M:   Mandara chuckled, "you share his modesty too, he was the King Wing before he died but he hated being called that, he didn't want to be seen as higher than his fellow wings and sometimes didn't feel worthy of the title." 

Mandara then gave a half-hearted smile, "I don't know what your beliefs are in Germany, but here we greatly believe in reincarnation, and when someone is reincarnated they share the same personality of their former lives. So you may not believe it and even deny it, but Thunder and I truly believe that you could have been our father in your past life."

Poldara heard what his dad said and he turned his head to the adults, "you think Mr. Wehrmacht used to be grandpa? That doesn't mean he is grandpa does it?" 

Mandara facepalmed at his son's comment, leave it to the kid to make things awkward.

L:   "We're not related, Polds," Iremacht laughed. "Though at this rate, we might as well be." 

"Family friends does not always guarantee family blood," France said to Poldara. "Mandara is just saying that Wehrmacht acts a lot like your grandfather." 

"I don't," said Wehrmacht. "I might be modest but that's out of obligation. Mandoria was modest from the bottom of his heart. There's no way I could be like him, not after WW2." He shook his head. "Tut mir leid, Mandara. I'm going to have to deny it but I won't force you to go against your beliefs either." He'd done enough of that in the war.

M:   "I know, and I won't bring it up again if it makes you uncomfortable," Mandara said, patting Wehrmacht's shoulder, "it's just something that helps me and Thunder get by I guess." 

"Speaking of Uncle MA, is he really not going to be a militant anymore?" Poldara asked. 

"Oh don't worry Blue-Jay," Mandara reassured him, "your uncle is strong and has been in low places before, he'll come around, we just have to do everything we can to support him, ok." Poldara nodded, "Good, now why don't you two kids go play outside, maybe you can show Iremacht how your flight lessons have been going."

Poldara furrowed his brows at the mention of flying, "dad, you know I don't like heights." 

"I know, but one of these days you need to get over that fear."

L:   Iremacht's eye twitched at being called a kid but he didn't mind hanging out with Poldara. In fact, he had a really good (and fun) idea on how to help Poldara's acrophobia but he didn't want to rush back to the shooting range to get the equipment. 

"Does MA still have the paintball gun that I gave him?" Iremacht asked Mandara. "Along with a stash of paintballs? Your backyard looks big enough, so I was thinking ..." Iremacht looked mischievously at Poldara. "I can try shooting Poldara with paintballs while he tries dodging in the air. Rules are that he can't land. It'll train his wing muscle power too."

"Oh don't hurt the child too badly," France said. "And the paintballs would make such a mess!" 

"All the more fun," Iremacht grinned.

M:   Mandara didn't look like he enjoyed the idea of his son getting shot by paintballs, but before he voiced his concerns Poldara spoke, "It's in my room, he gave it to me when I was ten and I have a few others, that way I can shoot at you too, it would be just like a battle." he turned to Mandara, "can we dad, please." 

"Haven't you guys had enough shooting for one day, you already went to the shooting range today," Mandara said. 

"Please dad, it could be like one of my flight lessons," Poldara begged.

Mandara was really apprehensive, Iremacht was a trained militant and a career criminal, he was worried that the German might accidentally hurt Poldara or take things too far. With a nervous sigh, Mandara nodded, "ok, you can get the paintball guns, but take one of these three with you, I have to go over the final preparations for tomorrow." 

"YES," Poldara shouted, he ran for his room to retrieve the guns. 

"I volunteer Wehrmacht," Belarus said, "I'm not about to go near a 12-year-old and a militant shooting paintballs at each other."

L:   "I second that," France said. "Belarus and I will hang out in here while you boys try not to wreck the backyard." 

"Ah lucky me," Wehrmacht sighed but he was excited to watch them play. He knew he was there for security purposes in case Iremacht went overboard. His son could get carried away and he'd rather be the one to step in than someone else. 

While Poldara was getting the equipment, Wehrmacht asked Iremacht, "So what's your strategy in this paintball fight?"

"No strategy," Iremacht shrugged dismissively. "It's to help Poldara fly higher." 

"W-What?" 

"The kid will realize that if he flies low, he'll get hit by me every single time. So he'll have to fly higher, out of paintball range. That'll be high enough for him to get over his fear." 

Wehrmacht nodded in understanding and admiration. His son wasn't doing this entirely for the fun of it - there was a good purpose.

M:   Mandara blinked in surprise, he didn't know that was the real reason he wanted to shoot paintballs, he thought it was just an excuse for the militant to shoot something alive instead of a wooden target. 

"Thanks Machty, it's so hard for us to get him to fly higher than a two-story building so I appreciate you trying to help," he said. 

A minute later, Poldara came back with a box of multicolor paintballs and three paintball guns, one being the gun Iremacht gave to MA. "I got an extra one in case whoever's babysitting us wants to join."

Mandara smiled, "well, in that case, I better make sure to pay babysitter Wehrmacht extra for the trouble that you and Machty are going to give him." 

Belarus snickered at the joke, which unfortunately went right over Poldara's head. The kid was more focused on the upcoming battle so he handed Iremacht his old rifle and started pushing him to get to the backyard faster.

Mandara shook his head in amusement and decided to take his leave and head to his office to finalize the festival preparations. On the way there, Mandara passed MA's room, the door was slightly ajar so he decided to peek inside to cheek on his brother. MA was still facing away from the door so Mandara couldn't see his face, but the sleeping militant's huddled form on the bed, still wearing his uniform and using his wing as a blanket, was enough to make Mandara's heart fill with guilt. With a small sigh, he closed the door completely and kept heading for his office.