The first time she saw it, he used a lighter and a piece of paper with the flame transmutation circle and its salamander drawn on its surface. He would flick the lighter on and transmute the flames with his finger on the transmutation circle. She had
just given him the secrets to flame alchemy a week ago, and she stood back as the first orange line blazed across her backyard and burst into flames. When she saw it, she felt she made the right choice.
The second time she saw it, she hit herself mentally for being so stupid. The same flames she firstsaw about a year ago, now larger than ever, streaked across the vast desert expanse of the Ishvalan settlements, eliminating and ending dozens of
lives with each blast. All she could do was look through her rifle's scope and end lives herself, one by one. When she finally found the man behind those flames,she begged him,her killer's eyes staring straight into his own, to burn the secrets
on her back with the same flames they created, sothat such flames will not revive once its only user left the world. The man reluctantly agreed, his reluctance not because he valued the secrets, no, he hated them now more than anything else.
He was reluctant because it meant that he would hurt her, the secrets' guardian, yet she insisted, and he burned it with his white gloves, with the array on her back stitched on it in red, the gloves she would see as long as she followed him.
The third time she saw it, it may well have been the thousandth time, perhaps more, but to her, it was the third time with meaning for her, even though itsorange streaks formed only in her mind. It had been raining, and she saw the gloves, though
she knew oh so well from previous experiences and simple logic that the sparks it usually produced would not appear. She had to save its arrogant, forgetful user from dying by exploding head and reprimand him later for his carelessness. It hose few
moments of running forward, tripping him over, whipping out her guns and chasing away his assailant, she mentally yelled at him for being so stupidly forgetful. She was to protect him, and she would be darned if he killed himself with his stupidity.
The fourth time she saw it, she had been on her knees crying, thinking he was dead. The homunculus approached her, ready to kill. Alphonse Elric had protected her despite her pleas for him to leave her. And when she heard hisvoice, his deep,
baritone voice, she looked up amidst her despair. The man she swore to protect, the man she entrusted her secrets to, using a lighter to produce his flames, just like he had the first time he did it. However, this time, he had a large self inflicted
burn on his left abdomen, seared the wound closed, he would later say, and his transmutation circle etched not on paper, but on his own right hand, saving her and killing the homunculus. Even with all his wounds, he still cared more about his
subordinates than himself. That one quality alone amazed her.
The fifth time she saw it, his gloves were in tatters, and his hands were bloodied, stabbed through the palm. She herself was not unscathed, the slit on the side of her neck hastily sealed with alkahestry. Even so, she continued to stand and fight, for
he did the same despite having suffered much, much more than her. As she became his eyes, he,with his wounded hands and clouded eyes, unleashed his flames. Their flames, for the secret behind them were still etched on her back, part of it now
only red scars. Right there and then, her convictions were set. He was worthy of flame alchemy, and nothing could prove otherwise.
The sixth time she saw it, it wasn't in a hurry, nor was it during battle. Amestris was finally peaceful, and he had achieved his goal. He had become Fuhrer. He brought her on the same nightas his inauguration day to the rooftop of a fancy restaurant
and ordered dinner for both of them to celebrate. He wore plain white gloves without the array etched in red on it, and she was about to reprimand him for his carelessness and hand him the extra set of gloves she always had on her when he clapped,
his unclouded onyx eyes sparkling with excitement as he snapped, sending out flames into the sky. He dropped to one knee in front of her, opening a velvet ring box as he voiced out the four words the flames formed in the sky.
"Will you marry me?"
She gave him a rare smile, finally giving in. They had gone through many things together, and they had accomplished their goal. It was time she had her due reward, she thought as she accepted the ring he slid on her fourth finger, voicing her reply.
"Yes."
Riza Hawkeye had seen the flames many times, each time from the same person. Roy Mustang definitely wasn't the perfect soldier or the perfect man, but he was perfect for her, and it would be these times she saw the flames dance that would remind her that
nothing could prove her wrong.