AN: Thank you to those who alerted, favourited, and extra thanks to those who reviewed. :) This chapter came more swiftly thanks to your encouragement. Also, it has been suggested to me that the centred format I have been using is annoying. Does anyone else feel this way? If so, I will align it to the left. Please review and tell me which you would prefer, and I will react according to majority. And if there's no clear majority, I shall ask again next chapter… Hopefully it won't come to that, I would prefer to sort this out swiftly. Now then… Let the chapter begin!

The schoolhouse was winding down for the day. At the front of the classroom, one of the younger students recited to the teacher while the others worked quietly on their respective projects. Across the room, one boy worked diligently, head bent over his desk, scribbling away in front of him. The boy beside him seemed to be concentrating just as hard, but was actually distracted, doodling dogs instead of practicing his lettering like he was supposed to. Riza was also preoccupied, staring intently at the book in front of her without making out the words, lost in her own thoughts. It was unusual for her to do so, but today was Friday, which meant that Roy Mustang would be arriving later. It had been several months since he had started visiting to learn from her father, and she still hadn't gotten used to having him in the house. The problem was her shyness; she was never comfortable around people she didn't know. She didn't speak much to begin with, and making casual conversation with a stranger who didn't know that fact was daunting for her. People often had to speak to her first before she would speak to them, and even then she replied with curt answers, often to the point of coming across as rude, and she always had trouble keeping a conversation going. This meant there were usually a lot of awkward pauses until they either said something else or gave up and left, or she walked off on her own.

Though he spent most of his time upstairs with her father, or in his room studying, Mr Mustang would come downstairs occasionally, usually for meals, or to go to the bathroom, etcetera. When if did, and if he saw her, he would often stop to speak to her for a few moments, though she was never sure why he bothered; if she had to guess, she would say he probably did it to be polite to his Master's only daughter. She was not so bold as to initiate a conversation with him herself. Even the thought of going upstairs and informing him that there was food available for him to eat when he felt hungry had made her nervous. She had decided to put it off until she was finished with her own meal, but it had thankfully resolved itself since he had come downstairs of his own accord. She had lied and told him that she had forgotten about him, rather than admit that she had been too nervous to speak to him. Not that all this really mattered in the end; she thought it would be preferable to just avoid him, even if it made him think she was just rude. Roy Mustang was no great concern of hers, after all. He would be here for a while to learn from her father, and then he would be gone, so there was no need for her to bother to get to know him any better.

A loud clanging interrupted her thoughts, and she jerked her head up in surprise. The teacher was ringing the handbell, signalling the end of the school day.

"That will be all," the young woman said. "You may all go home now."

"Yes ma'am," the students chorused in unison. After standing and showing their teacher the proper respect, they started filing out the door, Riza joining the throng as they gathered their things. A hand on her shoulder made her pause, and, startled, she looked up into the gentle face of her teacher.

"Is something bothering you, Riza?" the woman asked kindly, her eyes full of concern. "You've been in a world of your own all day."

"It's nothing, ma'am," she replied. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced. "If you're sure… But don't forget, you can talk to me if you need to, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." The woman left her then, and Riza grabbed her things.

Outside, some of the older students were striding off down the road on their own or in small groups, while other, younger children, ran happily to their waiting parents. Riza never expected her father to be here waiting for her; he would need to leave the house to do so. She had been responsible for herself for almost five years, since after her mother's death. She could still remember her mother quite clearly; a woman with hair like golden thread and a tender face that radiated kindness. People often told her that she looked just like her mother, but Riza could never see the warmth that her mother had possessed reflected in her own features.

Back when her mother was still alive, things had been a lot livelier. Her father had not spent all his time locked away, and he had even smiled on a regular basis. The look that his eyes had held when he gazed upon his wife had long since vanished, instead taking on a more serious, apathetic stare. The only thing he worried about now was his Alchemy. But back then, he had cared for his family, and though he still devoted a large amount of time to studying, he would always make time for Riza and his wife. They had been happy. It was ironic that the very thing that had only extended their happiness at the time had also been the cause of its demise.

The first clue she had received was her mother humming away as she stood atop a ladder and painted the mural on the roof in the spare room, though she had been too young to make the connection back then. Riza had a similar painting in her own room, but hers depicted birds instead of horses. She could not remember when her mother had painted it, but she cherished the view for as long as she could remember. Painting had been her mother's hobby, something she enjoyed in her spare time, sitting outside with an easel and a brush to capture the world around her. But she rarely painted the interior of the house. It wasn't until later, when her mother's belly had started to grow round, that she had discovered there was something unusual going on.

When she had questioned her mother about the weight she was putting on, mother had smiled at her and replied, "I'm going to have a baby, Riza. Babies need lots of attention, so we'll be very busy taking care of it, and we won't be able to be with you all the time. So you're going to need to be a good big sister, and be patient. You'll need to do some things for yourself. But don't you ever think for a second that we love you any less because of it."

The prospect of having a younger brother or sister, someone who would look up to her, had excited her, and she had been enthusiastic to help her mother in any way that she could. She remembered witnessing the joy on her mother's face as she finished the painting and she remembered her father bringing her old cot down from the attic to put in the room for the baby. Those days had been filled with eager anticipation as they awaited the arrival of the child.

Riza was the one who had found her mother collapsed at the foot of the stairs and groaning in pain, blood seeping from between her legs, and her scream had brought her father to the scene within moments. He had carried his wife upstairs and called for the doctor, and had stayed upstairs with mother while they waited, telling Riza to stay downstairs by the window, and to come fetch him when the doctor arrived. The doctor had wasted no time, arriving within a half hour and disappearing into her parents' room, where they all stayed for a long period of time. She couldn't remember exactly how long it had lasted. All she knew is that those long hours had been among the loneliest she had ever experienced, unable to comprehend what was going on, and scared out of her mind. No one had come to tell her what was happening; all she knew at the time was that her mother needed a doctor, and it had something to do with the baby. She had wanted to help in any way that she could, but her mother, father, and the doctor were locked away in the bedroom, and none of them emerged. She had sat outside the door on the verge of tears for hours on end, unsure what else she should be doing with herself.

Eventually, the door had creaked open and her father had emerged. She was certain she would never forget the way he had looked at that moment. His eyes were sunken and shadowed, and they held a haunted look that intimidated her. He had looked down at her for a moment as though he couldn't really see her, as though he had forgotten that she existed, before his eyes eventually focused. He brought her into the room to see her mother. The baby was dead by the time it was finally born, a little boy whose life had ended before he had even had the chance to open his eyes. She had never seen the face of her little brother; he had been wrapped up in a blanket and taken away while she had been brought to her mother's side. She could still clearly remember her mother's pale face, and the sad, weak smile that she had as she reached out to her. She had still been holding her mother's hand when her eyes had closed. She never opened them again.

After her mother's death, her father had become withdrawn, spending more and more hours in his study, working feverishly on his Alchemy and muttering to himself, emerging only at mealtimes and to make sure she went off to school at the right time. It wasn't long before he began to come out for only one meal a day until, concerned for his health, she took his meals up to him. After she started doing that, he stopped coming out almost entirely, and she was forced to organise and care for herself. It became an everyday routine for her: wake up, take her father his breakfast, head off to school, come home, clean, take father his supper, read for a while, then bed. She adjusted to that life. Then, one day, he had broken that habit and come out in the afternoon, his eyes wide and eager. He had grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her up the stairs, claiming he was going to teach her Alchemy. To say she had panicked was an understatement. She had screamed and cried and fought, breaking away from him and tearing down the hall to her room, locking herself inside. He had pounded on the door for hours, pleading for her to come out, to let him pass on his knowledge to her, while she stubbornly remained curled in a ball on her bed, hands over her ears to block out the noise.

Because the sight of him enthralled in his research as he worked with feverish dedication, as though possessed, terrified her. She didn't want that same look in her eyes. She wanted nothing to do with Alchemy, the science that had ensnared her father's mind. She did not want to become like him. He, who had locked himself away, interested in nothing but what was written on the pages in front of him, leaving her feeling alone and unloved in this large, empty house. Though she had no doubt that Alchemy could indeed be used for the benefit of mankind, as he claimed, she refused to learn it. Let someone else become the obsessed maniac like her father. She would not fall victim to its influence herself. Eventually, he had given up trying to convince her, and returned to his study. Though it wasn't until hours later, when it was getting dark, that she had finally felt like it was safe to emerge from her bedroom. She had taken him his supper, as she usually did, and they pretended that nothing significant had happened at all. It was never brought up again, just like her mother.

Not long after that, they started showing up. She wasn't sure exactly how they knew her father was looking for someone to teach; whether he had emerged from his study sometime while she was at school to spread the word himself, or whether wannabe Alchemists had some kind of inner homing device that responded when desperate mentors were looking for students, she would never know. The first had lasted the longest; he had been the eldest, a grown man, and had shown potential; strong moral values, and a genuine wish to help people. But he already knew some things himself, and was arrogant, claiming that her father should hurry along his instruction, since he was so far ahead already. Her father had stated that he either learn at the pace he was being taught, or get out and find another instructor. He chose the latter option. After that man, it was just one failure after another. Most of them did not meet her father's requirements for students, and those who did gave up under the workload he placed on them.

Roy Mustang was the first of her father's students who hadn't given up or become cocky. When he had first arrived, she had wanted to hate him. He spent all his time upstairs with her father, her father, who never gave her so much as a second glance when he looked at her. But she couldn't bring herself to be that petty to someone who had never intentionally gone out of his way to harm her. She was sure that deep down, her father really did love her. He just cared more about his Alchemy, and Mr Mustang was just an extension of that. It wasn't that her father cared more about Roy Mustang than he did his own daughter; Mr Mustang was just someone he could share his Alchemical knowledge with, unlike her, who had wanted nothing to do with it.

"Riza!"

She paused in surprise, looking back over her shoulder. Waving and rushing to catch up to her, were three girls, classmates of hers. They all were her seniors by at least two years, Samantha being the eldest, at thirteen. They stopped when they reached her, panting slightly from their exertions.

"Is something the matter?" she asked. The girls shook their heads.

"We just wanted to come over and visit you at home," Samantha replied, and looked back at the other girls. "Right?"

They both nodded in agreement obediently.

You've never wanted to visit me before… she thought to herself suspiciously. Not that she really blamed them; she was aware of the things people said about her father. Many of the adults thought the death of her mother had driven him into insanity. And since her father spent most of his time shut up in his study focused on his Alchemy, the rumours were uncontested by none but herself. As a result, she was often the target of sympathy from the adult population of the town, who treated her with extra kindness. Some felt the need to be patronising, which only annoyed her, though she did not show it openly. The children were a different matter. They had more active imaginations. The rumours among them suggested that her father was working on something sinister in his study, like he some sort of mad evil genius. They were nice enough to her at school, but they never invited her to spend more time with them, or asked to visit her. This was a first.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Samantha asked innocently.

"No, not at all." Yes, there was something wrong with that. She couldn't help but feel that they had some ulterior motive for suddenly deciding to visit, and something in their manner suggested to her that she ought to know what it was. "But if you want to come to my house, you had better hurry up. I need to be home soon."

"Right." The other girl put an arm around her shoulders casually, much to her discomfort, and the other two girls closed in behind them. "Then let's get going!"

As they walked together, the other girls chattered with each other, making no effort to include her in the conversation, despite the fact that she was standing in the centre of the group. Riza wondered to herself exactly why she had agreed to let them visit. It wasn't exactly as if they were friends of hers; they had never made any effort to get to know her better before now. They were a close-knit group of friends that had grown up together; they only included other people if they thought that they could get something out of it themselves, and when they couldn't get their own way, they could be very persistent. If she had refused to let them come home with her, they would spend all their time at school wearing down her resistance until she caved in. She didn't want to be bothered like that. It would be better to just let them come home with her now, but that didn't stop them from being bothersome now.

Upon their arrival at her home, the girls paused nervously at the threshold, no doubt made hesitant by the rumours about her father. Riza went in ahead of them. They would either come in, or they would be too scared and end up leaving; she didn't care either way. They followed behind her hurriedly, one of them closing the door anxiously. They all jumped when it clicked shut, much to her amusement. She brought them into the living room, where she offered to make them tea, which they accepted. When the tea was ready, she brought it in and sat down with them, listening as they chattered, answering the occasional questions they asked her when they felt that they were maybe being a bit rude by not including her in the conversation. Though they were a bit annoying occasionally, she had to admit that it was nice hearing the ring of voices in the house for once. Eventually, a loud knock interrupted the chatter, and the girls paused, and glanced over at her expectantly. She sighed, and rose to her feet.

"Excuse me." At this time of day, she knew exactly who would be arriving. Sure enough, she opened the door to reveal her father's apprentice. After months of coming here, she had thought that he would be confident enough to let himself in by now.

"Hi?" He made the greeting sound like a question.

"I really don't think you need to continue knocking, Mr Mustang," she informed him blandly.

"Yeah, sorry…" He rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. "Can I come in?"

"I did open the door, didn't I?"

"…Good point." His eyes flickered upward from her, looking at something over her shoulder. "Oh… You have friends here?"

Looking back herself, she realised that the girls had followed her out of the living room. Not exactly… she thought, but she replied instead, "Yes." At her confirmation of their status, they moved forward eagerly.

"Hiiiiiii," Samantha said. "I'm Samantha. That's Gabriel, and that's Cynthia."

"It's nice to meet you all," he replied pleasantly.

"You're learning Alchemy, right?" Cynthia asked.

"Yes, that's why I'm here."

"That's so cool! Do you think you could show us something?"

It didn't take a genius to realise that this was the reason her classmates had suddenly wanted to visit. As they chattered with him, and he responded amiably, she removed herself from the group and walked into the kitchen. They didn't even notice her disappearance. She wasn't really surprised; Mr Mustang was a new face in the town, and an attractive one at that. Even she would admit that much. And those girls were bound to find him more interesting than the boys their own age that lived here; those who were the same age as Mr Mustang were not nearly as mature as he was, nor were they really interested in girls, preferring to mess around outside and get dirty, something that those girls detested.

"You're so lucky, Riza!" a voice behind her gushed. She turned around to look at the girls who had come up behind her while she kept to herself. Mr Mustang had obviously disappeared upstairs to see her father, as he usually did upon his arrival.

"How so?" she asked. The girls stared at her in shock, as though she had just said something absurd.

"What do you mean 'how so'?" Cynthia exclaimed. "He's sooooo handsome!"

"And so courteous!" Gabriel added.

"And his smile!" breathed Samantha.

"And he's staying at your house!" Gabriel said in a dreamy tone. "You get to see him all the time when he's here!"

"I don't see him all the time," Riza responded blandly. "He's always upstairs with my father. He's here to learn, that's all."

They gave her the 'what, are you stupid?' look again.

"You're just a kid," Samantha said in a condescending tone, "so you don't get it."

"No, get it," she said. "He's good looking, right? But it's not like he'd be interested in spending time with a kid, and it's not like he's going to be here forever."

They looked down at her scornfully.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Samantha said to the other two. "She just doesn't understand." They both nodded again, apparently in complete agreement with the bossy girl. Riza sighed, and turned her back on them. They were the ones who didn't understand, as far as she was concerned. She didn't want to bother about boys right now. There was plenty of time for that in the future. And making a fuss about a particular boy just because he was a handsome new face was ridiculous. It's not like he would stick around for these girls, who were probably already planning their dream weddings in their minds with him as the groom.

"Uh… Riza?"

"Hmm?" She looked back. The other two girls were gone, but Cynthia still lingered in the doorway.

She smiled hesitantly. "Thank you for letting us visit. And… I'm sorry… about the other two…"

Riza nodded in reply. Then, the other girl left as well.

Well… At least not all of them are so bad…

Riza turned back around, and looked up at the clock on the wall. Letting those girls visit had interrupted her usual routine. She would have to start on supper now, and forgo tidying up the house for today. It's not like it was particularly dirty anyway, it was just a force of habit really; something to amuse herself with while she was at home. She reached into a cupboard and pulled out a pot. It was time to get to work.

Well, that's it for this chapter. Some bonding may occur in the next chapter… Or will it? To find out, you'll have to wait for the next chapter, and review, preferably. Don't forget; I want your opinion on what sort of format I should use! Click that review button!