What does it take to be a countryhuman?  Most will say that it is simply being a leader of a nation with a flag on your face, but it's not that simple at all.  Countryhumans have hard lives, they are the center of their nation and are in charge of everything that happens in it, as well as who it interacts with.  Every day is a battle of power and a fight for survival between countries and they would do anything to be on top.

This is the story of a country who found himself fighting against one of the most powerful world powers in history, a country who didn't care about power, all he cared about was the safety of his people and the wellbeing of those who depended on him.  Unfortunately, fate is never kind to the nice guys, and this country's selflessness will cost him greatly.

The country of Mandara was quiet as the setting sun was shining its last rays down upon it, which hit a large castle-like mansion on the outskirts of the capital city, but it was no billionaire or president that lived in it, such a beautiful home would only be worthy of the most important people in the nation, the very personifications of the country and the military; Mandara and Mandara Army.

"Come on Trigger, you've been working for twelve hours straight, you should take a breather." Mandara Army stated.

He was leaning against the door frame to Mandara's home office, where the overworked country was busy doing paperwork.  It was very apparent that Mandara was exhausted, he had bags under his eyes and his multi-colored wings hung from his shoulders like dead weight.

"No Thunder ... I'm fine," he responded, trying to suppress a yawn.

MA just scoffed at his brother's obvious lie, but then took the opportunity to lighten the mood a little. "Yeah, sure bro, and I am UK," He teased.

Mandara couldn't help but snicker at the quip.  "Ha, you don't drink nearly enough tea to be him.  I swear, I thought Russia had a drinking problem."

The two shared a good laugh before falling back into silence.  MA watched as his brother continued to work.  He always admired his little brother's dedication, if something needed to be done he would stop at nothing to accomplish it, even if it meant working himself to death over it.

MA then broke the silence again, "seriously though, you do need to take a break.  Your tendency to overwork yourself has started to affect your mood lately, it's not healthy."

Mandara audibly grumbled.  Running a country was hard enough, but he didn't need his brother hovering over him trying to distract him.  "Well Thunder, you clearly don't know this, but I have to get these papers done by tomorrow, so unless you can magically make time stop, I can't take a break."  He spat, his eye glowing irritably.

MA definitely could tell he hit a nerve, the irritation in the room was palpable, not to mention that winged countries could feel each other's emotions through their wings, so the vibes were even stronger to him.  To help ease the tension, he walked over to Mandara's desk and offered to help.

"No, thanks," Mandara said, his sudden and sharp response catching MA off guard.  "The last time I let you handle politics, it led to The Great Depression."  This time it was Mandara's turn to hit a nerve.

"HEY, THAT'S NOT TRUE AND YOU KNOW IT!"  MA shouted, his feathers bristled in anger and his eye glowed brightly.  He was about to chew out his brother for bringing up the old negativity but decided against it when he saw the country smirk a little.  He knew that Mandara was doing that to rile him up so he would leave, but it wasn't going to work, so he simply continued to playfully pester Mandara until he finally relented.

"Okay, okay, you win," Mandara sighed, defeated, "I'll take a break, just don't screw anything up, alright."  MA nodded in agreement and happily took over for him.

As Mandara walked into his room, he caught a glimpse of his wings in his stand-up mirror.  The feathers were looking quite ragged and duller than usual.

"Huh, I guess I have been working too much," he said to himself.  Mandara was always very finicky about keeping his wings looking presentable, if one feather was out of place he would almost always drop whatever he was doing to fix it, so the lack of neatness shows that he definitely needed a rest from political affairs.  With this discovery in mind, he decided to take a nice long shower so he could care for his feathers and relax at the same time.

When he walked into the bathroom, the first thing he did was unwrap the bandages from both of his lower arms, revealing dozens of scars underneath.  Mandara didn't need the bandages as none of the wounds were fresh, but he hid them anyway simply because he hated them and didn't like others seeing them either.

Once both arms were bandage-free, he moved on to his eyepatch.  It was one of Mandara's most prized possessions and he rarely took it off.  Because of this, MA would sometimes playfully tease about how he wore it while sleeping every so often.  Of course, MA was the only one allowed to do that because he was one of the few countries who knew why Mandara wore it so much, and what was hiding under it.  Mandara untied the straps and set the patch on the counter, revealing his blind right eye.  The eye itself was a greyish-silver hue, contrast to his other sunshine yellow one, and across his silver eye was a large scar.  Mandara didn't hate this scar as bad since he has been told that it makes him look tough, but it still mentally hurt looking at it.

With a small sigh, he hesitantly started to remove his shirt, which revealed a sight to make anyone gasp in shock.  All over his black and green torso were even more scars, with hardly any bare skin between them.  As Mandara set down his shirt, he gazed at one particular scar on the left side of his chest.  There, as plain as the wings on his back, was a hammer crisscrossed over a sickle, the symbol of the U.S.S.R.

"Oh Soviet," he sighed, "what did I do to you to deserve this?"

And with that thought, Mandara closed his eyes and begun to recall the past.