More Than Loyal – A Collection of Drabbles and One-shots from the Royai 100 Themes

By flOofymikO
Original Publish Date: Feb 24, 2007

Author's Note: And here's a possibility loosely built around the facts of manga chapter…58, was it? Or you could simply call it an AU. And the lines in italics are a poem, of sorts. Written by me. Ha.


#87 – Memories


A loud, impatient knock on her bedroom door. "Yo, Riza!"

No answer.

"Riza?"

"…What is it?"

"Are you still asleep? That's weird. You're always the one yelling at me to get up."

A rustle of bed sheets. "I'm awake."

"Well then, c'mon, it's late, let's go. Everyone's gotta be waiting for us at the usual spot already."

Pause. "No, not today."

"Huh? But every Sunday we always hang out—"

"I said no, Roy."

"…Is everything okay? Can I come in? Do you need—"

"I'm fine. Just go without me."

"But—"

"Go."

An awkward, prolonged silence. "Um…okay…I guess I'll see you later then…"

And solid footsteps fading away.

"Yeah…"


Pattering drops on window panes

And rain that fell and washed away the

Final traces of any fight;

But I,

But I cannot forget,

Just after the orange sun had set:

The one last thing I heard you say…

What did you say?


He closed the worn, dog-eared book and dropped his pen onto the desktop with a clatter. That would be all for now. Sighing, he leaned back into the large, intricately designed chair and swept his bleary gaze over the entire room. It was a windowless, enclosed space, lit only in the eerie glow of candlelight, which cast its dancing shadows upon shelves and shelves of leather-bound tomes and ancient texts, lined from wall to wall. This was the room he had spent most of his life in. His study. His office. His self-imposed prison.

Only twice a year would he allow himself more hours outside this room than in. The first was his daughter's birthday (a few months ago, she turned eight; the two of them had celebrated by going to a street carnival). He raised a weary hand to his face, massaging his wrinkled brow.

The second was today.

The man released a heavy, thickened breath and glanced at the old grandfather clock on the opposite wall, ticking slowly under a layer of dust, every swing of its pendulum like a strained sigh. He was expecting someone. She was never late, her prospective arrival as reliable as clockwork, year after year. Always very prompt, and extremely serious about it.

As if on cue, he heard the distinct click of a turning doorknob. The door swung open, creaking slowly on its hinges. A young girl peered cautiously into the room, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the flickering dimness.

"Daddy?"

The man beckoned to his only child. "Come here, Riza." She nodded and quickly made her way to his side, slipping underneath his outstretched arm and burying her face into his chest.

"Is it time?" he asked gently, patting her messily cropped hair and straightening out wayward gold strands.

She nodded against his shirt. "You know that already," she whined, a tinge of exasperation in her voice.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Well then, are you ready?"

"Of course I am," she replied, completely business-like as she raised her head, looking deep into her father's eyes.

"And do we have everything we need?"

A single nod in the affirmative. "Yes, we do. I checked. I made sure of it when I went shopping yesterday afternoon."

"Good girl. Well, why don' t we get started? His daughter stepped back as he stood slowly, bracing against the armrests of his chair for support. His breaths came out in labored bursts, permeated with dry, hacking coughs.

"Daddy? Are you okay?" The girl reached out for him, concern written all over her pale face.

"He waved her off. "No, no, I'm fine, just a little sore from sitting so long." He simpered reassuringly as he took her small hand in his. "You don't need to worry about me."

She bit her lower lip and squeezed tightly, almost fearfully with her slender fingers wrapped firmly around his large, roughened ones. Bright brown eyes flashed and reflected intense, matronly worry, uncharacteristic for a girl of her age.

Because she did need to worry about him. Because all they had was each other, and who else was going to worry about him? No, she had to. She couldn't—wouldn't let that sort of thing happen again. She was older now; she could actually do something to protect the person she loved most…

The man smiled down at his only daughter. "Come on, what are you doing with that funny, faraway look on your face? We have a very important job to do, you know."

The girl startled and nodded furiously. "Right."

"Now let's go and make her proud."


The twinkle of twelve ringing bells

Across the pavéd courtyard bare with

Frozen cheek and no more smiles;

To cry,

To cry a wretchéd sound,

To haunt each living soul around,

You told me, "Cherish life and breath,"

In your last breath…


The airy, piercing whistle of the steaming teakettle. "Could you get that, please?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Be careful now."

"I will."

A cacophony of pots and pans and spoons clinking on bowls and knives thudding against cutting boards.

"Riza, could you pass me the measuring cups and some butter?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A medley of salty spices and smoky sizzles and an atmosphere so thick and oily and sweet that you could taste in on your tongue and feel it on your skin and smell it in your hair.

"Here, take a look at this."

"Mm…it looks pretty yummy."

"Know what's in it?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Fried beef, potatoes, fish, and vegetables in a sauce with tomatoes, milk, and mustard!"

"…"

"Well? What do you think?"

"…Maybe you should try again, Daddy…"

"Heh…oh."

And at long last, the soft rays of sunset casting its warm, golden glow on the overflowing table.

"Daddy…could you taste this one for me?"

"Sure. Is this is new dish for the year?"

"Yes. Do you…do you think this will be okay? She would…like it, right?"

No answer. Just the tiniest crunch and the quietest, lightest clink of a fork against a ceramic pie dish.

She sucked in a quick breath. "…Well…?"

"Hmm…"

"Daddy…"

"It's good." He grinned widely down at her, chuckling around a mouthful of chewy sweetness. "It's really good."

A pale pink tinge blossomed on her cheeks. She ducked her head, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm glad. Thank you, Daddy. I really, really wanted to make this year special. And Mommy always used to say that apples were one of her favorite fruits…"

And the tender breeze of the early evening dancing through the open window, carrying the smells of freshly baked apple pie in a swirl around the empty hallways of a quiet household caught in time suspended.

"Yes, Riza. This year will definitely be special."


A thousand voices in the wind

Envelops me with whispered words and

Seals my heart away in glass;

To look,

To look to self alone,

With lock and key myself I've thrown

Two lives to live within one girl;

I'm just a girl…


The raven-haired boy raised a hand to his forehead as he squinted into the fiery sky, illuminated by the glaring rays of a departing sun. He figured it was about six o'clock from the way the bright orange light broke through the middle branches of the old oak tree at the edge of the clearing. If he left now, he would make it back just in time for dinner. His stomach released a loud gurgle in anticipation, his mind wandering with thoughts of deliciously steaming plates and rich, mouthwatering dishes…

"Yo, Mustang! You daydreaming or something? Let's go!"

The boy raised his head at the sound of his name and nodded in acknowledgement. "Naw, you guys go on ahead. I've gotta get home for dinner."

(The Hawkeye house was his home. How nice that sounded…)

"Yeah? Okay, then. See ya. Say hello to Riza for us, will ya?"

"Will do." Roy turned and lifted his hand in a lazy goodbye. "See ya."

He took off at a leisurely jog and quickly ran through the familiar path he would take in his mind. Five blocks down, make a right at the old church. Then a few more blocks until you reached the pond next to the giant willow tree, and one more right turn. The Hawkeyes lived in a large house at the corner of the park, a quiet, looming structure amidst softly blooming green. He had been living with the family for almost a year now, studying alchemy under Hawkeye-sensei. He had adapted well to this new life. And, quite naturally, he and Riza had become best friends.

Or so he liked to think. His mind kept wandering back to her peculiar behavior that morning. Why hadn't she wanted to come? Why didn't she let him know what was wrong? She was slightly younger than him and a reserved sort of girl, sure. But, she'd always enjoyed hanging out with him, ever wince he'd become her father's apprentice. Right. They were friends. Yet he'd never seen her act this way and didn't understand it.

He sighed and shrugged it off as he caught sight of the house in the distance. Maybe it's just some sort of girl thing…

A minute later, he was at the patio, fumbling with the keys as he roughly rammed the door open. "I'm home!" he hollered into the shadowy hallways. "Riza? Sensei?"

The young girl peeked her head around the corner. "Hi, Roy. Welcome home," she mumbled dutifully, her gaze at the floor.

Roy raised a single eyebrow. Something's still wrong, huh? "Oh hey, Riza." He flashed her a wide smile. "Everyone says hi."

She inclined her head in a quick nod, still avoiding his eyes, and beckoned for him to follow her. "Daddy's in the dining room. We're just starting dinner," she announced demurely, stepping into the hallway.

"Oh. Okay…" He frowned at the back of her head as they headed towards the rear of the house. The dining room? But there's only three of us (heck, sometimes it's just me and Riza), and we always use the kitchen… We've used the dining room only once since I've been here, and that was because we had "distinguished company," generals from the military or something else important-sounding like that… Wonder what's the occasion?

Roy's train of though came to an abrupt halt when he entered the grand room, all of his senses overwhelmed at once. His sensei greeted him with a somber "Hello, Roy," but the astonished boy barely registered the voice.

Before him lay a magnificent feast, the long fancy table practically glowing under the mutely glittering lights of an antique chandelier. Smoked ham and honey-glazed chicken sat in beds of sweet pineapple and roasted vegetables. Gourmet pastas filled nearly a dozen bowls, each topped with a different aromatic sauce. There were even several varieties of tossed salads, fragrant little cheese quiches, delicacies baked, fried, grilled, boiled, marinated, sautéed…

"Woah!" shouted Roy, swiveling around to face his friend. Onyx eyes shone bright and deep, sparkling with youthful, unbridled enthusiasm as his grin stretched from ear to ear. "This is so awesome! I'm starving. We've got so much food! Riza, you stayed home today to make this, didn't you! You're amazing!"

The girl shook her head and quickly took her place at the table. "No, Daddy made a lot of it too…"

"Yeah, but you stayed home; you didn't come out to hang with us or have fun just because you were cooking," he pressed, clambering onto the seat at her left. "I mean, how many kids our age would actually do that?"

Her fork, laden with seasoned potato wedges, froze in mid-air. She closed her mouth and frowned, eying him skeptically, her brow furrowed. "So what? Is it a problem?"

He blinked stupidly, waving his hands in defense. What…? What's with that response…? "Uh, no. No, of course not. It's just…unusual, I guess. Definitely a good thing, though. It was really nice of you to make all this."

Riza turned back to her food and took a careful bite out of her potatoes. "I didn't do this to be nice," came her short, cold reply.

Roy gaped at her. I don't get it! he thought, frustrated. Why won't she tell me what's going on? He wanted to yell, demand an explanation for everything, make her talk to him or even scream at him…

Instead he mimicked her actions, finally picking up his own fork and deciding to shut up.

The eldest Hawkeye gazed sadly across the table at the two children and sighed. She seems to be handling the situation worse than usual this year…


A/N: Yes…I'm VERY sorry…but looks like this is gonna be another twoparter. Feel free to review with comments, critiques, speculations, ideas, etc!