Keys

by I'll Eat Yourself

A young male pianist with secrets to reveal finds an even younger but rather unusual girl, and after saving her life, decides to protect her. Things start out quite good for the pair, especially when Ed, Al, and Winry come on orders, but as the saying goes, things are not always as they seem. What will happen when an unwelcome guest visits their grand home? Note: OCs are included.

1. Prologue

Prologue

Cold…everything was cold…the ground was cold…the air was cold…the people were cold…the very earth itself, it seemed, was cold…

…Why was everything so cold?

It was because of her. She was an abomination. She did not deserve to feel warmth. She did not deserve to feel love. She did not even deserve to live.

No, she was to be tortured for the rest of her life, unable to experience happiness…

…because she did not belong.

Why her? She was still young. She still had a mind of her own. She was still intelligent. She was even a human once.

So why?

She'd be better off dead. But she didn't want to die. No, she was too afraid of what it would be like; too afraid that there was no life after death, of any sort; too afraid that there would be something to look forward to in her future that she would be throwing away in death.

But nobody cared for her. Nobody would miss her. If she died, her death would probably go completely unnoticed. There couldn't be anything to look forward to. Surely if there was, then there would have been a sign of it by now. But nothing had happened yet, and it was far too likely that nothing would happen.

So why?

Why was she still alive?

Why hadn't she died yet?

Why hadn't she killed herself?

All these thoughts ran through her head, and she sank down the cold wall of the alley in despair. Nothing would happen. She would die. She would die, and that would be the end of it. The cold was too much. There was no way she could possibly live much longer.

There he was. The man she had just stolen meat from a moment ago. He stood before her, his cold eyes glaring down at her with malice. In his hand he held a meat cleaver of cold steel. Everything about this man was cold, so much so that it seemed to radiate from him. The very air seemed to get colder as he bore down upon her, ready to strike. He spoke, but she didn't care to listen. She didn't have to. She knew his intentions. They were the same as those of the small crowd that had followed him.

…This was it.

She would die.

She would be caught in the icy grip of death, and become victim to the cold darkness that would follow.

…But she didn't.

Why was she still alive?

She should be dead.

So why wasn't she?

Wait…something's different…somebody else was there…and he seemed to radiate…warmth?