Take two. Haha. Happy new year! I think this'll be a little serious... I'll inject some humor when I can. Enjoy. C:
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"I don't expect that I'll ever come back." His voice was colder than the snow on the ground as he said his goodbye on that freezing winter day in the east.
Riza couldn't seem to remember how to breathe. "Mr. Mustang," she tried, her voice cracking slightly. "I...father will be furious." Quick. Say something to get him to reconsider! She panicked.
"It's too late, Ms. Hawkeye," the eighteen year old chuckled, the sound grim in the cold air. "Besides, he's not the only one who's angry." His eyes turned harder than she'd ever seen them.
"You know he hates the military," she said quietly, appealing. "He blames them for my mother's..."
"I know," he breathed out and closed his eyes. "But I want to enlist." I want to change this country, even if I have to start at the very bottom.
Roy's dream had always to become a state alchemist. An alchemist for the people. Plus, he'd get a head start on a military career. If he were accepted to become a state alchemist then he didn't need to attend the military academy. He'd achieve the rank of Major instantly. He'd have all the resources in the military. And best of all, he would be nearer to his goal.
But there was no way he could become a state alchemist if his pigheaded teacher refused to teach him anything but the most basic skills of alchemy. Berthold Hawkeye had secrets, secrets that he did not share to Roy, no matter how hard Roy worked. In his teacher's eyes, Roy would never be ready. And Roy was pissed off.
Earlier, the boy, barely eighteen, had spoken offhandedly about his dream to the older Hawkeye. That had proven to be disastrous. His teacher had positively exploded.
"You fool. If your dream is only to become a dog of the military, pack your belongings and leave. Don't waste any more of my time."
"Master, I only meant I wanted to change..." he had trailed off when he saw the glare directed at him. "Your wife's death wasn't the military's fault, Ms. Hawkeye told me she'd died in chi-"
"Don't you dare speak of her to me! She's gone, because of them!" he had roared, almost raving. "And if you think I'm still going to teach you Flame alchemy, then you're an imbecile. I am not letting you become a state alchemist. You will regret it."
"How are you so sure of what I'll regret?" Roy had shot back, rising to his full height. "I have the best of intentions and this is the most plausible way I could come up wi-"
"Sometimes good intentions are not enough, boy," Hawkeye had spoken in a quiet voice, his tone indistinguishable. Then in an irritated tone, he'd said, "You're nothing but a fool, if you think otherwise."
That had ticked Roy off. If he were anything, it wasn't foolish. His pride took a blow and he burst, long simmering sentiments suddenly pouring out of his mouth.
"Were you ever planning to advance my studies? You seemed content to teach me the same things over and over again. I want to do something with my life, and this," he had emphasized, "is a waste of time. This is getting me nowhere, master." He said the last word in spite.
Before the older man could react, Roy had angrily stalked out of the study, slamming the door behind him. He had barely noticed a teenaged girl watching him with wary eyes as he had stomped off into room down the hall.
That had done it. If his own teacher did not believe in his ability, both in his alchemy and making decisions for himself, Roy decided that he didn't need him or his alchemy. There were many other teachers out there who had secrets of their own. And they would probably never be as pigheaded as Berthold Hawkeye in sharing their knowledge.
These thoughts stayed with him until he'd gathered most of his belongings into a suitcase. There hadn't been much. Quietly he slipped out of the room, his room, as it had been for the last five, six years of his life. He made his way out the front door and did not deign to look back. He was determined to leave it all in his past.
He had almost reached the road when he heard her.
"Mr. Mustang! Mr. Mustang!" she cried out urgently. This time, he turned around.
And when he did, he found the quiet girl of fifteen whom he had lived with for almost a third of his life. He was fond of her, yes. But she had always been meek and shy, to the point of seeming invisible.
Her face was flushed, and she looked embarrassed when she reached him. "Mr. Mustang...are you...leaving?" she asked in a worried voice.
"Yes. And I don't expect I'll ever come back, Ms. Hawkeye."
She froze at his words. "Mr. Mustang, I...father will be furious."
"It's too late, Ms. Hawkeye. Besides, he's not the only one who's angry," he told her. Why was his teacher such an obstinate-
"You know he hates the military," she said quietly, appealing. "He blames them for my mother's..."
"I know," he breathed out and closed his eyes. "But I want to enlist."
Silence reigned for a few moments. His eyes were still closed, and she waited for him to go on. She hadn't known how to reply to his last admission.
Having gained some semblance of control over his emotions, he managed a resigned smile as he shoved his free hand into his coat pocket. She was right. Her father was going to blow up when he'd find out Roy was gone, what with all the time and effort he had put into him. He grimaced at the thought.
The blonde clasped her hands together self-consciously. "Are you sure you won't be coming back?"
He stared into her deep brown eyes, large and seemingly sorrowful, as if she had not wanted him to go. "Why, do you want me to, Ms. Hawkeye?" he asked teasingly, and her face colored. He shook his head before she could reply. "I'm going to go look...for my purpose in life."
"Then...I wish you all the best," she told him after pausing slightly. "So I guess this is goodbye."
"Yes, goodbye," he replied quietly. "Until we meet again."
"Good luck. I hope you find whatever you're looking for."
Roy smiled at her again. "Thank you, Riza," he said, using her first name for the first time. With that, he turned on his heel and made in the direction of the nearest train station. When he looked back, he saw the front porch, empty of life. She must have gone back in. There was no trace of her. No trace of the girl he had passively appreciated for her assiduous housekeeping, the girl who'd study him with curious eyes as he'd walk into the room, the girl he'd confide in when he needed a friend, the girl who would soon become the purpose he was looking for.
Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were made for each other. But at this point, they hadn't realized it yet.
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"First class Private Mustang!" Maes greeted his friend as he took a seat at the mess table.
Roy glanced up at the bespectacled man, his expression one of censure. "Not for until three weeks. It's Cadet Mustang for now, Maes. Do what you want but don't get me in trouble, promoting me just like that."
"Three weeks is all! Then we'll be real military men, Roy-boy!" Twenty two year old Maes Hughes grinned at his best friend. Though two years older than Roy, they had enlisted the same year, and so were often in the same classes in the academy. Notably, they were roommates. In three weeks, they would graduate, finally.
"Don't call me that either," Roy chastised, taking a violent bite off his sandwich.
Maes grinned. "Isn't that what Lisette calls you? I was going through your fan mail the other night. She sent you a note, thanking you for being her dinner companion the other night. Just dinner?" Maes asked, in a teasing tone.
Roy, twenty years old and in his last year in the academy, had become renown as a ladies' man, dating girls left and right but never getting serious. The few female cadets liked him because he was a complete gentleman, unlike the other men in the military who thought the army was no place for girls. The ladies around Central liked him because he was attractive, in and out of the tacky cadet uniform. Women, young and old, loved to catch glimpses of him when he walked around the city. His charm knew no bounds; it bordered on rougishness. Maes Hughes liked to poke fun at the guy, who in reality, wasn't doing it on purpose.
"Yes, only dinner. She invited me to go to the opening of her father's restaurant downtown." Roy glared at Maes. "Besides, why were you going through my mail stack?"
"You don't know your own capability, Roy," Maes grinned.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Now answer my other question!"
"I go through your mail all the time. They're mostly love letters and gifts from them ladies. You got a weird letter in the last batch, by the way. T'was from a girl, but it didn't seem like the usual gushy, flirty ones, sprayed in girly perfume. She addressed you as Mr. Mustang, so I assumed it wasn't from anyone like family."
Roy's interest was piqued. "Who was she? And what did you do with my mail?"
"Here they are, I almost forgot about them." He took a stack of envelopes from his coat pocket. "She signed it...Riza. Riza Hawksworth? Something like that."
"Riza Hawkeye?" Roy took them, the name registering in his mind and making his heart beat slightly faster. A sense of dread started to rise up in his chest. Did something happen? It's been so long since you've heard from her, Roy thought to himself. He had been writing to her at least once every three months, or when he remembered. After all, she was young and practically lived alone. The only letters he'd received from her were a couple of impersonal replies for the first few months. At times he wondered if the father and daughter were still inhabiting the stately but dilapidated manor in the East countryside.
"Yeah, that was the name." Maes watched Roy with interest as he opened the letter he was looking for.
Dear Mr. Mustang
How is Central treating you? I am sorry I haven't returned any of your recent letters. It was probably quite rude of me, but I never had much to say... I am writing to you now because there's something... I cannot explain... It's my father. He's been asking for you. But not exactly. You see, Mr. Mustang, he's been sick for quite a while now, but he refuses to see any doctor for his frequent coughing and fevers. He hasn't been sleeping very well because of it. Sometimes he gets delirious from fever and he asks for you. I have a feeling he wants to discuss something with you, though he won't admit it up front. He was very...frustrated with you when he found out you left, but if it isn't too much trouble, maybe you could pay us a visit back here in the East. Despite what he says, I think he wants to talk to you about some important matter. Please consider the suggestion and do take care of yourself.
Riza Hawkeye
Roy looked at the neat cursive on paper disbelievingly. Berthold Hawkeye, wanting to talk to him? Riza Hawkeye must be joking. But he knew the girl. She was slightly naive but hardly frivolous and didn't take most matters lightly. But here she was, telling him her father subconsciously wanted to talk to him. After the way he left, almost two years ago? Roy could imagine the verbal thrashing he'd receive when they came face to face. He winced at the mere thought. Then again, this could be his last chance at learning his master's alchemic secrets. If only he could convince Hawkeye the merits of being a state alchemist.
Roy Mustang decided then that he would take the first train East the day after his graduation ceremony.
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