Kamaitachi Chronicles

By: Aviantei

Five


Mustang watched me eat my breakfast, which was a more disconcerting experience than the actual test I had coming up. I think he expected me to be nervous, but I had more than enough confidence in myself. I had already proven I had all the information I needed and then some for the written exam, and there was a gap of a few days before my practical demonstration. That gave the test givers enough time to weed out anyone who didn't have enough connections or knowledge to make it through the written exam and speed up the process.

"I know I've been avoiding you for a week, but you can stop staring at me," I said, glowering at Mustang over my forkful of eggs. "It's creepy."

Mustang blinked those pure black eyes of his and brushed his hair out of his face. "Well, it is your big day. I figured you'd want some support," he said, but still tucked back into his own breakfast. The food was bland, but I wouldn't complain over a hot, free meal. "You don't seem worried at all, though. Did your studying do you well?"

I scoffed. "I told you, I didn't need to study." Studying wasn't just something you did when every single thing you experienced stuck in your brain, whether you wanted it to or not. I flipped over my toast, dreading the next bite would taste like the cardboard it resembled. At least it wasn't burnt. I flicked a few crumbs across the table. "I just wanted to avoid you. It was nice while it lasted."

"Oh, did you see some good sights in Central, then? No wonder you got back so late." Mustang cut a piece off his sausage link, not even grimacing as he chewed. Military life must've gotten him used to the food. If I went through with this, I'd be cooking for myself, no doubt. "Get lost, hm?"

"I don't get lost," I said, before taking a steadying breath through my nose. Sure, he was a jerk. Sure, I could complain about him all damn day if it pleased me. But I couldn't show him up if my temper overcame me. The written exam was nothing, but I was still on a deadline to make my practical impressive. Fine, make it personal and he'd shut up. "I'm sure your subordinates would have a grand time finding out you have such an interest in a girl about a decade younger than you."

To my displeasure, Mustang just chuckled. I frowned into my coffee cup, the one good thing about the entire flavorless breakfast. "Oh, trust me, Rito's not done harping on that yet," he said. I refused to look at his smirk. "Just wait until we get back. She'll have a field day pestering you."

I sighed. "I'm sure you won't be exempt from that, either." Mustang shrugged. "You say 'we,' though, like I'm going to be coming back with you without question. What makes you so sure I won't just bail on you the second I get my certification?"

"Well, I am your patron, for starters." State Alchemists got decent salaries, though, even at entry level. It was a weak argument. "It wouldn't be too much of a big deal, but the fact is you're underage. That comes with some limitations."

That wasn't a set of laws I had made myself familiar with, given what little relevance I had thought they would play on my life. Another solider yawned and shuffled into the empty dining area, taking his pick from the spread of breakfast. I had told myself again and again that it was just a few more years until I'd be considered an adult, but at the moment I had far less freedom over myself than all the military members stuffed into the hotel.

You'd think that being without parents for so long would count for something, wouldn't it?

"Caiman? Hey, Caiman, wake up." I blinked and shook my head out. Where was I? Right, eating shitty breakfast at a goddamn military hotel in the middle of Central. Mustang frowned at me from across the table, his own sawdust flavored eggs forgotten on his plate. "You sure you're going to be alright? Look, I know we just met a week ago, but you can talk to me."

"Nine days," I corrected.

"What?"

"Nothing important." At least to anyone besides me. Dumb details didn't matter at this point. I polished off the rest of my coffee, catching the sugar residue off the bottom. "I was just thinking of how awful the food is here. When I pass, use that fancy position of yours to get me a decent meal, would you?"


The exam hall had a ceiling that stretched up higher than three floors and was filled with enough single seater work tables to satisfy at least ten classroom's worth of students. Not even a quarter of them were full as I stuffed the paper with my table number into my pocket and found my corresponding seat near the front of the room. Tall windows stretched across the walls to let the morning sunlight in, and more examinees trickled in. By the time the exam practitioner stepped to the front and announced that it was time to start, we filled a third of the room and were all sitting very far apart.

We were reminded of the rules and told not to start until everyone received their exams. The testing period lasted well into the afternoon, and we would have a scheduled (and monitored) lunch break around midday.

I was one of the first to receive the manual sized stack of papers that consisted of the exam, plus several pre-sharpened pencils. I cast my eyes around the room to see my fellow test takers. Most were men, though a few women were scattered in, one looking old enough to be Rosomak's mother. Nervousness twisted their faces in all directions, and a few I could guess to be previous failures moved their lips in silent attempts to calm themselves.

And even though I knew I could pass this test, anxiety still bubbled through the remains of my pathetic breakfast.

That ass is a military officer. He can afford to take me somewhere extra fancy when I crush this test.

All exams passed out, our exam practitioner back at the front of the room, and proctors seated on the edge of the room in lines of blue to prevent whatever modicum of cheating could be possible, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"The time limit until lunch is set for five hours. You may begin."

The first several pages asked for definitions of basic alchemic terminology, naming words and their meanings and vice versa. I could recite a dictionary in my sleep. Not bothering to eye the clock, I focused on regurgitating the information required. Letting the time limit get to me would just dwindle my concentration. I would need that, considering the questions increased in difficulty every five pages. If you couldn't answer the questions on page ten, good luck with page twenty-five. It served as a good benchmark for the examiners to figure out where everyone's knowledge base stalled out at.

Not that I planned on stalling out.

Whatever answers I hadn't seen in the test preparation material I had found in my own studies. The farther into the packet I got, the questions stopped being about naming theories and into more practical matters, like how to prepare research or what sort of components would be needed for certain transmutations. There were several sheets that involved completing transmutation circles or even drawing them from scratch.

There were no word banks or provided context. This allowed for creativity, which I could appreciate. It also set a reminder that most State Alchemists would be in more on-the-fly situations than the casual researcher. More complex problems named the hypothetical area you'd be conducting your transmutation in and required pulling items from the surroundings to transmute the item you'd need. Not to mention the questions of what to do in emergencies.

If your regular means of transmutation were lost, list five alternate means of defending yourself.

If you were cornered by an enemy without any backup, how would you buy time to conduct a transmutation?

In the event of death, how would you prevent your alchemical secrets from falling into enemy hands?

I had been prepared for those questions because examples like them had been in the research material. The trick was that they didn't have one right answer: you just had to show you at least had ideas in mind. Defending myself without my scythe was something I had dealt with before, so I pulled on that experience. The others were trickier, but I filled in the answer boxes as best I could. The whole point was to see your mental state and if you'd be better suited as a soldier or a researcher. If someone could display paper and practical knowledge, the rest could be worked out in training.

At least, I hoped that was the case.

"Pencils down. Please wait until a proctor collects your exam before leaving the room. You will be escorted to the lunch hall."

I had been focusing so much on the words I had lost track of the time. I shook the cramp out of my hand and blinked my eyes a few times. With the coming of noon, less sunlight shone straight in through the windows, but most of the morning shadows were gone from outside. The rest of the test takers looked dazed, a few were biting their nails, and someone behind me was muttering about never finishing. Paper collection started from the back of the room, and I thumbed the pages of my exam, looking over what I had left.

A collection of eight more pages met me, and I resisted the urge to flip through and see the remaining questions. I didn't know how much more ridiculous the questions could get, but I had plenty of time. Looking over the room again, it seemed only a few were halfway through their packets, and some were still stuck in the first third.

Almost on the opposite side of the room from me, one examinee was in the final stretch like I was. He caught me squinting at him and waved. He looked young, somewhere in his early twenties, with caramel colored hair and dimples in his smile. I handed my exam to the passing proctor and accepted my dismissal to lunch.

The dining room we were let into matched the one in the military hotel in everything but size. Same lines of tables, same uncomfortable chairs, same white and green décor, just fit to house more people. Made sense since the place was part of the military base and not just an offshoot. We weren't discouraged from talking to each other, but not many people took the chance. A few more sociable folk huddled together and whispered amongst themselves, but I chose an isolated corner to eat my mockery of pasta and salad.

I could've freaked myself out and ruminated on the rest of the exam. But I was ahead of the pack. I could finish what was left within the next hour and have an afternoon to myself. More time to sort out my transmutation issue. I had hoped the layout of the exam would give me some clues, but none of the transmutation circle questions had worked with anything like my problem. Rosomak's research had been intended to eliminate waste from unartful conversions, not compress materials the way I needed.

No one could overturn Equivalent Exchange. I couldn't just ditch the materials I didn't need for storage, then bring them back later. That wasn't how it worked. I just needed to pick smarter materials, then make sure my circle could handle them.

All this thinking is just making me go around in circles.

I distracted myself the rest of the time by closing my eyes in my seat and thinking over my exam answers. I remembered a few places where I had miswritten something, and made mental notes to myself to correct them before I left. Our lunch hour passed in a blink, and then we were escorted back to our seats and the process repeated.

Sure enough, it took me just over an hour to finish the rest of the sheets and correct my previous answers. I called on the proctor and accepted my exit, despite all warnings that I wouldn't be able to come back if I decided to change any of my answers.

I hadn't meant to notice, but the brunette boy who had been just behind me watched me go, tapping his pencil against the back page of his exam.


"Caiman," Mustang's now familiar voice called just as I was about to step out of the building. He nodded to Rosomak beside him and jogged up to me. "You're done a lot earlier than I expected. Everything go alright?"

I rested a hand on my hip and met his stare. I had hoped he wouldn't be here, but I guessed he hadn't been lying about doing work while we were here. Imagine that. "What, you're worried that I wouldn't finish?" I said, nodding to Rosomak as he approached. "Don't you worry, I filled out every single damn page of that carpal tunnel inducing nightmare. Major General."

"Miss young Caiman," Rosomak said, that pleasant smile back on his face. "You don't seem to be worried about any problems. I take it your written exam went well? No major difficulties?"

I couldn't tell if he was trying to test me. Then I remembered that was more of Mustang's game, the man in question staring me down like I had the map of an uninhibited chemical chain reaction stamped on my forehead. I toyed with my bangs. "The later questions took a bit of thought, but I'm certain I scored well everywhere else." The practical was another issue, but baby steps.

"Not many people finish up so early. At the very least, they double check their work," Mustang said. I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he think I was a fool or something? My lunch hour hadn't gone to waste. Mustang gave me another of his smirks. "Now, now, Caiman, you were so certain about keeping your reputation in check. As your patron, I'm just making sure you're doing the best you can."

"Well, that is what the grading period is for," Rosomak said, patting Mustang's shoulder. "I'll admit that I am curious to see your potential. The written exam is good for measuring that. The practical is where you put that potential to use."

I nodded. "Right, Major General."

Rosomak nodded. "So long as you understand." He offered me a handshake. "I do hate to run, but I have a research partner to meet with, so I'll be going. I'll be attending the practical exam, though, so I'll be sure to see you before you leave Central again. So long."

Mustang and I echoed our farewells before Rosomak disappeared back into the hallways of the base. "You don't have to worry about your practical, Caiman," Mustang said. His smile looked reassuring for once. "It is a rough transmutation, but Amestris values fighting ability. Perform on the level you did when we first met, and you'll be fine."

"I wasn't worried, Lt. Colonel," I said, managing to hide every worry I did have from my voice. "Though you sound rather sure that I passed my written exam." I hated to admit it, but the show of confidence did feel rather nice.

"Well, the library staff did let me know you were studying every day." Heat rushed to the tips of my ears. "I'm sure you didn't put all that time to wa—gghk!"

I had stomped on Mustang's foot the hardest I could muster. Then for good measure, I slammed my foot down again, a growl building in my throat. "Do me a favor," I said, "and do your work instead of stalking me this evening, alright, you ass?"

Not even interested in his answer, I swirled around and stormed my way onto the streets.


[Author's Notes]

As promised, the new chapter has arrived! This time, I went ahead and made some theories about what the written portion of the Amestris alchemy exam could be like, since we really only see the practical in canon. I tried my best to make it at least somewhat interesting. Hopefully this chapter was enjoyable!

Thanks go out to Kalaia and meow333333 for the favorites and follows! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story if you have the chance, so don't be afraid to reach out to me!

This update is part of my ten-year fanfiction anniversary uploads! Stay tuned for an update to Reconstruction tomorrow and a new KC chapter sometime next month! Please look forward to it!

-Avi

[12.23.2018]