Author's note: (Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or story of Fulmetal Alchemist)
This is my first Fullmetal fanfic, so I'm sorry if it's far below average. I'm still trying to get a hang of the formating process on this site...anyway this was originally written for my cousin, I'm posting it on here in honor of her, may she rest in peace :)
I hope you enjoy the story and thank you for reading!
Love,
AL
P.S. It annoys me, which most likely means it is going to annoy you too, that the main character's name is barely mentioned in this chapter. I have no idea as to why I did this :p
It was beautiful. A little worn around the edges, but beautiful all the same. Bound with black leather and lined with fine gold that shimmered when held up to the light. The pages had been stained yellow and were full of small tears and folds due to excessive use over the years.
She had stumbled across it on accident while searching for a broom to sweep up the dirt that had been carried in by her father's boots. The broom had not been put back in its rightful spot in the, well, broom closet. Having remembered that her father had used it last she'd snuck into his study and took a quick peek into the cabinet.
And sure enough, there it was. Faded, long, and splintering, the broom rested against the mahogany wall. It was when the girl wrapped her slender fingers around the neck of the broom did she spy the book.
It didn't seem like much at first glance, but when she brought the ravaged, dust-covered thing from out of the cabinet it was truly magnificent. Right away she could sense that there was something different and unconventional about this book, that it wasn't like the others that were perched on shelves in her father's study.
The wooden floor creaked as she sat down, the book nestled in her lap. After laying eyes upon it just once, the strong desire to open the book overwhelmed her. She knew reading the book would be frowned upon by her father, who had for some reason felt the need to hide it away from her young, curious eyes.
The temptation was too strong. She felt as if she were once again a young school girl, trying to sneak cookies and other sweets into her bedroom.
She gently opened the thick yet fragile covering, and peeled past the first few pages.
She came to a page marked by a one, it was what she assumed should have been the title page, but whatever print was once there had been covered by a small Polaroid picture with pale, frantic writing, which she immediately recognized as her father's, beneath it.
The picture was of an older man, with hair the color of pale, golden wheat and warm, sad eyes. On both sides of him there was a little boy, the one on the right had the same, pale golden hair as the man in the middle. The boy held up a small green trout, the light reflecting off of its slick scales. He looked slightly older than the one on the left, whose hair was a darker, dirtier shade of blonde. The girl stared at the picture for a considerable amount of time.
She had a feeling of familiarity when she looked into the bright, determined eyes of the little boy on the right. Even the one to the left sparked something in her memory. She recognized that expression on the young child's face…
A light bulb went off in her head and triggered her memory. She realized that she was staring into the youthful eyes of her father and uncle. Yet no matter how long she racked her brain, she could not produce any memories of the man in the middle.
He must be my grandfather…she marveled, delighted by the picture of the ancestor she'd never known.
Curiosity ran through her veins as she continued down the page. Beneath the picture in big, pale letters it read:
ALCHEMY
The first law of equivalent exchange:
Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.
She slid a finger under the page, ready to flip it over and drink in the wondrous magic that the book contained. She froze in the act as the sound of foot prints slowly floated through the air. They stopped just before the front door.
She slammed the book shut, her heart racing.
Very slowly, so she wouldn't make a sound, she got to her feet and placed the book back into the cabinet. Rustling noises came from outside of the door and she knew he was trying to find his keys.
She silently closed the cabinet doors, completely forgetting about the broom, which had been the focus point of her original quest. The noise stopped as she tip-toed across the old, warped wood, thankful that their apartment was so small.
By the time the lock clicked and the door burst open she was already in the kitchen, scraping dried noodles off of the bowls they'd used for dinner the night before.
She greeted her father with an innocent smile as he sat down on their tattered, floral-printed couch with a sigh. He unlaced his damp black boots and set them beside the coffee table, revealing a metal prosthetic where his left leg should have been.
He looked…tired. Despite his upbeat manner and the light-hearted tone he used as he told her of his day, she could see the weary look in his eyes. It slowly sank into her until she became acutely aware that he had gone to visit her Uncle Alphonse that day.
His words seemed to go right through her. Instead she thought of her uncle and the weary look in her father's eyes…it reminded her of the picture in her father's secretive book. The book that she would have to sneak back into the study to read long after her father has gone to bed.
She thinks of the man in the middle, with his long hair and melancholic expression, she glances over at her father, who continues to chat away on the couch. Only then does she realize how similar he looks to the man in the picture.
That strange man…, she thinks,
why did he look so sad?
The chalk was light and daunting in her hand. It was small and barely the size of her thumb nail, but it was the best she could do.
Her two younger cousins sat eagerly beside her, staring at the foreign symbol that she'd drawn on the floor of her bedroom. Her father's deep laughter floated in through her door which had been cracked open.
"Come on Sky!" Her youngest cousin, Hugh, encouraged.
She bit her lip anxiously, it was a risky move that she was about to make.
After her father had gone to bed on that fortunate day that she'd found the book, she snuck back into his study and smuggled the leather-bound mystery into her own bedroom. She'd studied it for weeks, and now she felt ready, like it was her time to finally get a piece of the magic that it held.
"Just a minute," she whispered, putting a chalk-dust covered finger to her lips, signaling for her cousin to be quieter when he spoke.
She had explained to her cousins the basics of the magic that the book had called alchemy, and they were beginning to grow impatient to see it with their own eyes.
It was the first night in a long time that the boys' mother, Sophia had felt well enough to leave the house and join the family for dinner. She could hear her aunt begin to cough lightly as the adults spoke happily in the common room.
She had desert cooking in the oven, and the sweet aroma of apple pie tainted the evening air. She knew she'd have to finish this fast so that she could pull the pie out of the oven to cool.
She glanced down at her work; she'd drawn a symbol which the book had called a transmutation circle. Marcoh, her older cousin, yawned boredly, his olive-colored eyes watching her expectantly.
"Uh, okay," she began, setting the chalk down. She herself had never seen a successful transmutation and was unsure whether she could pull it off or not.
"I am going to transform this piece of paper into a rose," she gulped and held out her hand. Marcoh passed her the sheet with a giddy grin beginning to form on his face.
"Can you really do it, Sky?" Hugh asked excitedly.
She opened her mouth to respond but ended up wincing instead as the wafer thin paper sliced the tip of her forefinger. Ignoring the slight sting she set the paper down in the center of the circle and looked back at her cousins, "I can try."
A fat drop of blood slid from the tip of her finger and dived to the ground below. It landed right beside the paper, slightly smearing the chalk. She thought nothing of it as she closed her eyes and mentally recited the chemical compounds of the threads of fiber that the paper contained. I'll have to bind the carbon just right if I want the fiber to re-shape...
Hugh and Marcoh exchanged shifty glances at once another and scooted back toward the door which stood slightly ajar.
Her lips quivered as she clapped her hands together, just as the book had said, and brought them down on the paper. At first there was only silence as the trio waited for something to happen. When all hope was starting to be lost, a wonderful blue light came from the circle and illuminated the room.
The boys watched with wonder as the light flickered against their pale faces. She smiled, it was working.
Her hands began to tingle as she continued to press down; she knew the paper was probably shifting, changing its form.
The sweet smelling air was tinged with smoke and she knew the pie would be ready and second.
The tingling began to spread, up her arms, across her chest, as the light filled the room.
Her cousins' delighted faces began to fall, their once upturned lips slowly formed into surprised, almost horrified grimaces.
She could hear footsteps coming from the other room. The light was so bright, almost to the point where she could barely see a thing. The sensation had spread all over, tingling, as if her entire body had fallen asleep.
The light was too strong; the faces of her beloved cousins began to fade. Her desk and window, and her door which someone had thrust open all faded into the pale blue light. The room around her was disappearing as her body went numb.
Her mind was beginning to go; she could no longer think properly. She felt like a ship, lost in the fog, unable to tell in which direction the shore lay.
The light was being eaten away by shadows. They began in the corners and slowly crept forward. Out of the increasing darkness came on last noise. Her father's voice.
She had never heard his voice this way before, it lingered with desperation as he cried out, "Skyla!"
It rang in her ears; it was as if the voice was reaching out to her, trying to pull her from the darkness that entwined itself around her body.
But it was too late; her father's comforting voice was replaced by the heavy sounds of silence as the last bit of light became concealed by the shadows.
Back and forth, slowly swinging. She blinked once, then twice, and then once more. The faster she blinked the clearer the tree became. A large, charred oak tree loomed over, like the rest of the world it appeared fuzzy and unfocused.
It had been swaying back and forth but finally came to a stop as her head began to clear. She took a deep breath, letting the refreshingly cool mid-morning air fill her sore lungs.
Every muscle hurt. She twitched her legs and grimaced with discomfort.
No matter how much she blinked or how long she stared at the sky her vision was still blurred. Everything around her seemed to be mashed together. The sapphire sky bled into the wayward grass and the clouds were fluffy white wisps that stretched across her entire line of vision.
Her head throbbed and she didn't dare try to pick out memories from the jumbled, cloudy mess that had once been her brain. The only thing she could remember was dreaming of a door. It was quite exquisite with many carvings…there had been a strange, white figure outlined in black…it spoke to her just before the doors had swung open to reveal a large, dark eye that seemed to peer straight into her soul…
She lied sprawled out amongst the blackened remains of a house that had been burnt and abandoned long before her time.
A slight breezed picked up the ash that lied beneath her and deposited it over her bare, shivering frame. It tickled her bruised flesh, making the small hairs on her arms stand on end.
It was all too much-the memory of her dream, the light and colors, and even the distant noises that buzzed in her ears. She closed her eyes, wishing for it to all just fade away and be gone.
As the young girl drifted back into a state of unconsciousness the fingers of her left hand uncurled, revealing crumpled crimson rose petals lying in her palm.