Yo! Hikou no Kokoro here again! I'm finally bringing around the promised second chapter update for the week. Now my debt is paid, I'm going to go on the normal schedule again. Once a week, around Saturday.

Special thanks to K-Ojousama and Argentum Tantibus for subscribing, special thanks to Argentum Tantibus for favouriting, and special thanks to somewhereinthebluesky, a guest reviewer who reviewed all the chapters so far. Thank you so much! I'm glad that you're enjoying Arthur's and Francis' interactions. There will be some cynical and legitimately offensive statements exchanged, but eventually, you'll understand as the story progresses and the characters develop.

Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia. It rightfully belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the AU plot and setting. Additionally, I am not an expert on blindness and teaching; all information is from speculations and observations. Please do not use as reference.

Enjoy!

Nihilism

"A cynical young person is almost the saddest sight to see, because it means that he or she has gone from knowing nothing to believing nothing."
—Maya Angelou

Band was afterschool in Hetalia Academy. It was sort of pushed off to the side, taking a room under the basement where the acoustics weren't always the best. Arthur tried to get it to sound much like a stage, taking some of the limited fine arts funds in order to get boards that would filter the sound just right, but sometimes a little still would only get a little way. Ironically, Arthur was satisfied with the set up. It was cosy, and was isolated enough so nobody would bother rehearsals. The only problem with that was it was too isolated. People never knew how to get down to the band room unless they had been there before, or was following Arthur. And most of all, people sometimes never knew that the band existed. That didn't really help with the growth, but Arthur had been trying to combat that. He started a recruiting period starting from the first day of school. It was during these two weeks he and the previous band members would go around the school recruiting prospective band members, showing where the band was, making small demos, offering deals, and employing other persuasive methods. Of course, that cut off the weeks from practice time before the Christmas concert, the first concert of the year, but if it got new members to join, then it was a month well-spent.

Truthfully, Arthur couldn't wait for band rehearsals to start. He loved conducting the band, and listening to amateurs improve. This was what he lived for. He had wanted to be a music teacher just so he could conduct the school band.

But this year, he was a tad hesitant, almost unsure. He didn't know what was going to happen, especially with the new presence that sat behind him. Not watching, but listening, and completely aware, even if he didn't seem like it.

Francis had ear buds in his ears and an mp3 player in his hand. He listened to the songs Arthur had picked for the Christmas concert, while Arthur himself was guiding the overall band and introducing the pieces. Francis knew none of the songs by name, and as he listened to them, he could hear some snippets of classical Christmas choir tunes sprinkled in. The selection consisted of three songs, but Francis stopped the track list on the second then put the mp3 player away.

When Arthur sent the instrumentalists into sectionals to either get to know each other or to work on individual parts on their own, Francis spoke from his seat.

"Don't you think the song selection is a bit… off?"

"Off?" Arthur repeated, bewildered. He turned and took a seat in front of Francis. "What's 'off' about it?"

"Nobody recognises any of the pieces. Shouldn't we have something more familiar?"

Arthur sputtered. "Familiar? What, you think we should play something as infantile as 'Jingle Bells' or something? I'll have you know that the band has more talent than that!"

"No, no, mon ami, I didn't mean that. There are other pieces you can choose that are around the same skill level as the band. There are things like Polar Express. Silvestri wrote plenty of orchestral songs that people could recognise."

Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You only say that because it was in a film. Everybody thinks that original soundtrack is 'comparable to the classical era,' but it's nothing except modern rendering of simplistic melodies smashed together."

"But they got awards."

"Which doesn't mean much when it's compared with other botched soundtracks."

"They aren't botched. They're just as good as all the songs you chose."

"Are you comparing them to the great works of the Romantic era?" Arthur snatched the mp3 player from Francis. "These are on a completely different level from film soundtracks. They can't even compare!"

"I disagree. They're the same level."

Arthur fumed, shooting onto his feet and pointing a finger. "Are you saying that these pieces are botched and underdeveloped?"

"Sure."

That did it. Pointing out the door, Arthur demanded, "If you don't like any of the songs we're playing, then don't come to the rehearsals! Get out!"

"Oh, but mon ami—"

"Oh, stop this 'mon ami' crap! What are you, French?" Arthur paused, glaring down on Francis, who didn't move at all. Then he brushed Francis off and turned away. "Explains things. The French have terrible taste. After the Enlightenment, they only went downhill."

"But—"

"Didn't you hear what I said? Leave!"

Francis sighed, picking himself from the seat. "All right. Call me if you need me," he said, but Arthur didn't answer.

Then Francis left, his light tapping trailing behind him like the sounds of a muffled snare drum.