." The pages flipped and flipped and flipped, revealing picture after picture of the transformation, before finally showing the younger brother escaping. "Alfred could only run away, helpless, as his brother, possessed, terrorised the village they loved."

The lights dimmed and darkened, the curtains closed, and the sound of stage props shuffling around could be heard before, finally, the cast revealed themselves.

Scene One

"Liiiiiiizzzz!" Gilbert roared, his voice reverberating off the walls and shaking the foundation of the house. The albino was wearing a Prussian blue uniform with a black shirt and tie, and his trousers were tucked into a pair of boots. He shuffled around the area, peeking under a dining room table and peering out a glass window. "Have you seen my gun - or my hunting gear?!"

Walking into scene was Elizaveta, donning a dress with a black bodice, an orange skirt, and a headscarf. She placed her hands onto her hips and glared menacingly at Gilbert. "And where do you think you're going, darling?" She spat out the endearment bitterly, not meaning a single ounce of it, and narrowed her green eyes at her albino so-called husband.

"Calm down, woman! The boys and I are just going to hunt down the lion that's been freaking everyone out so much! No big deal!"

"'No big deal'?!" Elizaveta shrieked incredulously. "Leave that to the government, Gil! You're not a professional!"

"I can't leave it to the government! What's the government going to do?! Fine us if we leave the 'safety of our homes'?! They haven't done anything productive yet! We have to take this problem in our own hands, Liz! We can't trust the government! It's useless!"

"Gil, if you so much take a single step out of this house - !"

"What are you going to do, lovely wife of mine?" Gilbert retorted sarcastically. "Beat me over the head with your frying pan?"

"That's not a bad idea!" the brunette snapped indignantly, pulling out the aforementioned frying pan.

The projector flickered with life and showed close up footage of Gilbert and Elizaveta as their names flashed across the white walls of the kitchen backdrop in place of the projector screen. A deep booming announcer's voice exclaimed, "Gilbert Beilschmidt versus Elizaveta Hedervary! Begin!"

As soon as the signal was given, Elizaveta launched herself at Gilbert, who narrowly dodged her frying pan. "Oi, Lizbet!" he whispered. That frying pan was not a prop. It was something Elizaveta had personally brought from her kitchen. It was not made out of wood or styrofoam and metallic paint like the other weapons. "Watch it!"

"It's revenge for having to play your wife!" the brunette hissed back through clenched teeth. She lashed out yet again with the frying pan, and Gilbert quickly grasped hold of her wrists, ducking his head for good measure, to prevent the attack with both of his hands. When he saw her heel coming to stab him in the gut, he braced himself for the impact, groaning with he felt the tip pierce his flesh, daring to lacerate his abdominal muscles.

"I'm so glad you only wear heels this one scene," he muttered through gritted teeth the moment he fell onto his back on the floor of the ring. He swept his leg underneath her, knocking Elizaveta onto her back while recovering from his own fall, and pinned her hands above her head. There were a few appreciative whistles from the audience, but their fun didn't last long when Elizaveta twisted his grip, using the momentum to turn him around, and stabbed the heel of her shoe into his back, utilising the flow of momentum to lift Gilbert above her with great - but barely noticeable to the eyes in the audience - difficulty. The whistles quickly morphed into moans of disappointment when their captive male audience saw that Elizaveta was wearing black leggings underneath her skirt. "Ow, ow, ow!" Gilbert whimpered as the heel dug into his flesh. "Verdammt, Liz!" he groaned aloud, not caring if it wasn't scripted because, goddamn, it hurt! He's definitely going to avoid dating any girl who wears heels in the near future!

"Three, two, one!" she counted down in a strained voice underneath her breath before throwing her childhood friend off her and shoving him away from her. Unfortunately, as scripted, Gilbert came hurling back at her once he rebounded off the red ropes. She squealed in surprise as Gilbert pinned her, once again, on the floor with her hands behind her back. "Gil!" she screeched just as soon as the announcer boomed, "Winner! Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

Scene Two

"We are meeting Gil in the forest or outside of the forest?" Francis inquired of the Spaniard as they marched into the scene. The Frenchman was wearing a flamboyant long blue coat with red trousers tucked into dark brown boots. He carried an elaborate silver rapier at his hip. His friend was wearing a less eccentric outfit - a tan uniform with a short-sleeved jacket, short brown boots, and a string bow - though he carried a more outrageous weapon, a halberd.

"He just said to meet him at the forest, amigo," Antonio responded before musing, somewhat stiffly, "Gil sure is taking a long time."

"Hey!" a loud, thundering voice bellowed. "What are you two doing here?!" Across from them stepped a spiky haired Dane wearing a long coat, brown trousers, and military styled boots. Like the Spaniard, he carried a giant battleaxe on his back. "Nobody but the military is allowed beyond this point!"

"Gah!" Francis cried, directing the exclamation more to the audience than to his friend, in a melodramatic manner, "It's the guardsmen! How on earth do we get past them?!" Really, it was only one person, but who gave a damn? It made everything more dramatic (which was what Gilbert wanted, right? Francis questioned himself) though it sacrificed any kind of sense the performance barely possessed.

Someone chucked a peanut at Francis' head from backstage. It clattered to the floor after weaving through several golden strands of the young Frenchman's hair. Francis ignored it.

Without paying much heed to his friend's over dramatic one-man act, Antonio stepped forward and chirped, "We're going to hunt down the creature that claimed my lover!" He could hear Francis grimacing behind him. What? He said the line right, didn't he?

An indignant "Chigi!" could be heard from the audience.

"Antoine!" Francis snapped dramatically in a slight wail. Nobody knew if he was indignant or grieving.

"What? It's true! Listen, señor, we'll be back out before you know it!"

"Yeah, when the military finds you two in pieces!" Mathias snapped before wielding his axe. "I didn't want to do this, but you left me with no other choice! Turn back or I'm forced to use - err - " Damn, what was his line again? Ugh, whatever made sense would work now. It wasn't like he was the first one to mess up the entire show anyway, and Mathias was pretty damn sure that he wouldn't be the only one. " - force!" Yeah, that worked. I'm forced to use force... God, Mathias grimaced, I'm so stupid.

Antonio seemed baffled by the improvisation but swiftly recovered, pulling out his own battle axe, and chimed, "Then I guess we have no choice but to fight!" with a silly grin on his face. Man, being in a play was fun!

On the projector screen, along with the close up of their faces, the words, "Mathias Kohler versus Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and Francis Bonnefoy," flashed brightly before dying after the announcer commenced the match.

A few coordinated attacks later with minor blunders here and there - especially when a wild swing nearly "decapitated" the cowering young Frenchman running for refuge behind a styrofoam rock - Antonio knocked the axe out of Mathias' hand and whipped the butt of his halberd against the Dane's skull, pretending to knock out the taller blond, before Francis pulled out of his hiding place and comically whacked Mathias with a stick repeatedly while Antonio was searching for their friend.

Scene Three

"Kiku, where are you going?" Yao inquired as the younger boy began to march off set, only decorated with an Oriental paper folding screen, past the older boy drinking his Oolong tea. The Chinese boy was wearing casual traditional clothing, a Mandarin coat and the works, while sitting on top of a cushion at a small table. "It's dangerous out there."

The Japanese boy, on the other hand, was dressed in an outfit similar to that of the Dane - a long coat, brown trousers, and military boots. "I have a duty to fulfill, Brother," he replied monotonously. He nearly marched out of the scene until Yao called for him to wait.

"Here," spoke the Chinese boy, "take this." He pulled a long sword from underneath the coffee table and tossed it to Kiku, who caught the katana easily.

"I'll see you at dinner."

"Okay. Have fun."

To be honest, neither of them wanted too many lines or choreography that they would forget.

Scene Four

Alfred dramatically marched onto stage, panting heavily as though he was trying to catch his breath. "Woo!" he swiped away the non-existent beads of sweat from his forehead. Standing upright, the blond struck a heroic pose and bellowed, "That was quite a climb up the mountains! Good thing I managed to befriend the bears and other miscellaneous forest animals!" An acorn flew past the curtain, hitting Alfred's head before rebounding and clattering to the floor. Its impact was much louder than the peanut that nearly got lost in Francis' hair; nevertheless, the blond was still grinning manically despite Gilbert's hiss to follow the damn script, Jones. The audience laughed.

The American was wearing a plain white t-shirt with his usual brown bomber jacket, khakis, and hiking boots.

"Who is making all that noise?" Ivan inquired as he stepped onto the stage, wearing the same uniform as Kiku and Mathias but with his usual long scarf. He smiled at Alfred with with the usual eerie grin and delivered his lines with the same demeanor he typically donned. "It is you, da? I know it is you. Do not lie to me."

"Dude! Who are you?!"

"I am guardsman, da? And you are civilian. You must be going now. It is not safe for you to be here."

"But I have to get my brother!"

"We will retrieve him for you, OK? We will let you know if we find his bones."

"Not funny, man! I seriously have to handle this myself!"

Ivan pulled out his iron pipe. "It is custom for naughty children to be punished. I hope you will not mind."

The Russian promptly began chasing Alfred around the ring in front of the forest backdrop as the announcer introduced the match. The moment the deep, booming voice called for the match to start, Alfred backed onto the three ropes, stretching it as far as possible, before catapulting himself towards Ivan. "Geronimo!" the American exclaimed as he hurled at the Russian. Ivan cleverly braced himself with the wooden replica of his iron pipe. Unfortunately, the prop snapped into half, much to the surprise of the audience, and Ivan chucked the prop away, relying on his use of improvisation. When Alfred raised an eyebrow in silent speculation, Ivan shrugged to show that it was nothing about which to worry and to continue as planned.

The two of them locked hands where Alfred was supposed to have tried to pry away the so-called iron pipe, pushing each other back and forth in a test of strength, before Ivan shoved Alfred away. The first year swung his left fist towards Ivan's face, and the Russian quickly blocked the attack. Alfred sent his right fist flying, but Ivan caught that as well. With a shrill battle-cry, Alfred slammed his forehead onto Ivan's, momentarily giving the older student an apologetic look as they both winced, and sent the Russian stumbling backwards.

"Let me pass, dude!"

"I cannot do that, comrade."

"Let me see my brother!" Alfred charged head first at the Russian, who was promptly pinned on the floor. The screen flashed Alfred's name as the winner, but the dialogue continued. "I have to see my brother! I've got to save him! I don't care who gets in my way, but I have to do this!" The shouts became more hectic, violent, different from his earlier exclamations. More urgent.

"Braginski-san, is something the matter?"

"Comrade," Ivan told Alfred gravely, "now my comrade has arrived."

Scene Five

"Man, that woman is such a nightmare!" Gilbert whined as he slumped on top of a styrofoam rock. He ignored the slight squeak it made underneath his ass and hoped that the audience wouldn't think of it as gas. There were a few snickers and chuckles and giggles, but whatever. It wasn't a big deal and could have been worse. "I'm trying to make this village safer for our entire family, and she won't let me go! How crazy is that?!"

"Well, mon ami," Francis responded as he crossed his arms at center stage, "you cannot have a family without a father. I can see where her concern lies - " upon seeing Gilbert's indignant glare and upon hearing Gilbert's indignant growl, he added hastily, " - but I also understand where you are coming from!" The young Frenchman laughed nervously.

Antonio stood up from where he was squatting as though he was studying something, but his face was the same cheery expression all throughout the scene - well, more like the entire play - thus far. "The tracks lead this way," he chirped merrily. "Come on! Vamonos, mis amigos!"

Gilbert awkwardly began his next line reluctantly and dubiously, "Toni, I know you're upset about the love of your life, but... Calm down...?" Mein Gott, the albino thought to himself in a slight panic, even after two weeks of practice Toni doesn't know how to act at all - or how to get angry! Gilbert glanced at Francis for help, but the young Frenchman himself was already trying to think of a way to provoke Antonio to match his behavior with his words.

"I am calm, Gil."

Well, no shit. Gilbert wanted to collar the Spaniard and slap him around silly right about now. That line was supposed to sound defensive and affronted, not actually calm.

"Oh, Antonio!" Francis exclaimed dramatically at that moment. Gilbert rolled his eyes. His friend sounded a little too dramatic. It was exaggerated and overdone but a hell lot better than what Antonio was doing! "You brave heart! Although the love of your life was devoured and ravished by that despicable lion, you stand here today to right the wrongs! How brave indeed!"

Antonio's eyebrow twitched in faint irritation.

Francis nudged Gilbert, who nudged him back with a grunt. He already got the message and was happy to play along. "Oh, yeah, the love of your life was completely eaten up by the lion! He feasted on that delicious neck! Did you see how marked up the body was?!"

Antonio roared something in Spanish, reaching for Gilbert's neck to wrangle the albino and strangle him half to death. At the same time, the screen projected the next match, "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo versus Gilbert Beilschmidt and Francis Bonnefoy," while the German took it upon himself to continue the now one-sided dialogue. Nobody was listening to him anymore, too transfixed by the murderous expression plastered on Antonio's face, but he didn't seem to notice until his friend collared his uniform shirt.

"Calm down, Toni! We'll get back at the stupid lion for you!" Gilbert exclaimed as he tried to pry Antonio's fingers off the fabric of his shirt. This was not part of the script. Once he was successful, the albino pushed Antonio away and stepped back a few paces.

An indignant shout was his response, and that was enough to let Gilbert know that this was not just staged anymore. Antonio was fucking serious now. Carefully side-stepping his friend's vengeful wrath, the albino swiftly ended the match by snatching the Spaniard's wrist and pinning him to the ground, sitting on top of him with his entire body weight to prevent him from moving. A drawn out match was not good in this state.

"You can't do anything in this state, Antoine!" Francis exclaimed while dragging the seething Spaniard from under Gilbert and pulling him backstage. "I'll take him back to the village, Gil! You handle things from here!"

Well, at least the story could continue as planned.

Scene Six

Both Alfred and Kiku were panting heavily, genuinely exhausted. The two of them were told to fill out the time Gilbert and Antonio had shortened, but neither of them were decent at improvising. As a result, their scripted battle had actually turned into an actual one-on-one fight after a few awkward minutes of building momentum. Now this match seemed to have lasted longer than expected - especially when they heard the audience cheer after that intense scene with Gilbert and Antonio. Kiku tightened his grip on his bamboo sword after it had slackened in a desperate attempt to relax his body, but the Japanese boy willed himself to go on for the show. Alfred gave him a curt nod, telling the smaller boy that this would be his last attack. They had to make it count now; there was just too much improvisation in this show!

With one last burst of energy, Alfred karate chopped the sword out of Kiku's hands without caring for the impracticality of such an action while screeching some sort of wail he had picked up from watching kung-fu movies. Then, pulling a bad cop, the American slammed Kiku against a painted tree, ignoring how it simply fell over and collapsed, opting instead to pin the Japanese student on the stage floor, and tried to recall his line. What was it again? Oh yeah!

"Just let me see my brother!"

"I understand!" Kiku cried out - mostly in pain. Alfred-san has a powerful grip, he mused grimly. As soon as Kiku spoke his line, Alfred released him. The Japanese boy rubbed his wrists and gave a nod to Alfred's sheepish expression, acknowledging his silent apology, and added, "Good luck."

As soon as Alfred ran offstage, Ivan, who was seated on the styrofoam rock they had forgotten to move from the last scene, gave a smile and chimed, "We are going to be following him, da?"

"Yes, that is correct. We have to make sure that all the civilians are safe. Allow me to call Kohler-san."

"Of course, comrade."

Scene Seven

"Who are you?!" Alfred and Gilbert chorused, each pointing an accusing finger at each other the moment they entered from opposite ends of the stage. Alfred frowned and asked, "You're not one of those military dudes trying to stop me, right?"

Gilbert snorted. "Please, am I wearing one of those lame uniforms? I'm guessing that means you're not one of those goons either," the albino remarked dryly. "What are you up here for?"

"I'm - uh - trying to save my brother."

"Cool. Hope he's not dead, but I'm not letting you get any further, kid."

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Like you could take on a lion - never mind the awesome lion!"

"Wanna bet?!"

So the final match between the competitors began. Alfred and Gilbert danced around the ring, throwing punches and jabs like a classic boxing match. The albino then tried to haul Alfred over his shoulder, and as scripted, Alfred fell over, smashing onto the floor. "You okay, Al?" Gilbert whispered.

Alfred moaned in pain before continuing with the scripted actions. He pulled Gilbert by the ankle and straddled him, punching him over and over again, and spat, "Can I take on a lion now?!"

"Yeah, go ahead, man! Get outta here!" Alfred ran off-stage, and Gilbert propped himself back up. He smirked and added, "But I'll be taking the spotlight, of course!" The albino cackled and chased after Alfred.

Scene Eight

"Artie! Artie! Arrrrrrrrrtieee!" Alfred cried, shouting at the top of his lungs, as he animatedly searched for his missing brother. The backdrop had changed entirely from a forest background to a cavernous backdrop. The lights had dimmed significantly, and the only illumination was from the faint blue lights on the lowest setting. The projector screen was set to the side, and Alfred took care not to bump into it. There was thunder rumbling, and the white lights flickered momentarily to achieve a sense of foreboding. "Hey, Arthur, you there?" the young blond inquired in an almost trembling voice. "This is kinda freaking me out..."

The blue lights shut down before turning on and focusing on a throne made of stone - styrofoam stone, of course. There, sitting on top of the throne, was a figure donning a dark velvet cloak with a hood lined with fur that was dusted with shades of dark and golden brown. He wore a military green uniform with a light green button shirt and deep green tie underneath the jacket, a Sam Browne belt over the jacket, and a pair of trousers tucked into a pair of dark leather military boots. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand, both of which were covered with black leather gloves, his elbow resting against the arm of the throne, and smirked diabolically. His face was hidden behind the shadow of his hood, but there was a flash of green light in the darkness. Dangerous green light.

"H-H-Hey... Have you... Have you seen m-my brother?"

Alfred was seriously nervous. This was just super freaky.

The cloaked figure didn't answer.

"Kid!" Gilbert exclaimed, marching onto the scene. "Get away! Don't you know what you're dealing with?! That's the lion, the Rampant Lion!"

"You! What are you doing here?!" Alfred exclaimed, backing away from the cloaked figure on the throne.

"Saving your sorry as - " no, he couldn't say "ass" while onstage, Gilbert reminded himself " - as heck - butt!" Yeah, gotta keep this family-friendly as possible. Gilbert stepped in front of Alfred and pushed him aside. "Stay back, kid! This is dangerous!"

The Lion descended down his throne, approaching the two boy with heavy footsteps echoing throughout the entire auditorium. His smirk lingered on his lips, and both Gilbert and Alfred had unknowingly and unwittingly taken a step back. Regaining his composure, Gilbert swung his fist towards the Lion, but it was easily blocked and just as easily countered. The Lion brought up his knee, jamming it into Gilbert's gut, and the albino choked. Damn, that hurt. He had a new respect for stunt actors and coordinators.

"Take this!" a female voice cried, leaping over the ropes and charging at the Lion. She swung her frying pan at him, but the Lion easily dodged it by backing away. He snatched her wrist, disarmed her, and tossed her towards Gilbert. The albino easily caught the newcomer, who yanked off her cloak. Elizaveta was now donning a uniform like most of the male cast, only hers was teal in color to match - somewhat - with Gilbert's. She wore a military jacket with a matching hat and pair of breeches tucked into brown boots that extended past her knees up to her thighs as well as dark gloves. Her hair was now pulled into a high ponytail. She glowered at the Lion, furling her fingers into angry little fists.

"Liz, what are you doing here?!"

"Like I could let you handle this by yourself!"

"Is everyone okay?!"

Three more cloaked figures appeared. The shortest one donned a crimson cloak with an Oriental design, the middle one donned a cloak with snowflakes, and the tallest one donned a cloak with Nordic symbols. They each unveiled themselves by pulling down their hoods, not wanting to show the audience their matching outfits altogether. Kiku glanced at the Lion while Ivan and Mathias readied themselves for battle. Ivan and Mathias each took a swing with their respective weapons, but the Lion successfully evaded the attacks. Kiku leapt through the opening his comrades formed, but the Lion was able to block the strike to his head with both his hands and clasped the thin blade that was made out of wood and metallic paint like the other props. The three officers retreated.

"What now?" Mathias inquired.

"All together now!" Gilbert crowed.

Everyone but Alfred leapt into the attack, swinging wildly, punching aimlessly, and kicking relentlessly at the Lion. Nevertheless, the cloaked figure kept dodging and evading their attacks expertly. A sudden roar kept them all off guard, however, and in charged Antonio like a raging bull. "Bastardo satánica!" he screeched, swinging a powerful punch at the Lion. He barely managed to block the attack in time. "How dare you deflower Lovi! You defiled my my precious Lovi! Usted monstruo! Demonio! Abominación!"

In the audience, a certain Italian shrank in his seat until he crouched on the floor, embarrassed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He was the only "Lovi" in the entire damn school! Stupid tomato bastard!

In a desperate endeavor to regain control of the situation, the Lion gave a single mighty kick to Antonio's gut, sending him flying out of the ring. Francis appeared, bowed sheepishly with an awkward grin, and dragged his wailing Spanish friend off the stage. There was a momentary silence as someone attempted to devise another improvisation to get the show back on track. When Gilbert punched the Lion in the shoulder and the Lion returned the impact with equal force, a brawl between the two of them commenced that quickly transformed into a free-for-all. Everyone quickly leapt onto the Lion, but Alfred was swift to wail, "Back off, dudes!" He picked off the assailants one by one, throwing them aside, and snapped, "Lay off my brother! It's not cool, man!" Grasping the Lion by the shoulders, he began to shake him back and forth wildly. "Artie! Snap out of it, man! I know that you're still in there somewhere! That demon didn't possess you entirely, right?! Come on! Answer me!"

The hood fell off, revealing a mess of blond hair spiked to resemble a lion's mane. Arthur stared at Alfred with blank green eyes, transparent as glass.

"Fine, I guess we have to do this the hard way!"

Alfred pulled back his fist to strike the smaller blond, but Arthur instinctively caught the attack and grinned deviously.

"Your brother is no longer with us," Arthur responded dully.

"You lie!"

"Then prove me wrong."

Alfred lashed out again and again, but again and again he was unable to land a hit on Arthur. Everyone parted to give the brothers space to fight, though it was a much one sided battle, before finally Alfred managed to slam Arthur against the floor in the blind of an eye in a burst of desperation, mustering all of his energy and courage to throw his mentor to the floor. Arthur grunted in pain, hissing, especially when Alfred - as scripted - grasped hold of his hair.

"Tell me you recognize these people!" Alfred cried, raising Arthur's head to face the audience. "Who do you see?!"

Green eyes scoped the audience. Lovino peeked over the edge of the seat in front of him. His heart skipped a beat as their eyes connected amongst the hundreds that were present. Arthur gave a subtle half-smile. "What a cliché ending," he stated shortly, "Alfred."

The curtains closed. The floor lights illuminated the audience, and everyone cheered. When it was time for curtain call, everyone filed out one by one in their military uniforms and cloaks. The applause was the loudest for Arthur, Gilbert, and, of course, Alfred in his superhero cape.

---

A mousy girl knocked shyly on the door to the special advanced classroom. Elizaveta, still dressed in the teal military uniform, smiled at her and asked what she needed. "Uhm," the girl began stammering before regaining some confidence, squeaking out, "A-A-Arthur K-Kirkland has a guest r-r-requesting to s-see him behind the g-gymnasium!"

---

"Ve, Fratello, come on! You're so slow! We have to congratulate them on a job well done!" Feliciano sang as he pulled along his older brother while trying to meet with his best friend walking in front of them. Ludwig had purposely slowed his pace to allow the Vargas twins to catch up with him. The others had already made it backstage and were happily celebrating. Even though Feliciano didn't like Arthur all that much, he could overlook his contempt for the others he did like. Of course, he planned to keep a close eye on his twin while Arthur was still around!

Shuffling into the advanced classroom, Lovino peered about for any signs of a blond soldier. Other than an obnoxious Frenchman, he had no luck. The aforementioned Frenchman bounced up to greet the adorable Italian twins before being shoved away by Lovino himself. Ludwig and Feliciano quickly rendezvoused with Kiku, Alfred, and Matthew, graciously accepting a can of soda from Elizaveta before she returned to Gilbert and Roderich. Vladimir quickly joined into the conversation, and Gilbert slipped away to bully Lovino around a little. Unfortunately, Antonio and Francis had already beat him.

"Hey, Lovi! Did you watch the show?" Antonio asked cheerily as though he hadn't blown up on stage in front of a good hundred people.

"Chigi!" Lovino shrieked, recalling that particularly embarrassing scene. "What the hell do you think you're saying in front of an audience, you fucking tomato bastard?!"

"So it's not true! I true my Lovi was pure at - "

"Shut up, dumb as fuck tomato bastard!"

Gilbert snickered. "We had to do something to get him to act better somehow, Vargas," the albino teased, ruffling the Spaniard's hair playfully. Antonio laughed and batted Gilbert's hand away. "Want a soda? We have orange or lime or... you know, whatever. School doesn't allow alcoholic drinks on campus."

Lovino snorted. "Like I want to be around you bastards when you're drunk," the younger student seethed vehemently.

"Arthur's worse than I ever am drunk though..." Gilbert commented. Antonio laughed at this. "I think."

"Hah!" Francis scoffed. "Nobody is as bad as that Rosbif!"

Biting his tongue to keep from exploding about how it was unfair that they knew Arthur longer - maybe even better - than him, Lovino hissed, "Where is he anyway, the lion bastard?"

Francis and Gilbert exchanged mischievous glances. "A little darling came into this room, actually, looking for him," Francis whispered lowly so that only Lovino could hear. The Italian could feel his heart drop to his stomach. "It might be a love confession, you know! The rough type is quite popular!"

Lovino gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, trying not to ram them into the side of Francis' face.

"Behind the gymnasium, Vargas," Gilbert mentioned.

Lovino gave Gilbert a weary glance before dashing out of the classroom. Antonio sighed.

"Ve, where's Fratello?"