Austria had to resist the urge to do a facepalm. Instead, his furrowed his eyebrows and did his best "I-do-not-approve" expression. He was just mentally going through his entire repertoire for showing annoyance—oh yes, perhaps Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor. God knows that piece sounds like Dracula, especially when played with a fine organ. He was still lost in thought when Hungary barged in.

"Rooooderich! I just went shopping with dear Feliciano and I bought him the cutest little dress and oh did you know Feliks was really jealous about it? Here here, I have a sketch done by Feliciano! Are you hungry? I'll make you some—Why do you look like Prussia has just slapped you?"

Austria sighed and waved a letter towards her, which she picked up promptly and started reading.

Darling Roderich,

I'm coming over to visit.

Which means, for a lack of a better phrase,

You're fucked.



Hungary stared at Austria. "But Roderich," she said hesitantly, "Do you know what time of the year this is?"

"Yes of course," Austria replied quizzically. "Isn't it February?"

Hungary looked at him strangely. "Honey," she said, "You really need to get out more. It's March."

Mein Gott.


The March concert.

Prussia and the March concert.

Austria promptly fainted.

"Gah! Somebody help!" Hungary shouted. "I think Austria has officially decided to stop breathing!"


A few days later, it seemed like the whole world crashed at Austria's place. Presently, Austria could no longer bear the noise, and he pulled a person at random, who turned out to be Greece.

"Ah, Heracles!" Austria said. "Why is everyone at my place all of a sudden?"

Greece stared at him.

"Don't you read the newspaper?" he said. "It's been on the front page of every single newspaper in the world that Prussia is coming to kick your a—I mean, touch your bottom," he said hastily.

Austria blanched visibly. "Is-is that so?" he managed to choke out.

"Yeah, we naturally all wanted to witness your butt being kic—I meant, your bottom being touched," he said sheepishly. "See, we even set up a whole bet—Everyone except family members of you and Prussia participated. It would seem like the winner would win properties all over the world, as well as a huge fortune."

Distantly, Austria heard a shout: "Hey Ludwig! I bet 1 million hamburgers on Prussia, okay? I mean, seriously! Who would bet on that Austria who can only press down a piano key?"

A faint voice replied, "Ah, I'm sorry, but I bet Kumajirou on Austria."

The whole place burst into laughter. Austria came out in the hall and located America, who looked like he was going to burst into tears from laughing too much.

"Haha, you're too funny, you," America snorted. "Poor, silly Mark! I'll be sure to comfort you when you lose your only friend!" Others were shaking their heads similarly, with murmurs of "Poor Mark" all over the place.

Austria's head was swirling, trying to make sense of it all. What he needed now was a strong cup of tea.

"Um, Austria," Greece said hesitantly, "Ah, if you don't mind…I found this book of philosophy about cats written by Aristotle in your public library. Do you mind if I, um, borrowed it for a bit?"


The day finally arrived. Austria and Hungary were standing at the edge of the clearing where the one-on-one fight would be held. Austria pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a determined expression on his face.

Beside him, Hungary looked like an emotional wreck. Austria looked around—the place was so packed it was impossible to see the end of the crowd. It seemed like the entire world did indeed show up, and all of them were busy placing last-minute bets.

"I bet my most treasured possession—My Rose!" France yelled. Ludwig stepped back immediately, as did everyone around him. "Ah," Ludwig said seriously. "We do not accept underwear as betting items."

"Aw, but—"

Austria winced and went over. "Francis, seriously, could you perhaps leave? I think there are children present here, and, well—"

France pouted and looked at Austria through half-closed lids. "Aww, how am I a bad influence to kids?" he whined.

For the first time, Austria could hear silence. Is this guy for real?

Then, a noise could be heard in the distance. Everyone turned towards it.

Prussia arrived in all his glory, with a too-large hat, a sweeping cape, a huge white horse, and holding a flagpole that looked about five meters tall. As he stepped down the horse with a sword, daggers and everything, Hungary looked like she was about to pass out.

"Oh Roderich," she groaned. "Please don't die."

Austria patted her shoulder. "Do not worry," he answered. "I will definitely try and not die."


"Hey guys! This is Feliks, and I'm totally here as your broadcaster of this lovely event today," a cheerful, squealy voice said over a large cone that acted as a voice amplifier. "And as a co-host, here's my best friend—say hi!"

"Hi," a shy voice said, "I am Toris, and I am pleased to announce that—"

"Ehhh, Tory~" Poland interrupted. "Is my hair okay? Is my dress, like, too avant garde?"

Toris would rather not talk about it. Poland had donned braids and a flowing blue gown especially for this occasion. "Yes yes, you look lovely," he replied, while crossing his fingers behind his back.

"All right, so Toris, I totally bet all my ponies on Prussia. How are the bets going?"

"Well Feliks, it would seem that the bets on Prussia total to 120 mansions worldwide, 5000 tomatoes, 420 ponies, and a few million in the Prussian currency. The only bet on Austria right now was by someone apparently named Mark, and consists of one cute white bear. Back to you, Feliks."

"Awesome! So, Prussia looks totally dashing in his high-fashion clothes designed by yours truly. Meanwhile, Austria is being clung on by Hungary and he looks like he's going to pass out. As well, I'm puzzled like everyone else about the bunch of instruments scattered around Austria. Did he, like, decide to move the March Concert out here? Like, that's totally going to work! Ooooh! The fight is starting!"

"Yes! For those of you in the crowd who cannot see properly, this is Toris reporting that—"

"EHHMYGAWWDD!" a piercing scream came from Poland. "Austria TOTALLY just pushed the slide of a—get this—a TROMBONE—into Prussia's stomach. I, like, totally can't watch!"

A gasp rose from the crowd at this remark; everyone craned their necks trying to see better.

"…And Prussia retaliated by throwing a ferocious chick right in Austria's face! Ouch, that's GOT to hurt!"

A collective "Awwww" rose from the crowd.

"Oh myyy! Did Austria just use his conductor's baton as a throwing knife? AHHHH! It hit Prussia right in the forehead! Holy—Liet! Hold me! I see blood! I'm totally going to like, faint now!"

"Sorry Feliks, can't right now—God help us! Folks, it turns out that the ridiculous square-cross thing Prussia always wears around his neck is actually a ninja throwing star in disguise, which is being hurled at Austria at this very moment. It's going to hit Austria in the chest—Feliks! Feliks! Don't faint now! Doctor…!!!"

"Hi guys, it's Francis taking over since Toris is rushing Feliks to the nearest hospital right now. This fight here, isn't it incredibly sexy?" he said.

All the parents in the crowd put their hands over their children's ears.

"So back to the fight! Ah, turns out Austria successfully blocked the ninja star with a well-aimed swing with the flute! If only that gorgeous human being wasn't married to a psycho woma—"

"Sorry again guys! This is Feliciano taking over, because France nii-chan just got incapacitated with a giant skillet! Waaaahhhh! Austria-san just smacked Prussia with a drum stick! However, Prussia ended up grabbing it and gave Austria-san a fist in the gut."

Murmurs of "ouch" rose from the crowd. Hungary clutched onto a tree for dear sanity.

"—But don't worry! Austria-san managed to grab a piccolo from the inside of his jacket and slammed it straight on Prussia's nose! I think Prussia's nose is bleeding! Waaahhhh! Ludwig! I'm scarreeeeddd!"

"Hey guys, I'm like, totally back, sorry about that," Poland took over again. "Blood is like, so totally horrible and nasty and gross, you know?"

"I am back as well," said Toris. "Oh shi—Prussia just threw a dagger at Austria. It narrowly missed Austria's head, but it sliced right through Mariazell! I repeat, Mariazell is down!"

Hungary fell to the ground, and Austria seemed to be in shock at the moment. Mariazell! It couldn't be!

"Ehhhh SWEETTTTT!" Poland shouted. "Just now I managed to snatch Mariazell off the floor! So guys, I'm totally going to put it in an auction at the Warsaw Museum! Feel free to come to the auction and get this piece of Austria for yourself! See, it's sticking up in my hand even now!"

Somewhere in the crowd, an unmistakable voice could be heard, "Mon Dieu! This cannot be true! I can finally get a piece of the beautiful human being that is Austria~"

"Back on topic," Toris said somewhat crossly. "Austria seemed to be getting really angry, and I can understand that. Right now, he's waving a violin bow furiously in front of Prussia's face—nice try, but... Folks, I think it's safe to say congratulations to the people who bet on Prussia—"

"Like, EH. MY. GOD! You totally will NOT believe what just happened. Austria's bow was just a distraction. He grabbed a giant tuba and slammed the top part straight over Prussia's head, and then HE BLEW ON IT. It was this scary, low blasty sound! I'm seriously like, fearing for Prussia's life right now!"

"…Ah. It seems like Prussia is knocked out cold! 3, 2, 1—Ladies and gentlemen, we have a champion! Roderich Edelstein of Austria has just gained victory over Gilbert Weillschmidt of Prussia by stuffing Gilbert's head inside a Tuba—"

"Tory, don't bother. Everyone kind of just like, groaned and fainted. In fact, I'm totally going to groan and faint too, because I bet ALL MY PONIES on Prussia. I so don't wanna live anymore!"

With that, Poland groaned and fainted.


Austria looked around him, still tense and a little dazed. Unbelievably, he had won. He knew his beloved instruments weren't just for show.

He heard someone's footsteps towards him, and he turned around.

Hungary, tears streaming down her face, charged full-speed towards him, arms held out wide. She crashed into him so hard that he fell backwards, and soon both of them were rolling on the floor.

"Oh my god, oh my god," she was laughing and crying at the same time, "You are NOT DEAD. I'm so happy!"

"Ow, my shoulders hurt," Austria winced as her hands clamped on his shoulders. "And see, I told you not to worry. How could his meager weapons prevail against music?" he said importantly.

Hungary didn't know how to reply to that. So she leaned down and kissed him, and somehow Austria thought his shoulders didn't hurt so much anymore.

The crowd had recovered from the shock of the outcome, and France could be heard over the noise.

"See, I TOLD you that Hungary's the one on top," France said with a lewd smirk on his face.


One week later, Austria came out of the concert hall feeling pretty satisfied with himself. The March Concert had gone brilliantly; the attendance was spectacular. His favorite part was when Prussia had to sing a song praising Austria and music and Austria's music.

After the day of the fight, Prussia was sent to the emergency room. His concussion was so bad that for a while it was unclear whether he'd ever think clearly again. However, being Gilbert, he did recover in about 3 days or so, after which he was forced to learn the piece to be performed for the March Concert.

Canada, on the other hand, suddenly found himself a millionaire and the proud owner of villas all around the world, as well as 400 or so beautiful ponies. He made the tomatoes into ketchup chips and exported them for the world to enjoy, and well, since poor Alfred owed him 1 million hamburgers, he was now working in Canadian fast-food restaurants as a fry cook. Now that Canada owned property in pretty much every nation in the world, people finally remembered his name.

Matthew Williams.

Austria chuckled under his breath. It was all too surreal and ridiculous in a way.

"What's so funny?" Hungary asked beside him.

"Oh, nothing," Austria said. "All is well."