Toris Laurinaitis was having a surprisingly good day at school. He had done very well on several tests, he wasn't stressing out about anything and giving himself a stomachache, and he was actually getting to eat his own lunch without someone taking it from him or having it smashed into his face!

The Lithuanian boy let out a content sigh, opening up his Snapple and bringing the drink up to his lips. Yes...Today is going to be a good day, he allowed himself to think optimistically, letting his eyelids slide closed in his relaxation.

"Hey, Toris, can I talk to you about something?" an obnoxiously loud voice boomed right in Toris' ear, making the brunet teenager jump in surprise.

"Gyah!" Toris exclaimed as the Snapple bottle slipped from his hand and fell onto the cafeteria table, tipping over onto its side and spilling its contents right into his lap.

"Er...Sorry 'bout that," Alfred apologized sheepishly, offering the other boy several napkins that he didn't use from his own lunch.

"It's alright, Alfred. Just...don't sneak up on me like that again, please," Toris sighed, dabbing at his pants with the offered napkins. Well, if this is the worst thing that happens today, it'll still be a pretty good day, he reasoned to himself, trying to stay optimistic. "So...What did you want to talk to me about?"

The American teen plopped down next to the Lithuanian, a sullen look on his face. "Well...Okay, listen; you've known Braginski for a long time, right?" Alfred asked, fussing with his glasses.

"I...suppose I've known him longer than most...," Toris said slowly.

"Well...I was wondering...what you could, um, tell me about him?" Alfred asked hesitantly, fidgeting at the awkwardness of the conversation.

Toris blinked in mild surprise, brushing some of his shoulder-length hair behind his ear. "There's really not too much I can tell you, Alfred. Ivan keeps to himself most of the time, and he doesn't talk much about anything, really," he replied, balling up the used napkins and placing them on the lunch tray with his other trash.

Alfred visibly deflated at the brunet's answer. "Oh...Well, do you at least know where he hangs out at lunch? I don't think I've ever seen him in here, actually," he mused, glancing around the bustling cafeteria with curiosity.

"Um...I believe he spends his lunch hours either in the library or outside, but I don't think you should-"

"Great! Thanks, Toris!" Alfred exclaimed, leaving as suddenly as he had shown up.

"B...Bother him...," Toris mumbled out, staring after the other teen with a dumbfounded expression on his face. He let his forehead connect with a painful thud against the tabletop, his shoulders slumping.

Today was going to be really bad, wasn't it?

As Alfred left the cafeteria and headed outside, he trotted across the Roman-style courtyard to reach the large library that was on One World High's campus.

He was more than a little surprised - and really skeptical - when Toris had said that Ivan spent his lunch hours in the library, of all places! What would an F grade delinquent, like Braginski - who spent the majority of his time in school either sleeping through classes, or sleeping through detentions - even be doing in the library? He was stunned that the Russian even knew where the building was!

Alfred slowed his pace to a walk as he reached the front of the building, climbing the few steps that were placed before the puke-green doors of the library. He slipped into the stuffy building, making sure to close the door quietly behind himself.

The fluorescent lights on the ceiling above buzzed with electric life as he passed underneath them, the continuous lull only interrupted by the occasional turn of a page or the restrained cough of someone trying not to make too much noise. While Alfred enjoyed spending time at the library reading, studying, or fiddling around with the old computers they had collecting dust at the back, he never liked the heavy silence that hung in the air like a depressing, poisonous fog.

Glancing around the main room for a brief moment, Alfred didn't see any sign of Braginski being there. No path of destruction, no sobbing or bloodied freshman, no nothing. It seemed completely normal in the library. Even after going upstairs, looking in the film room, and searching through every section of books he thought the Russian student could possibly be in, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the other teenager!

Sighing in frustration, Alfred gave up on trying to find Ivan before his lunch period was up. He was just heading over to the drinking fountain, which was situated near the bathrooms on the first floor of the building, when he noticed something weird about the boys' bathroom.

Everyone was avoiding it like the plague, and Alfred could see smoke wafting out from underneath the door.

Taking his thumb off the water fountain's 'PUSH' button, effectively shutting off the flow of metallic-tasting water, Alfred crept closer to the bathroom door. For whatever reason, Alfred felt that he needed to sneak into the bathroom - like it was some sort of villainous lair, or dragon's den.

Gulping down the nervous burn that assaulted his throat, Alfred slowly pushed the fake wood-polished door open and slipped inside. His eyes, nose, and throat were instantly hit by a thick cloud of bitter cigarette smoke; making him shrink back against the door as he coughed, gagged, and blinked away his suddenly watery eyes.

Ivan was sitting hunched over something on the floor, his back to the tiled wall and his legs loosely crossed Indian-style. He jolted when Alfred started to gag and cough, his eyes going wide with shock as his mouth dropped open; a glowing-tipped cigarette nearly falling from his chapped lips. There was a little graveyard of spent cigarettes near his right thigh; some were crumpled up in their own ash, while others stood bent over, like crooked old men.

Alfred's deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression was completely reactionary to the other boy's shock, his blue eyes widening further when he saw what Ivan was hunched over. "A-Are you...doing homework?!" he blurted out, gesturing to the ragged text book on the floor and the messy notes in the Russian's lap.

Ivan immediately shoved the text book and scribbled-in notes into an old backpack, his expression quickly shifting from shocked to defensive. "The fuck do you want, Jones?" he ground out, exhaling a stream of smoke from his nose like some sort of demonic bull.

"Erm...Uh," Alfred floundered for a moment, still trying to get over the fact that he had just witnessed Braginski doing schoolwork in one of the library bathrooms. Weird...

The larger teen was clearly losing patience with the blonde, getting up from the floor to stand at his full, intimidating height of six-foot-four. "What. Do. You. Want," he growled, baring his teeth like an angry, feral dog.

Alfred couldn't help but notice that Ivan was missing a tooth - probably from hockey, or the numerous fights that he got into. "Just wanted to...talk," he said, mentally cringing when he hesitated. Hesitation could get you killed with someone like Braginski...or at least get you sent to the nurse's office.

"Why would I want to do something like that? I don't have anything to say to you, Jones," Ivan muttered, taking another drag on his cigarette as he turned around to pry open the single window in the bathroom. The heavy cloud of smoke rushed out of the new opening like a colony of frightened rats; the atmosphere in the bathroom drastically changing from being very close and hard to breath in, to becoming sustainable for non-smoker life.

Alfred paused, his mouth open and his right index finger extended upward. Shit...I should of actually thought of something to say before I went looking for him... "Uh, well...If we're gonna be working together on some stuff, I thought we should...get to know each other better?" he offered lamely, silently asking God why he was given such a brilliant mind if it couldn't stop his damn motor mouth in situations like this.

The larger teenager gave him a confused look, his head tilting to the side like a bewildered puppy. "What?" Ivan asked.

Alfred could feel his face heat up with embarrassment, and he started to scuff his sneakers against the floor, eliciting a harsh squeaking noise from the movement. "Y'know, like a...truce. If we want to get through this whole punishment thing without killing each other, then I think we should consider trying to get along - at least until the school year is over," he said, sounding more confident now.

Ivan seemed to consider this for a moment, leaning up against the wall. "I'm not going to be your friend, or anything stupid like that, got it? I'm only doing this to get Principal Beilschmidt off my back, da?" he replied, dropping his latest cigarette to the floor and stamping it out with a heavy boot.

Alfred shrugged, "Whatever, it's only temporary."

The rest of the school day went just like any other for Alfred. He was actually starting to feel pretty good after a while, but then he remembered that his parents were coming in to talk with the Principal.

"So...I guess I'll see you guys later?" Alfred said in a questioning tone, dragging his feet a little as the group of friends neared the Principal's office.

"We can get together for some Smash* tomorrow, alright, Alfred? I'm sorry I can't stay and wait for you, but I have to help out my elder brother* at the restaurant tonight," Kiku replied in a soft voice, giving Alfred a sympathetic look before leaving.

"I'm afraid I can't stick around either; I've got to pick up Peter from after-school care, because Alastair* is too 'busy' to do it himself," Arthur muttered, scowling. "Good luck with your parents, though," he added, waving to both Alfred and Matthew as he headed out of the building.

Alfred sighed defeatedly, staring down the door to Principal Beilschmidt's office like it was the gateway to hell.

"Hey, Kiddo!"

Alfred jumped at the loud voice, whirling around to see his father and step-mother walking over. "Oh...Hey, Dad," he greeted less enthusiastically, managing a smile for his parents nonetheless. "Mom...Listen, I'm really sorry about this-"

"Alfie, it's okay. While I'm not exactly thrilled that you got into trouble, I'm just happy that you didn't get into an actual fight," Mrs. Jones said in a sweet tone, cutting off Alfred's well-rehearsed apology speech.

"Aw, I'm sure you woulda put up a good fight if it had come to a brawl, Alfred! Fightin' is in your blood, boy! Did I ever tell you about when your great granddad was a kid? You know he wrestled a-" Mr. Jones started to go off on one of his wild stories, which Alfred had heard hundreds of times before and knew by heart.

"Yeah, yeah; I know...He wrestled an adult bison to the ground with his bare hands, and then he grabbed its front legs and started twirling it around before he sent it flying east of the Mississippi river," Alfred finished the story in a bored tone, switching his heavy backpack to his left shoulder as the other started to feel sore from lugging it around all day. After what Braginski did to his math book, he didn't want to leave his other text books out in the open or defenseless in his locker.

"Ah...Right," Mr. Jones trailed off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, anyway, I'm sure you would've won!"

"Pfft...Yeah, right," Matthew disagreed in a somewhat sarcastic tone.

"Don't be snarky, dear, especially to your father," Mrs. Jones chastised lightly, knowing that her son didn't really mean anything by it.

Matthew subtly rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying...Alfred would have gotten pummeled into the floor if it hadn't of been for the Principal stepping in to intervene," he stated, a bit of concern edging into his whispery voice.

"Hey!" Alfred protested weakly, pouting. He knew his brother was right, of course, but it was never nice to be reminded of how pathetic he was.

"Don't sell your brother short, Mattie! How do you know that he couldn't of got a solid punch in?" Mr. Jones asked, his expression similar to his son's.

"Well, Alfred doesn't even know how to throw a punch, for one thing," Matthew started to explain, stopping suddenly when he saw Ivan trudging over in their direction. "And that is who Alfred would be picking a fight with, for another," he finished in a low tone, gesturing toward the large teen.

Mr. Jones took a discreet look at the Russian boy, wincing as he gave a low whistle. "Whew, yeah...You'd get your ass handed to you, Alfie," he said, slinging an arm around his son's shoulders. "Hey, Matt, isn't that the Russian kid who plays on the hockey team with you?" he asked in a curious tone, raising a thin eyebrow.

"Yeah, it is," Matthew replied, shrinking in on himself a bit as Ivan stopped just short of them.

The door to the Principal's office opened, revealing the ever stern-faced Adalhard Beilschmidt. "Mr. and Mrs. Jones...," he said in that gravelly voice of his, his electric blue eyes piercingly intimidating. His gaze shifted to Ivan, a sigh nearly escaping him. "And where is your father, Ivan?" he asked.

The beige haired teenager fidgeted under the Principal's unwavering gaze, his thick fingers tightening around the single strap of his backpack. "Not here," he muttered under his breath, glaring at the floor.

Principal Beilschmidt frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Well, we'll just have to start without him, then. If you would all join me in my office, please," he rumbled, ushering the group into the other room.

"I'll just...wait out here, I guess," Matthew mumbled as he was left behind in the hallway, the door shutting right in his face.

Mr. Beilschmidt sat down at his neatly organized desk, his face set with a serious expression. "Please, take a seat," he said, gesturing to the empty chairs set up in front of his mahogany desk and against the wall. "Now, I assume that you've both been made aware of the situation, correct, Mr. and Mrs. Jones?" the Principal cleared his throat, weaving his fingers together.

"Yes, we have been informed of what happened," Mr. Jones replied in a serious voice, his care-free and joking attitude from earlier disappearing now that they were to discuss this latest incident between the two teenagers. "These two almost got into a physical fight, right?"

Adalhard nodded in confirmation. "Yes, that is correct. And, since this isn't the first altercation between them, I wanted to do something different in regards to their punishment," he said, steepling his fingers and pressing them against his dry lips for a moment.

"Oh? And what would that be?" Mrs. Jones piped up, her curly hair bouncing as she turned her head.

"I want them to help each other, and, in turn, help themselves. So, unless you object, I will be having Alfred tutor Ivan to help get his grades up; for his part, Ivan will get your son onto one of our sports teams to keep him motivated and focused on his own work," the Principal explained. "I will be checking in on their progress periodically."

"That sounds fair enough," Mr. Jones agreed, blatantly ignoring his son's pleading look for him to object against what the Principal had said.

Seeing that his kicked puppy look had gotten him nowhere, Alfred slumped in his seat with a disgruntled frown. The sandy haired blonde started to tune out what was being said as his parents continued to drone on with the Germanic Principal, so he was rather surprised when the door opened abruptly, making him jump in his seat when the brass knob collided with the wall.

Ivan had shrunk down into the chair he was sitting in, biting down hard on his lip as he forced himself to keep his eyes lowered to the floor.

"Ah...Mr. Braginski," Principal Beilschmidt greeted in a vaguely annoyed tone, "So good of you to finally join us."

"...Work held me up...," Mr. Braginski explained in a cold voice, his icy eyes scanning through the room with disinterest. "What's the idiot boy done now?" he demanded, settling his chilling gaze on his son.

Mr. Jones stood up, a friendly but wary smile on his face. "I'm sure it was nothing more than a misunderstanding between our boys, Mr. Braginski," he said, extending a hand to the other man.

The grey haired man stared at Alfred's father with a blank expression, his mouth curling into a sneer as he took the offered hand into his crushing grip. "Da, a...'misunderstanding'. Little Vanya* has many of those, I'm afraid. People seem to rub him the wrong way - or, perhaps, it is the other way around, hm?" he rasped through a heavily accented voice - much like Ivan's, though a great deal more rough - his tone bordering on degrading when he spoke about his son. He sounded like a man who drank heavily, and smoked just as frequently. "Did he break anything?" he asked, clapping a hand onto Ivan's shoulder, his bony fingers digging in like the talons of a predatory bird.

"Yes, unfortunately," Adalhard grumbled, giving the Russian teenager a disappointed look. "He destroyed one of Mr. Jones' text books, which the school will now have to replace."

"Don't trouble yourself with that; my son ruined it, so he'll replace it," Mr. Braginski said gruffly, his grip on Ivan's shoulder tightening with hidden anger.

"But-" Ivan started to protest, twisting around in his seat to face his father.

"безмолвие*!" Mr. Braginski barked out angrily, his cold eyes narrowing to slits. He raised his hand as if he were going to hit his son, but thought better of it in the exact same moment, smoothly transitioning the oppressive hand so that it merely patted Ivan on the head in an action that could easily be passed off as parental frustration.

Now that he was paying attention again, Alfred couldn't help but notice the way Ivan flinched under the touch of his father's hand. Which was really weird, 'cause he'd never seen Braginski flinch at anything before - not even that one time he had dislocated his shoulder during hockey practice.

"Your boy can borrow whichever of Ivan's books that he needs for his classes, until Ivan can come up with the money to replace it with a new one on his own," the grey haired Russian said in a self-satisfied tone, his hand pressing down roughly on Ivan's head before he let go.

"That's quite generous of you, but we can pay to replace Alfred's book. It's no problem, really," Mrs. Jones chirped nervously, her expression worried and sympathetic.

"No, no...I insist," Mr. Braginski chuckled, "How else will the boy learn to not break things that are not his? He needs to figure out that there are consequences to his actions."

As they were starting to drive out of One World High's parking lot, Alfred glanced out of the window in an attempt to curb his boredom. His parents were asking about how the rest of the school day went, but he instantly tuned them out, and let Matthew reply to the daily ritual of back and forth questions when something caught his eye.

Parked against the curb just outside of the school was a rusted, broken-down old truck; the minimal amount of paint still left on the vehicle had once been a baby blue, the windshield was cracked near the upper-right corner, and both side view mirrors were gone. Though the truck itself was intriguing enough, what was happening right next to it is what grabbed Alfred's attention.

It looked like Ivan and his father were in the middle of a heated argument - or, to be more accurate, it looked like Ivan's father was going ballistic as he shoved the Russian teen against the side of the truck and practically started yelling right into his face. Ivan looked positively terrified, his purple eyes wide with fear as he stuttered out something that Alfred couldn't hear because of the window being closed. Despite Ivan having a couple of inches and - at least - a solid hundred pounds on his father, he looked like a mouse that had been cornered by a cat.

Before Alfred could see anything else, his father pulled out onto the road and started to drive off in the opposite direction.

Smash: This is in reference to the game series "Super Smash Bros.". There's Super Smash Bros. 64, Melee, and Brawl currently. Alfred plays Melee in this, because America is top in pro Melee gaming. Kiku, on the other hand, prefers Brawl, since the Japanese rock it with the newest addition to the series.

Alistair: This would be Scotland, Artie's big brother and main sibling tormentor.

Translations for this chapter:

Elder Brother: This was supposed to be in Japanese, but I forgot that this site doesn't work with those characters at all...

Vanya: Diminutive of Ivan

безмолвие: "Silence" in Russian