Title: Bled-Stained Days at the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction
Characters/Pairings: The World. Take that as you will.
Genre: Humour, Parody, General
Ratings/Warnings: R, for violence, swearing, and oodles of innuendo
Summary: Welcome to another year at IAHF. With mysterious strangers, insensitive weaboos, and sentient clocks, it can be easily said that something stranger than Mary Sue terrorists is on the loose.
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia; it's all Himaruya's. The concept of the Official Fanfiction University belongs to Miss Cam. The PPC belongs to Jay, Acacia, and the Boarders.
Notes: This is the SEQUEL to the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction. Sequels are meant to be read after the first piece (although I plead guilty to not reading things in order). There will be mentions of events and things that happened in IAHF1. The G8 and the second/third semester students will be making cameos, too.
Considering that I will be crunched for time with college shopping/applications and such, I would like to warn readers not to expect consistent updates like with IAHF1. In fact, there is a very high chance that I might end up on hiatus. I just didn't want to leave ends loose, and I also wanted to experiment with a totally different plotline… let's see how this goes.
As always, if you are submitting a student, please go to IAHF1 to get the form. I don't think I will rehash the form in the sequel; it takes up space and OFUM and HFA don't restate their forms, either. Please be creative and keep responses short (unless you want to be in the Nerd Group). Most of you ought to know the drill.
Bled-Stained Days at the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction
It was a dark and stormy night.
Actually, that was an understatement. The night was so suffocatingly dark that people could barely see their hands even when they were touching their noses. The weather was so violently stormy that the rain appeared to fall in rippling curtains of water that seemed capable of soaking through even the most waterproof of mackintoshes.
Such a night was nearly unprecedented at the International Academy of Hetalia Fanfiction. Granted, the weather always showed off at IAHF and it was hurricane season, but tonight the weather seemed to want to destroy the school. The winds whipped trees into grotesque positions; the thunder and lightning roared and flashed intermittently. Chibi Nations fled their nursery in search of their older counterparts, and even Alfred F. Jones joined his smaller counterpart in hogging the blankets in Arthur Kirkland's bed.
"I love storms," Jennifer Chang whispered excitedly to Workbitch Bartholomew as they huddled under the blankets in their room. Jennifer was a battle-scarred IAHF alumnus who was now serving on the IAHF Group of Eight. She was Asian, wore glasses, and had some extra fat on her belly that she would love to shed. So far, running for her life had kept her in relatively good shape. Who would have known?
"I don't particularly…" Workbitch muttered, clinging onto his girlfriend of almost a year.
"You don't like storms?" Jennifer asked. "It's so frighteningly nice to hear the rain against the windowpane…" She held him tighter nonetheless.
"It's unsettling to see the lightning and hear the thunder… it's like the end of the world is coming…" Workbitch nuzzled against her, breathing lightly against her skin. "Unsettling…"
BOOM. BOOM. Workbitch buried his face into the crook between Jennifer's neck and shoulders. She giggled at the tickling sensation.
"Don't be a scaredy-cat," she pouted, patting his head.
"I don't think that's thunder," he replied.
"Yeah, that's not…" Jennifer frowned. "Sounds more like knocking."
"Knocking with a battering ram," Workbitch remarked. "Who would call on us at…" he checked the clock. "Two in the morning?"
"It's already two?" Jennifer groped for her glasses on the bedside table. "Let's go see the visitor," she suggested, but as soon as she left the warm sanctuary of the blankets she shivered. "Fuck, it's cold!"
Workbitch clambered out after her to find their bathrobes and slippers. Arm-in-arm, they grabbed a torch and padded out of their room, shining the torch down the hallway. No one there.
"Not our door," Jennifer pointed out as they made their way towards the noise. "Coming from outside the Staff Section?" They passed by some slumbering Mochis in a nearby alcove. Mochi Nations functioned as Minis at IAHF, but at this time of the year they were not required to be on duty. The students were scheduled to arrive in a week or so, so in the meantime the Mochis (and the rest of the Staff) were enjoying a much-needed holiday.
Jennifer and Workbitch approached the entrance to the Staff Section, turning off their torches when they saw that the hallway lights were on in that section. Italian Feliciano Vargas, German Ludwig Beilschmidt, and Japanese Kiku Honda were standing with various weapons (or a white flag, in Feliciano's case), looking as if they had been there since the knocking began. They also bore signs of having stayed up watching one of Kiku's horror films or something.
"Have you opened the door to see what's there?" Jennifer asked suddenly, nearly getting stabbed by Kiku's katana for her troubles. A high-strung, sleep-deprived Japanese was a force to be reckoned with.
"Iie, I haven't," Kiku replied, bowing apologetically. "Gomen nasai, Chang-san."
"It's fine," Jennifer muttered, looking shaken nonetheless. Kiku turned his attention to his friends.
"What do you think it is?" he asked.
"I hope it's not scary, ve," Feliciano whimpered. "What if it was? What if it wants to kill us, like in Kiku's film? LUDDY, I DON'T WANNA DIE!" He bawled the last part, unexpectedly tackling Ludwig and sobbing dramatically into the German's nightshirt.
Ludwig looked suitably awkward. "Er… yeah… um, I'm not going to… make it… get to you." His left eye twitched.
"What would 'it' be?" a new voice interjected. The Course Coordinators, Mr. Allen Clarke and Mr. Hugh Fraser, had arrived. They were identical, with blond hair, thick eyebrows, blue eyes, and half-asleep expressions. Mr. Allen was wearing a Call of Duty: Black Ops t-shirt; Mr. Hugh wore a nightshirt and a dressing gown and carried a three-month old baby girl in his arms. The little girl was awake; she looked torn between curiosity and fright.
"Open the door, I suppose," Mr. Allen yawned. "I wanna go back and sleep."
Ludwig approached the door.
BOOMBOOM! Before the third knock, Ludwig opened the door and two darkly-clad figures stumbled across the threshold. They were soaked from head to foot, despite the umbrella that the figure in the dress was closing. The figure in the suit with the top hat was holding some sort of trunk.
Immediately Ludwig and Kiku trained their weapons on the strangers. Workbitch and Jennifer scrambled to close the door. Mr. Allen placed himself in front of Mr. Hugh, who was holding the baby protectively. After a moment, the newcomers looked up and raised their hands in gestures of peace.
"Who are you?" Workbitch asked imperiously, striding back to his position next to Mr. Hugh as the Course Coordinators' secretary. Jennifer followed, noting the stamps on the trunk. One of them read 'DANGER: TIME-SENSITIVE MATERIAL' in silver letters.
The man removed his hat and bowed, blond moustache quivering slightly. "Sir Ernest Satow, GCMG, at your service," he replied formally.
"GCMG?" echoed Mr. Hugh. "You work for the Foreign and Commonwealth Office?"
"Former British Minister to Japan," Satow replied briskly, running a hand through his drenched blond hair. "Most remiss of you to keep a foreign dignitary and his wife out in such horrid weather."
"Yes, that was… um…" Mr. Hugh laughed sheepishly, but the laugh didn't seem to reach his eyes. Jennifer noticed that Satow seemed to have the same piercing blue eyes as the Course Coordinators.
"We're very sorry for drenching the lady," Mr. Allen cut in. "And pray tell, does the lady have a name?"
"Takeda Kane," the woman replied, smoothing out her charcoal grey dress. She had black hair tied up in a bun and bright green eyes; she surveyed Mr. Allen and Mr. Hugh haughtily. "Are the two of you twins?"
"Er… you could say that." Mr. Allen laughed. "It's actually a delightfully long story. Are the two of you on any particular sort of trip, considering you guys came out of nowhere?"
Kane and Satow looked at each other. "You could say that," Satow replied, "but our tale is just as delightfully long as yours. For the meantime, I hope it doesn't trouble you for us to impinge on your hospitality."
"Certainly not!" Mr. Hugh laughed shortly as well. "Workbitch, please show our guests to their rooms!"
No sooner had Workbitch escorted Kane and Satow down a side corridor (Kane was still clutching her umbrella; Satow was trying to carry the trunk without dropping it on his feet) did the other seven members of the G8 show up. Jennifer snickered at their sleepy faces. "Missed the party, man," she said, slinging an arm around Kriss Kross, who was yawning and leaning heavily against her girlfriend Jennifer (or Merka) Breigher.
"We heard something," yawned Merka. "What happened?"
"Visitors," Mr. Hugh snapped. "Go to bed."
"Can I go to your bed?" Charlie Tenterden asked slyly, ever the Mr. Hugh fanboy.
"Don't be ridiculous," grumbled Mr. Hugh, as Feliciano, Ludwig, and Kiku left, ostensibly to finish Kiku's film. Taylor Drews-Garcia muttered something about spoiling his beauty sleep and dragged his boyfriend Franklin Mycroft Livingston off with him.
"Come on, if that's all that happened we might as well go," Sara Parker whined, padding away with Loki Shadow Reave in tow.
"I'm sure there's more than just 'visitors'," Loki reasoned half-sleepily. "I mean, it's two in the morning… and it sounded like they had a battering ram…"
"Just… go back to your room," Mr. Allen replied, waving the students away. "You too, Miss Chang. I'm sure Work will be back in his room in a moment."
Jennifer followed the other former students. "So, Jen, tell us," Sara said as soon as they got out of the Course Coordinators' hearing ranges. "Who were the visitors?"
"A couple," Jennifer replied, stretching slightly. "Some blond, blue-eyed man and his dark-haired, green-eyed wife. They were dressed in dark colours and the guy carried a trunk that says something about time-sensitive material."
"…What." Several people said that. Jennifer shrugged.
"I don't know what it means, either," she replied. "And… where's Charlie?"
Meanwhile, Charlie had stayed behind to listen to Mr. Allen and Mr. Hugh's conversation. "You… you think they're serious?" Mr. Allen was whispering to Mr. Hugh. Mr. Hugh's little girl had fallen asleep.
"I know Satow was a diplomat; he knew people that I knew," Mr. Hugh replied, shooting a glare at Charlie. "Charlie, go to bed. Unless you can contribute to our mystery…"
"Ooh, help? You need my help?" Charlie squealed, bouncing. "I'll be glad to help!"
Mr. Hugh placed his free hand on his hip. "Do you know of a diplomat… he was one of our colleagues… named Ernest Satow?"
Charlie's eyes narrowed. "Hm… might have assigned him places once or twice…" he said thoughtfully. "Name doesn't ring that big of a bell, though."
"Ah, right." Mr. Allen smiled. "You better be off, then."
"No goodnight kiss?" whined Charlie, looking up at them with big green eyes. Mr. Allen and Mr. Hugh looked at each other exasperatedly.
"No," they said in unison.
"Go to bed," added Mr. Hugh. Charlie dolefully complied, sniffling as he went.
"So pathetic," sighed Mr. Allen. "You want me to take over parenting duty for Emma?" he asked suddenly. "You look like you need your sleep." Emma was the little girl that Mr. Hugh was taking care of; she had been born a Mary Sue but had also been subsequently de-Glitterified.
"I will take you up on that offer," Mr. Hugh agreed, carefully handing the slumbering Emma to Mr. Allen. "Woke me up at half-past one with a soiled diaper, and then vomited all over the bed… I'll have to change the sheets again…"
"You're regretting letting Mary marry Howard, aren't you?" cackled Mr. Allen. "I mean… ever since Takara died…"
A shadow passed over Mr. Hugh's face. "Did you see Satow's wife?" he asked after a moment. "Those eyes…"
"They're familiar," agreed Mr. Allen. "She looks familiar, yes. But she can't be Takara; Takara's dead and buried –"
"Don't remind me!" snapped Mr. Hugh, clapping a hand to his mouth as Emma stirred slightly. "Do you know what Emma said yesterday?"
"She talked?" echoed Mr. Allen. "First words?"
"Yes. Her first word was 'mama'. Do you know how painful that is to hear? Her mother's dead!"
Mr. Allen looked down at the sleeping baby. "I'm sorry, man," he said after a moment. "You need to get some sleep. Students return in a week, remember?"
Mr. Hugh nodded, looking out the window at the raging storm outside.
Notes: Sir Ernest Satow, PC, GCMG, and overall Victorian Weaboo (in Japan he was also known as アーネスト・サトウ), was the Official Asakiku Fanboy (aka British Minister Plenipotentiary and Envoy Extraordinary to Japan. They didn't have an Embassy back then) at an even closer-to-the-Anglo-Japanese-Alliance date than Hughie (1862-1883 and then 1895-1900). He was such a weaboo that he 1) got his name in kanji, 2) was better known in Japan than in Britain, and 3) married a Japanese chick named Takeda Kane (she was pretty, though).
Irony is a beautiful thing.