Sketchbook (Hetalia fanfic)

Chapter Three - The Chess Game

The sun hit me full force. Warm morning rays pelted my olive skin and momentarily blinded me. The grounds were loud and full of people, talking and joking with each other. The air surrounding me smelling of newly cut grass and morning dew.

Two boys arguing caught my attention. They're proportions to each other were so unbalanced; one was short with extremely messy hair and green eyes with an air of strictness around him, he seemed like the kind of person you wouldn't want to argue with. While the other was tall, blond, and blue eyed. He seemed like the kind of guy who would get along with anyone, a care-free life-lover.  

As I walked closer their voices presented themselves to my ears, and I listened in on they're conversation.

"... but Britain, dude, I have the perfect invention to get me over to Germany's place, it's called--"

"-- I know what it is called, Alfred. It is called a boat, not a bo-at." The shorter one had a growing irk mark on the side of his head.

"Okay sure, whateves. Listen," he took the Brit by his shoulders and looked him in the eyes, he had to bend his knees to get eye level. Britain looked appalled and like he really didn't want this kid in his personal space. "I'm not talkin' about a dumb bo-at--"

"--it is called a boat and--"

"--I'm talking about..." he looked around to see if anybody was listening, and or looking, and caught sight of me.

He let go of Britain and straightened up, shoved his hands in his pockets at an attempt to look cool. His eyes drifted over my body and hovered for a second on the hair covering my right eye, then to the ahoge curling down in my face.

"What? What is it?" Britain turned in a circle and then saw me, "oh, 'ello. 'Oo are you? I am The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. A. k. a. Arthur Kirkland. But you, my dear, can call me England."

I smiled. It was intended as a joking, mocking smile. "Hi, I'm Chukotka. And I'm no one's dear." I dropped my smile and he looked offended by my sudden lash out.

"OOH! Burn!" The taller guy motioned an explosion with his hands over the Brit.

"Shut up, America." He pushed America's face away with his hand and took a step away from him, but stayed present in the conversation.

"Hey aren't you that chick that knock out 'Mother Russa' ?"America took his hands out of his pocket and pretended to hit someone with a bat (or frying pan).

I sighed. I knew this question was unavoidable, so I figured I'd answer it in a creative way, "Yes, but you see he deserved it.  He knew it was coming eventually, with all the things he said and did while were at war."

The American looked at me with wide eyes while, on the contair, the Brit looked quite calm.

"Whaddid he do?"

"Oh you know, only things that are regrettable, after the war is ended and peace is restored."

"Like what?"

"Pardon me, England, but who is this moron?" i turned toward Arthur, completely ignoring the kid's question.

"He is, unfortunately, my younger brother, America. His human name is Alfred F--"

"--Don't say it!"

A small irk mark appeared on the side of Arthur's head, and he hissed, "I wasn't going to, idiot. As I was saying, Alfred F. Jones. And you can call him whatever you want. Say, do you know how to play chess?"

"Yes I do, shall we play a game?" 

He curtly nodded and held out his elbow. I took it without a word and we walked away from the gaping moron.