Mysterious Child

Tim Marcoh sighed. It had been an awful day. Being cooped up in a dark lab with only chemicals as your friends wasn't exactly a fun day. He walked along a well-used dirt road. However, no one was using it at the moment. It was almost dark. The sun cast a red glow on the ground. It was peaceful and the only sounds were those of birds chirping. Or was it? Marcoh heard the sound of pitiful coughing and wheezing.

"Is someone there?" he called.

Coughing was the only response. Marcoh headed toward the source of it. It was coming from a ditch. He was expecting to find a soldier who had collapsed by the roadside. What he found made he gasp. It was a little girl. Her hair was matted with mud, so he couldn't quite tell what color it was. Her raggedy dress was dirty and made of rough material. Her arms and legs were covered with bloody lacerations. Her coughing was loud and made her entire little body shake.

Marcoh walked down the ditch and knelt next to her.

"Are you all right?"

The little girl didn't, or couldn't, answer. Her breathing was very loud and labored.

I can't leave her by the side of the road, Marcoh thought and picked her up.

It was then that he noticed another odd feature. The girl's toes were made out of auto-mail.

"She has a terrible fever," Marcoh murmured, putting a wet cloth on the little girl's forehead. "I wonder who would be so heartless as to abandon a child by the side of the rode."

The little girl moaned and opened her eyes. Marcoh smiled at her.

"Hello," he said. "Are you awake?"

"Who are you?" she asked in a tiny voice, sitting up. She opened her mouth to say something else, but only a loud cough came out.

"Easy, easy," Marcoh said gently. "Lie down and get some rest."

"Mister, where are my parents? Where am I?"

"I don't know. I didn't see them. As for where you are, this is my home."

The little girl sat up and got out of the bed. "I have to go," she said. "Thank you for your kindness."

The little girl's knees shook and she collapsed on the ground. In a weak attempt to leave, she started to drag herself to the door.

"Whoa, whoa!" Marcoh said, putting his hands on her shoulders and picking her up. "You're in no position to be looking for anybody, young lady. It's dark outside and you're sick. I don't want you to get even sicker and have your cuts open up again."

She stared at her arms. "You bandaged them up. Thank you, but what about my parents? They must be worried about me."

"Hold on. I'll get someone to watch over you and look for them myself."

Marcoh walked toward another building and opened the door.

"Flame Alchemist," he said, "would you do me a favor?"

Roy Mustang looked up. "What is it, Crystal Alchemist?"

"I need you to watch over a little girl for me."

Mustang's eyes widened. "Little girl! I didn't know you---"

"She's not my daughter or anything. I found her by the side of the road and she's very sick. I just need you to watch her until I find her family."

"She's not a war refugee, is she? You do know what that jackass Colonel Gran will do to you if she is."

Marcoh nodded. "I know, but I don't think she's a refugee. When I found her, she had lacerations on her arms and legs. It almost seemed like someone had tried to kill her and left her in a ditch to die."

"Really? That's strange. Who would have a grudge against a little girl?"

"I don't know, but can you watch her?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mustang responded. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

"Come. She's in my room."

The two State Alchemists gasped. The little girl was scrubbing the floor.

"What are you doing?" Marcoh asked. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"I'm sorry," the little girl said. "I just wanted to do something to repay you for your kindness. And I noticed that one of my wounds had reopened and bloodied your floor, so I'm trying to clean it up."

"It's all right," Marcoh said softly as he bandaged up the wound again. "Don't worry about that now."

The little girl pointed at Mustang. "Who is this person?"

"I'm Roy Mustang."

The little girl curtsied. "How do you do, Mr. Mustang?"

Mustang noticed that her arms and legs were covered with slightly bloody bandages. He winced a little, wondering what happened.

"What's your name, little girl?" Mustang asked, kneeling in front of her so they could see eye to eye.

"I don't know," she responded.

"How old are you?"

"I don't know. Four? Five?"

"You're really tiny, you know that, right?"

If they had been standing side by side, the little girl wouldn't even have reached Mustang's knee.

"If you can't remember your name, I'll call you Kirina for now. Is that all right?" Marcoh asked.

Kirina nodded. "It's a pretty name, but what does it mean."

"It means 'beautiful girl'."

"Really?"

"'Kirei' is Japanese for beautiful and 'nina' is Spanish for girl. If you combine those two words, you get 'Kirina'." Marcoh smiled. "All right. You get some rest. I'll go look for your parents."

"Okay. Bye-bye."

Mustang closed the door and picked up Kirina.

"All right, little girl," he said, tucking her into bed. "You get some rest now."

Kirina started coughing violently. "I'm sorry if you had something to do today and had to cancel it because of me."

"It's okay." Mustang knelt in front of the fireplace and snapped his fingers. Soon, a warm fire was crackling in it.

"You're an alchemist, Mr. Mustang?" Kirina asked.

Mustang nodded. "How did you know?"

"I noticed that your gloves were made of a material that is a catalyst in fire alchemy. I believe it is called ignition cloth." Kirina covered her mouth to suppress her cough. "And your gloves are marked with a transmutation circle for changing oxygen density."

Mustang tried to hide his surprise. "Did you know anybody who was an alchemist?"

Kirina's eyes drooped a little. "I don't remember," she said, yawning a little. "Why don't I remember . . .?"

Kirina sighed and fell asleep.

She has green eyes, so she's not an Ishbalan child, Mustang thought. She doesn't look like a child from any of the neighboring tribes. This child is indeed a mystery.

"I couldn't find anything," Marcoh said with disappointment. "I went all around the area and described her in the best way I could, but no one knew anything."

"Well, it's not like they're a bunch of people left," Mustang said, sipping a drink. "The military has wiped out most of the people here."

"All those poor people." Marcoh hid his head in his hands in desperation. "There's no real reason for what we're doing this, is there?"

Mustang turned to Kirina, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Her fever had gone down in the last few weeks and she seemed to be feeling better. She wasn't dirty anymore. A female officer had given her a bath and a hand-me-down dress. Without all the dirt, everyone could see she was indeed a pretty child. Her short hair was thick, black, and smooth and her wide eyes a shiny, dark green. No one understood why anyone would abandon her by the side of the road.

"How long are you going to keep this child?" Mustang asked. "Sure, the people around here don't care, but if the higher-ups find out you're harboring a child, you'll get into deep trouble."

Marcoh felt a tug at his sleeve. Kirina was staring up at them with a thoughtful look on her face.

"I should leave right now," she whispered. "I wouldn't want you to get in trouble. Everyone here has been so kind to me. It'd be wrong for them to get in trouble just for being kind."

"Oh, no, Kirina," Marcoh said picking her up and placing her on his knee. "You shouldn't be worrying about these things. You leave such matters to the adults, okay?"

"Okay," Kirina responded reluctantly.

Behold the only character I own: Kirina. Even at this point, I'm not sure what's going to happen (What am I saying? I wrote this thing.) Some of these chapters will be parts of Kirina's diary, describing momentous events that I don't feel like describing. Just warning you ahead of time, okay?