A/N: Okay, I'm back! I really don't have much to say.
Hope you enjoy my story!
"Sorry, Japan, but unless you can gather more members, the Manga Club will be disbanded."
And so, here he was, in the tiny room that housed the one-person Manga Club of Atlas Academy. The small space was square shaped. In the center was a fairly small table to sit at which only one person did. There was only one bookshelf to keep all of the(all Japan's) manga in. And a relatively small window let in rays of warm sunshine to taunt him. So empty.
The Asian island nation sat in contemplative silence to try and assess his situation. A master of Zen he was, stoic and statuesque. Of course, he was a true Japanese man. The Japanese man. No obstacle could dishearten him, especially not a cliché plot such as this.
Then suddenly, the door flung open. "JAPAN!" exclaimed a voice that was all too familiar and now the Zen master shrunk into his seat.
"I heard about what happened! I just want you to know that you're welcome to join the Manhwa* Club anytime!" said the very cheery, enthusiastic, and so, so, so goddamn annoying South Korea.
"I do not want to join your club, Korea. I have my own Manga Club to attend to." Plus he didn't want to be in a club with Korea.
"A club that's going under! Face it, you're going to have to join me just to have an excuse to do nothing but satisfy your otaku urges!"
"What difference does it make, anyway? Your club is going to get axed, too." Korea's face quickly went blue with shock.
"W-WHAT! I haven't heard any of this!" Korea shouted back, face still pale.
"All clubs must have at least three members. Last I checked, you're the only member as well." Which reminded him, how was he going to make the club appeal to people to attract recruits? A very vexing situation.
Korea was still staring into space with his mouth hanging open just waiting for a fly when Japan decided that he needed to take action. He quietly sauntered out the door before poking his head back in to address Korea. "Ah, and please be gone when I return."
Modern and ancient scientists alike have often speculated that people of Germanic ancestry are born with a lengthy pole up their rectum. The actual size of the pole depends on how thick the German blood is. It is said that Germany has the largest and longest pole out of any of his relatives, only surpassed by his grandfather, Germania. His older brother Prussia(whose own pole is relatively small) would say that that's because he's compensating for something. Of course, their close relative, Austria(whose pole was an average size), would then say that Prussia was just jealous and Germany should be proud of his pole.
Germany would ignore both of them, however. He firmly believed, even as a small child, that he was the last sane Germanic in Europe. That when he would finally get to interact with other nations he would be able to find an intelligent conversation, at last. Unfortunately, when that time came when he enrolled at Atlas Academy, he found that he was the only sane nation on Earth.
Because of this discovery, Germany spent most of the decades he attended the academy with a bitter and cold disposition. On the outside at least. Many a nation has heard of how serious and distant Germany secretly baked sweet goods for the younger students, how mean and scary Germany fed any stray dog he came upon. Because of these attributes was how harsh yet reliable Germany became Class Representative of the Europe Class by a landslide. He was the strict and caring watchdog of the class. Straight As, naturally athletic, and, according to some sources, "intimidating and attractive". Yet he was still distant.
Just something, someone was needed to help take Germany that extra mile.
In the meantime, he was busy taking care of his class rep. responsibilities. Actually representing Europe in the Student Council meetings, making sure everyone is doing what their supposed to be doing, keeping the delinquents(read: his brother) in line, and attending to his own responsibilities. It was a hurried life. He wondered why a certain Student Council President never looked as busy as he. And now a certain bushy-browed Student Council Vice President was pestering him about some new kid who couldn't find their way around this labyrinth of a school of theirs.
"Oi! Germany, are you even listening to me?" Germany quickly focused himself on the Vice President's words, ashamed that he had spaced out like some Spaniard. The Vice President, England, gave him an annoyed look and started again.
"Anywho, China lost our new student, North Italy, during the third period dismissal. He's in Europe Class so it's your duty to help us find him." Of course it is. "He was last seen heading south of the D wing so he's likely to be in either the auditorium or the cafeteria. Please report in the Student Council room if you've found him or have any information about his whereabouts. That is all." And with that England strolled out the door. Professional. But before he was completely out of view, Germany caught the sight of England swearing loudly and wildly into his cell for reasons only God knew. Professional.
Fuck. Damn. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Bloody hell.
The very professional Student Council Vice President mumbled these obscenities just barely under his breath as he approached the Student Council room. God, why can't that idiot sit still for a millisecond? Such irresponsibility from the President. He'd never go off and disappear, shirk his duties if he was still the President. It was all a popularity contest. A goddamn popularity contest.
"WHERE IS HE! WHERE IS THAT LITTLE WANKER!" England hissed as he slammed the door open. In the Presid- no in that wanker's chair was a blonde, long-haired, stubble-faced other wanker.
"Didn't you hear me over the phone? Well, I suppose no one could hear over your dirty mouth." said the Frenchman.
"Shut it, France." uttered the thoroughly pissed off Englishman. Skipping out on his job was one thing that he'd done too many times to count but did that idiot have to disappear today of all days?
"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss Angleterre. I know you like to keep your eye on your boy 24/7 but don't ya think he needs a little space?"
Oh, that tears it.
Without warning, England pounced on the perverted frog like a crouching tiger. Despite not getting a warning, the Frenchman quickly poised himself for what would inevitably come.
Just another Tuesday. Next Tuesday would have pasta.
Upon letting the Asian boy's words sink in, the Italian dismayed. "Veeeeeeeeeee~." the Italia sighed.
A/N: Hmm. I'm pleased with how this turned out but it's your opinion that matters.
*Manhwa: Korean comics. Just a side note- they read from left to right like Western comics.
I really don't know what's so important about this day that has England all freaked.