Breathe in,
Breathe out.
Two steps to living.
Riza Hawkeye had never claimed to be a philosopher, nor any great scholar. She was an excellent tactician and second to no other, being gifted as she was with a steady hand, as a sharp shooter. In her belief, there was no second guessing.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
She lived her life just as she shot her gun. Decide and aim, then follow through with the shot. There was no excuse for missing your target, it got others hurt. People who couldn't afford to be injured in the process: civilians, friends… lovers even.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
That beautiful second of hesitation that alchemists were granted was not to be allowed, there was no waiting for a gunman. One had to take out their target as quickly as possible, no matter how mild they looked, nor if they looked too young to be of any harm.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
Riza had hesitated once. The eyes of a frightened child had beseeched and enchanted her, those deep ruby pools. His baby-soft hands which held a semi-automatic were of no regard. Only the taisa, the flame had saved her from a certain death. Never again would it occur; for neither the sands of time or Ishvar could brush away the scar he would forever bear.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
She shot. Again, and again Riza shot without regard for any other than her own. Bodies, no men fell once and again. Any and all who dared to harm the taisa, her taisa.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
It was only in the dark, wrapped in his arms, she felt the after effect the soul drowning guilt of a slayer; the penance of a soldier.
Skin on skin.
Lips caressing the scars that the sands could not remove.
Only in the solitude of his arms did she allow herself the gift of second guessing. Only there did she understand there was never a need.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
Two Steps to Living.
I do not claim, nor have ever, to own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its characters. This is merely a work of fiction for the enjoyment of myself and others.