Yo, Hikou no Kokoro is back, after the two week of nothing (actually, more like two weeks of exams. Gah, how I hate them.). Well, anyway, I'm back in session, and here's, technically, the last of the preliminary chapters (Yay!), so this little guy is a bit on the light-hearted side though. But, at least I have another chapter up in reserves! So that means you don't need to wait for a month for a chapter just yet.

Well, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers: Hetalia. It belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the AU plot.

To Create Perfection

"The bluebird carries the sky on his back."
—Henry David Thoreau

"Law 2: Preludes, Part 1"

The next day, Arthur's whole outlook had changed. After his good night sleep untouched by the stress of his job, he finally realised his mistakes on the first day of BCWD. He blundered quite horribly, and he resolved to change, hopefully, for the better.

First thing he changed was his appearance. The formal dress yesterday had been highly impractical for the amount of walking he had to do. As a result, he switched to something a little more casual, wearing a white shirt, a brown vest, and khaki pants. He knew that he would still stick, but he didn't have the supposed "uniform" of scrubs and lab coats. Next he got rid of the gelling his hair. Like his formal wear, that had been a bad decision on his part. He had originally tried to tame his messy hair; however, he only succeeded in wasting an excessive amount of time. Instead, this time, he left his hair untouched; of course he made sure to comb it though. He wasn't a barbarian. And finally, Arthur spent a split second considering doing something about his eyebrows. Following Francis' advice was tempting, but Arthur completely threw the idea out. His eyebrows were perfect as they were, and nobody could change that.

The second thing he changed was his act. He had demonstrated a short-temper and a terribly insubordinate attitude, going against his chivalrous code. It was no wonder that he had angered so many people, specifically Gilbert who had started off quite personable. If only he had demonstrated some more self-control, he may have been able to make more working relationships than enemies. Arthur must have been at fault. After all, people such as Gilbert and Francis were all staff members of BCWD, and were amongst the higher ranks. They had to be absolutely perfect in their occupation; even Francis must have had an unforeseen brilliance that Arthur was not aware of.

And with such an attitude, Arthur walked down the corridors of BCWD, prepared to make a great second impression. He was going to be the upright gentleman he was and impress all of the staff members of the institution. He even talked to the kind lady in the front for a map of the whole campus and asked for the names and department of his most prominent superiors, such as Ludwig Beilschmidt, Vash Zwingli and Roderick Edelstein. And the best part was that Arthur had dared to go around and ask the whereabouts of Francis Bonnefoy. Finding a possibly correct answer had been quite a challenge. Not many had seen Francis, and others who had would give out a large variety of answers. "He's probably in Safety Room 42 in the hospital building," a few had said. "He has to be in his office. He was walking in that direction a few moments ago," a handful had replied. "I bet he's in the Ludwig's office. I did hear him getting paged," a variety of people had told Arthur.

But they had all been wrong.

Francis wasn't in the Safety Room 42, nor was he in his office. And when Arthur walked passed where Ludwig's office supposedly was, he found the door wide open to reveal nothing inside. Instead, Francis was where everyone least expected: Yes, he was in the hallways.

Actually, Francis was more or less running through the hallways. He was panting, swinging his arms back forth while his lab coat whipped behind him as he weaved around people and said a quick excuse me if he bumped into anyone. In fact, that was exactly how Arthur found him.

Arthur had been walking through the corridors, glancing briefly out the window on his right. It showed the Land Control Centre, but the dome was on the other end of the building, looming right over the flat ceiling. Then he heard a scream. At first, he had thought it was an inhuman noise, but he realised that it was the sound a coward made. Instinctively, like most other people, he whipped his head towards the sound.

And that was when he saw Francis running, turning the corner at full speed and crying something along the lines of, "Don't kill me! I'm sorry!"

There was a gunshot. Everyone but Francis leapt out of their skins. And then a group of four appeared around the corner. The apparent "leader" was this blond in a blue, military uniform and a smoking rifle. He didn't seem all that amazing upon first glance: plain face, almost stereotypical skin, maybe shoulders just a bit broader than most average people, and piercingly mean green eyes. But the mere aura and shouts he gave off sent shivers down anybody's spines. Then the one behind him was another blond with slicked back hair and bright blue eyes. He was significantly larger compared to the other and was wearing a lab coat. People would think that he would be one of the slower runners due to his physique, but he caught up with the other completely fine. Two other people were chasing those two. One was a girl in a sundress with her dirty-blonde hair cut short. She looked quite similar to the military-garbed man, but she did not hold the same toughness as he did. Instead, she looked like a twig, or maybe a thin, flat board used for flooring. Everything about her looked fragile. But somehow, she still seemed to manage outrunning her partner. And that "partner" was a man of dark brown hair, running much like the girl beside him. He was a stout little thing with a nice complexion that was unique to the group. But for some odd reason, Arthur felt like he had seen that man before.

"Run, mon chéri! Run!" Francis dashed right past. He grabbed Arthur's hand and the two ran, with a gun aimed at both of their backs.

"Stay still so I can shoot you down, snail eater!"

"I demand that you get back here, Bonnefoy!"

"Ludwig, calm down!"

"Brother, let me explain!"

Arthur stumbled on his feet and glanced back. Then he glared back at Francis. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" he screamed at Francis.

"No time to explain—I'm in so much trouble." Francis whipped around another corner, bumping into a woman. With a quick apology and a blown kiss, he whizzed past her.

"I can tell! Now tell me why!" Arthur tried to stop them both, but only ended up stumbling a few more times.

"I cut Lili's hair; I didn't finish any papers. Happy?"

Arthur scowled even more deeply. Francis turned into another corner, but skidded to a stop. He turned on his heels towards a steel door labelled "Janitor," and his hands jiggled the doorknob. It was stuck. Then he began patting himself down, reaching into his pockets to turn them inside out.

While Francis was panicking, Arthur was simply displeased. The intern folded his arms across his chest and glared at Francis' little "show." "I think you deserve being butchered alive."

"Aw, don't say that, mon chéri." Finally, Francis found the ID card in his back pocket and reached to slide it through the door. But it was already too late. There was another gunshot. Squealing, Francis fumbled and dropped the card. Following that was a shout, smoke, and two men running right at them. Francis was cornered. And Arthur couldn't care less.

A hand slammed against the wall. "Finally have you," the burly man in the lab coat growled. Then he began cracking his knuckles and neck as he glared at Francis, who was cowering and simpering with hands in the air. Close behind him, the military-garbed partner pulled open a mechanism in his gun.

Francis yelped upon hearing the little click. "I'm so sorry! Please don't kill me!" he begged, clasping his hands together and shaking them in front of his face. "I-I'll do anything! Please!"

The gun clicked again. "Now, how about you hold still so I can shoot this bullet through your forehead?"

The burly man held out a hand. "Wait. I have a better idea." His naturally bright blue eyes seemed to be seeping with patronising anger, and his mouth was stretched long and thin across his face. "Let's chain him to his desk for a month and force him to do all of his papers for 14 hours a day, 6 days a week."

"No! Anything but that! I'm begging you!"

The gunman snapped his gun on a belt strapped around his shoulders and chest, and slung it over his back. "I like that idea more." Then the two men approached Francis.

"Have mercy!"

For only a brief moment, Arthur wondered if he should help Francis. The men seemed quite serious. After all, they were all BCWD staff members; joking around was never a part of the World Domain standards and stereotype. And if that was the case, what would happen to Arthur? He would be teacher-less; his internship may be extended. He didn't want that. But then again, Arthur didn't need Francis. He would be just fine on his own, and if not, then he could just enjoy the direction of a more competent mentor. Yeah, that sounded quite appealing.

Unfortunately, Arthur was unable to decide himself. Two "saviours" came to Francis' rescue. The pair—the brunette boy and the blonde girl—from before ran around the corner and shouted. The brunette tackled the blond man in the lab coat, wrapping his arms around the waist. "Think this over, Ludwig!" he practically squealed, eyes screwed up tight. The female too leapt up. But she wrapped her arms around the neck of the military-garbed man, kicking her thin, little legs as she clung on.

Ludwig shouted angry words. His hands were gripping the brunette's hands and trying to peel them away. On the other hand, the military-garbed man almost flung the girl off his shoulders. But then he stopped, his hands in the air freezing while reaching backwards to grab the girl. His arms went back to his side and he nudged the hands around his neck off. A growl rumbled in his throat, and he asked, "What is it, Lili?"

"I had asked him to cut my hair," the little girl replied. She slipped off the man's back and landing on her sandaled feet. Beside her, the brunette was continuing to jabber, desperately rewrapping his arms around the gruff man each time his hands were pried off.

The man scowled. "Why did you ask him?" he inquired. Meanwhile, Francis was trying to slip away. His back was pressed against the wall and he was sidling away. The military-garbed man snapped at him and Francis immediately retreated back to his spot, yelping like an injured puppy. Then the voices of the arguing men beside him grew in volume, and he snapped at those two as well, easily shutting up the blond and the brunette, who cowered back and whined. And then the man turned back to Lili, his blond eyebrows inching together and moving up the middle of his forehead. "You have such beautiful hair!"

The girl seemed to blush. Her fingers twisted a few locks at the front and her feet shifted back and forth. "I wanted to look like you…"

In a single moment, the man was sent from being an evil plotter to being a blushing boy. "Oh." Then he looked away, his nose pointing up towards the ceiling. And as if nobody else was there and nothing else mattered, he wrapped his arm around the girl and walked off, muttering, "Your hair is beautiful at any length." The problems with Francis were forgotten, but nobody dared complain, least of all Francis.

But Arthur was left with a strange feeling, almost like that moment was anticlimactic. Off the two people had gone as if they had never been there—no introductions, no acknowledgements, nothing. To Arthur, that was considered strange, but apparently that was not so for the rest of the people as the obnoxious squealing continued.

"Don't kill me, Monsieur!"

"Let go! Let me kill him!"

"Don't do it, Ludwig!"

And on went the petty fight. The strange shouts grated against Arthur's nerves. Now, he would never raise his voice towards his authorities, especially after just deciding to be a proper subordinate merely a few hours ago. Maybe it was because of the feeling that something was missing only a few minutes before, or maybe it was the moment of silence sliced almost awkwardly in the flow of yelling, but somehow, Arthur's patience snapped into two and his resolve threw itself out of the window.

The intern slammed his hand against the wall. "Shut the bloody hell up, you lot of drugged chipmunks!"

All eyes fell upon Arthur. Almost immediately, he regretted his actions. Francis' expression was one of shock and a potpourri of a few other unidentifiable emotions; the brunette's was a variation of Francis' except with tears in the corner of the chocolate eyes. But it was the look coming from Ludwig that had frightened Arthur back into his place. Small, blue eyes were thinned out, almost in a glare; a frown was spread across his face; a small nose was wrinkled slightly down the middle and the edges; and the muscles in the shoulders were tensed and visible through the cloth of his coat. The blond man looked ready to burst into a fit of insults and orders. Arthur gulped and took a step back, wondering if it was too late to apologise or explain himself.

But luck was on his side. Unlike everybody else, Ludwig didn't turn to argue with Arthur, yelling and chastising. Instead, he merely straightened up and adjusted his collar. It was as if a switch was changed; sheer and undeniable professionalism had replaced the bout of pettiness in only a matter of seconds. "Please forgive me for my unsightly behaviour," he spoke, his voice rumbling and low in the back of his throat. "I should have controlled my temper." Then a glare was shot towards Francis, who let out a yelp and backed away.

"Uh… Don't worry about it," Arthur replied. His voice was quiet, quite unlike how it was just seconds ago.

Ludwig pried thin fingers off his torso and approached Arthur. His steps were cool and calculated, making a steady clicking sound as his clean shoes touched the ground. Behind him, the little brunette scuttled over to Francis and those two clung onto each other with Francis whimpering as if he had seen Death. But those two were largely ignored, and the large, blond man seemed unbothered by their actions—he either did not notice, or he did not care. His full attention was directed at Arthur, like a single-minded voyager seeking a particular destination or destinations.

"I am Ludwig Beilschmidt," he said and then gestured behind him with a careless wave of the hand, "and the other is my secretary, Feliciano Vargas." Then he stuck out a hand. "I presume that you are Bonnefoy's new intern, Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur hesitated for a moment, peering around Ludwig at the two behind him. They were still clinging onto each other, whispering little messages to each other as they stared right at Ludwig and him. Their almost scrutinising gaze made Arthur feel a bit uncomfortable, but Ludwig seemed unfazed. Maybe the big man did not notice them. And maybe Arthur should follow suit. With only a droplet of reluctance, Arthur took the large, coarse hand and shook it. Dried skin rubbed against Arthur's fingers like invisible spikes. "Yes, I am he. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Beilschmidt." He smiled. The name seemed bring about an oddly familiar feeling to it.

"Good, good." Ludwig nodded and pulled his hand back. His eyes were aimed right at Arthur's, appearing almost as if they were peering over a pair of glasses and looking down upon the intern. "I have been waiting for you. Follow me." Then he turned around and glared. "Oi! Stop cowering there! We're going!" His words slipped out, swift and concise, causing the two to jump and yelp as they scampered after the large man. Even Arthur could not help himself from acting like a chastised puppy, slinking after Ludwig.

Thus began the group of four's march down the hall, with Ludwig leading with radiant confidence and the other three shuffling after him. The atmosphere was severely different from when Francis had led Arthur down the hallway. Ludwig was efficient and straightforward—he got things done. There were no little flurries, no tiny detours. He had a goal, and he completed each and every one as quickly as possible with a single-mindedness that would only be characteristic of robots. He didn't waste time like Francis would. He didn't talk to the random passersby; in fact, his mouth remained shut and stern. Not a word was spoken, and no short greetings were given to the others walking down the corridor—until Francis spoke, and got Feliciano to as well.

The blond man, with his lowered head and shrugged shoulders, nudged Feliciano beside him with his elbow. They exchanged quick words. And then Feliciano nodded and sidled up next to Arthur, smiling.

"Ciao, Arthur! I'm-a Feliciano Vargas! We've met only briefly yesterday! You were the one getting yelled at!" the brunette whispered, but his voice was loud enough to earn a look from Ludwig. But the man did not seem to react any more than that, so the glance was quickly dismissed. "You're Francis' new buddy!"

Arthur frowned. This little brunette was the same one who had witnessed one of Arthur's unfortunate disputes; it was no wonder why he looked so familiar. "Yes, I know that," Arthur growled out.

"Yeah! You're going to have fun with Francis; he's really nice," the boyish man rambled. His voice rose in volume and bumped up one partial higher. "I used to work under him. He was my teacher! Now my boss is Ludwig over there! He's really nice too!"

"I see."

"Uh…" Feliciano paused for a brief moment, looking upwards with a finger pressed to his chin as he thought. "Oh! Apparently I'm on your league too! I graduated early, and I finished my internship in half the time than usual! I heard you finished your college studies in four and a half years—near record time! That's so cool! How did you do it?"

Arthur nodded along. "Magic," he answered curtly, walking further ahead and closer to Ludwig.

Little Feliciano fell silent after that. Arthur's unresponsive behaviour made keeping a conversation going difficult, so the brunette, disappointed, fell behind in step with Francis with his head down and shoulders sagging. Arthur could hear some whispering going on and a small whine behind him, but he completely disregarded that as he fell into step behind Ludwig.

In truth, despite Ludwig's more intimidating nature, Arthur admired him. Ludwig seemed like he perfectly knew what he was doing, and he wasn't letting some petty distractions get in his way. He was someone who had his priorities straight, very unlike Francis and Feliciano, who continued to jabber away quietly. And such dedication and professionalism Ludwig demonstrated—there was really nothing Arthur could not admire Ludwig for. Maybe, one day, Arthur could become someone comparable to Ludwig: to be able to command the self-control and dedication, and possibly even able to control the subordinates beneath him with efficiency and frankness. What a dream Arthur would strive for.

Eventually, Ludwig slowed himself to a halt. He stood in front of another one of those steel doors leading into offices, except he had a nice glass window to the right of the door, allowing people to peek in to see the secretary's reception desk, which happened to be piled up with stacks of papers resembling the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa. Upon the door was a plaque saying, "General Commander of BCWD Headquarters." It was one of the nicer looking plaques, for there was a gold hue in both the metal and the engraved words.

The gruff man reached into one of his coat's pockets and pulled out a set of keys. All of them held a opaque white coloration, appearing as if they were made of the same material as the white walls in the campus medical facility with its small bursts of blue lines. However, only one of them was yellow. It was made of the same material as the rest, but there were a gold-brown mist and bursts of neon green lines rather than white mist with blue lights. Ludwig picked out that unique key and stuck it into the doorknob. A flash of green lines coursed through the dark metal and a keypad slid out. And then Ludwig took out his ID card and slid that through. Another burst of lines and the door slid open.

For some odd reason, Arthur felt that he would never get used to that.

"Come in," Ludwig said, walking through the door. The rest followed after him, except for Feliciano.

The little brunette somehow managed to slip between the doorway and Ludwig, who didn't seem to notice, and trotted in the office before anybody else. Without a word, he plopped down in the chair behind the reception desk and scooted forward, making an obnoxious grating sound across the waxed ground. Leaning forward, Feliciano smiled. "Hello, are you here to visit Mr. Beilschmidt?"

Ludwig shot Feliciano a look. But Feliciano stayed smiling. "See if there are any messages I need to look through," Ludwig ordered with a small wave.

Feliciano saluted. "Yes, sir, Captain!" Then he scooted himself to the computer to the left and started moving the mouse.

Ludwig waved to Francis and Arthur to follow, and they did, turning right into a room next door. A brown door stood between Ludwig's office and Feliciano's, but it was held open by a wooden wedge. The office itself, like all of the other rooms in the building, was plain with its white walls and its box-like structure. There really was nothing interesting. Two bookcases leaned against the walls, but only four shelves were lined with books. And between the cases was a large desk with a laptop propped on top of a paperback off to the right. The wooden surface of the table was clean and the wooden polish reflected the square lighting—there were no random papers, weird decorations, or picture frames. Only a name stand was placed on the edge. Right behind the desk was a swivelling chair. But it wasn't one of those luxurious, fancy leather things. Instead, it was cheap with a plastic frame and mesh cushion and backing. Four other chairs were pushed off into the corners, each being of the nice wooden seats with cloth cushions. Ludwig had gestured to two of them before sitting his seat behind the desk.

As Arthur and Francis dragged their seats over, Ludwig rolled himself to the laptop, much like what Feliciano had done. The screen lit up blue, shining a tinted hue across half of Ludwig's face. His fingers skimmed over the trackpad, while his bright blue eyes flickered from one part of the screen to another. His mouth formed a few brief words, but they were not audible to neither Francis nor Arthur.

After a brief moment of silence, Ludwig spoke up again. "Kirkland, have you filled out your final document?"

"What?"

The blond man glanced at Arthur before looking back at the computer screen. "The confirmation papers. You were supposed to BCWD a week ago to pick them up and fill them out. Did you not get a letter from Bonnefoy?"

Arthur's large eyebrows inched together and he shook his head. "I did get a letter saying that I should pick up a packet, but it had told me to come by today. I tried to get it yesterday, but I did not receive it."

Beside him, Francis simpered, shrugging his shoulders while the two other men glared right at him. "Sorry."

Ludwig sighed and turned back to his laptop to type some things in. "All right then. I will have Vargas send you the packet to your home tomorrow. Please complete it as early as possible so we may be able to make your ID and access card." Arthur stuck a finger up at Francis, scowling, while Francis held his hands up in surrender and mouthed a stream of apologies, but Ludwig did not seem to notice. Instead, a small 'ding' and a message had caught his attention. His eyes skimmed the words again and his fingers skidded back across the trackpad. Without lifting his eyes from the screen, he said, "Or not. You signed up for the 'paid internship'—that completes it for you."

Francis grinned at Arthur and whispered, "So you really didn't need to worry about it. Told you so."

Arthur hissed back, "When the hell did you tell me?"

"I don't know."

Ludwig cleared his throat. The two others' attention immediately shot back to him. "Are you sure you want to enter the Paid Internship Program?" he continued. "You will have to take on extra assignments that will not count in your credit nor would they always help your profession, and it can become overwhelming. You may have Bonnefoy to help and that gives you an advantage"— Arthur shot Francis a disbelieving glance. In response, Francis' grin widened and he wiggled his eyebrows.—"however, he will not be able to help you on quite a few assignments, thus your workload would increase significantly. Are you sure you are willing to take it?" Ludwig's large, coarse hands clasped together on the table. "Reports tell me that you have a job and plenty of money left from your scholarship. You would not need to be in the program."

Subconsciously, Arthur also intertwined his own fingers across his lap. "I do realise that. However, I am currently the only person supporting my family here."

Suddenly, Francis squealed. "You have family living with you?" he asked. His hands were balled into fists and shook in front of his shoulders. The behaviour seemed to resemble an overexcited schoolgirl rather than a fully matured man. "How many?"

Arthur leaned back as far away from Francis as possible, shooting the man a very strange look. "I live with one other person."

"Oh, my God! Your partner must be a complete angel to have to deal with you every day!" Francis sighed, eyes looking up with this strange dreamy quality. "I must meet her someday."

Arthur opened his mouth to shoot a few words, but Ludwig's voice cut through before his. "Ignore him, Kirkland," Ludwig ordered. Those simple words forced Arthur silent. However, Francis whined and drooped, unhappy that his little tangent was cut short. "I will see if you are capable of being in the program; you will see the answer on your completed ID card." Then Ludwig pushed himself to the other end of the desk and opened a drawer. Fingers ran up and down a line of files before he opened another drawer. "In the meantime, I will be giving you your first assignment. This is a long-term one, and I expect you to place this one with first priority over any other ones you get." He pulled out a thin booklet and passed it over the table towards Arthur. "It contains two experiments, called AM-1245 and CA-520."

A chair clattered to the ground.

"Ludwig! What are you thinking?" Francis had leapt up from his seat, his eyes wide and his hands balled up into fists at his side. He looked absolutely furious: A scowl traced across his expression and his face lit up with a shine of red. Even Arthur backed away, sitting on the edge of his chair. "Didn't you assign NL-234508 and NA-65709B to us? Something like this is way too early for him!"

Ludwig looked up at Francis with a painful indifference. His chin leaned against his hands. "I realise that, and I know I had taken up your recommendation only a day ago. However, we are running low on staff members; too many have gone to the shores. Dr. Edelstein had told me that it would be better to graduate and accept more candidates, and I would like Kirkland to finish his internship in half the normal time." He sighed and leaned back against the back of his chair. "Besides, NL-234508 and NA-65709B have been disposed of. The bioengineered lungs have disintegrated into ash. I doubt you and Kirkland would be able to do anything for those anyway."

Francis sighed and his shoulders sagged. "I see." He righted his chair back up before plopping back into it. Leaning forward and resting his forehead on his knuckles, he let out another long sigh.

Arthur, on the other hand, did not understand what was going on. He realised that the codes were numbers identifying experiments, but he did not seem to get why Francis preferred two other experiments over the ones Ludwig had named. Were they more advanced? Did Francis feel that Arthur would not be up to the challenge, especially if he were to be a part of the Paid Internship Program? Well, if that was the case, then Arthur would much prefer Ludwig's suggestion. He was capable; in fact, he was almost offended that Francis thought he would be unable to complete the challenge and advanced learning. Arthur leaned forward with his hands on his knees, speaking with hidden excitement in his voice, "What is wrong with AM-1245 and CA-520? I am sure I will be able to adapt to the accelerated schedule."

"It's not whether or not you will be able to keep up; I am sure you will be able to take the skip, Kirkland." Ludwig sucked in a breath, pausing for only a brief moment. But then Francis, with his words aimed at the ground, explained the situation himself.

"It's just that AM-1245 and CA-520 have names. They're Alfred and Matthew, respectively."