Hello, welcome to my story. Please enjoy and I apologise for any grammatical/spelling errors as English is not my first language.

I will be real, I hate the formatting on this site, this story looks much better in AO3 and Wattpad so if you like me can't stand how it looks on here please check it out in those places, links below. 3

AO3: /works/54708406

Wattpad: story/365185138-hetalia-despite-it-all

T/W for this Chapter: Violence, Injury, Blood.

Chapter 1: Hunger

23rd November 1942

Ivan returned to the bombed out house he was currently calling home after a long day of fighting. Only one room of the house was still fully intact and stable and that room was his home for now. Sure he could stay with the other troops but the officers often reported anything he did out of line or fun to his boss and then his boss would be mean to him, so he preferred to be alone.

It wasn't a massive room. Just some old kitchen with some broken cabinets and an old wood burning stove. Ivan had burned almost all the cabinet doors and all the furniture for warmth and to cook food, all that remained was an old mattress covered in a thick blanket and pillows that was his bed.

Ivan walked over to the single cabinet that still had a door to make some food, only to find it was empty.

'Oh yes… I was meant to grab my rations today… Guess I must go back out.' Ivan sighed.

Ivan walked over to the door, putting his helmet back on his head, putting his rain poncho on and pulling the hood over his head as he grabbed his Mosin–Nagant M1891/30, slinging it over his back.

Ivan walked through what remained of the city. He was careful to keep a low profile. As much as he loved teaching these assholes a lesson by butchering them to his heart's content, he was hungry and tired.

When Ivan finally arrived at the camp he walked to the kitchen to grab his share of the rations, he had 'convinced' the head cook to let him have his share separate.

'Ah, General Braginsky. Here for your food.' The cook said nervously.

'Yes, please put a week in my bag.' Ivan smiled as he handed a bag to the shaking cook.

'Right away.' The cook afrimed as he ran to fill the bag.

Ivan looked around as he waited, smiling as he saw the kitchen knives.

'That would cut bone.' Ivan said in awe as he looked at a cleaver.

'General Braginsky, got your food.' The cook said shakily, noticing how intently Ivan was looking at the knives.

'Thank you. Until next week.' Ivan smiled, taking the bag and hiding it under his cloak before leaving.

As he walked over the ruble he felt his stomach rumble heavily.

'I can't wait to get back and eat.' Ivan sighed as he walked along.

Meanwhile Gilbert was sneaking around into Soviet lines for food. They had already cut rations in half even though they had only been encircled for 4 days. Gilbert knew that food would no doubt run out soon and be damned if he was gonna starve here, every man for himself so he was gonna get his own stockpile going while he prepared a plan to ditch this city.

He was sent here as a punishment anyway. Germany's boss did not like how arrogant Gilbert was, and also seemed to detest he was albino, so after Gilbert got into an argument with him he forcibly separated him from his brother and sent him to this hell hole. Didn't even evacuate him like some of the other import people, fucking asshole.

Gilbert soon came across the remains of a house that still had some of it standing and decided to go inside, when he did he found boxes of ammo, a pile of wood and a bed.

'Fuck yeah! I am so awesome! I found some guy's hideout!' Gilbert said excitedly knowing there would no doubt be food here.

Gilbert walked up to the single cabinet that still had a door and swung it open to find nothing, same with the oven.

'Of course these lame ass Russian's don't have any food.' Gilbert pouted.

Gilbert was about to leave when he heard footsteps approaching, Gilbert seeing the only window was boarded up pulled his gun off his back ready to blast the fucker.

Ivan walked to his door and opened it, startled to find Prussia inside pointing a gun at him.

'Of course I found your lame ass hideout. Where's your food asshole, too lame to even have that.' Gilbert mocked, he hated this asshole.

'Oh Prussia! How nice of you to visit but guests should never barge in. Seems I need to teach you manners.' Ivan said with a sinister smile as he pulled his gun off his back and pointed it at the Prussian.

Gilbert took his chance by shooting Ivan in the arm causing him to lose aim and his bullet to miss Gilbert, before he could reload Gilbert pushed him over and ran off into the night, screaming about how awesome he was.

'Blyat!' Ivan said frustrated as he flung his gun at the wall.

Ivan shut the door up and walked over to his bed taking his jacket and shirt off to see the damage. Sadly the bullet was still in there.

'This sucks.' Ivan cried as he grabbed some vodka and poured it in the wound to clean it before grabbing his combat knife and fishing the bullet out, screaming in pain as he did.

Once he got it out he grabbed some bandages from his kit bag and tightly wrapped the wound. Finally putting his clothes back on he began to warm up again as he lit up the wood burning stove to heat the place up and so he could make some food.

'I hate this! I miss my sisters! Big sister would always cook for me and care for my wounds, it's not fair!' Ivan said as he began stomping and crying in frustration.

Deciding he couldn't be bothered to cook anymore, he put his food away before cutting up some bread, buttering it and putting some canned fish on it.

After eating he drank some vodka and had a smoke. Lying in his bed he began to cry as he missed his sisters so much, why did he have to be away from them. Why did his Boss send him here anyway? He was so lonely here, it was cold and too quiet that it hurt.