The Truth Behind All Claps
Despite being only seven years old, Edward Elric had developed what could only be described as the perfect poker face. With his eyes squinted, shoulders squared, and mouth set in a firm line, Edward evoked the feeling of seriousness in anything that required his attention. But today Edward was not wasting his look on a simple game; he had something much more important and pressing on his mind.
"Al! Show me one more time…"
From the desk in their father's study room, Edward's younger brother looked up from a heavy, leather-bound textbook. Glancing down at the floor where Edward had been studying, Alphonse nodded and slid off the high desk chair.
This was the fifth time that this exchange had occurred, with only slight variations. Occasionally, although unbeknownst to the boys, their mother would peek into the room through the slightly open door, wondering why her young sons were studying science textbooks on a sunny Saturday morning. Concluding that they seemed happy enough at their task did little to curve her curiosity, but the look on her elder son's face convinced her not to ask questions quite yet.
Alphonse dropped to his stomach on the floor next to his brother, who was staring at a collection of doodles in his notebook. Without a word, Edward shoved the notebook over to Alphonse and handed him his pencil. With utmost precision and with Edward staring intently across the paper, Alphonse drew a circle in one of the unused corners of the paper.
"See. It's easy, Brother."
Edward seemed to have been saving up for the sour expression he gave Alphonse.
"No, it isn't. You're a freak artist." Edward said angrily. Alphonse, who was used to his brother's insult-compliments, simply smiled and returned the pencil. However, Edward refused to take it, grabbing the notebook instead and turned it to a fresh page.
"There, draw another one. A big one this time."
Again, Alphonse drew a circle in the middle of the paper. Edward immediately snatched it up and scrutinized it, as if looking for a trick or sleight of hand. After a moment, he gave an over-dramatic sigh and dropped the notebook onto the floor. Laying his head down on his crossed arms, he muttered, "It's a perfect circle alright."
Alphonse, distressed at the thought that his brother might be irritated at him, quickly strived to rectify the situation.
"Brother, I can't draw straight lines as well as you can. Here, let's finish this together." He bent down over the paper and completed another perfect circle inside the other one. "There, now you finish it, Brother."
Edward looked at the two perfect circles for a moment with his poker face before softening his expression.
"Fine, you can draw the circles and I'll draw the lines." Edward said begrudgingly as he took the pencil back from Alphonse, "but I get transmute for Mom first."
As always, Alphonse wasn't quite sure how Edward had turned the situation in his favor so quickly, but there was absolutely no arguing with that face.
"Sure, Brother…whatever you say."