I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.
Introductions to the City: Part 1
Roy Mustang found himself racing through the city streets to catch the next bus only on the first day. As the blood pumped through his veins and his muscles strained vigorously, a hint of a thought leaped around in the back of his mind that if he missed the 7:15 bus, he wouldn't make it to class in time. Dogs barked, bells in doorways jangled, signs flipped, bicycles ticked, and cars rumbled—all signs of the city waking up. He quickly waved back as someone shouted out a greeting to him on the side as he opened shop. Roy was a familiar face downtown.
In the part of town he lived, the people never went to sleep before early morning when the rest of the city was starting its day. While his friends went downstairs to sizzling bacon and eggs sunny side up, his downstairs consisted of remains of the previous nights' fare, including inebriated men and women passed out on the counters, over the tables, in their chairs, and sometimes on the floor. The evenings were boisterous scenes that made each day feel like a holiday, leading a person to wonder if someone had misplaced the Christmas CDs and tinsel, but as an exclusive voyeur to the unpleasant scene that came after the drunken merrymaking put a sobering image (one the patrons of the bar wouldn't experience in their intoxicated stupor) on the bar scene. Most of these people probably wouldn't wake up until midday. But don't get him wrong, he loved the noise and laughter he went to sleep to that continuously erupted late into the night, even if they did give him dark circles and late starts occasionally.
With a spectacular leap, he cleared the remaining area and pulled himself in just as the doors of the bus closed. He pulled out his card hurriedly with a sheepish grin and helped himself to one of the last remaining handles dangling in the aisle, forcing a space for himself where there was none among the packed passengers. Still hot from the run and warming up in the tight compartment, he removed his jacket and checked his watch: 7:17. The bus was running a bit late. He decided fate had willed that valedictorian Roy Mustang would not be late today and hence affirmed his invincibility.
He sometimes made little declarations to himself. Of course he would never share that tidbit with anyone, especially not Hughes. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that the ever-perspicacious campus gossip Maes Hughes already knew. The fact that he hadn't been on the receiving end of persistent teasing from his best friend was something to be wary of, like storm clouds, shattered mirrors, and being presented with unnaturally red soup after Hughes guaranteed that it was only a one on a spicy scale from one to ten.
He stepped into the classroom right as the bell rang. A male classmate in the back row called out laughingly, "Cutting it close this time, Mr. Class Representative." He returned a winning smile, directing it especially at the amused teacher.
Grumman raised a teasing eyebrow at his overall (artfully) disheveled appearance: uniform blazer hanging from his arm, rolled up sleeves, and loosened tie. He gave a cheeky salute and straightened his tie, all the while fully aware Old Man Grumman would overlook anything that concerned him on account of his most favored status unless he was caught for disciplinary action by the board. Missed 10 days of school? No problem. Ate lunch on the roof? Who cares as long as he was the top student in his grade?
He turned toward his usual desk only to find it occupied by none other than the object of his best friend's obsession, or as he had insisted, affection, sitting next to a blushing, swooning Hughes. Roy had to bite his lip to prevent grinning and tried to keep from rolling his eyes when Hughes not so discreetly prostrated himself over the desk, begging him wordlessly to let Gracia-san take his seat. The pretty green-eyed brunette blushed with all the attention she was getting, not only from the boy she was sitting next to, but also from the dozens of pairs of eyes of their classmates who were trying not to snicker. Feeling merciful, he scanned the other desks for empty places, but the others all had partners.
Their desks were really just two pushed together so that people could sit in pairs. According to administrators, the system of pairs saved an average of up to nine precious hours of schooling per year from accumulated partner choosing time as well as the teenage social anxiety that came along with it. Of course Roy had no personal experience in such anxiety.
"Take a seat by Miss Hawkeye," Grumman smirked amusedly, nodding his head at the desk in the last row of the left side of the classroom partially obscured behind the last of three juts in the wall.
Not knowing what to expect, he made his way to the back of the classroom and slid into the seat next to a girl with blonde hair neatly clipped up and wearing a pristine, starched uniform. He first noticed that she had moved her seat further left so as to hide part of herself from the class. A single pen and notebook were placed in front of her with the rest of the desk completely empty, including the inside of it from what he could see.
He pulled out his own things before placing his bag in his desk. Roy glanced left repeatedly at the girl sitting by the window, who hadn't so much as acknowledged his presence since he'd sat down. Feeling eyes on him, he turned and saw Hughes motioning thanks from four rows to the front. The favor was really the least he could do on account of all the other things he did for him. Plus, Roy admitted it also benefited him somewhat, hoping to appease the lovelorn teenager so the passionate declarations of his lovely Gracia's virtues would finally stop.
It was a bit unsettling for him to sit next to someone and not have the slightest interaction. Growing up, he was accustomed to lively conversation and was gregarious by nature. Looking back, he cleared his throat and Miss Hawkeye finally faced him with a curious gaze, making him feel as though he were the unusual one.
"Miss…" He trailed waiting for her to provide her first name since he must have missed the new student introductions.
Her inquiring gaze never faltered, and he suddenly felt as though he were making a fool of himself. Frowning slightly, Roy wondered if she hadn't understood him.
"What's your name?" He asked directly. She hesitated slightly before answering, "Riza Hawkeye."
He went forward with the usual introductions but was cut off before he could finish.
"Roy Mustang, I know Mr. Class Representative," she finished firmly, quickly looking back down uninterestedly at her notebook.
Up until then, he had pegged her as shy, but the self-assured way she spoke convinced him she was simply reticent. Her even tone hadn't so much as fluctuated the slightest, yet he got the feeling that she was teasing him. He let out a breathy laugh.
"Well, as class representative, would you mind me showing you around school?" He added a slight flirtatious inflection to his words.
Usually, he would've gotten a ready agreement or at times, a demure smile. She lifted her head and he swore he spotted a trace of a smile…before she looked him in the eyes and expressionlessly said, "I wouldn't mind, but Mr. Mustang, I've been in your class since junior high."
Over the course of the next few hours, Roy found himself repeatedly sneaking looks at the blonde girl sitting next to him, all the while internally cringing. Even though he wasn't sure he was being as discreet as he wanted to be, he couldn't help it. Riza continued her solid concentration on the lesson so he counted himself safe for the time being. She had a focus that rivaled his own when he was caught in one of his study moods.
When it was time for the first break, she rose out of her seat silently and slipped out of the classroom through the back door before he could say anything.
"Roy!" Hughes, called, snapping his attention back.
Hughes' eyes slinked over, followed Riza's retreating form, and returned with a mischievous glint that made Roy wince.
"So, you…" he suggested with gears audibly turning in his head. Roy glowered exasperatedly.
"No," He shot down as he narrowed his eyes, "I just offered to show her around because I thought…" He cleared his throat and glared at Hughes, daring him to laugh. "Because…I thought she was a new student."
A few small and badly restrained chuckles quickly erupted into a complete explosion of wild laughs. Roy sighed. He couldn't have expected less from his friend. Soon there were even tears in his eyes as he tried, and of course, failed to stop his fit of laughter. They'd definitely gone through this routine before. He did not appreciate failure, from either of them.
"J-just wait. S-so you mean you pretty much just said you were interested in her, but didn't care enough to even realize that she's been in our class for four years?"
"Yeah, and now I seem like a total jerk to my partner for the next…wait, no," he protested, "I'm not interested in her."
"Don't tell me all this time, I was wrong in thinking that blondes are your type." Hughes tapped his finger to his chin thoughtfully.
"They are, but I was just try…wait no, dammit, I didn't mean to admit that." He resigned himself to admitting yet another private thing to his effortlessly prying friend and made a mental note to be extra cautious with his personal declarations…like what he was doing at that very moment.
Hughes jumped gleefully and continued despite Roy's exasperation. With a dreamy look in his eyes serving as a warning to Roy, he began to ramble. He should have known that the passionate declarations would not stop.
"Personally I prefer brunettes, especially the warm, home-y, friendly girls with kind green eyes. She'd have to be a great cook too and make warm food for me when I get home from a long and tiring day at work. Then we'd cuddle up on the couch together and talk about our days and solve each other's problems. Communication is the most important aspect of a relationship you know! Sometimes we'd drink tea or hot chocolate together in the evening and at nighttime we'd massa—"
His dark eyes widened in horror. "Oh my god, Hughes, I don't need to know all your fantasies of the future, and certainly not your bedroom fantasies," Roy interrupted in the nick of time, "Besides, I've already heard those. I really don't need to hear them again."
He pouted pitifully like a child, eerily reminding him of his sister Suzanna. Relenting with a sigh, he shoved his chair back, kicked his legs up on the desk, and prepared for the inevitable long-winded speech on his friend's ideal woman and dream future, which they both knew had Gracia's face plastered all over it.
"That's okay, then I'll just tell you about the kind of foods she'll make for me. Oh, and if she can't cook, then I could just teach her." He could swear Hughes eyes sparkled just then despite the fact that he was not a member of the distinguished Armstrong family. "We could have romantic cooking lessons together and I'll just teach her how to cook things like soup and show her how to chop onions and when she cries I can hold her close and comfort her," he rattled on.
"Is that legal?"
"We're in love!" he exclaimed, "Oh and the wedding. Of course you'll be my best man…but you'll have to have a date, you can't go alone." Roy shook his head in agreement sarcastically. "No we can't have that."
"You can marry the maid of honor, that's it!"
"Okay, it's decided. I'll marry the maid of honor…and you'll stop trying to set me up with every girl I talk to?" Roy suggested hopefully.
The look Hughes shot gave him the answer.
"Was that too much to ask for?" He muttered. "Why don't we just go back to the food."
Years of experience had taught him that certain situations with Hughes were lose lose and to get anywhere, he'd have to choose the lesser of two evils.
His friend blinked, as though reentering reality. "Oh right, I almost forgot. I brought you some breakfast again. You know, you should really learn how to cook so you can eat in the morning. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he lectured as he pulled out a lunchbox. Roy smirked devilishly.
"So you mean you wouldn't mind if I third wheeled your dream cooking date?"
Hughes frowned in contemplation. The image of Hughes striding around a kitchen island, reaching around the sweet Gracia from the back, placing a hand over hers to whisk around the batter, leaning over her shoulder romantically…and then moving on to the awaiting Roy dressed in a similar apron should be terrifying, but his friend merely gave a smirk of his own. Now that was terrifying.
"Alright mother." Roy surrendered fearfully as he reached for the food. " You know, isn't this something girls usually do for the guys they like?"
"I'm doing this because you don't have a girl, Mustang. Get one!" His shouted, his demeanor suddenly changing.
"Woah there Hughes, I've got time."
"I better not be hearing this when you're thirty, career-focused, with no family, living all alone in an apartment, and pining for the office coworker that's unavailable," he accused with an eerie sort of confidence.
"You have a vivid imagination," Roy muttered, casting his eyes downward. "Alright, so give me the breakdown on the rolls."
Satisfied, Hughes put on a triumphant smile and began pointing to the rolls in the lunchbox, assigning numbers one through ten.
"So, what's the trick this time," Roy said mock-seriously.
In a low voice, Hughes explained, "Ones are either the spiciest or the mildest. Same with the tens."
Roy brought his chair forward, leaning in, and studied his friend's gaze as he pointed to particular rolls with his chopsticks. Hughes smiled stiffly, working to keep his expression neutral for each roll.
"There are what look like red pepper flakes on the one roll. Hm…green stuff in the ten roll."
"Avocado? Or Wasabi? Why don't you try and find out, Roy?"
"I'm not suicidal," he said humorlessly. "Are you sure I can't just not eat anything…so no, got it."
Picking up the one with red flakes, he cautiously took a bite….and released a loud, celebratory whoop.
"How'd you know?" Hughes asked suspiciously and Roy responded by raising an eyebrow arrogantly. "You're terrible at bluffs. Besides, you're looking at the president of the chess club here. Chess is life." He added with a joking theatrical flair.
"You could make anime out of that. I'm more of a cooking is life person. I don't believe in chess," Hughes declared. He could imagine Hughes going off on another discourse, this time on the sweet versus spicy aspects in a relationship and how the ingredients had to be carefully considered and added and cooked with care to create something wonderful.
Roy smirked. "Better not let Grumman hear that."
"Hear what?"
They both turned to find Old Man Grumman standing at their desks with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Or maybe that came from the sun reflecting off his glasses. First Hughes, now Grumman. Maybe glasses were all he needed to get that twinkle too, he contemplated.
"That Hughes likes that tie you're wearing so much he might just steal it," he amended smoothly.
"Oh!" Grumman bounced a little in his shoes and fixed up his tie vainly. "Thank you very much Mr. Mustang. I just received this from my granddaughter. It's a pride of mine really."
"Hn? I never knew you had a granddaughter," Hughes spoke reflexively.
"That's because I never told you. And Mr. Hughes, stealing is crime, I'd discourage you from trying, as it is my responsibility as a teacher," he said smiling through his thick moustache before returning to the front of the classroom with a stack of papers. Yes, he did have a bounce in his step.
They shared a playful look with each other, watching as their teacher departed. Right as Hughes left for his seat, Riza appeared seemingly out of nowhere and sat quietly next to him. He instantly expected the same treatment and her self-contained bearing when she returned, but instead found her eyes drifting to the lunchbox on the desk. He took it as a cue and so far, only pathway to redemption, and nudged it towards her.
"You can try one if you like," he suggested casually, not anxious for another outright rejection. To his surprise, she accepted the pair of chopsticks from him and plopped one in her mouth before he could issue his warning.
"Wait, that's…spicy," he finished. She narrowed her eyes, which he realized now were red brown in color, at him in confusion. "What do you mean? This is avocado." She asked, not unkindly. His mouth fell open slightly and turned towards Hughes. His friend turned in his seat and shot him a childish look of accomplishment. Oh, he would definitely get him back for this one, Roy promised to himself. He had a laundry list of potential pranks to choose from. If there was anything he couldn't stand it would have to be not being the smartest person in the room.
"Is something wrong?" Riza questioned, returning his attention. Her sherry eyes regarded him calmly.
Maybe as a result of her acceptance of his earlier offer, a bit of his confidence returned. He turned to her and she shrank back almost instinctively. At least she hadn't shifted her chair left again, even though earlier it hadn't been due to him.
"Actually, I was wondering if you could make time tomorrow at lunch."
She responded by pursing her lips. "What for?" She asked cautiously.
"I recall offering a campus tour," he smiled, this time, with one far more genuine than the first.
The corners of her mouth turned down to form a frown. "I also recall mentioning that I'm no new student," She answered coolly. He detected a faint hint of dry humor in her words.
"Ah, but you also said you wouldn't mind a tour."
She opened her mouth before letting out a disbelieving scoff…and he knew he'd won.
Please R&R.
I've recently reinvented my writing style so I'm still concerned if the writing flows smoothly or not.
Also, please let me know if you want the story exclusively in Roy's point of view, leaving her an enigma, or if you want some kind of balance between Roy and Riza narrating.
- I know nothing about the German/ Amestris or any other European school system so I figured I wouldn't even try. Since using the American school system just doesn't seem right, I based it kind of on the Japanese school system in which junior high and high school are three years each. So imagine a Japanese style classroom with a blackboard, podium, desks in rows, two doors, and windows all along one side. And yes, the stereotypical school must also have a roof for students to sneak up onto.
In case anyone was wondering, no, I haven't figured out yet how many parts there will be to this. I have a pretty bad track record with updating. I am, of course, a...
...xFickleFriend