A/N: Hey, everyone! I'd like to introduce you to Gakutalia - it's based off the Japanese word 'Gakko', meaning 'school'; I considered 'Gakkotalia', but considering Hidekaz Himaruya had previously started a game called 'Gakuen Hetalia', meaning 'Hetalia School', I decided to use similar lettering. Gakutalia, therefore, is literally 'Schooltalia'.

I've decided to use the nations' human names - be it official or fan given. I'm sure many people will know the names of the eight main nations, but just in case, I'll list them all at the end! For any other characters, I'll make sure to list their names. Teachers are made up characters, as are parents. For the very reason that Gakutalia sometimes feels very distant to the actual Hetalia universe, I would like to say I do not own Hetalia, nor the characters who belong to the series. The idea of anthropomorphised countries and the characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya (check out his blog if you haven't already; it's amazing. There's a way of getting to an English version through the website); however! Gakutalia is not based off of 'Gakuen Hetalia'. The plot is my original idea, and doesn't link the game, other than sharing the 'school' theme. Thank you very much for your time.

For anyone who reads my other FanFiction 'Scaretalia', I'm still posting that one as well, so don't fear! I just had this as an idea and needed to get it out there! I hope you all enjoy Gakutalia!

A.J.

In my head, I sometimes imagine so much more is out there. When I wake up and look in the mirror, I see a face that will, one day, be loved and adored by everyone. I can see that charming smile – you'll have a great lady once you're out in the world. And no, despite what Arthur says and what Matt implies, you'll even get a great degree. Check that! You could be the president when you're older! Oh, and by the way, that comment about the charming smile? I even say that to myself as a much needed pep talk to start the day.

There's this thing… It's not easy being as popular and smart as me. The girls flock to me! I'm the Hero – I run into the scene and show what's meant to be done. My well rounded personality means I also happen to be a great role model. When kids see me on the TV, they'll think: "That's the guy I want to be." Even the girls will think that…

"Mr Jones, please stay late after class," Miss Ronan sighed, and several snickers flowed through the room.

"Wait, why?" Alfred sat up in his chair in horror.

"Is sitting right in front of me blatantly not listening, let alone answering my questions, good enough?" she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Add answering back to that list."

"Oh, come on," he muttered under his breath and then gazed out of the window.

In his opinion, Math (yeah, Math, not Maths, Arthur) was a waste of time. Jumbling a bunch of numbers together was something he really didn't like doing – let alone forcing them into equations. Last year, he was sent to the headmaster's office for saying: "I don't want to force numbers together; that's like forced breeding, Sir." But that was in the good old days when his Math teacher was Mr Tyler, who was aggravated by pretty much anything anyone did. Now he had Miss Ronan, who was way more controlled and somehow managed to deflect any comments he made.

He'd heard the rumours about her. She was the Math teacher that made Gilbert Beilschmidt do Math. Apparently, she kept him in so much during lunch (rather than after school) and got him to recite as many times tables as possible until he would rather do the other stuff. She had also, apparently, been able to completely send all his jokes and comments out the window. If Gilbert Beilschmidt, the King of his year, the most awesome kid in school before he left, was forced to do Math from this woman, then he, Alfred Jones, stood no chance.

Speaking of "Beilschmidt"… He turned slightly in his seat and looked towards the King of Awesome's younger brother, Ludwig Beilschmidt. He sat diligently working, writing down everything Miss Ronan was saying.

I suppose awesome isn't a family trait, he pondered, and then a tapping on his desk brought him back to the real world.

"Alfred, do you really want me to keep you in this lunchtime?" she threatened, her pen resting on his desk.

"No, Ma'am," he frowned, and picked up his pen.

"Alright," she walked to the board and slammed her hand against it next to a string of numbers and letters most humans called an equation. "Can you tell me the answer to this?"

Alfred looked at all the numbers swimming across the board. "Five."

"Alfred, we're doing quadratic equations," she prompted. "Five isn't right."

"Four?"

She sighed. "Quadratic equations, Alfred. And this question's already been half worked out by the class. Do you remember quadratic equations?"

"Um…" he sunk lower in his seat. "Yeah?"

"OK, well, I'll give you a clue," she said. "There are two results."

"Four and five?" he guessed.

She sighed, lowered her head, and then glanced around the classroom. "Can anyone else quickly work out the answer for Alfred, here?"

He brooded as she gazed across the classroom, and then pointed towards the back.

"Yes, Kiku?"

"The answers are two and minus zero point five."

Alfred turned in his chair and looked at him in disbelief. He'd heard Asians were good at Math, but that was ridiculous. He was fairly sure that Kiku sacrificed his social life in his pursuit of Math. He turned moodily back to the front, ignoring the quiet snickers and sneering glances aimed towards him. He hated being embarrassed and humiliated...

He waited for the torture to end. The bell rang, and he started packing his bag, shoving his cursed Math books inside with everything else. He stood alongside the flow of students heading towards the door, and started shifting slowly out of the classroom.

"Alfred, a word, remember?" Miss Ronan said from behind him.

Yes, hence I'm leaving, he thought, but turned with an anxious smile and approached her desk, where she sat.

"Yes, Ma'am?" he asked.

She placed an elbow on the table and glanced at him. "I sometimes really wonder if you should have a Maths tutor to help you. I don't say that to offend you, but I'm worried about how you're progressing in this subject. Quadratic equations are something you do in Years Ten and Eleven. That's freshman and sophomore; you're a senior now."

"I've never been good at Math, Miss Ronan," he admitted. "And I never really understood them when we first learned about them…"

"You never asked Mr Tyler to go over them in person?" she gave him a pointed a look.

In truth, Alfred had never aspired to try and understand quadratic equations. Mr Tyler had insisted he go to clinic, get a tutor, see him after class, lunch, school, anything, but Alfred insisted he knew his quadratics. He didn't. He'd found that out the difficult way during the exams.

His only way to reply was to offer her a baffled expression and shrug his shoulders.

"I think I'll start tutoring you," she decided. "You already go to a well-established school and, as your teacher, it's my job to make sure you get the results at the end of the day. That means I don't want you having to put additional money towards outside education when you're already here."

"Miss, I honestly don't have time for Math," Alfred shrugged arrogantly.

"Do you know who you remind me of?" she said. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm sure you were here when he was still in school?"

Alfred nodded. A young, excitable Year Ten Alfred had seen Year Thirteen Gilbert as an amazing role model. He had admired him so much, and then he'd been gone when he reached Year Eleven that next year. However, the memory of the King of Awesome had imprinted on Alfred's mind, and the Awesome was left in the school in a loudly written "Gilbert = King of Awesome" that the older Beilschmidt son had apparently written in Year Eleven on the bottom corner of the Headmaster's door. Only the students knew about that, though…

"That boy refused to learn Maths," she continued. "But I pressed and pressed until even he got an A as his final grade. It was a low A, but it was an A, Alfred, and that's what counts. It's achievable. I know you can do it if you put the effort in, but if I go through the basics with you and reteach you on all the parts you're shaky on, the foundations will help you with the higher things."

"Can't I just do a foundation paper?" he asked, bored.

"I don't want you having to do that," she said, pointedly. "I want you to at least put in your best efforts. If you're still struggling by the end of the Easter term, we'll see what we can do about a foundation paper. In the meantime, you and I'll be doing a lot of Maths work after school. We'll work out the days later. Have a good break."

Sourly, Alfred nodded and walked out of the classroom. The corridor was empty. No one had chosen to wait for him. Sullenly, he walked down the stairs and into the flow of students heading to Break. He himself had a different purpose.

There was a place he had been meeting with his friends since Year Eleven. He remembered the first day he'd gone to the hideout with the other four.

It had been the summer of Year Ten, the last day of school for the Year Thirteen students. A younger Alfred had hurried towards the bus stop in front of the school where the older students were gathered. He'd been nervous at the time, but when he saw the silvery white hair of his role model, turned pale gold from the sun's tiring rays, he'd been filled with excitement and wonder.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt!" he'd called as he'd ran down to the slightly sloped hill that led to the bus stop outside the school.

The older boy had turned, mildly curious at the young voice calling his name, and although his conversation had been interrupted, he'd been pretty cool about it.

He had said: "Hey, there, kid. What's up?"

"I want to know the place where you used to meet up," young Alfred had begged. "I want to be just as awesome as you by the time I'm in Year Thirteen."

A couple of kids had glanced at him at the time, and Alfred thought they'd been questioning, but then Gilbert had smiled at him, amused by this statement.

"Rule Number One," he'd held up a finger. "You can't be as awesome as the King of Awesome. Ever. But you can be still be a little awesome… Rule Number Two? Follow the base. The awesome will guide you."

After that, the bus had arrived and Gilbert had had to leave. Alfred had watched in amazement as his childhood hero was swept out of his life just like that. He hadn't seen or heard from Gilbert since, but everything the older boy (probably a young man, now) had did and said was etched into Alfred's core.

It had taken him a week, three days, fourteen hours and fifty-two minutes to work out how Rule Number Two worked. The base meant the bottom, but of what he had had no idea. It finally occurred to him, after weeks searching the music room, much to Roderich Edelstein's dismay and irritation. He'd been looking for the bass. However, then he realised it was the bottom of something. It had been Arthur's idea to check somewhere secluded, which had led them to the forest nearby the school. No one went there, and that was when Alfred had seen the crosses scratched into the trunks. He'd followed them in a depressing circle. It was Yao's idea to check the base of the trunk, which had given them straight directions to which tree they needed to go to.

The King of Awesome's base had been very worth it indeed. They'd all been surprised to find an old tree-house hidden amongst the trees. Climbing up, Alfred had found the place he'd wanted to find. It was well built, and in the door was written: "Awesome wuz here". Entering, he'd found the coolest things ever. It was just riddled with posters of things Gilbert and his friends had liked. There were beanie bags, a music player and even an old football abandoned in the corner. The strangest thing had been the bed in the corner, but Gilbert was long gone before Alfred could've asked him anything about that. It was the one place nobody ever went – nobody had ever found Gilbert's base, and now it seemed it had been passed on from one King to the next.

Alfred was well aware of Rule Number One, but his dream had only grown as he'd gotten older, to the point where he wanted to exceed Gilbert.

The base was there, and he climbed up into the main room to see the other four lounging around.

"I can't believe you guys didn't wait for me," he complained, and threw himself down on the bed, which was really just two mattresses on top of one another with a blanket.

"We were hardly going to hang around whilst you were scolded for not paying attention," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You should try listening," Francis added. "You might get into less trouble."

"If my parents got an e-mail or comment or anything about me doing something like you, I'm fairly sure they'd prohibit me leaving the house until my grades went up," Yao glanced at him.

"I convince my teachers they're wrong," Ivan smiled, staring into space, and ending his sentence a little ominously.

Has he always been this strange? Alfred wondered, but then laughed despite himself.

They might have been assholes, they might have even been a little weird, but the four others sitting in the new King's house were his friends. And Alfred didn't mean the new King of Awesome.

He was the King of Heroes.

A/N: Here it is! The first chapter of Gakutalia! Hope you enjoyed it, and I can certainly guarantee there'll be more of that where it came from! Thank you very much, and please review if you have anything to say, because I love getting reviews/opinions on the things I write!

Alfred = America; Arthur = England; Francis = France; Yao = China; Ivan = Russia; Roderich = Austria; Gilbert = Prussia; Matthew (called "Matt" in this chapter) = Canada; Ludwig = Germany; Kiku = Japan