Author Note: I think I am getting better at this. All of the one-shots except for this one have been coming easier. This theme was really hard to work with. I sat for about twenty minutes and just stared at a piece of paper with the title on top. Here is 43: Wind.
Disclaimer: I still own nothing
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The weather in Ishval never changed; during the day it was hot and at night it was freezing. There never was a single drop of rain. The wind blew every hour of the day.
It would throw sand in soldiers' faces as if it was fighting on the side of the Ishvalans. Roy hated the wind and it seemed to share the sentiment.
Every day when Roy woke up, his shoes were always full of sand. The wind mocked him in his sleep with this simple act. So every morning Roy would have to empty his shoes of the sand and silently curse the wind.
What bothered him more was the effect it had on his alchemy. Flame alchemy is entirely based on manipulating the molecules in the air to make them extremely flammable, and lighting a spark near them. He would create a path for his spark to travel down, and that is what the wind affected most. It would move the overall explosion point, but it didn't really matter because the spark never reached there anyways.
The whole reason that Roy was involved in the war was to protect the people. How could he do that if he kept setting them on fire? How could he protect his men when his own alchemy was doing them harm? It seemed that Mother Nature truly despised him.
Especially when the wind purposely aimed at that one female sniper. The only one he would ever be willing to give his life for.
Cadet Riza Hawkeye survived her clothes setting on fire with minor first-degree burns.
Even though she told Roy that it was all right and that the incident was not his fault, he did not believe her.
It was not just the winds fault. If he had checked first then he never would have snapped into the wind. He would have waited or not have snapped at all. She didn't have to get hurt. It was all his fault.
As much as Roy hated the wind, he hated himself more.
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End Note: Like I said, this one was difficult. I started with sand in shoes and moved to angst, all in a little over two hundred words!
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