A/N: Sorry about the wait for this chapter, you guys. Hopefully it'll be worth it, though. (The authoress offers a hopeful, apologetic smile.) Reviews make my day!
Chapter Two: Master and Servant
Morning found the inn deceptively quiet. The kunoichi had not stirred during the remainder of the night; after examining her, Malik had left her in Rishid's care while he returned to fitful sleep. Sometime in the early-morning hours a wind had sprung up, and by dawn it was strong enough to stir the porch swing and whip the tall grass that lined the road. Ryou could hear the wind chime's continual ring before he even reached the door to the screened porch.
Said door stuck a little, and Ryou's attempts to noiselessly ease it open failed. He had to settle for rattling the doorknob and hoping the sound wouldn't carry up the hallway to the guest rooms. The door opened with only a slight grating sound, which was drowned out by Ryou losing his balance and toppling forward with a crash that rattled the flowerpots. Wincing, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the worn rug and rubbed a spot on his chest where the pendant had poked him with one of its tines. A gust banged the door shut behind him. So much for not making any noise.
The wind hadn't managed to completely banish the scent of the votive candles, which crouched, partly melted, on a narrow ledge that ran along the three screened sides of the porch. Plastic flowerpots squatted amidst the candles and tall vases, leaves and fern fronds spilling over the edges like shocks of uncombed hair. Ryou brushed his own untidy bangs out of his eyes, stood up, and craned his neck to look over the plants. At this distance the buildings of Resembool seemed no bigger than doll's houses. The sun just barely cleared the rooftops; Ryou held a gloved hand above his eyes and squinted through the glare.
A muffled noise alerted him to a presence at his side. Whirling around, he stared confusedly at the closest plant until something brushed against his leg, shifting his attention downwards. A lanky, orange cat gazed back up at him, tail swishing rhythmically. Its pupils had narrowed to mere slits, and there was something oddly intelligent in its gaze. Ryou half expected it to speak to him, like a witch's cat from a fairy tale.
"Ai? Ai? Here, kitty." Miho poked her head through the doorway. "Aha, there you are." She shuffled across the rug in too-big house slippers and scooped up the cat, shooting Ryou an apologetic glance. "He didn't bother you, did he? We keep him in my room, but sometimes he gets away from me when I open my door in the morning."
"No, it's all right. You can leave him out on the porch. I don't mind."
To Ryou's utter confusion, Miho's face reddened slightly, and she concentrated on tracing a flower on the rug with the toe of her slipper.
"I shouldn't leave him here. The guests come out here sometimes – well, you know that, obviously – and I'm afraid we'll have one that's allergic to cats. It took me a long time to convince Daddy to let me get a cat in the first place. In the end Mother stuck up for me. She said it would help me learn responsibility – and of course you don't need to know all that! I don't even know why… I'm just…" The apologetic smile was back, and her lips were slightly twisted as if something worried her. "I'm sorry. I don't usually talk this much. It's just – you're a good listener."
Ryou gave her one of his practiced courtesy smiles, the kind that usually satisfied people and got them to leave him alone. The cat had grown restless and was trying half-heartedly to wiggle out of Miho's grasp. Miho stared at Ryou a moment longer, face redder than ever, and then abruptly spun on her heel and left, nudging the door closed with her foot. Ryou waited for her footsteps to fade towards the stairwell, but he heard nothing; a second later, the door opened again.
"A-are you going up to the town today? I can give you brochures, you know… Good restaurants, that sort of thing."
"It's all right." Ryou looked at her over his shoulder and smiled again, but this time there was a speck of sincerity behind it. "I'm going to spend all day at the museum, probably."
Miho's face lit up, and she stepped fully into the room.
"I love the museum! It's got one of the biggest collections of material on the Elric brothers – only the State Library in Central has more."
"That's why I'm going."
"Oh, are you studying the Elric brothers for your latest alchemy teacher?"
Ryou's smile faded, and he glanced at his reflection in a nearby vase.
"…I guess you could say that."
For a second he caught a flash of the spirit behind him, cold smirk distorted by the curves of the glass.
Malik's thumb habitually traced the Eye of Horus on the head of his scepter. The events of the night before had rattled him more than he would've admitted aloud, and he hadn't released his grip on the Rod since awakening that morning. From his position on the bed, he could watch the kunoichi while also keeping an eye on the room's entrance, just in case the turbaned man decided to pay him another visit. Rishid had gone downstairs to buy a newspaper and some breakfast.
The kunoichi had been bound to a chair with torn strips of bed sheets and then unceremoniously shoved into the empty closet. The long, narrow "box" on her back had turned out to be a huge metal fan, easily as wide as Malik was tall – she obviously specialized in wind jutsu. A headband loosely tied around her neck identified her as a shinobi of Sunagakure; Malik had, with his power, already confirmed this. The Rod had also afforded him other, hazier details, and he was preparing for a second mental foray to verify his suspicions.
Eyes lidded and legs crossed like a meditating Buddhist monk, he released a deep breath and felt his consciousness expand until it filled the space between them and brushed against the girl's mind. In her unconscious state, no thoughts floated across to greet him – just an odd crackling like the static between radio stations. Even this sound soon faded as he wormed his way deeper into her subconscious, flipping through her most recent memories as if they were pages in a book.
"Master Malik?"
Malik jumped and immediately withdrew, leaving a small portion of himself behind as a kind of anchor. Rishid was standing between him and the kunoichi, proffering a plate of scrambled eggs. Annoyed by the interruption, Malik snatched the plate away, set it on the nightstand, and leaned sideways so he could peer around Rishid's shoulder.
"Has she come around yet, master Malik?"
"No, not yet."
Malik closed his eyes and revived a more distant memory he had spotted in the girl's mind: a small boy with tousled auburn hair standing over a fresh corpse, rubbing his ringed eyes and whimpering with the quiet desperation of a child frightened by the unknown. There was something intriguing about the boy that Malik couldn't put his finger on. It was almost as if the child was just a front for something else…
"Master Malik?"
Malik's eyes snapped open, and he shot Rishid a particularly acidic glare.
"What?"
Rishid lowered his gaze and backed away.
"I was just… Have you learned anything from the girl? We… you should decide what we should do with her."
Malik leaned on the nightstand, resting his chin in his hand. He was silent for such a long time that Rishid thought he had returned to his task of examining the kunoichi's memories, and he moved towards the table to eat his own breakfast.
Almost lazily, Malik said, "She has two brothers who are also ninja. Neither of them accompanied her on this mission."
Rishid followed Malik's gaze to the bound kunoichi. She was barely older than his young master, and her blond hair had been pulled back into two sets of stubby pigtails, one pair high on her head and the other near her neck; that hairstyle should have made her look childish, but somehow it did not. Her clothing wasn't revealing but was tight-fitting enough to show off an attractive figure.
"He sent her."
Startled, Rishid jerked his gaze back to Malik and met the boy's disconcerting lavender eyes.
"He… what? Him?"
"Yes. As far as I can tell, this girl has never seen Ishizu in her life. That doesn't mean Ishizu's not involved, of course, just that she's not doing all of the legwork." Malik abruptly sat up and pounded a fist on the nightstand, rattling his breakfast plate. "Damn these ninja! I never thought they'd follow us this far. I found a passport on her, but it's obviously fake – I don't know how she got across the border. Damn ignorant soldiers."
"Master Malik, please… Keep your voice down."
Malik shook his head and stood, smoothing his vest and slipping a hand into one of the pockets as if to confirm that its contents were still intact. He slid the Rod through a belt loop and turned to face Rishid.
"I'm going out."
Rishid immediately lumbered to his feet. "I'll come with you."
"No. You need to stay here and keep an eye on her." Malik jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the kunoichi. "I'm going… I'm not sure. Probably up to the town to see if there's any news about a pair of fugitives from the Wind Country. We'll decide what to do with her when I get back."
Both of them stood still for a moment, Rishid watching his master closely and Malik chewing on his lower lip, brow furrowed, indecision clearly written across his features. Then Malik made a brusque gesture in the kunoichi's direction, as if he were waving thoughts of her away like smoke, and left the room at an unusually hasty pace.
Upon reaching the Resembool Museum, Ryou's first actions were to collapse in a chair and silently thank the gods for the advent of air conditioning, which the bus had lacked. His seat was directly beneath a vent, and he tilted his head back so the frigid air could soothe his sweaty and most likely reddened face.
The lobby was full even at such an early hour, mostly with disheveled college students and summer camp groups waiting to be assigned a tour guide. The youngest crowd was made up of elementary schoolers who had decided to amuse themselves by acting out their version of the Fullmetal Alchemist's military stint. A scrawny, sandy-haired boy in a too-large camp T-shirt had assumed the role of narrator, pitching his voice as low as he could with an expression of utter seriousness on his face.
"Here on the right is the Fullmetal Alchemist, the youngest person ever to pass the State Alchemy Exam!"
With a sweeping gesture, he indicated the smallest child of the bunch, a nervous-looking boy who had looped a bandana emblazoned with a flamel around his neck. Several other boys and girls clustered behind him, cheering and patting him gently on the back.
The announcer-boy cleared his throat and made the sweeping gesture in reverse, drawing attention to the other side of the group.
"And here on the left is the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang, the hero of the Ishbalan war!"
A tall, chubby, dark-haired boy grinned and flashed a thumbs-up at his "opponent;" he had drawn crude transmutation circles on his gloves with a permanent marker. The children gathered around the Fullmetal Alchemist boy booed so loudly that the cheers of "Mustang's" supporters were completely drowned out. One of the parent volunteers rushed over, waving her arms emphatically, and said something that Ryou couldn't hear – evidently she had warned them to be quiet, because the children continued in much lower tones. Ryou abandoned his comfortable seat and found a space along the wall within earshot of the small group.
"Okay, I'll be the referee," the blond boy declared. "Everybody ready? Okay…" He brought one hand down with a slashing motion. "Fight!"
The Mustang boy rushed forward eagerly, while the Fullmetal boy had to be pushed forward by his supporters. He stood frozen in the center of the ring of children, keeping a wary eye on the Mustang boy, who was almost twice his size. "Mustang" struck a dramatic pose, snapping his fingers repeatedly and making a noise that was supposed to represent flames but sounded more like gunfire.
"Oh, look, I got you!" he crowed, dodging around the Fullmetal boy. "Look, I got you again! Come on, fight back, will you?"
The Fullmetal's supporters had forgotten their parental warning and were cheering at the tops of their lungs.
"Come on, Tommy – I mean, Ed!"
"You can do it! You're the Fullmetal Alchemist!"
"Go! Go! Fight! Come on!"
With a look of mingled terror and determination, the Fullmetal boy clapped his hands and ducked "Mustang's" imaginary flames, pressing the palms of his hands to the floor.
"Look! It's a cannon!" he shouted, pointing off to the right as if everyone could see the effects of his "transmutation." "You better watch out, Mustang."
His supporters broke into wild cheers, which quickly subsided as two more parent volunteers rushed over and herded the children into a single-file line. As they followed the tour guide into the first exhibit, both adults shot Ryou a disapproving glare, as if he had been responsible for the children's behavior. Ryou dropped his gaze to the floor.
With the rowdy children gone, the lobby felt oppressively quiet. The only people left in the ticket line were three girls in identical college sweatshirts, spiral notebooks tucked neatly under their arms. One of the girls gazed absentmindedly out the window while the other two paid for their tickets; her hair was done up in a ponytail tied with a ribbon, similar to Miho's. When Ryou noted this, his thoughts involuntarily drifted to Miho's behavior that morning and the way her cheeks had reddened when he spoke to her. The memory made his face heat up again, and he shifted his weight embarrassedly against the wall. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard the spirit snicker.
"Can I help you?"
It took Ryou a minute to realize that the lobby was now deserted and the woman behind the ticket counter was talking to him. She was leaning on the tall desk and regarding him with raised eyebrows, something that quite a few people did when confronted with Ryou's appearance.
Ryou pushed away from the wall and came up to the desk.
"I'd like a pass for the library, please."
The woman chuckled, but not unkindly. "The library's free, hon. You don't need to wait around for me to give you a ticket. Though donations are appreciated." She indicated a clear plastic box on the desktop.
"Uh… sure. I've got some cash here… somewhere…"
Ryou slipped a hand inside his coat and fumbled through his pockets, depositing small handfuls of things on the edge of the desk to get them out of the way of his search.
"That a magic coat or something?" the ticket woman asked, her eyebrows lifting even higher. "How much stuff you got in there?"
Ryou shot her an embarrassed, apologetic glance as he added a yo-yo and a pocket dictionary to the mound of string, pens, dog biscuits, train ticket stubs, and other such miscellaneous articles produced from the folds of his jacket. Eventually he located his wallet and stuffed a ten-dollar bill into the donation box, almost knocking down the "PLEASE DONATE" sign in his haste. The ticket woman watched him cram things back into his pockets for a minute or so before losing interest and pulling up a schedule on the computer.
The yo-yo was the last thing to be put back, and as Ryou shoved it down to the bottom of the pocket, his knuckles tapped something solid and cold, like metal. He at first assumed it to be another yo-yo; it was round and the correct size, though heavy. But when he pulled the mystery object out of his coat, his mouth fell open like the door on a cuckoo clock and a gasp almost escaped through the gap.
Cradled neatly in his palm was a silver pocket watch engraved with a rampant dragon.
Rishid kept watch at the window with a vigilance that would have impressed any Amestrian soldier, but hunger drove him away from his post around noon. Not daring to leave the kunoichi alone, he ordered lunch at the downstairs restaurant and ate in the room, getting up every few bites to check first the kunoichi and then the window, for any sign of Malik's return. He was about halfway through with his meatloaf when the girl finally stirred.
Hidden (or so he hoped) by the door, Rishid peered in at her with an uneasy eye. The slow, languid flutters of her eyelids indicated that she was still dazed, but she immediately began struggling against her bonds, concentrating on her hands. There the strip of cloth was viciously tight, and even in the dim light Rishid could tell that her fingers were swollen and blue. He slipped into the closet.
"Stop struggling."
The kunoichi redoubled her efforts, defiant gaze fixed on his face. "You won't get anything out of me."
"We know what we need to know."
Her eyes narrowed, and she tossed her head, flicking a stray wisp of blond hair from her face. "Where's the other one?"
"Not here. But he'll be back."
"Soon?"
Rishid gave a curt nod.
The kunoichi stared at him, eyes still hardened suspiciously, and Rishid played along, forcing himself to meet her laser gaze. Beneath her thick eyelashes the irises were an odd shade of teal, swimming with flecks of pride – and an underlying dash of frustration. Rishid had grown familiar with that same expression, in the eyes of another, over the past few years. Lest he be drawn in, he looked away.
The kunoichi's shoulders relaxed by the slightest margin. Letting her chin drop, she allowed herself to feel the full pain from the bump on her head, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. As she licked it away, Rishid drew nearer and leaned forward slightly.
"Please, don't struggle, and we won't harm you." His voice was lowered, tone far gentler than before.
She allowed herself a sarcastic grin. "That's what they all say."
Rishid stood back and looked her over, eyes traveling along the sheets that bound her limbs. The kunoichi studied his expression; deep wrinkles had appeared in his forehead, and his mouth had drawn into a thin line, as if someone had marked it on his face as part of his tattooed design.
"What are –"
He swooped towards her so suddenly that she jumped, teeth clamping down on her lip and re-opening the wound that had started to clot. Her heartbeat pounded in her temples, and the bump on her head throbbed, sending stars dancing before her eyes again. For a moment she was so disoriented that she didn't realize he had moved behind the chair and was loosening the cloth strip around her wrists.
Wincing as circulation returned to her hands, she recovered in time to see him step abruptly away from her chair, as if he were afraid of being caught. Uncertainty was scrawled across his features, but at the same time he seemed, in a childlike, dazed sort of way, to be pleased with himself. The kunoichi couldn't stop the small quirk that turned up a corner of her mouth.
"You're an odd one," she muttered contemplatively, half to herself. "What's someone like you doing answering to a teenage brat?"
Rishid rolled his broad shoulders absentmindedly, gazing off into a corner. His eyes were misted over, his expression blank. At first the kunoichi thought he wasn't going to answer, and when he did, it was in a soft murmur that seemed strange coming from so sturdy a man.
"I gave my word."
Ryou was having a difficult time keeping his voice steady. "Spirit?"
Though he couldn't see the ghost, he knew the spirit was watching, studying the pocket watch even as Ryou cupped his other hand around it to hide it from the ticket woman's view.
"Spirit, where did this come from?"
The ghost knew what Ryou was trying to imply, and he chuckled dryly. I didn't steal it.
Ryou wouldn't have believed him if he hadn't felt a sudden start, a quick wave of surprise, come from the spirit when he had pulled the watch from his coat. The spirit was a practiced liar – not to mention a career thief – but although he could hide his emotions from his host if he was careful, they shared a mental link that would not allow such feelings to be faked.
"Well, if you didn't take it – "
A woman's voice interrupted him. "You still need something, kiddo?"
Ryou jumped; the watch almost slipped out of his hands. The ticket lady was staring at him over her shoulder, hands poised over the keyboard and the end of a pen clamped between her teeth.
A quick prompt from the spirit gave Ryou an excuse. "Umm… where is the library, exactly?"
"Ah!" The woman smacked herself on the forehead and shook her head in self-rebuke. "I didn't tell you that, did I?" She leaned on the desk and pointed up the hallway, past the door that the children's camp group had gone through. "Down there on your left. Last door before the emergency exit."
In the few seconds she had looked away, Ryou had stashed the watch back in his coat, shoving it down to the bottom of the pocket.
"Thank you."
He strode in the indicated direction with her cheery call of, "Open till seven PM, weekends till five" following at his heels. Neither he nor the spirit spoke again until they were safely shut in the privacy of the library, at which point the spirit rose to his own defense.
Think rationally, host. Why would I have stolen one of the military's alchemic amplifiers when we have that Ring? It's a better amplifier than any antiquated hunk of state-sponsored metal.
Ryou rested a hand on his chest, tracing the contours of the Ring through the material of his shirt.
"I don't know. But there's no other explanation; I mean, a watch doesn't just – "
Keep your voice down. There's someone here.
Alarmed, Ryou glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing save for the silent rows of bookshelves, illuminated by narrow windows set high in the far wall.
Over there.
The spirit drew Ryou's attention to the end of a nearby row, where a boy in a hooded red jacket was gazing towards the door, face angled away from them. His blond hair was styled in an old-fashioned short braid that fell almost to the black flamel embroidered into the back of his coat.
Ryou's mouth instantly went dry. "H-holy… mother of the gods…"
Someone's gotten very religious all of a sudden, the spirit muttered derisively. First you thank the gods for central heating and air…
Ryou cut him off in a hoarse whisper. "That's Edward Elric!"
Host, the Fullmetal Alchemist is dead. You said so yourself.
Deaf to the spirit's skepticism, Ryou edged forward as quietly as possible, ducking behind bookshelves and then peeking out again to make sure his hero was still there. The Fullmetal Alchemist didn't move, merely staring off into space as if in deep thought.
Ryou was two rows away from Edward when the spirit felt him start, then look around wildly, quickly focusing on something above the bookshelves on the right.
"Look." Ryou pointed to a small black box mounted on the wall, tracing a path with his finger from it to Fullmetal. "He's a hologram."
From this angle, the spirit could clearly see the edge of a bookshelf through Edward Elric's translucent shoulder. A satisfied smirk twisted the corner of his mouth.
Back on task then, host. Where can we find material on the Philosopher's Stone?
The sun had dipped so low that its rays no longer angled through the library's high windows, and Ryou had had to fetch a lamp from the back of the room to light his corner table, which by now was stacked with dozens of alchemy textbooks, including anything that even briefly mentioned the Elric brothers. Ryou had been taking notes, but the books had yielded little that he didn't already know, especially on the subject of the Philosopher's Stone. He fiercely scrubbed the back of a gloved hand across his eyes, fighting the blurred vision that came with exhaustion.
"It's almost seven, spirit, and if we miss the bus we'll have to walk all the way back to the inn. We can always come back tomorrow… Spirit, please…"
The spirit had grown increasingly irritable as their search progressed – or, more accurately, barely progressed at all – and was in no mood to tolerate his host's pleading.
"Didn't I tell you that we wouldn't rest until we found answers?" he snarled, assuming a wraithlike but visible form in front of the desk. "That girl said this library has one of the largest collections of material on the Elric brothers. If they did find the Philosopher's Stone, surely there's some record of it somewhere, and we're going to find that record no matter how long it takes us!"
"Then maybe you'd better try the State Library in Central," came a new voice not five feet behind them.
Ryou jumped and swiveled his chair around, bashing his knee against the desk; the spirit vanished like a candle flame extinguished by a sudden gust of wind. A new Edward Elric hologram had appeared under the window, one hand tucked casually in his pocket while the other toyed with the chain of his pocket watch.
A quick look around confirmed that there was no one else nearby, and Ryou hesitantly addressed the hologram, feeling a bit foolish. "Did… did you just… speak to me?"
The hologram reassured him with an easy grin. "I don't see anyone else, do you? Even your friend has left us."
"My… friend?" Ryou's eyebrows slanted downward in a frown, then suddenly sprang up into his bangs. "Oh gods. You can see – wait, holograms can't see!"
The easy grin took on a mischievous slant. "Who said anything about holograms?"
What little color there had been in Ryou's face left it.
"You're… gods… you're…"
"Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist." The ghost held out a translucent hand. "Nice to meet you."
Ryou made a hesitant attempt to shake Edward's hand, but his fingers passed right through the ghostly glove.
"So… you really are…"
"Dead, yes."
Ryou shook his head slowly, near paralyzed by the shock.
"I can't believe… I'm actually talking to you… You, the Fullmetal Alchemist. I'm talking to the Fullmetal Alchemist."
Ed chuckled. "Say that as many times as you like."
"I'm talking to the Fullmetal Alchemist. The Fullmetal Alchemist is talking to me. Well, technically his ghost is talking to m –" Ryou cut himself off, a look akin to panic spreading across his face. He met Ed's eyes beseechingly. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"
The young alchemist's anxiety was so sincere that Ed burst out laughing. "No, you're not dreaming."
"A-are you sure? I-I mean, if I were dreaming, I could easily dream about you telling me that I'm not dreaming –"
Ed made an attempt to lay a reassuring hand on the other boy's shoulder. "Hey, don't over-think these things."
Undeterred, Ryou pressed on. "Wait, you were an old man when you died, but now you're my age… so this definitely has to be a dream."
Ed sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, no one wants to be old and frail in the afterlife, right? So dead souls appear as they did in their prime."
Apparently satisfied, Ryou fell silent and looked Ed up and down with an expression of awe still lingering in his eyes.
"I can't believe this."
"And neither can I," the spirit cut in suspiciously, once again assuming his translucent form. "How did you manage to leave the afterlife and return to the mortal realm?"
Ed's friendly grin faded, and a slight frown creased his forehead as he faced the other ghost.
"If you explain how you managed, I'll tell you how I managed," he declared simply.
The spirit did not appear placated, but neither was he eager to volunteer details of his parasitic dependence on Ryou. Crossing his arms, he took up a position beside his host, smoldering eyes never leaving Ed.
"Look," Ed addressed Ryou, seemingly unaffected by the spirit's intense gaze, "against my better judgment, I'm not going to ask why you're looking for the Philosopher's Stone. I should, but… I can't."
"Why?" Ryou asked, shooting a nervous glance at the Ring-spirit.
Ed shook his head. "I only hope that neither of you are planning to use it for selfish purposes."
This time Ryou's sideways glance was less obvious but more nervous. The spirit paid no attention to him, focusing on Ed with an intensity that frightened Ryou – it was as if the spirit were trying to see past the translucent echo of a human and into the soul that powered it.
"Like I said before, if you can't find anything here, I would suggest the State Library in Central," Ed continued in a lower tone. "I'm going to warn you, though – most of the information on the Philosopher's Stone is classified. Only State Alchemists can get in, and they need to show proof of their military status before the door is even opened."
"You mean proof like this?" Ryou excitedly jerked the watch out of its pocket, nearly ripping the fabric, and dangled it by the chain at arm's length, where Ed could get a good look at it.
The Fullmetal Alchemist stared, blinking several times as if he expected this to be some sort of optical illusion. In the artificial lamplight, the carved dragon took on a bright silvery sheen that highlighted the curves of its tail and the tiny indent that marked its eye; it almost appeared to be winking mischievously, taunting the boy and the ghosts with the mystery of its origin.
Ed reached towards it as if he meant to take it in his hands, remembered that he couldn't, and let his arms fall to his sides.
"Where did you get that?"
"I don't know. I found it in my pocket this morning." Ryou's eyes suddenly widened, and he leaned forward eagerly. "Was it yours?"
"Flick it open."
Ryou complied, and immediately Edward shook his head. "No. That's not mine. It's the genuine article, though, far as I can tell. You're sure you have no idea where it came from?"
Ryou inspected the inside of the watch's cover; aside from the logo "Manufactured in Central," there were no clues to its source.
"No idea."
Ed, who had leaned forward to get a closer look, straightened and sighed with the beginnings of a rueful smile coloring his eyes.
"Well, you're off to a better start than my brother and I were." The smile had died before it really began; Ed's ghostly features were now marked by grave concern. "But be careful. You know the law of Equivalent Exchange, right? In order to gain…"
"Something of equal value must be lost," Ryou recited.
Ed nodded. "In the end, you'll have to make a choice. Is what you stand to lose really worth an equal amount to what you stand to gain?"
The silence that followed was broken only by the watch's muffled ticking. Ryou was suddenly painfully aware of his heart beating in his chest and the fact that he was the only one present who experienced such a sensation.
Then the spirit's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but a sudden tapping from the other end of the library cut him off.
"Hey, you still in here?" a woman's voice called. "I've got to lock things up."
Ryou instinctively shoved the watch out of sight and turned towards the voice. "Um, okay. Just… just give me a minute to put the books back, all right?"
"Don't worry about it. The pages'll put 'em away in the morning."
"Okay." Turning back to the desk, Ryou gathered up the notes he had taken and slipped them into his coat. "Um, hey, Fullmetal, did you say that –"
The spirit interjected. "He's gone, host."
"What?"
Ryou spun his chair around and looked wildly from left to right, but the only translucent form lurking among the bookshelves was that of the spirit, who was gazing meditatively out the window at the stars that were beginning to dot the sky.
Malik had returned to the inn late in the afternoon, tersely informed Rishid that no news of them had reached the town, and then lapsed into the brooding silence he had occupied for so much of the morning. When told that the kunoichi was awake, he did not immediately react, much to Rishid's distress.
"Master Malik…" he ventured. "We need to decide what is to be done as soon as possible."
Malik merely shrugged and helped himself to another large spoonful of the pasta Rishid had fetched from the downstairs restaurant. Dinner progressed in silence; they were both nearly finished before Malik spoke.
"Her brother – " He shot a furtive glance towards the closet door, leaned forward, and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "One of her brothers is the Kazekage."
"The… what?"
"The Kazekage. The leader of the Village Hidden in the Sand."
The blood drained from Rishid's face, giving his dark, tattooed skin a strange mask-like appearance.
"If her brother is a ninja leader… we'll soon have dozens of shinobi after our heads!"
"Actually, I think this could work to our advantage," Malik replied coolly. "As long as we keep on the move, it'll be difficult for them to find us unless she gets a chance to send a message somehow – which shouldn't be too hard to prevent. In the meantime, we can bargain. If the Kazekage values the life of his sister… the two of us might come away with our freedom."
Rishid's brow remained furrowed. "Are you sure that will work?"
Malik pushed his plate aside and rose, eyelids lowered contemptuously over his cold, hardened eyes.
"Need I remind you, Rishid, of the debt you owe my family? Your role is not to question me – it's to do as I say."
Rishid dropped his gaze to the dinner plate and mumbled, "Yes, Master Malik."
The boy turned on his heels and strode to the closet, flinging the door open and assuming a commanding stance before the kunoichi. She met his eyes unflinchingly, mouth even slanting up a bit at the corners.
"My, my. Mister High-And-Mighty sure knows how to put down insubordination."
Malik's face contorted with rage, lips curling back from his teeth in an almost feral way.
"Shut up. You're in no position to be so insolent."
"Oh, really?" The sudden, eager glint in her eye made Malik reach for the Millennium Rod. "I beg to differ."
Malik's brain did not fully register what happened next; he felt a sharp pain in his ribcage as something slammed him back against the bed, and then the kunoichi's face swam into view above him, harshly backlit by the floor lamp. The Millennium Rod flew from his grasp and clattered against the footboard, pointed end cutting a long scratch through the wood. One arm was pinned beneath him, the other held down by the kunoichi, who was straddling him, restraining his legs with hers. Malik's heartbeat pounded painfully through his temples.
Rishid scrambled to his feet and had the Rod in his hands in an instant. The girl was leering up at him with a wicked smirk that made any sympathy he had felt for her instantly drain away.
"I guess I should thank you," she remarked conversationally, as if they were sitting together at the bus stop instead of being locked in a potentially deadly stalemate.
"…What?"
"For loosening my bonds, of course."
Malik's eyes widened, and he struggled so viciously that the kunoichi had to shift her weight to keep him pinned. "Rishid! What did you do?"
The ninja pressed her forearm over Malik's throat, applying just enough pressure to make him choke back his next words and cough violently.
"Hand me that scepter."
Rishid stood immobile, fist clenched protectively around the Millennium Rod's shaft. He could feel the energy inside stirring, a halfhearted response to its young bearer's distress, but without physical contact Malik could not use its power. And the ancient magic would never submit to Rishid.
"You – can't – hurt – us," Malik forced out, teeth clenched. "They'll – want – us – alive."
"True." The kunoichi glanced down at him, still with that unpleasant smirk. "But they did make allowances…" She pulled a kunai from a pouch on her thigh and teased Malik's eyelashes with the sharpened tip. "…for certain unavoidable damages, to be incurred during capture."
Blinking furiously, Malik strained away from the knife; Rishid started and nearly dropped the Rod.
"Hand me the scepter."
"Rishid –"
The servant's eyes met those of his master, begging silently for forgiveness.
"Rishid, don't – "
But it was too late; Malik felt a slight twinge as the Millennium Rod passed into unfamiliar hands and then a stab of fury as the kunoichi mockingly nudged his jaw with the head of the scepter.
"Keep your chin up, boy. Maybe the daimyo's court will let you off with a life sentence."
Notes, Homages, and General Ramblings:
1) "Ai? Ai? Here, kitty." Miho poked her head through the doorway.
Yes, the cat's name is "Ai," which means "love." Yes, I'm lame. XD
2) "…a nervous-looking boy who had looped a bandana emblazoned with a flamel around his neck."
A "flamel" is the serpent-on-a-cross symbol that's on the back of Ed's jacket. It's mentioned several times in this chapter, but… I still want to make sure that's clear.
A/N: I now own a FMA pocket watch, and it makes me happy beyond words.
Anyway, I'm not quite as pleased with this chapter as I was with the last one; the scenes with Malik, Rishid, and their ninja assailant probably need even more editing, but I'm seriously ready to move on to Chapter Three. Good, strong critiques are the best medicine.
Next chapter: More characters from Naruto and YGO (and possibly FMA) come into play, including a certain king and the number one, hyperactive, knucklehead ninja. Also, we learn more about Ed's mysterious behavior, and Miho embarrasses herself. Again.
Please check my bio page for updates!
