This year, for his birthday, his older sister brought him sunflower seeds. No, not the ones you eat, the ones you plant.
Russia cradled the little packet lovingly. Every year, Ukraine would bring Russia a packet of sunflower seeds.
And every year, he saved them.
But Ukraine, this year, wasn't going to have that.
She started to tear up. "Brother! Don't you like Sunflowers? Why don't you plant the seeds!"
Russia, however, didn't answer at first.
After a minute or two of bawling and weeping, he said, "This year, I have enough seeds." He nodded before grinning. "Yes, I will plant them."
This started Ukraine crying tears of joy. She hugged her bigger little brother happily while he squirmed uncomfortably.
He was sure he was just guilt into planting them.
Once he escaped his sister's grip, he headed home. He counted the packets of seeds. There are 1150 packets of ten seeds each, meaning he had 11,500 sunflowers waiting to be planted, cared for, grown and picked.
Planting.
The first thing Russia did was clean up his neglected garden. He hadn't used it for over three hundred and twenty-two years. It was dry because of Russia's usual harsher cold climate.
He cut the grass and pulled all the weeds.
By the time Russia was ready to start to take a hoe and break and turn the soil, Lithuania spotted him outside.
"Master Russia?"
Russia turned around, a childish grin and small spots of dirt on his face. "Yes, Lithuania?"
Seeing the hoe, Lithuania grinned nervously. "D-Do you need anything?"
Russia's childish smile became pondering. He looked up, thinking. "Ah..." He took the hoe and impaled it into the ground.
Lithuania jumped. "Would you like some w-water?"
Russia nodded, his attention on the broken soil.
Lithuania disappeared only a second later.
The next step was
Caring for
Russia sowed the seeds into the field. He covered the seeds with fertilizer, watered them with room temperature water, and went inside.
There, Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia were together, curious about Russia's strange new hobby as he passed by. He seemed to be planting some kind of crops.
Lithuania listened as the other two guessed what they were.
"Maybe they're grains." Estonia guessed, looking out at the large amount of land.
Latvia thought hard for a moment. "Oh! It's potatoes for Vodka!"
"Or they're flowers."
The other two looked at Lithuania strangely. He simply smiled.
Latvia blinked unknowingly. "Why would you think that? Russia's too scary for something girly like that!"
"LATVIA!" Estonia shouted in shock. "You shouldn't be so blunt!"
In the other room, Russia started to clack.
"KOLKOLKOLKOLKOLKOL..."
The Trembling Trio scattered then and there.
Eleven days later, Russia went out again to water the seedlings like he had been every day. He had been worried he wasn't doing something right since sprouts weren't coming out, but that day he found sprouts. Rows and rows of pretty green heads. He knelt down to see the green leaves better. He touched one of them with a gloved finger. He smiled as it seemed to twitch towards him.
"It's so cute." He cooed quietly. He nudged it once more, watching as it bent slightly.
He grabbed his watering can, sprinkling the water generously over the sprouts. He made about twelve trips back and forth. When he was finished, he knelt beside the muddy field.
He just stared at the little sprouts. They twitched towards the sun every so often, and Russia was so sure he saw a sprout come out of the ground. He barely cared that his pants were dirty.
He was a bit alarmed, however, when he heard thunder.
He looked at the sky as a front of clouds approached. Lightning flashed, thunder followed closely behind. He was worried for the seedlings, but hopefully the storm wouldn't rip them out by the roots violently.
As it started to rain, Russia stood and went inside. Maybe he'd mess with Latvia for a while...
"Latvia~!" He cooed, hearing three voices scream shortly.
Growing
So many days passed. One month of taking care of the flowers, seeing the changes and giving them fertilizers and plant food every so often. Russia didn't care about how tiresome it was, the reward would be the beautiful blooms.
With a heavy sigh, the man stood, tossed down his gloves and jacket, and smiled, looking forward to seeing his plants again.
When he stood out side, he found himself in a sea of yellow and brown.
He drew in a deep breath, smelling a sweet sugar that he could only smell around sunflowers. It was warm and homey. It made him feel like he was in heaven. A Belarus – free, Axis – free, Trembling Trio – free, Belarus – Free, wonderful heaven.
He grabbed a small saw and cut down a single sunflower. He nibbled on a single petal fondly. It didn't taste as sweet as it smelled, but it was soft and beautiful on his tongue as well.
He could feel his hands protesting at how the fuzzy hairs agitated his skin, but he wouldn't let go of the beautiful plant.
He picked a few more that he would make into a bouquet for his older sister.
Picking
Everyday, the large country picked sunflowers. Sometimes he gave them away.
Otherwise, he guarded them greedily.
Russia, over a long period of three months, gathered sunflowers. Sometimes he picked the petals and some times he just stared at them.
Sometimes, he just cuddled one in his sleep.
The large country would find that the sunflower would be squished that next morning, though.
Over time, though, the sunflowers whithered and dropped seeds, or would end up being cut. The garden was soon to be barren again.
Soon, there was only one flower that was still bright.
Russia cut the flower, gripping it tight, but he didn't want it to snap under pressure. He loosened only a little. But even then, he hugged it close. It was his last flower. He ignored the irritation in his bare hands. He could feel the prickling and the itching.
He didn't care. These flowers he had taken care of himself. He loved then, even as they rotted, dropped seeds and left him. He loved them when they watched him drown himself in vodka. He loved them because they brightened his days. They comforted him through the dark nights. They were a sun, forever shining.
So, Russia gripped tighter, despite the itching protests from his hands. He'd never let go of the last pretty flower.
And then it died.
Russia came back from a meeting with his boss. He came home to check on the flower (which was in a vase).
To find it was wilted.
Browned.
Rotting.
Russia stared for a good minute at the weeping flora. The overly sweet smell of the rotting bloom filled the house.
It was a dreaded smell to Russia.
However, it was still just as sweet.
Russia took the dying plant and walked it to the garden. He dumped it and the now dirtied water into the soil.
The iron smell of the bloody battlefield was a dreaded smell to Russia.
Bodies died.
Red.
Rotting.
However, it was some how...
Sweet.
A bitter sweetness that made him feel like his teeth were rotting out of his skull and into his lap. It was comparable to the sweetest sugar, to the most eroding of acids...
Russia left the barren field, feeling a little dead inside himself.
Completely missing the new sprouts.
Russia woke up one day to a sea of sweetness assaulting his senses.
He sat up, his violet eyes shining with curiosity. He stood, wearing only pants. His scars shaded areas an off, darker brown, or newer ones burning a bright red.
He opened the door to his garden, looking in awe at even more, even bigger, even brighter sunflowers than before.
Russia rose one day to find that, from the ashes of gore, came the beautiful children of mothers and fathers. They would rebuild him, bring him back onto his pedestal. It would be a day to be remembered.
Even stronger, even smarter, even more beautiful people.
Russia walked between the trunks of the sunflowers, floating his fingers over the petals and stems. They were softer, too.
This was a surprise he never expected.
He was shocked. "Nichego sebe..."
Wow...
Russia turned around swiftly. There stood Lithuania. He was smiling.
Russia smiled back. "This is an interesting surprise. Yes?"
"Yes, sir. I thought that sunflowers took a lot of caring for. I suppose not."
Russia sat in the shade of full petals.
"Would you like anything else, Mister Russia?"
"No..." Russia said, inhaling deeply. "No..."
Lithuania bowed and left, leaving Russia to reminisce...
And dream...