He needs crutches, Brother does, and I can see he hates them more than anything right now. Though he finished his automail surgery about a month ago, he still can't put all of his weight on his prosthetic leg without being in a lot of pain.
Every day he tries to go without them, but I can see that it's not working. His new arm is bothering him, too. He's begun to write using his left hand, and he doesn't seem to want to use his automail hand to handle anything. What was he thinking? He can't recover from this in only a year! And what was I thinking, agreeing with him and saying that he could?
He's suffering silently and won't let me in. I want so badly to help Brother, but what can I do in this cold, unfeeling body? Brother won't confide in me, won't even cry. He doesn't want to look weak. I wish I could cry for him.
Because it was my fault, too! I agreed to it, after all. So why does Brother have to be the one to suffer through the automail surgery and rehabilitation? Why does he have to be the one to bind his soul to the military, much like how my soul is bound to this armor?
Brother...why won't you let me help you carry your—our—burden?
-chapter one fin-