Translation notes:
Bon matin= Good morning
Privet= Hello
Dasvidaniya= Goodbye

Context notes:
Drum majors are seen as the leaders and representatives of marching bands. In high school bands, they carry out the band director's instructions, teach marching, and help run rehearsals. They also conduct during halftime shows, have their own showmanship during performances, and lead the band during parades.
Brass and woodwind captains oversee their respective instrument sections and their progress.

Chapter 1: Like a Dream, or Something Like That

A ringing alarm caused Alfred to jolt awake. Eyes snapping open, he was met with a white ceiling, a plain yet familiar sight that provided him a sense of warm security. He unplugged his phone from its charging cable and turned off the alarm, an alarm he loved to hate. Light sneaking past the closed blinds created bright rectangular shapes on the dim walls. Shifting his sluggish body underneath the warm, comfortable covers, Alfred's heavy blue eyes met a pair of indigo eyes. Standing at his room's doorway was Papa.

"Bon matin, Alfred! Rise and shine!" Francis greeted as he opened the window blinds. As light engulfed the dark room, Alfred groaned as he buried his face into his pillow.

Alfred grumbled, "Why can't I boycott mornings until they go away?"

Francis gave Alfred a few pats on his shoulder. "It's Friday! A grand weekend is waiting for you! I'm sure you can endure a few more classes! Go and help Mattieu wake up your Dad."

As Francis exited the room, Alfred groggily tossed the heavy sheets over his bed. He yawned as he sat on his bed's edge for a few moments before taking his glasses. Putting them on, Alfred finally gathered enough energy to stand up. He fluffed the pillow and placed it at the center of the headboard. The blanket, patterned with images of Superman and his logo, was folded and laid evenly. Alfred did not see the point in making beds, as he would always mess up his perfect work whenever he went to bed, a daily occurrence. The only force that insisted Alfred to continue follow this redundant, daily ritual was Dad. To Dad, tidiness was a major characteristic of a proper gentleman.

As Alfred strolled down the hallway, the smell of bacon and eggs emitted from the kitchen. Papa's hums were heard above the sizzling eggs. Entering the master bedroom, Alfred found Matthew standing in front of the bed. He was dressed in his favorite red hoodie and his hair was combed neatly, a contrast to Alfred's winkled Captain America T-shirt and bedhead. Despite the window blinds being completely pulled up, Arthur's thin figure was still buried underneath the thick covers, barely moving with every soft breath.

"Good morning, Mattie!" Alfred greeted. "The old man's still not up?"

"Yep, still not up." Matthew nudged Dad's shoulder. "Hey, please get up!" He begged with a whisper.

Arthur only mumbled, "Five more minutes, love…" before turning his back towards his sons.

"Leave it to the hero to wake him up!" Alfred whispered loudly as he opened a Spotify app on his phone. After setting his phone at the loudest volume and looking up the desired song, Alfred set the phone next to Arthur's ear and hit the play button. A rock cover of the Star-Spangled Banner blasted out of speakers.

"BLOODY HELL!" Arthur exclaimed as tumbled out of the bed. The blanket followed after him, wrapping around him. He resembled the pastry rolls Francis sold at his coffee shop. Rubbing his temper, Arthur's large, green eyes narrowed into a piercing glare as he scowled at the snickering Alfred. Matthew covered his mouth with both hands, his cornflower eyes large with shock, hoping that Arthur did not injure himself.

"ALFRED!" Arthur yelled as he crawled out of the blanket mound, his face as red as a tomato.

"Good morning, Dad!" Alfred only greeted with a mischievous grin.

After a five-minute lecture on how one should properly wake up one's father, Alfred and Arthur were in bathroom brushing their teeth. While Alfred was casually dressed in blue jeans and a plain grey T-shirt, Arthur was wearing a green sweater vest over a white dress shirt and tan trousers, his trademark attire within the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family.

"You work at a bookstore, not in an office, Dad." Alfred said through sticky foams of mint toothpaste. "Why so formal all the time?"

Arthur gurgled before spitting the water out, making sure every drop swirled down the drain. "This attire makes me feel gentlemanly."

"Only nerds dress like that in school." Alfred remarked, earning a stern glower from Arthur. "Popular kids don't."

"If that is the case, I much prefer to be a nerd." Arthur's scowl softened at the sight of Alfred's eyeroll. "Those who are quick to judge on appearance are not worth my time. How has school been for you recently?"

Using a fuzzy washcloth, Alfred splashed warm water onto his face. "Eh, all right." He shrugged as he dried his face. "My classes are all right. Kinda scared about calculus. Hope physics isn't gonna be too hard. I'm not scared of English, but since one of my dads is a writer, my writing sucks either way. Speaking of writing, how's your next book turning out? What it's about again?"

Arthur wiped his face with a warm, damp towel. "I'm nearly finished with the first draught. The tale is about a young man with an absurd amount of strength."

"Like Superman? Only without the heat rays and flying and all that cool stuff?"

"Precisely. In addition, he is not entirely would most people would call a hero."

"Whaaat? People with superpowers always save others!"

"Not always in the real world." Arthur hung his washcloth. "How has band been?"

"It's been cool. Still can't stand Ivan, but heroes always endure challenges! I'm also thinking of running for drum major. I don't know if there's a chance for me." Running a comb through his dirty-blond locks, Alfred frowned at the stubborn cowlick that refused to confirm to the rest of his hair. The cowlick had been there as long as he could remember from his childhood. "Feliciano's also running and he's great at conducting. And don't let me bring up Sid. He's a pro at music!"

"What are your reasons for wanting this position?" Arthur asked, checking his reflection's hair.

"Drum majors help the band the most! Only the coolest band kids run become drum major!"

"I doubt you want to become drum major just so you can assist the band." Arthur remarked. "Consider your intentions carefully, Alfred."

Alfred sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes again. Getting encouragements from Dad was like mining for gold. "Should I wear red or blue today?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. Mattie's already wearing his red hoodie, and I've been wearing that blue jacket for a while. It's kinda getting boring."

"I think I got something for you. Wait for a moment." Arthur left the bathroom

Arthur returned with a bomber jacket. Grey dust fluttered into the air as he gave it several gentle pats. The jacket must have been buried deep in his and Francis's closet for some time. Its brown leathery surface reflected the bathroom lights in sharp, white crinkles.

"Try this on." Arthur said, giving the jacket to Alfred. "It was an old Christmas gift I received a while back. It never fit me, so I never wore it."

"It looks so old!" Alfred's tone made sure to articulate the words "old". "No one in school wears jackets like this!"

"Just try it on! I'm sure it'll fit you at least!"

Silky fabric brushed against Alfred's arms as he slipped on the jacket. The black cuffs rested precisely on his wrists. The jacket's collar nestled comfortably on his neck. An unfamiliar leathery smell drifted up his nose. Warmth began to insulate Alfred's body, enough for him to tolerate even the coldest air-conditioned classrooms.

"Um, it looks all right." Alfred set both of his hands in the jacket's large pockets. His reflection followed his movement, its poses revealing sides of the jacket. "What do you think?"

Arthur gave a small, rare smile. "You remind me of when I was your age."

"Back then when you were a punk?" Alfred rose his brows and flattened his lips. "You always talk about being gentlemanly and all that stuff! Why are you saying this?"

"Oh, hush. You don't participate in any delinquency. Not to my knowledge, that is." Arthur softly chuckled at his own joke.

"I kinda like it, but what would other people think?"

"Why don't you show your Papa and brother?" Arthur gestured out the bathroom, towards the hallway.

When Alfred walked into the dining room, he did not expect Francis to say, "The jacket suits you, Alfred!" and Matthew giving a thumbs up in agreement.

Outside their small house, Alfred and Matthew waved goodbye to their fathers before they each went their separate ways. Arthur was going to his bookstore, France was going to his café, and Alfred and Matthew were headed to school.

This day was like any other Friday in fall quarter. Alfred and Matthew's first class started at 8:15 am. Lunchtime was from 12:00 to 12:30 pm. Although his last class would end at 3:00 pm, Alfred had to meet in the band room with his fellow band nerds around 6:00 pm. 7:00 pm was the beginning of the game. Matthew, Arthur ("Why is that ball not round?"), and Francis would be among the many families attending, not because they wanted to watch bulky boys garbed in jerseys tackle each other over an almond-shaped ball, however. They preferred to play the game "Find Alfred in the formation". Spotting Alfred became much easier after the band director asked him to switch from trumpet to sousaphone. Unless it went overtime, 9:00 pm was usually when the game ended. Alfred would be finished with changing out of his sweat-soaked uniform after 9:30 pm. Since it would be about five hours since he last ate, Alfred would beg Arthur for McDonalds. Assuming Arthur submitted to Alfred's pleas, after picking up a Big Mac meal (and 10 piece chicken nuggets if Matthew decided to join in) from the drive thru, the entire family would arrive home at 10:00 pm, leaving the boys free to begin their weekend.

"You sure this jacket fits me?" Alfred asked his twin brother.

"I can't tell. You're the one wearing it." Matthew laughed at Alfred's annoyed expression. "I'm joking, I'm joking! It looks fine to me! I don't know anyone else with a jacket like that, so you'll probably stand out!"

"Stand out in a cool way or a bad way?"

"Cool way?" Matthew replied with an unsure tone. "Other people's taste don't always match with mines, so…"

"At least you know it. Dad is happy to not know. Don't you feel that way sometimes?"

"I can kinda see how. He can be pretty harsh."

"Yeah! Did you know what he told me when I said I was gonna run for drum major?"

Matthew shook his head no.

Alfred began. "He said something about thinking about my true intentions and all that stuff. I already know why I want to run!"

"Well, I think you'll be a good drum major!" Matthew replied. "You have the energy for it!"

"My biggest problem is the competition." Alfred explained. "Feliciano's also considering to run. Sid's dead set on that position. Both of them have waaay more music talent than me."

"Sid's definitely a music prodigy. Even though we've known Fel since we were five, I don't know much about his music background."

"He's good at conducting. Let's leave it at that." Alfred and Matthew halted in front of an Italian restaurant. "Speak of the devil…"

Despite the red closed sign on the entrance, the warm orange lights were on, revealing the restaurant's occupants. Julius, the restaurant's owner, took the chairs off the red tartan-covered tables and set them on the ground. His youngest grandson Feliciano dug out the grime from the room's corners with a broomstick, making sure every last bit did not remain on the smooth hardwood floor. Once when he dumped the dust pan's contents into a barrel-like garbage can, Feliciano grabbed his blue backpack rested on a chair. With his trademark white smile, a smile that had the power to make women of every age gush over him, Feliciano gave Julius a bearhug, earning Julius's remark on how sweet and innocent Feliciano was for his age. The grandfather and grandson then exchanged kisses on the cheek.

The door's bell jingled as Feliciano exited the restaurant. "Ve~! Hey, guys!" he greeted Alfred and Matthew.

"Feli, my dude! Whaddup!" Alfred gave Feliciano a brofist before the three childhood friends continued their way to school.

"Oh, Alfred! Is that a new jacket?" Feliciano ran his hand over the brown, leathery surface. "It looks so neat!"

"New? Naw, it was Dad's!" Alfred answered.

"I guess Dad's taste isn't that outdated!" Matthew remarked, earning a chortle from his older twin brother.

The three approached the main street and stopped at a red light. Cars of every color, make, and model whizzed by, each having little to no patience to slow and stop for the cockiest jaywalkers. A few bikers drifted by, their helmets providing protection against swerving drivers. Across the street was a three-story brick building. The building was commonly known as World Academy by most people, though some students would call it "hell". Alfred in particular called it "Boringville". The school's open front doors invited the students in. At the school's car-packed roundabout, students hurriedly left the stalling vehicles. A few squeezed their bikes into the jammed bike parking structures.

"Any plans for the weekend?" Alfred asked.

"Lovino's coming home for the first time in two years! He's staying until after church on Sunday." Feliciano answered. "How about you two?"

"Don't know." Alfred replied. "Continue decorating my island on Animal Crossing?"

"That sounds like fun!" Feliciano said. "But, I don't have a Switch!"

"You should get one!" Matthew encouraged. "If you do, we can exchange our friend codes with you!"

"I'll think about it. I don't play too many video games. I prefer cooking! And I don't mean using store-brought pasta! I mean making your own pasta from scratch!"

"Someone's gonna eat better than us during college!" Alfred joked, earning a chuckle from Matthew and a giggle from Feliciano.

A red hand signal was replaced by a white walking symbol as the light turned green. "I hope to have time to cook in college!" Feliciano said.

"As long as there's a burger joint in town, I don't have to worry about—" Alfred started as he stepped onto the rows of white rectangles.

"AL! LOOK OUT!" Matthew screamed. A swift jerk on Alfred's collar pulled him away from a flash of red. A car horn blared as the sportscar turned a right corner, not heeding to the students. Startled by the horn, Feliciano fell onto the ground with a wail. Matthew's arms tightly wrapped around his twin for his dear life.

"Geez, some people really don't care…" Alfred sighed as Matthew released him from his tight grasp. "Thanks, bro."

"Next time, we gotta be careful." Matthew warned as he and the others looked left and right before crossing. "The main street's notorious for having reckless drivers."

The three boys entered the school building. Friend groups gathered around lockers. A few cliques stood in the middle of the hallway, forcing their annoyed peers to squeezed around them. Some students entered classrooms and sat in their seats, waiting for the school bell. Lockers clicked open and slammed shut.

"Oh, there he is! He's so cute!" Within the sea of voices, Alfred managed to trace the giggling female voice to the head cheerleader. The cheerleaders, faces meticulously contoured and hair tied with sparkly hair ribbons, hid their smiles with their hands as Feliciano walked by them. Not a stranger to their compliments, Feliciano blew a kiss to them and chirped, "Bella, Bella, ciao~!", earning a hysterical shriek from them. Blushing furiously, they oohed about how charming he always was, how his amber eyes sparkled like diamonds, how his curl was simply just adorable, how he was like a dreamy prince from a fairytale, and how Feliciano Vargas was the purest and most angelic of all the guys in the school.

"Damn, someone's pretty popular with the girls!" Alfred remarked.

A ringing bell chimed down the hallway. The groups began to dissipate and merge as students began to walk to their first class. Feliciano bid Alfred and Matthew farewell before entering his studio art class. The twins headed to the second story before going to their separate classrooms, both across from each other.

"Well, I'll see you at lunch, Matt!" Alfred spoke to his brother before entering his calculus class.

Today still seemed like an ordinary day.

If it were not for his school's band, Alfred would have needed Matthew to drag him into school on a dog leash. Having a social circle he could call his nonblood relatives made every C minus in calculus, stacks of history vocabulary flashcards, and thirty-paged chapters a bit more bearable. After picking up his usual lunch—cheeseburger, large fries, and apple juice (No soda! That sucks!), Alfred went with Feliciano and Matthew to the front of the band room, a room interconnected with the drama building. Underneath the shade provided by the leaves slowly transitioning to red, orange, and yellow was a herd of Kidemus Bandavus, members related to Kidemus family known for their music rituals, whether they took place on football fields or in a concert hall.

"You always get the same thing, Alfred!" Felicano teased as he and the twin brothers took their usual spot in front of the band room's entrance.

Alfred took a large bite from his hamburger before shoving some fries into his mouth. "Well, you always get pizza!" he mumbled between bites.

"Pizza's always good!" Feliciano replied before taking a small nibble.

A massive shadow suddenly towered over the trio. "Privet, my friends!"

The pizza's crust cracked softly under Feliciano's fingers as he froze in the middle of his bite and gawked at the looming figure. Matthew's eyes suddenly took interest in the stitching job Papa did on his hoodie's right sleeve two years ago. A cocky smirk spread across Alfred's face as he looked up at the white scarf flowing in the short breeze.

"Oh, Ivan!" Alfred said with a forced laugh as he scooted in front of Matthew and Feliciano, shielding them from Ivan's gaze. "It's you! What's up?"

"Nothing much. As section leader, I just want to see how someone from my section is doing." Ivan said with a tone sweet enough to make even the most avid candy lovers puke.

Alfred chuckled as he met Ivan's violet eyes. "Yes, the only other dude in your section! I'm doing great! Being the other dude, I hope my music skills are up to your expectations!"

Ivan's closed smile stretched slightly. "It is! For someone who started playing sousaphone two years ago, you're doing a grand job, comrade! We already have enough screeching trumpets!"

Alfred's grin grew larger, stretching to expose his bottom teeth. The corners of his mouth began to twitch. "Thank you so much! I'm glad to hear that our brass captain thinks my playing is good. With your skills, I'm surprised that you're not running for drum major? Why? Too busy? Too humble to show off your music skills?"

Did Ivan's smile falter a bit? "That is all personal business." Among the sea of heads, Ivan spotted Toris's in the distance. "Ah, I must go. I must greet my fellow woodwind captain. Dasvidaniya, Alfred!"

"See ya!" Alfred's smile finally fell as Ivan approached Toris. Toris's face grew pale as the huge Russian plopped next to him. Raivis and Eduard, who were just speaking with Toris, began to tremble wildly and whimper amongst themselves.

Matthew exhaled the breath he did not realize he was holding. "Oh, gosh…"

"Geez!" Alfred sighed loudly as he glowered as Ivan. "Who does he think he is?"

Feliciano finally swallowed the chunk of pizza sitting in his salivating mouth. "How did he become brass captain again?"

Grumbling an "I dunno." as he took another bite, Alfred's eyes drifted from Ivan to the band room's entrance. His hamburger slipped out of his fingers as his hand grew cold and numb at a raven-haired Japanese boy exiting the room. A signed permission slip was in his hand.

"Hey, I think you guys are getting someone new!" Matthew whispered.

"Oh? I think he's new here!" Feliciano whispered back.

Burger and fries forgotten, Alfred could only watch the boy, whose dark brown eyes gazed back. The boy did not break his gaze as he walked back into the main school building.

"Alfred, he was staring at you!" Feliciano spoke up.

"Maybe it was because Alfred was staring at him! What was that about?" Matthew asked.

"I think I saw that guy somewhere. Like a dream, or something like that." Alfred said blankly. The juicy hamburger and fries were suddenly too shiny with grease and oil for his liking.

"A dream? Like if you two are fated lovers?" Feliciano began to giggle.

"No way!" Alfred shouted with a red face, causing multiple heads to turn at the boisterous voice.

8th period began with Alfred's entrance into the air-conditioned band room. Feliciano trailed after him, waving hello at the flute players. Smile large and white, Alfred set his sousaphone next to Ivan, leaving temporarily to fetch a black music stand. He accidentally bumped into the music-pretentious Sid, who asked, "Are you actually interested in becoming drum major? What do you have to offer?" Alfred narrowly escaped the awkward conversation when Ivan suddenly called him to see if his sousaphone's bell was facing the right way. For once, Alfred immediately and willingly loosened the screws and turned the silvery, circular bell slightly to the left, regardless of Ivan's request being unnervingly and suspiciously timely.

The raven-haired boy entered shortly after Toris. He took an alto saxophone case and carried it to where Feliciano was putting his alto sax together. Feliciano nearly accidentally swallowed the wooden reed in his mouth at boy, before bombarding him with, "Oh, you play alto sax too?! What's your name? Where did you transfer from? How long have you been playing alto? Can you play other instruments? Do you like this school? Do you like cooking? Do you like pasta?"

As Feliciano blabbered his never-ending questions, a chill shot down Alfred's back as his eyes met the newcomer's glare.

By the time the bell rang, everyone was seated, instruments ready and music notes packed on stands.

Mr. Edelstein went to the front of the classroom. "Happy Friday, everyone." He greeted coolly. "I hope all of you are doing well. As if you can see, we have a newcomer here. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

The director gestured at Kiku. Curious pairs of eyes watched him stand calmly from his seat. "My name is Kiku Honda." He introduced. "I moved here from New York. I can play the alto saxophone, clarinet, and piano. It is nice to meet you."

A few students softly clapped as Kiku sat down again.

"Thank you, Kiku." Mr. Edelstein said. "Now, let's start at measure 16 with flutes and clarinets…"

As the flutes gracefully whistled with the clarinets, Alfred kept his eyes on Kiku. Why was Kiku Honda in his dream? From a post in his Facebook feed, faces in dreams came from those already seen in reality. If that post was true, how could it be possible? Alfred never had a trip to New York with his family. Was it possible that Kiku has been to California before he gathered all of his belongings and moved? Did they happen to see each other's faces as children, a memory buried deep in unconsciousness?

"Altos at measure 24 to 28. We'll take it slower first." Mr. Edelstein said to the alto saxophonists.

Even at a slower tempo, the rows of 8th and 16th notes were too complex for the students' fingers. Nearly entire part dragged behind the rhythm directed by Mr. Edelstein waving, thin baton. Given the students' schoolwork for other classes and personal lives, how can Mr. Edelstein expect them to perfect that part in a mere week? Strangely, there was a saxophone who rushed ahead of its dragging peers, desperate to correct and cover the difficult part. Kiku's fingers danced on the golden valves, hitting every note at the right beats, as if he secretly practiced the part on his own hours before this class period. Yet, while his skills earned the awe stares from his surrounding musicians and Mr. Edelstein, it did little to conceal the mistake made by too many.

Silenced followed after the saxophones tripped and tumbled on the final note. Outside, the door leading inside the drama room slammed shut, followed by soft footsteps and a leaf fluttering onto the ground. Kiku's deadpan expression remained, ignoring the wide eyes and whispers among his classmates.

"He's so good!"

"So pro!"

"How did he get all of that?"

Mr. Edelstein broke the murmurs. "Try it again, altos."

Alfred obviously knew who Kiku Honda is. Kiku Honda is the alto saxophonist who came from New York. However, curiosity thirsted for more. The greatest heroes saw others as individuals, not just nameless would-be victims he need to save. Judging by Kiku's expressionless face and stoic silence, Alfred expected nothing more than a, "No." and "Yes.". Heck, the smaller boy might even turn away from the bolder, louder boy.

Which was why, at the end of class, Alfred's jaw nearly dropped when it was Kiku who approached him at his cubby, requesting him to privately meet him in one of the practice rooms.

"im gonna be late. wait for me outside the entrance mattie" Alfred texted. After hitting the send button, Alfred pulled the practice room's door open, revealing its only occupant Kiku. Sunlight shone from the small rectangular window, revealing the baseball field. Alfred's stomach turned at Kiku's blank expression. While the light illuminated Kiku's face, his eyes remained dark. Not a single spark of light was reflected in the sea of brown. Something must be weighing him down.

"Hey." Alfred greeted. "You called me?"

"Yes." Kiku responded. "Your name is Alfred, am I correct?"

"Huh?" How did Kiku know Alfred's name? With a nervous grin, Alfred answered, "Uh, yes! I didn't know I was that popular! What's up?"

"Alfred." Kiku started. "Do you love your life? Do you love your family and friends?"

"Well," Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "life's not exactly perfect. But I would do anything for my family and friends!"

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"If that is so, whatever you do don't make drastic changes to yourself." Kiku bluntly stated. "If you do, you will lose everything you love." With that warning, Kiku exited the practice room, his eyes set on a puzzled Alfred as the door shut on its own.

Neither of the boys noticed red eyes spying through the window.

Author's Notes: Everything looks fine and normal so far...

Something that a review asked is whether this story is also going to include the Madoka Magica movies and/or Magia Record. This story is only going to be centered on the anime. To make it far for readers who haven't seen or finished it, I'm going to post a spoiler warning at the end of chapters before the ones with the spoiler and at the beginning of said chapter. I don't think the next two chapters have anything noteworthy, so don't worry about spoilers for now!

I originally thought of having Italy be Madoka, but later decided on America due to my love of FACE family stories. I also made America a band kid due to marching bands being one of my other obsessions. I had a great time performing in my college's marching band, so I couldn't help but bring it into this story. America knowing how to play trumpet and sousaphone is centered on the stereotype that trumpets are loud and egotistical, and me being a sousaphone player myself.

I'm already finished with the next chapter, so it's probably gonna be uploaded next Friday like this one! Hope to you guys soon!