Revisiting the River (An FMA story)

The train roared over the tracks, huffing and puffing steam, trying to beat the clock and make it to our destination on time. The golden and green countryside rolled by at a pace so quick; if you blinked you'd miss something. I leaned against the hard window. Resembool was quite a long way away from where I come from.

After what must've been hours, the train reached Resembool. I stepped onto the platform, the air warm and inviting. The cool breeze tossled my shoulder-length orange hair, pushing it over my blue eyes. I pushed it away with one hand, holding my suitcase in the other.

The station wasn't very big, but there were a few people here and there. A young man with golden hair in a ponytail stepped off the train behind me. That was it; we were the only two passengers. A young woman with light blonde hair in a long ponytail with a bandana, wearing mechanics' clothing, embraced him. He kissed her sweetly on the cheek, and then they sat down on a bench.

I held my suitcase over my shoulder. As I walked down the dirt road, I kicked up clouds of brownish-tan dust. The road stretched on for about two miles, but then it forked. I took the right side of the pathway. Once in a while, I would pass someone. Folks walking with fishing rods slung over their shoulders or someone with a horse-pulled cart would go by me on the opposite side of the road, but that would be it.

Finally, I was passing the old Rockbell house. The short old woman with a pipe hanging out of her mouth was still there, sitting on the front step with her dog, which had an automail prosthetic. The seen was almost identical to what it had been last year.

The old woman smiled and waved. She called, "Hey there, Frita. Is it that time of year already?"

"Hey, Pinako. Sure is," I yelled back and returned her wave. Not the smile, though. I rarely smile. I haven't smiled for real in years.

"Why don'tcha come back and have a bowl of stew for dinner. Heck, you can even stay the night," Pinako chuckles. I had to smile internally at this. She says this every year.

I nodded and kept on walking. After several more miles, I arrived at the sole reason I had gone all that way to Resembool. I was standing in front of the river. The banks were muddy and gushy; my boots sunk in every time I put down another step. The rapids rushed before me, crashing against rocks and swallowing debris.

It reminded me of when the river had tried to swallow more than debris.

On that day, the sun had been shining and the sky was completely clear. There was not a cloud to be seen for miles. I had simply been passing through. You see, I was there for Aunt Mave's funeral that day. I was sixteen years old, and left completely on my own. I didn't even go to the funeral; I stood on the bridge, casting stones into the river, trying to get one to skip but discovering the current was too strong. I didn't know anyone, anyway, since Mother and Father were dead and I hadn't even lived in Resembool. It was just Aunt Mave's home town, and her dying wish was to be buried in the graveyard next to her parents. I also couldn't bear to see her being lowered into the ground.

There was not a soul around, save for two small boys on the shore below. They were around the ages of six and eight, and looked like brothers. They both had golden hair; the younger one had short and neat hair, the older one with longer messy hair, just past his ears. Both had golden eyes.

After making this observation, I ignored the boys and threw more stones to the river. I had stopped trying to skip them, and was instead trying to hurl them as hard and far as I could into the water. I was fuming; it was like my Aunt's death had sunk in, hitting me like a freight train at full speed. It's hard for a mere sixteen-year-old to except that in such a short amount of time. That aside, the scream I heard next hit me even harder.

I looked down to see the younger boy struggling for breath, thrashing around in the torrents of the water.

"Alphonse!" The older boy yelled in panic, trying to hold out a long branch to his brother. The stick was just a little bit too short to reach the drowning boy.

Without a thought, I found myself doing the one thing I knew how to do well. With a flash of blue light, I pulled a twenty foot pole out of the bridge. I transmuted the stone to metal.

"Grab on!" I yelled. With some struggle, the little boy latched on to the pole, gripping for dear life as I pulled him out of the water and onto the bridge. He coughed up some water, but sat up and was fine. The fear that was pasted on his face was replaced with a big smile.

"Al!" The older boy yelled, rushing up the bridge and kneeling at his brother's side. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, thanks to the nice lady!" The little boy smiled up at me. "Thanks, nice lady!"

"No, I didn't do much. I just did what I could," I said, trying to brush off his gratitude.

The older boy said, "No, you saved my little brother's life. Hey, do you want to come and eat dinner with us? Granny's making stew tonight!"

I nodded. "Thanks, it would be my pleasure."

The boys took me back to the Rockbell house. That's where I met Pinako. Her dog, Den, was just a little puppy, with no automail prosthetic. There was also a little blonde girl named Winry. I later found out that the boys were named Edward (Ed) and Alphonse (Al) Elric. The stew was so good, and afterwards, Pinako gave me a place to stay. All she asked of me was my name, which you've probably discovered by now is Frita. She didn't even question the transmutation circle I had so recently cut into my hand. I left the following day, but I've felt compelled to come back, year after year. Pinako has always given me a place to spend the night, has always made stew, and has been the only person I feel I can trust, after all these years. I've been coming here for ten years, but I never saw those two boys again. I've been coming here for ten years.

Back to reality, I looked up at the bridge. The young man who I had seen at the train station was there, plus another boy. The other boy had short, golden, neat hair, the same color as the older boy's hair. To top it off, both had golden eyes.

"Remember when you almost drowned here all those years ago?" The young man, about eighteen years old, said.

"How could I forget, Brother? That nice lady saved me," The younger one, about sixteen, replied.

"Yeah, she sure saved your hide that time. Granny told me she's been coming around every year. Guess we missed her, with all the travelling we've been doing. Say, wasn't she an alchemist? I wonder if she's gonna catch onto our equivalent-exchange theory."

"I remember there being a flash of blue light, and then she was holding out a pole to save me. When she pulled me onto the bridge, there was barely a dent in the ground, plus the pole was metal. I think she caught onto it a long time ago."

I looked down at the back of my hand. My transmutation circle had dulled over the years, but was still a medium brown color. I was thinking of tattooing it on for real. It had gotten me out of so many scrapes before.

"Who would've thought I'd become a State Alchemist. Or at least I was. Now, I'm not a State anything; I'm not even a regular alchemist!" the young man continues, staring out into the distance.

I walked back to the dusty road, back to Pinako's house, where the customary bowl of stew would be waiting. I had a strange but sure feeling that I would be seeing those boys very soon.