Small villages have traditions like dogs have fleas- you can never fully get rid of them. Unlike fleas, no matter the inanity and irrelevance of the tradition many souls find it a comfort.

Every end of year, since the foundation of the town itself, the schoolmistress dutifully clucks at and ushers the children of Risembool's tiny school down a gravel path. It's a grumpy procession of dirty faces and sticky hands buried deeply in worn pockets. They reach the village church two by two. The stone building is much too big and pompous for such a down-to-earth farming community much more used to taking communion over a pint of ale and talk of weather. But however uncomfortable wearing a tie and collared shirt the villagers are, they don't see any harm in throwing in their lot up above, as it were, once in awhile, and the attendance for the end of year religious service is always packed no matter how steaming hot the day.

At least most villagers see it that way.

Edward, carried by the full opinionated certainty and indignation only gifted to those aged seven (Al overheard Pinako assure a worried Trisha he'd grow out of it) protested vehemently every year.

Unlike Alphonse, Ed never learnt to hold his tongue for the sake of peace. Al had been approached conspiratorially by his older brother and offered the chance to participate in righteous retribution on the teacher and preacher's unholy alliance.

"And be grounded? No thanks."

"Fine. Winry's helping me anyway" Ed had mumbled and promptly about-faced.

Al hadn't dared ask what "it" was. He'd assumed "it" would be something like the classic fart cushion, or tack on chair. No such luck.

"It" turned out to be deconstructing the pride and joy of the wizened grape of a preacher- an imported and magnificent old organ. This had been presumably Winry's work. A smoke bomb, Ed's scientific genius, was then rigged by the wannabe mechanic to go off when the keys were pressed in the combination of the school anthem. The thick black plumes of smoke travelled then exploded out of the fifty burnished windpipes like from a steam train funnel.

It was, everyone conceded in between coughing, a work of scientific and mechanical genius. Ironically Ed and Winry's genius was their undoing; who else can disassemble and then fix a traditional church organ with such efficiency? No one had suspected anything until a full-scale evacuation of the church became imperative!

Ed and Winry were so proud of their success that if there had been any other possible suspects in the entire country they would have jumped up and down to claim responsibility.

And so it was that the next Saturday afternoon the two little terrorists were washing and ironing 54 smoke-blackened outfits in a village wide punishment enforced under Trisha Elric's weary eye. Alphonse, exempt, was reading comic books in the tree house.

--

Summer was in full swing, melting ice creams before there was even a chance to lick them. When the water pipe behind the general store burst open all of Risembool's children charged outside, not bothering with bathers but stripped naked and barefoot to glory in the unexpected water fight. The word spreads it's wings with alarming speed and alacrity, flying into the fields and through open windows, up the tree house and landed in Alphonse Elrics lap. The second Nelly yelled this news to him, running downtown he leapt up. This upset the filched communal tree house packet of jammy dodgers but Al was already sliding down the ladder. Den barked at his feet the second he touched the ground. Al sprinted. He skidded across the porch and banged the screen door against the wall.

"Mum!"

Trisha looked up from her novel and uncrossed her legs, invitingly patting the empty half of the couch beside her. "What is it darling?"

Edward, in the corner of the room, near buried under a pile of clothing stopped manhandling a polka dotted red skirt to pay attention.

"Behind the drugstore… water pipe burst!"

Winry stopped trying to quietly disassemble the iron.

"Oh, dear", said Trisha.

Alphonse suddenly felt the importance of his supplication weighing on his shoulders along with the gaze of his brother and best friend.

"I wanna go play in the water", he mumbled, starring at the wooden floorboards briefly wondering which one was the loose, creaking Judas that betrayed them every time Ed and him crept downstairs for a midnight feast.

"Well", his mother said kindly, "why don't you go and play?"

Edward was fidgeting like nature had impressed a rather strong call on him.

Al, to his own horror, was turning red.

"Don't want to go by myself."

"I 'm pretty much certain you won't be. What about Albert and Charlotte Kemp's kids?" she said.

"They say I'm too little to be worth playing with."

That was not a lie. In fact Al knew that Ed and Winry had been looking out for an opportunity to administer some revenge on his behalf. There were advantages, the boys conceded, to having a girl with deadly aim and guts of steel on your side.

Said girl was currently holding her breath so deep in her chest that her extremities were turning blue.

Trisha dully noted this.

"Fine. But the ironing has to be finished before tonight."

Edward threw the unfortunate skirt across the room. He grabbed Winry's hand. He bolted out the door. Al was in close pursuit.

--

The burst of water rainbowed into the air. It formed into moisture droplets percolating Al's sun burnt skin long before he saw the broken pipe. The shopkeeper was standing by the door with his arms crossed. A faint smile tugged at his lips. The trio stripped down, chucked their clothes aside and joined the rest of the village kids jumping through the high-pressure jet bursting out of the water pipe. Someone had brought balloons and water pistols and was busily filling them with water. Ed ran in first and immediately drenched himself before snatching a pistol out of Nathan Kemp's hands and shoving him aside. He then turned around and emptied the contents of the gun into Kemps face whilst making machine gun noises. Nathan retaliated by throwing a water balloon. Ed dodged and squealed. Al couldn't help but laugh. Sadly the ground was turning into a mud swamp and Alphonse slipped, landing on his bottom. This time it was Ed's turn to roar. Nelly had the bright idea of sticking her thumb on top of the cracked metal. The water spurted out at the sides, drenching the children even more.

After a full five minutes of splashing his big brother, Al noticed Winry was not joining in. The younger Elric stopped to look behind and was promptly hit by a flying balloon. Vainly wiping water out his eyes, Al addressed his friend.

"What's wrong?"

Winry was standing, naked like the rest of them, but apart from the action with her arms crossed across her flat chest and a frown on her lips. Finally, after squinting a bit she spoke;

"I can fix this! It's not really properly broken, all I need to do is…"

Ed and Al promptly tackled her into the water jet.

--

Years latter when Al could not dream and it was dark, he plunged back under the broken pipe of his childhood and, for a second, the memories worked just as well.

--

R&R