The day was sunny and bright, with the wind bringing a chill to the air that promised an early fall with leaves blazing orange and gold. The temperaments of the three teenagers who stood in the cemetery, however, were decidedly cold. Edward glared at Hohenheim's grave as if daring the man to rise up from the ground so Edward could punch him again. Alphonse wiped his eyes while looking at his mother's grave.
Winry stood apart from them, eyes going back and forth between the graves of her parents, unwilling sacrifices in Ishval. The wind whipped her hair as she lay bouquets of flowers on the stone slabs. The graves weren't far from Winry's house and even closer to her heart. She smiled when she remembered her parents taking her apple picking, or inviting the Elrics over for dinner.
"It's not that far away, brother," she heard Alphonse's voice say.
"You really want to do this?" Edward replied.
Winry stood and looked at the brothers, and then she realized what day it was.
"Hey, Winry," Edward called to her, gesturing 'come here' with his right hand.
'What is it?" she asked, coming to stand near Alphonse.
"We're going to the house. You don't have to come if you don't want to."
"I'm coming." Winry said, her voice brooking no dissent. They walked silently through the cemetery, across the fields where daisies usually bloomed, and up the hill until they came to the burned-out ruins of a house.
"How long has it been? Six years?" Winry asked softly.
"Yeah. Six years." Edward replied.
Winry stood next to him and, summoning her courage, took his hand in hers. He responded by squeezing it.
Stone and bricks stood like sentinels guarding the oak tree where a swing had provided hours of childhood fun for the three friends. Wood beams lay across the ground, some nearly reduced to ash, others providing a place for ivy to grow. A few small wildflowers grew in and around the foundation, which made Alphonse smile at the coexistence of roots and ruins, of violent destruction transformed into lush fertility.
The fireplace stood out from the remains, seemingly untouched by fire. And there was a small noise coming from it which Alphonse noticed first. "What's that?"
"What's what?" Edward asked. "I don't hear anything."
Alphonse had already started climbing over the ruins, heading towards the source of the sound and taking care not to fall. When he got to the fireplace, he knelt down, brushing aside some timber. A small kitten, not more than one year old, was curled up on the hearth. Alphonse spoke softly to the kitten, eventually leaning over and picking it up with one hand.
"Alphonse, what are you doing?"
Alphonse stood up and placed the kitten into one of his coat pockets. Its brown and gray head stuck out, and it mewled in protest at being removed from its home.
"A cat?" Winry asked, unable to hide the grin from her face.
"I don't know where its mother could be, but I'm keeping it," Alphonse said.
"We have milk at home for it," Winry suggested. "It's not like Ed's going to drink it."
Edward responded by dropping Winry's hand and waving his hand over the several inches of space that now separated their respective heights. Winry punched his arm in response, which only elicited laughter from him.
As the trio walked back to their home-their real, true home-they debated names for the kitten, many of which were dismissed without a second thought. It was Winry who finally came up with the name "Ash", which was unanimously agreed upon.