So the city in here ("Glory") this chapter is the day after the incident with Wrath (the dark haired kid with he creepy smile that stole Ed's arm and leg.) The next day is going to happen differently, I'm going to write it to fit my story. :P Sorry, haha. I would like to thank my two reviewers: tig tig kitten and Squeaker-dee. I don't remember which one of you asked me if the mother is going to be a Humonculus, but that would probably screw with my plot a little. I'll take it into consideration, though. Thank you for your support! :)

Human kind cannot gain anything

Without first giving something in return

To obtain, something of equal value must be lost

That is alchemy's first law of Equivalent Exchange

In those days, we really believed that to be the world's one and only truth

The next day at dinner, the young boy discovered on the island sat, stuffing himself with food, his eyes awash with emptiness- as if his whole life depended on each bite making it into his mouth. As if he would die if he didn't eat more. Sausage, biscuits, gravy and eggs disappeared down his throat. He took a third plate, finished it, and then Teacher took his plate away.

He looked up at her, a smile on his face, his eyes wide and trusting, as if he knew Teacher would give her life for him. It caused a feeling of disgust deep inside Ed's stomach; he didn't understand the way Teacher babied the kid.

"Come on, Al," Ed turned to the large suit of armor beside him.

"Where are we going?" Al asked, standing up.

"Ed's going to take care of the dishes," Teacher threw over her shoulder. "Al's going to help him."

"But I'll get filled up," Al protested.

"Not if you're drying and putting them away. I'm going for a walk." She turned to the little boy, who had stood up and was then hiding behind her, as if he was still terrified of Ed and Al after the night before. A smile spread across Teacher's face. "Are you coming, little one?"

"Uh-huh," he replied. They'd gotten him clothes, by then, and he smiled trustingly up at her. Ed wanted to gag. The kid had stolen his arm and leg, yet she treated him like her own child.

Teacher took his hand. "Do you know where we're going?" He shook his head. "We're going to a pond I know of. It's just over a mile from here, right on the edge of the village. It's got fish and frogs in it, and lots of places for you to play at the edge of the water. Does that sound like fun?"

"Yeah," he smiled and hiccuped. Just like a little baby.

They continued their walk. It only took them about fifteen minutes to get to the edge of the village. She led him around for an eighth of a mile, then they stopped at a pond that was about ten feet across. It was rather pretty, but some of the edges of it were brown thanks to the advancing heat. He squated beside the edge of it, and his fingers gingerly felt the water. A frog jumped beside him, and he cried out as he lost his balance and almost slid into the water. Teacher grabbed his arm and lifted him to a standing position.

"Be more careful. It's just a frog," she pointed at the green amphibian that had come to a rest on a lillypad.

"Who's that?" He asked.

"Who's who?" Teacher asked. "Where?"

The little boy pointed across the pond. Teacher squinted. Long, blond hair, caked with dirt, arms and legs sprawled at odd angles, face down... she took the boy's hand and hurried to the other side. He kept asking, "Who is she? Who is she?" She didn't reply, simply because she didn't know.

Kneeling down beside the figure, she shook the arm gently. "Are you alright? Do you need help?" The girl shuddered and a small wail escaped her, but other than that, she didn't move. The boy pushed her over onto her back; she had bruises all over her cheeks, forehead, and arms. Her jeans were ripped to sheds, to the point where they were barely able to hold on to her thin legs. Her tee shirt was in tatters and stained with blood. Her whole body was covered in mud and she looked as if she hadn't eaten in days. There was blood seeping from a gash just above her left eye.

Wordlessly, Teacher lifted her up and started to carry her home.

Anywho...

I left my house at the age of eight. I walked a long time after that. At some point I ended up in a big city, lined with huge walls. On the inside were rows and rows of houses and markets. I learned that this city was called Glory, and nothing else, for the townspeople were easily offended. I was hungry, dirty, and tired by then, so I snatched a plate of fish out of someone's window and ran, a man cursing after me.

Afraid and alone, I curled up inside a large cardboard box and ate the fish with my hands. It tasted warm, of my mother's cooking, of home. I nearly wept, then. I missed my mother. When the fish was in my stomach, I ventured out of the damp cardboard box and started to walk the streets of Glory. Now that my stomach was full, exhaustion settled in just behind my eyes. Ever since my mother had died, I'd been a mild insomniatic, but it was taking all my strength to keep going. I estimated in my head that I'd been walking for at least a month.

To my left, a square of yellow light caused by the opening of the door of a large house, caught me by surprise. I jumped back, startled. I hadn't spoken in more than two weeks (ever since I'd given up talking to myself. I ran out of stories tell myself and just kept saying the same ones over and over again.), so I wasn't exactly sure what to say. A small croak escaped my mouth, but the frail old man in the door was niether menacing nor frightening.

"Come on. Out of the rain." He said simply, with a waving motion of his wrinkly hand. I was so upset, I hadn't even noticed it was raining.

That was how I met Sal. He was a bald, old man with bright, light blue eyes and a perfect teeth. It was strange. I'd never seen anyone that old with those teeth. Sal was obsessed with two things: vigorous tooth-brushing, and tumbling. He thought it unsuitable not to be flexible. So from him I got my straight, white teeth and flexibility. He loved alchemy, and when I showed him my books, I let him keep them. He treasured them.

Sal took me in, I could say. He was a gruff man; he always made me work hard and always made me brush my teeth and stretch. A house could've bent backward farther than me before he whipped me into shape. He kept me busy for two years, eight months, three weeks, and six days. (He also taught me to count the days I spent with the ones I loved, because I never knew how limited they were.) He may have seemed like a too-restricting parent, but he was in no way unlovable.

Sal died on the last day of my thirty second month. The dogs of the military- the devil's messengers themeselves- swooped in and destroyed the whole town, searching for Ishbalan (sp?) refugees. Sal was just an old man, and he'd been hoarding two families of them in the basement of our house. I'll never forget the man that wound up killing him- tall, with rugged dark hair, and fire exploding from his white gloves. He may have done it by accident- aiming for one of the Ishbalan's, but Sal jumped in the way- but I don't care. It was done.

A look of horror streaked the blue-coat's face as soon as Sal was on the floor, dying. I screamed, clapped my hands to the ground, and watched as the startled group hit the wall. "Go! Get out of here!" I screamed to the refugees. They ran out wordlessly, the women crying, the children screaming, the fathers trying to rush them on. Tears were in my eyes, but I blinked them back and turned, running from the burning house, down the street, through the gates... there, a baby lay on the ground. Without thinking, I grabbed it up and held it to my chest, then kept running.

The screams faded away the farther I ran, the smoke disappeared, the heat of the fire behind me. I was free of it all. I sank to my knees, then looked at the baby in my arms. Its little eyes were closed, it's chest still, no breathing, no twitching, no movement.

I opened my mouth and let out an earsplitting scream.

Present Day

"Al! Ed! What did you do?!" Teacher jumped in through the open door, a look of anger across her pale face.

"We didn't do anything! Honest!" Al cried, jumping up out of his chair and waving his hands in front of him.

Ed covered his ears. "Make her shut up!" The girl lay in Ed's bed, curled into a ball, screaming bloody murder.

Teacher shook her arm. "Wake up!" The girl stopped screaming, and shuddered.

"Wake up," Ed and Al started to shake her, too.

"If you can scream, you can open your eyes," Teacher ordered. I'm too lazy to call him "the dark-haired boy" so I'm just going to call him Wrath, okay? :) Wrath started to shake her, too.

"Huh?" Her eyelids fluttered, and she blinked slowly, twice. "Wha-?"

"Who are you?" Al asked.

"Give her some space!" Teacher yelled, Ed and Al cringed back in fear that she was about to beat them senseless (again), but she didn't do anything. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed. "What's your name?"

The girl sat up. Her hair was white-blond, but it was dirty, with patches of mud in it. Her eyes were hazel; her face was bruised and dirty. She desperately needed a bath. "Kairi Al-Alkamime."

"How old are you, Kairi?"

"I'm thirteen."

"Where are your parents?"

"Dead." She said 'dead' the way someone might say 'fat.'

"What happened to you?" Teacher asked softly.

"I don't- I don't remember." Her eyes were big, but they shut tight and her brows creased in frustration. "I don't remember."

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