Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Newbies ❯ Chapter 4

Slowly, she peeked around the corner.

She didn't dare speak. One person sat, with their back to her.

He was saying something.

But she couldn't hear him.

So...

She stole around and back, down the single hallway lined with pillars, and peeked around the corner.

There was Wrath, sitting very still next to a discolored spot on the concrete floor.

And, beside him...

Unpatriotism sucked in her breath.

Beside him stood a very pretty woman.

One she'd often mistaken for Lust back when she was an otaku.

Sloth bent down, stroking her son's hair.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

“It's all the new ones that came...it's all so wrong!” He spat the words as if they were physically hot and he had to get them out.

“Now I'm sure it's not so bad. What about the cat? You like the cat,” She offered soothingly.

“The last one woke up.”

“Unpatriotism?”

“It's her cat. She had it back on the barren side. And she refuses to call it Fickle.”

“I was her teacher when I crossed to the barren side for a while. She loves Karina very much, Wrath.”

“But she won't follow the rules!”

“Oh?” Sloth blinked, crouching to rub her son's back. “How so?”

“She held the mark back, the way I did. I convinced Lust to make Envy let her alone, so I could do it and she wouldn't get hurt. But she didn't trust me enough to let me do it, and you know we can't tell them before it's happened.”

“So what happened?” She paused to look up, met Unpatriotism's eyes, and smiled a little.

A small whisper rang in her mind.

`It's all right; I know you didn't mean it. Stay there.'

“I did it anyway, but I gave her one more stone right before to make the sign stronger, so I could do it faster. I have a feeling it hurt her, but not as much as it would if I'd let Envy do it.”

“So I take it she's marked now. She's accepted it.”

“Yes.”

“Wrath-chan...” The figure whispered, starting to become transparent, “Why did you make those arrangements with Lust? Why did you care?”

“Because she's pretty...” her son murmured back, barely noticing that his mother had the same appearance as when she'd been transmuted away. But he noticed soon enough.

“No! WAIT PLEASE!!” He buried his face in the semi-solid mist that was his late mother, seeking her comfort.

“I'm sorry.” Sloth's voice barely reached above a whisper. “I'll return; I promise I'll return.” She vanished slowly, leaving only two people in the building. Slowly, the lump on the floor that was known as Wrath got to his feet, albeit very slowly as if the experience had physically drained him.

`It's now or never.' thought Unpatriotism. Slowly, she stepped forward, making sure that even though she was barefoot her voice was audible.

“Wrath, I...” She choked, her feminist nature resurfacing, the meek side of her panicking as her mouth dried out. She took a breath.

“I'm sorry.”

Two words. That was all she could think of. It didn't seem enough.

Slowly, his head raised, his eyes, to look at her.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.” Oh, shoot, she could hit herself. She hated that line, and wished she'd never said it. Maybe it showed on her face.

“Um...” He looked at the floor, seemingly at a loss for words.

She stared to come forward, she wasn't exactly sure why, when and old bottle suddenly rolled out...

“Oh, kuso—” she gasped, sliding on the bottle as it broke underneath her foot. She ended up in a heap on the floor, several places on her foot bleeding. There was also a cut on her shoulder. “Gomen...” she coughed, struggling up to see Wrath on the floor next to her.

“It's okay,” He tore a piece from the bottom hem of his shorts and tied it around her shoulder. Tightly, making Unpatriotism wince. Taking only brief notice when she did so, he tore another, longer piece off and wrapped the cuts on her bare feet, putting the knot and the tightest part around her ankle, which was already swelling. “Here.” he grabbed one of her wrists and slid it behind his shoulder, putting his other arm around her waist.

“Hey!” yelped Unpatriotism, more from instinct than from actually disliking the situation. She'd been quite the feminist on the barren side, and still was.

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” he asked, loosening his grip.

Unpatriotism growled, but otherwise didn't reply, allowing herself to be helped simply because there was no way in Havoc's hair barrettes she was going crawling through the warehouse district at night—yes, it was night—and especially not after what she'd heard.

It was a little shocking, actually, hearing that, but she decided she didn't mind.

As they walked, slowly, up to the door of the library basement, Wrath spoke.

“You know something, Unpatriotism?”

“No. What?”

“You look nice in black.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kuso or k'so—damn; dammit.