Lessons in Chemistry via Hetalia Chapter 1: Replacement Reaction, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

Lesson 1: the mechanics of a simple replacement reaction, with reactants AusHun and Pru yielding PruHun and Aus.

In the collision theory of chemistry, two reactants can only affect each other if they collide.

It was a Sunday afternoon. The soft yellow rays of the sun slid through the window to illuminate every surface of the room. The lustre of the piano shone black, while smaller chips of light bounced off a baroque tea set on a nearby table. Peaceful tones, perfectly sounded, flowed from the piano's heart as the ivories danced under the influence of a focused young man in prim dress. Behind him, relaxed hands clasped in front of her, stood his wife, her eyes closed as she swayed gently to the beat.

The front door slammed open, and a blur of a young man hurtled into the young woman, knocking the both of them out the window.

The pianist cut off his melody and turned towards the ruckus just in time to see Prussia and Hungary getting married.

It should be noted that collision theory is not effective at forming bonds in most macroscopic real-life situations. For the health of all those involved, it is advised no one attempt to find the exceptions. The entire concept is really quite absurd, but, for the purposes of this lesson, it will be taken as if it applied to real life.

While collisions are necessary for chemical reactions, not every collision of reactants results in products. This is clarified by the Arrhenius equation:

k = A*e^(-Ea/R*T)

The more k increases, the more collisions are effective. e (a fancy irrational number that people dislike truncating) and R are constants that will not explored in this lesson.

The simplest of the variables here affecting k is T, the temperature. A higher T leads to a higher k and thus more effective collisions.

It was a Sunday afternoon. The sun cast blinding arrays of light on every surface in the room, including the sweaty foreheads of its occupants. A young man and his wife lay collapsed in the frail shadows of the piano and tea table. Neither stirred more than necessary for breathing. Curtains drifted for a moment in the stifling breeze before catching fire.

The front door creaked open, and another young man hurried into the room. Panting heavily and pouring buckets of sweat, he stumbled into the room fast as his shaking legs could take him and collapsed on the young woman. Fumbling with his pocket, he seized her limp hand, tugged off her wedding ring, and forced his own onto her finger.

Prussia cried out in victory before passing out from heatstroke.

In chemical reactions, temperature actually increases the movement of particles, but no metaphor is perfect.

The A variable of the equation is called the orientation factor. All reactants involved in a collision must be correctly oriented to react with each other.

The front door slammed open, and the music cut off with a haphazard crash as a blur of a young man hurtled into the pianist, knocking the both of them out the window.

They tumbled onto the wedding stage outside, scrambling away from each other and to their feet. The priest, standing just to the side, looked at them and hesitated.

Austria, furiously straightening his collar, prepared to snap at Prussia for the utterly irrational act before he noticed the surroundings. With a tight frown, he turned back to Prussia and said:

"I had been under the impression that you were straight."

Prussia took a few steps back. "Kinda thought you were straight, too."

"This seems like rather poor planning on your part, then."

"I'm starting to get that impression."

"I'll give you an impression!" roared Hungary, who had made it directly behind Prussia.

Face freezing before it could show utter terror, Prussia turned towards her just in time to see the frying pan connect with his face.

Austria, the priest, and the guests drifted slowly away as blood bespattered the wedding stage.

Reactants colliding with an incorrect orientation will not react; however, the proper parts of each reactant hitting each other does not guarantee the formation of product. Ea (activation energy) also comes into play. For a reaction to occur, the reactants must collide with a high enough amount of energy.

The door slammed open, and a young man staggered into the room, hiccuping. The perturbed pianist stopped playing, while his wife frowned, looking over at the newcomer.

"Say, Hungary," Prussia slurred, coming to a stop next to the young woman, "we should get married. I bought a priest and everything." He attempted to push her towards the window.

A few moments later, he was unconscious, with the promise of something worse than a hangover ailing his head when he awoke.

Lower Ea leads to a higher k. When the Ea is low (something achievable by the addition of a catalyst), colliding particles do not have to have quite so much energy to react.

The door slammed open, and a young man hurried inside, hefty box under one arm. The perturbed pianist stopped playing, while his wife frowned, looking over at the newcomer.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting anything," Prussia said, walking in a bit farther and setting the box against the wall. "Just thought I'd get these nice and refrigerated before the party here tonight."

Austria frowned. "I don't believe I was planning to throw a party here tonight."

Many hours of convincing later, the three were partying. An hour after that, Austria was slumped over the piano bench in a drunken stupor, while a very red-faced Hungary was giggling at absolutely everything Prussia did or did not say.

"Say, Hungary," Prussia slurred, "we should get married. I bought a priest and everything." He attempted to push her towards the window.

Giggling madly, she staggered to her feet and let him lead her to the wedding stage.

In uncatalysed reactions, however, it is exceedingly rare for any two colliding particles to have enough energy to react.

The front door slammed open, and a blur of a young man hurtled into the young woman. Barely able to defend herself, she kept him at arm's length as they went tumbling onto the carpet.

Prussia came to a stop as the back of his head hit a piano leg. Groaning, he sat up, disentangling himself from Hungary.

She did the same, though with less groaning and more frying-pan-swinging.

Additionally considering the temperature and orientation factor, it should be no surprise that very, very few collisions result in a successful reaction.

The front door slammed open, and a blur of a young man hurtled into the room, knocking both the pianist and his wife to the carpet. The three hadn't entirely separated themselves before Hungary set upon Prussia with the frying pan.

Even at the rate of one successful collision for millions upon millions of unsuccessful ones, reactions do happen. Thankfully (for the Pru cation, at least) more than one set of reactants is whizzing about trying to collide with each other. The chances of success may be all but impossible, but with enough collisions the reaction will happen.

Keep at it, Prussia.

A/N: So there we are. Inspiration struck for this, so I executed it.

I can't say there will be any more of these. It's terrible to write things about chemistry without any superscripts, subscripts, or arrows. Also, this was the only idea I had. So I'll mark this Complete for now and perhaps come back to it if I ever feel the need to write another one of these.

In the case that this piece of fiction hasn't entirely broken your mind, feel free to review.