Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Unforgivable Sin ❯ Chapter 8 ( Chapter 8 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Rurouni Saiyan 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Mystery / Drama / Angst | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 07.12.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.4K | Visits: 314 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Mystery / Drama / Angst | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 07.12.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 4.4K | Visits: 314 | Status: Completed
Chapter 8
That first mission with the Colonel was also the last for the rest of the year and almost half of the next. Winter closed in not long after the Colonel and I returned from Rizenbul, and snow blocked most of the roads and railroad tracks leading to and from the capitol city of Amestris. As a result, very few military missions were handed out, and I spent most of my time confined in the First Branch of the library, doing research on illusion alchemy and various ways it could be used in public service. When I wasn’t taking a crash course in fighting from Ed, that is.
I had declined his offer to teach me how to fight at first. I had never been a fighter, preferring to stay away from typical schoolyard brawls and settle my arguments in a more peaceful manner.
“But Major,” the Colonel had said. “Everyone who joins the military is required to learn basic hand-to-hand combat skills, as well as how to use a knife and a rifle.”
“But I don’t like to fight,” I had protested.
It was then that Ed had given me a huge, mischievous grin that reminded me all too much of the look on Malik’s face when he felt like getting into trouble. “You don’t have a choice.”
Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken me long to establish a reputation as the top marksman in Central City. At least, it was surprising to everyone else. I had always been able to hit what I threw at, for as far back as I could remember. And shooting a rifle was no different. Bare-handed combat was another matter, though. According to Ed, I was good–not excellent, but definitely above average. I didn’t feel that way every time he gave me another score or two of bruises, though.
I often wondered why he insisted on giving me military training; no one else mentioned it, or even seemed to think it mattered. So I asked him one cold January evening, after he had finished proving once again that he was by far the better martial artist.
He hadn’t said anything at first, instead toweling sweat out of his hair and flexing his auto-mail arm and leg to make sure they were still in proper working order. When he answered at last, he didn’t look at me. “You have to be prepared for anything, Ryou. There may come a time when you will have to fight, whether you want to or not.”
I hadn’t liked the way he said that, not at all. It implied that he knew something I didn’t, and after the second encounter with Wrath in his office and his dodging of my question about human transmutation on the train, I was almost certain that he was keeping something from me. But I swallowed any protests and kept to myself. After all, he wasn’t the only one hiding something.
Winter passed into spring, which began fading into summer. Over those seven months, my almost worshipful awe of Ed disappeared completely as I got to know him and trust him. For someone who had been in the military since he was twelve, he didn’t care much about military procedure. He once told me that he only wore his uniform because the Fuhrer once threatened to fire him if he didn’t. Which had me wondering for a while how a Colonel could be ‘fired’ instead of ‘discharged’ before I realized that it was an empty threat. Ed and Mustang were very good friends, though they’d both deny it if someone told them that to their faces.
It was a bright early June day when I received my second mission from the State Alchemist office. I was rather surprised when Brigadier General Hawkeye stopped by the house early that morning and said that I had orders waiting on me at the Colonel’s office; I was beginning to think that I was never going to go on another mission again.
“Guess what?” Ed said, plopping his phone onto its receiver even as I walked through the door. “You get to go to Lior City.” He looked mildly disgusted.
I sat down in a chair, frowning a little. “Why? What’s going on in Lior?”
“Apparently some thief’s being going around and being a nuisance.” Ed picked up a sheaf of papers and tossed them down in front of me.
I picked the report up and scanned it with a thoughtful frown. “This guy’s been raiding safes and military armored transports? How? He’d have to walk through walls.”
“And since that’s impossible, we just have to settle with believing that he may have inside help, which is why you’re being sent in.”
“To root out the mole.” I set the report down again. “When I don’t even know what this thief looks like, much less who he could be in contact with.”
Ed shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s the best we can do. I’d go myself, but I’m tied up here at the capitol with political crap. So Mustang suggested that I send you instead.”
“The Fuhrer?” I said in confusion. “Why would he want me to go?”
Ed shrugged again. “There’s no telling what he thinks,” he answered, face contorting in a good-natured scowl. “And he might know something that he hasn’t passed on to me. He usually does. So all I can do is tell you good luck.”
“And that’s all?” I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No instructions on how to do my job?”
“Sorry.” He shrugged a third time. “It should be easy. Just pick a good target and stake it out. The thief is sure to hit it some time. That’s what I did one time in Aquroya. Worked pretty well.”
I sighed as I stood up. “Well, this promises to be fun,” I grumbled as I saluted.
Ed’s laughter followed me out.
* * *
For a city that had been utterly demolished fifteen years ago, Lior sure was big. That was my first thought when I stepped off the train at the station and took a good look around. The city was possibly even larger than Central City, with construction still ongoing around the outskirts and on some of the larger buildings.
I frowned at the small city map Ed had given me before I had left the previous day. It marked the local police station, where I was supposed to report in as soon as I arrived. Thankfully, the rebuilt city’s streets were based on the grid system, and it was easy to find both the police station and the train station on the map.
I marked the quickest route from one to the other in my mind and memorized it quickly as I stepped into the busy streets. It was simple enough, after all. Ten blocks up, a right turn, and another three blocks to police headquarters. I folded the map and put it away, not wanting to miss the sight offered by this new city.
Those sights were plentiful, with shop windows filled with tempting merchandise, cloth and pastries and jewelry, and open-air stalls with colorful awnings, their proprietors calling out to passersby in an effort to sell their wares, and fountains and newly planted trees and groups of children running and laughing around every corner.
Yet I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. In my attentive observation of my surroundings, I noticed that few of the natives looked at me. They would see m e coming and duck their heads, avert their eyes, cringe away in fear. Those that did dare to look my way glared with ill-concealed malice and hostility on their faces.
Do they still hate the military? I had to wonder. It’s been fifteen years since Lior was destroyed, and we’ve been helping them rebuild for seven years now. And still they carry a grudge against us?
I wasn’t wearing my uniform, but my State Alchemist watch hung from my vest pocket, bouncing against my chest as I walked. It was a clear enough sign that I was in the military, and I could think of no other reason why the people of Lior would fear and hate me upon sight.
And so I was very relieved when I spotted three men dressed in the military blue of Amestris making their way through the crowd towards me, so relieved that I didn’t even notice that the natives weren’t favoring the newcomers with the same looks they gave me.
I stopped as they came up to me and raised my hand in a salute. They answered by raising their rifles to their shoulders and pointing them at me.
“Wh-what?” I stepped back in shock, hand falling to my side. “What’s the meaning of this?” Looking around, I could now see that the civilians had become braver, some looking relieved and others casting angry or superior looks at me.
“You’re coming with us, thief,” one of the military men said.
“Why should I–“ I glanced at the insignia on his collar “–Lieutenant? Can’t you see who I am?” I tapped the silver watch for emphasis. “I outrank you!”
The others sneered. “State Alchemist, my ass!” the lieutenant snapped. “You dare show your face in public, wearing that thing? I oughta kill you right here!” He cocked his rifle.
I gulped as sweat beaded on my forehead. This first meeting with the local authorities was quickly degenerating from bad to worse. “Y-you can’t do that; you’ll be court-martialed,” I said, hoping to talk some sense into the man before he blew my head off. “Especially when Colonel Elric finds out.”
“The Head of the State Alchemy Department won’t care about a thief like you.” He had his finger on the trigger.
“I’m not a thief!” I burst out in desperation and frustration. “My name is Major Ryou Bakura, and I’ve been sent here from Central City to help catch a thief! By order of the Fuhrer himself; just call the capitol and see!”
A long minute stretched while everything stood motionless. Even the wind halted in anticipation of the lieutenant’s response. Then that minute came to an end, and he snorted, pushing the rifle’s safety back into place, though he kept it pointed at me. “Come on, then,” he said. “I don’t believe a word you say, but you’re too insignificant to risk a court martial for. But first, hand over that watch.”
“No,” I answered crossly. All three officers cocked their guns, and I sighed, unclipping the watch’s chain and tossing it at the guy to my right, and handing him my traveling pack as well after he glared at me and made a motion towards it. Staring down gun barrels has a way of making one change one’s mind, after all.
There wasn’t much I could do besides follow the lieutenant to the police station, so I settled for fuming at Ed the whole way there. Blaming the situation on him made me feel a little better. Once we reached the building, a large structure built of solid stone, they wasted no time in marching me to a back room lined with jail cells and stuffing me in one. The lieutenant and the officer with my watch and pack left, but the third officer, a young woman stayed behind.
“Geez, a guard, too?” I complained. “What are the chances of someone escaping from a jail like this?” For I could see with just a simple look around that the jail was well-made, the floor, ceiling and walls made of stones so well cut and fitted that I doubted I could slip a knife blade into the cracks. The bars that divided the cells and blocked the window were steel, well-forged and well set. There was no chance of prying them out of their slots.
“They say you can walk through walls,” the woman officer answered grimly. “We’re not taking chances.”
I sighed and sat down on the edge of the single bunk in my prison. “This isn’t some kind of practical joke Ed decided to spring on me, is it?” I asked. “Because if it is, it’s not a very good one.”
This time the woman chose to glare at me rather than answer, and I decided that any further attempts at conversation would be pointless. So I twisted around to lie back on the bunk and stare at the ceiling instead. If that lieutenant had any sense in him, he would be calling the capitol right now and confirming my story. And if he didn’t…well, I’d just have to break out. Stone walls and steel bars were no match for an alchemist.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to contemplate ways to escape without injuring my guard for more than ten minutes; not even that much time had passed before the lieutenant burst back in and fumbled with the keys in his rush to unlock my cell.
“I’m terribly sorry, Major, sir,” he said with a deep bow as the door swung open. “This was all a big misunderstanding. Your personal effects will be returned to you immediately.”
“Big misunderstanding?” I echoed as I stood up and walked out. “That’s an understatement. Why in the world would you think I’m a thief, anyways?”
The officer backed away and then followed me as I walked out. “The thief was sighted just the other night during one of his burglaries,” he answered. “Didn’t you get the report?”
“Sighted?” I frowned as I stopped in the nearby evidence room to collect my watch and traveling pack. “No, that wasn’t in the report I was given. It must not have reached the Fuhrer’s office.” Or else that was the part of the report that Fuhrer Mustang withheld…
“I see, sir,” the lieutenant said, bowing and taking the lead once again. “Well, ah, I’ll just show you to the head of investigation’s office. He’ll be able to explain everything to you.”
“Lead on,” I said, already slightly annoyed by his nervousness. He turned and set off at a fast pace, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of the way I used to act around Colonel Elric.
“Oy,” he would say all the time. “What are you so afraid of? I’m not going to bite, no matter how much I bark.”
Was I really that irritating? I asked myself, and then I made a mental note to myself to apologize to Ed the next time I saw him.
The head of investigation’s office was just off the main hall, and fairly close to the front lobby. The lieutenant stopped outside and bowed again, gesturing at the closed door. “He’s already expecting you.”
“Thank you,” I told him, pushing the door open.
The inside of the office was a mess of papers, most of them stacked on various tables and cabinets as well as the desk. On one wall was a bulletin board on which was tacked several newspaper clippings, and on the opposite wall was a large map of Lior with several red pins stuck in it at various locations. Behind the desk sat a man in a blue uniform whom I guessed to be the Head of Investigation. He looked up at me from under a long brown cowlick that made me wish I had a pair of scissors handy to cut it off.
He started in surprise and jumped up as I stopped in front of the desk. “You do look like him!” he cried.
“Eh?” I said, confused and taken aback.
After frowning at me for another couple of seconds, he shook his head and snapped out of it. “Major Ryou Bakura?” he asked with a salute.
“Yes?” I said, saluting in return.
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Honda Hiroto, Head Investigator of the city of Lior. Forgive my initial reaction, but your resemblance to our thief really is quite remarkable.”
“I…look like your thief?” A feeling of unease began to stir in the pit of my stomach.
He nodded, returning to his seat and gesturing at a chair that was free of papers. “You fit our description of him perfectly,” he said as I sat down. “It’s little wonder that Lieutenant Eastman mistook you for him, and I apologize for the incident.”
I waved the apology away. “Don’t worry about it; it’s sorted out now. Though I wonder why he didn’t believe me after seeing my watch.”
“A State Alchemist was murdered a couple of nights ago,” Hiroto answered. “It was near to the scene of the latest burglary, so we believe it was the thief who did it. Plus, his watch was taken from his body.” He frowned at me again. “If I may ask, why did the Colonel send you, the Illusory Alchemist, to help us with this problem? Illusions won’t help us catch a thief.”
“You’d be surprised what illusions can help with,” I countered. “And it’s not the only kind of alchemy I can do. Besides, the Colonel sent me at the Fuhrer’s suggestion. Why Mustang wanted me here is a mystery to me.”
“I see. Well, at any rate, here you are, so I believe it’s time to get to work.” Hiroto stood up and walked over to the map. “So far all we’ve been able to do is try to predict where he’ll hit next, but so far that’s been nearly impossible. He seems to choose his targets at random, and not all of them have anything of value.”
“Things are rarely done at random,” I said, joining him at the map. “And I don’t believe this is, either…” I let my voice trail off as I stared at the city, the unease in my stomach growing into a small knot of dread. “Do you have a pencil?” I asked.
“Of course.” The Lieutenant Colonel hurried over to his desk and shoved aside a couple of reports, uncovering a pencil and coming back to hand it to me.
After a few more seconds of staring, I reached up to draw a design on the map, connecting all the little red flags as I worked. And the knot of dread inside me grew into a ball.
“What it is?” Hiroto asked, watching as I extending the design in a few places, its edges hitting places where there were no flags.
“It’s a transmutation circle,” I answered. “This was designed to be a message to someone. An alchemist.” I decided not to add that I had never seen a design like this before. At least, I didn’t remember seeing it, or even hearing of it. Most circles only had six points; this one had seven. Yet, the connections, the curves, the whole design just popped into my head as I had studied the map.
“A message, eh? Any idea what kind of message?”
I shook my head. “This is a circle I’ve never used before, so I couldn’t tell you what it means or who it’s intended for. But I can give you a good idea where the next burglaries could be.” I pointed at three different buildings. “These places would complete the design.”
“Lieutenant Colonel!”
We both turned in surprise as the office door burst open and Lieutenant Eastman rushed in, nearly tumbling over the doorstep. He caught the edge of a nearby cabinet to steady himself and looked up, anger and frustration written all over his face. “He’s struck again! The military storage warehouse at the corner of North Street and Third Avenue!”
“In the middle of the day?” I said in disbelief.
“You’re sure it was him?” Hiroto asked, his steady voice visibly calming Eastman down.
The Lieutenant’s eyes flicked to me, and then back to the Head Investigator. “There were several witnesses, sir. All of them report the same description as last time.”
“I see.” Hiroto picked up a red flag from a nearby jar full of them and stabbed it onto the location that had just been robbed, a location that I had pointed out as a possible hit point just a few seconds ago. “Looks like you were right,” he said. “Now there’s only two places left, and I doubt even this thief is daring enough to hit one of them.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The locals wouldn’t stand for it,” he answered. “It’s the temple of their Sun God, Leto.”
* * *
We went to inspect the crime scene soon afterward. It was nothing special, just a storage warehouse that held mostly food packs. But this week there had also been a few crates of standard issue weapons, and it one of these crates that had been busted open and relieved of its contents.
Lieutenant Colonel Hiroto began drilling the two guards on duty as soon as we got there. Neither of them had seen him get in, though it was clear enough how he got out: a broken window twenty feet above the ground.
“The building was locked tight,” the guard said for the tenth time as I walked inside, bored with the cross-examination Hiroto was giving him. “I don’t know how he could have gotten in, especially without us seeing him. The locks on the doors showed no signs of being tampered with, and the windows are too high, even for someone with automail legs.”
It’s as if he can walk through walls, my mind finished, though I couldn’t hear him any more. That’s what everyone in Lior was saying. And the sound of the words, combined with their description of the thief, sent a series of chills running up my spine every time I thought about it. For I remembered a day, not even a year ago, when Malik had said those same words.
I tried to convince myself that it meant nothing, that it was merely a coincidence. After all, people didn’t walk through walls. And Akira was most certainly, irreversibly dead. I couldn’t change that, and neither could anyone else. And even if he was somehow alive, he certainly wasn’t a thief!
Those hopeful thoughts were shattered only an instant later.
The crate that had been broken open stood at the back of the warehouse, and as I scanned the floor, looking for footprints, a shred of cloth, any kind of clue, a silver flash from a nearby stack of boxes caught my eye. I walked over to find a silver State Alchemist watch resting on top of a box.
That’s right, I remembered dimly as I lifted it by its chain. A State Alchemist was killed last time. This must have been his. Then I noticed something sticking out of the lid, and I brought my other hand up to cradle it as I flipped it open.
The clock face within was broken, the glass shattered and the hands bent. Some of the internal workings poked through a rip in the face. I winced at the sight, knowing that it was no accident. Someone had purposely broken, probably with a knife or dagger. A piece of paper had fallen to the ground as I had opened it, and I bent down now to pick it up with trembling fingers.
Lieutenant Colonel Hiroto came up behind me as I straightened and unfolded the paper, but I hardly heard his inquiry of what I had found. The paper was an old newspaper clipping about the Serra’s Point train accident, a list of the dead to be exact. And there at the top, right under the photo of the wreck, was Akira’s name, circled in red ink.
Again came Hiroto’s question, but I couldn’t hear it past the buzzing in my ears. Carefully, I folded the clipping back and set it down on the box beside the watch before slumping down on the floor, leaning back against the crates and burying my face in my hands.
The robbery pattern may have been a message to someone else, but there was no mistaking this. Someone knew I was here, investigating this. Someone who also knew about my past, and very likely what I had done, though I had tried so hard to cover it up and leave it behind. This was a message aimed directly at me.
And for the first time since the day of the accident, I dared to truly believe that Akira may be alive.
That first mission with the Colonel was also the last for the rest of the year and almost half of the next. Winter closed in not long after the Colonel and I returned from Rizenbul, and snow blocked most of the roads and railroad tracks leading to and from the capitol city of Amestris. As a result, very few military missions were handed out, and I spent most of my time confined in the First Branch of the library, doing research on illusion alchemy and various ways it could be used in public service. When I wasn’t taking a crash course in fighting from Ed, that is.
I had declined his offer to teach me how to fight at first. I had never been a fighter, preferring to stay away from typical schoolyard brawls and settle my arguments in a more peaceful manner.
“But Major,” the Colonel had said. “Everyone who joins the military is required to learn basic hand-to-hand combat skills, as well as how to use a knife and a rifle.”
“But I don’t like to fight,” I had protested.
It was then that Ed had given me a huge, mischievous grin that reminded me all too much of the look on Malik’s face when he felt like getting into trouble. “You don’t have a choice.”
Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken me long to establish a reputation as the top marksman in Central City. At least, it was surprising to everyone else. I had always been able to hit what I threw at, for as far back as I could remember. And shooting a rifle was no different. Bare-handed combat was another matter, though. According to Ed, I was good–not excellent, but definitely above average. I didn’t feel that way every time he gave me another score or two of bruises, though.
I often wondered why he insisted on giving me military training; no one else mentioned it, or even seemed to think it mattered. So I asked him one cold January evening, after he had finished proving once again that he was by far the better martial artist.
He hadn’t said anything at first, instead toweling sweat out of his hair and flexing his auto-mail arm and leg to make sure they were still in proper working order. When he answered at last, he didn’t look at me. “You have to be prepared for anything, Ryou. There may come a time when you will have to fight, whether you want to or not.”
I hadn’t liked the way he said that, not at all. It implied that he knew something I didn’t, and after the second encounter with Wrath in his office and his dodging of my question about human transmutation on the train, I was almost certain that he was keeping something from me. But I swallowed any protests and kept to myself. After all, he wasn’t the only one hiding something.
Winter passed into spring, which began fading into summer. Over those seven months, my almost worshipful awe of Ed disappeared completely as I got to know him and trust him. For someone who had been in the military since he was twelve, he didn’t care much about military procedure. He once told me that he only wore his uniform because the Fuhrer once threatened to fire him if he didn’t. Which had me wondering for a while how a Colonel could be ‘fired’ instead of ‘discharged’ before I realized that it was an empty threat. Ed and Mustang were very good friends, though they’d both deny it if someone told them that to their faces.
It was a bright early June day when I received my second mission from the State Alchemist office. I was rather surprised when Brigadier General Hawkeye stopped by the house early that morning and said that I had orders waiting on me at the Colonel’s office; I was beginning to think that I was never going to go on another mission again.
“Guess what?” Ed said, plopping his phone onto its receiver even as I walked through the door. “You get to go to Lior City.” He looked mildly disgusted.
I sat down in a chair, frowning a little. “Why? What’s going on in Lior?”
“Apparently some thief’s being going around and being a nuisance.” Ed picked up a sheaf of papers and tossed them down in front of me.
I picked the report up and scanned it with a thoughtful frown. “This guy’s been raiding safes and military armored transports? How? He’d have to walk through walls.”
“And since that’s impossible, we just have to settle with believing that he may have inside help, which is why you’re being sent in.”
“To root out the mole.” I set the report down again. “When I don’t even know what this thief looks like, much less who he could be in contact with.”
Ed shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s the best we can do. I’d go myself, but I’m tied up here at the capitol with political crap. So Mustang suggested that I send you instead.”
“The Fuhrer?” I said in confusion. “Why would he want me to go?”
Ed shrugged again. “There’s no telling what he thinks,” he answered, face contorting in a good-natured scowl. “And he might know something that he hasn’t passed on to me. He usually does. So all I can do is tell you good luck.”
“And that’s all?” I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No instructions on how to do my job?”
“Sorry.” He shrugged a third time. “It should be easy. Just pick a good target and stake it out. The thief is sure to hit it some time. That’s what I did one time in Aquroya. Worked pretty well.”
I sighed as I stood up. “Well, this promises to be fun,” I grumbled as I saluted.
Ed’s laughter followed me out.
* * *
For a city that had been utterly demolished fifteen years ago, Lior sure was big. That was my first thought when I stepped off the train at the station and took a good look around. The city was possibly even larger than Central City, with construction still ongoing around the outskirts and on some of the larger buildings.
I frowned at the small city map Ed had given me before I had left the previous day. It marked the local police station, where I was supposed to report in as soon as I arrived. Thankfully, the rebuilt city’s streets were based on the grid system, and it was easy to find both the police station and the train station on the map.
I marked the quickest route from one to the other in my mind and memorized it quickly as I stepped into the busy streets. It was simple enough, after all. Ten blocks up, a right turn, and another three blocks to police headquarters. I folded the map and put it away, not wanting to miss the sight offered by this new city.
Those sights were plentiful, with shop windows filled with tempting merchandise, cloth and pastries and jewelry, and open-air stalls with colorful awnings, their proprietors calling out to passersby in an effort to sell their wares, and fountains and newly planted trees and groups of children running and laughing around every corner.
Yet I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. In my attentive observation of my surroundings, I noticed that few of the natives looked at me. They would see m e coming and duck their heads, avert their eyes, cringe away in fear. Those that did dare to look my way glared with ill-concealed malice and hostility on their faces.
Do they still hate the military? I had to wonder. It’s been fifteen years since Lior was destroyed, and we’ve been helping them rebuild for seven years now. And still they carry a grudge against us?
I wasn’t wearing my uniform, but my State Alchemist watch hung from my vest pocket, bouncing against my chest as I walked. It was a clear enough sign that I was in the military, and I could think of no other reason why the people of Lior would fear and hate me upon sight.
And so I was very relieved when I spotted three men dressed in the military blue of Amestris making their way through the crowd towards me, so relieved that I didn’t even notice that the natives weren’t favoring the newcomers with the same looks they gave me.
I stopped as they came up to me and raised my hand in a salute. They answered by raising their rifles to their shoulders and pointing them at me.
“Wh-what?” I stepped back in shock, hand falling to my side. “What’s the meaning of this?” Looking around, I could now see that the civilians had become braver, some looking relieved and others casting angry or superior looks at me.
“You’re coming with us, thief,” one of the military men said.
“Why should I–“ I glanced at the insignia on his collar “–Lieutenant? Can’t you see who I am?” I tapped the silver watch for emphasis. “I outrank you!”
The others sneered. “State Alchemist, my ass!” the lieutenant snapped. “You dare show your face in public, wearing that thing? I oughta kill you right here!” He cocked his rifle.
I gulped as sweat beaded on my forehead. This first meeting with the local authorities was quickly degenerating from bad to worse. “Y-you can’t do that; you’ll be court-martialed,” I said, hoping to talk some sense into the man before he blew my head off. “Especially when Colonel Elric finds out.”
“The Head of the State Alchemy Department won’t care about a thief like you.” He had his finger on the trigger.
“I’m not a thief!” I burst out in desperation and frustration. “My name is Major Ryou Bakura, and I’ve been sent here from Central City to help catch a thief! By order of the Fuhrer himself; just call the capitol and see!”
A long minute stretched while everything stood motionless. Even the wind halted in anticipation of the lieutenant’s response. Then that minute came to an end, and he snorted, pushing the rifle’s safety back into place, though he kept it pointed at me. “Come on, then,” he said. “I don’t believe a word you say, but you’re too insignificant to risk a court martial for. But first, hand over that watch.”
“No,” I answered crossly. All three officers cocked their guns, and I sighed, unclipping the watch’s chain and tossing it at the guy to my right, and handing him my traveling pack as well after he glared at me and made a motion towards it. Staring down gun barrels has a way of making one change one’s mind, after all.
There wasn’t much I could do besides follow the lieutenant to the police station, so I settled for fuming at Ed the whole way there. Blaming the situation on him made me feel a little better. Once we reached the building, a large structure built of solid stone, they wasted no time in marching me to a back room lined with jail cells and stuffing me in one. The lieutenant and the officer with my watch and pack left, but the third officer, a young woman stayed behind.
“Geez, a guard, too?” I complained. “What are the chances of someone escaping from a jail like this?” For I could see with just a simple look around that the jail was well-made, the floor, ceiling and walls made of stones so well cut and fitted that I doubted I could slip a knife blade into the cracks. The bars that divided the cells and blocked the window were steel, well-forged and well set. There was no chance of prying them out of their slots.
“They say you can walk through walls,” the woman officer answered grimly. “We’re not taking chances.”
I sighed and sat down on the edge of the single bunk in my prison. “This isn’t some kind of practical joke Ed decided to spring on me, is it?” I asked. “Because if it is, it’s not a very good one.”
This time the woman chose to glare at me rather than answer, and I decided that any further attempts at conversation would be pointless. So I twisted around to lie back on the bunk and stare at the ceiling instead. If that lieutenant had any sense in him, he would be calling the capitol right now and confirming my story. And if he didn’t…well, I’d just have to break out. Stone walls and steel bars were no match for an alchemist.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to contemplate ways to escape without injuring my guard for more than ten minutes; not even that much time had passed before the lieutenant burst back in and fumbled with the keys in his rush to unlock my cell.
“I’m terribly sorry, Major, sir,” he said with a deep bow as the door swung open. “This was all a big misunderstanding. Your personal effects will be returned to you immediately.”
“Big misunderstanding?” I echoed as I stood up and walked out. “That’s an understatement. Why in the world would you think I’m a thief, anyways?”
The officer backed away and then followed me as I walked out. “The thief was sighted just the other night during one of his burglaries,” he answered. “Didn’t you get the report?”
“Sighted?” I frowned as I stopped in the nearby evidence room to collect my watch and traveling pack. “No, that wasn’t in the report I was given. It must not have reached the Fuhrer’s office.” Or else that was the part of the report that Fuhrer Mustang withheld…
“I see, sir,” the lieutenant said, bowing and taking the lead once again. “Well, ah, I’ll just show you to the head of investigation’s office. He’ll be able to explain everything to you.”
“Lead on,” I said, already slightly annoyed by his nervousness. He turned and set off at a fast pace, and I couldn’t help but be reminded of the way I used to act around Colonel Elric.
“Oy,” he would say all the time. “What are you so afraid of? I’m not going to bite, no matter how much I bark.”
Was I really that irritating? I asked myself, and then I made a mental note to myself to apologize to Ed the next time I saw him.
The head of investigation’s office was just off the main hall, and fairly close to the front lobby. The lieutenant stopped outside and bowed again, gesturing at the closed door. “He’s already expecting you.”
“Thank you,” I told him, pushing the door open.
The inside of the office was a mess of papers, most of them stacked on various tables and cabinets as well as the desk. On one wall was a bulletin board on which was tacked several newspaper clippings, and on the opposite wall was a large map of Lior with several red pins stuck in it at various locations. Behind the desk sat a man in a blue uniform whom I guessed to be the Head of Investigation. He looked up at me from under a long brown cowlick that made me wish I had a pair of scissors handy to cut it off.
He started in surprise and jumped up as I stopped in front of the desk. “You do look like him!” he cried.
“Eh?” I said, confused and taken aback.
After frowning at me for another couple of seconds, he shook his head and snapped out of it. “Major Ryou Bakura?” he asked with a salute.
“Yes?” I said, saluting in return.
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Honda Hiroto, Head Investigator of the city of Lior. Forgive my initial reaction, but your resemblance to our thief really is quite remarkable.”
“I…look like your thief?” A feeling of unease began to stir in the pit of my stomach.
He nodded, returning to his seat and gesturing at a chair that was free of papers. “You fit our description of him perfectly,” he said as I sat down. “It’s little wonder that Lieutenant Eastman mistook you for him, and I apologize for the incident.”
I waved the apology away. “Don’t worry about it; it’s sorted out now. Though I wonder why he didn’t believe me after seeing my watch.”
“A State Alchemist was murdered a couple of nights ago,” Hiroto answered. “It was near to the scene of the latest burglary, so we believe it was the thief who did it. Plus, his watch was taken from his body.” He frowned at me again. “If I may ask, why did the Colonel send you, the Illusory Alchemist, to help us with this problem? Illusions won’t help us catch a thief.”
“You’d be surprised what illusions can help with,” I countered. “And it’s not the only kind of alchemy I can do. Besides, the Colonel sent me at the Fuhrer’s suggestion. Why Mustang wanted me here is a mystery to me.”
“I see. Well, at any rate, here you are, so I believe it’s time to get to work.” Hiroto stood up and walked over to the map. “So far all we’ve been able to do is try to predict where he’ll hit next, but so far that’s been nearly impossible. He seems to choose his targets at random, and not all of them have anything of value.”
“Things are rarely done at random,” I said, joining him at the map. “And I don’t believe this is, either…” I let my voice trail off as I stared at the city, the unease in my stomach growing into a small knot of dread. “Do you have a pencil?” I asked.
“Of course.” The Lieutenant Colonel hurried over to his desk and shoved aside a couple of reports, uncovering a pencil and coming back to hand it to me.
After a few more seconds of staring, I reached up to draw a design on the map, connecting all the little red flags as I worked. And the knot of dread inside me grew into a ball.
“What it is?” Hiroto asked, watching as I extending the design in a few places, its edges hitting places where there were no flags.
“It’s a transmutation circle,” I answered. “This was designed to be a message to someone. An alchemist.” I decided not to add that I had never seen a design like this before. At least, I didn’t remember seeing it, or even hearing of it. Most circles only had six points; this one had seven. Yet, the connections, the curves, the whole design just popped into my head as I had studied the map.
“A message, eh? Any idea what kind of message?”
I shook my head. “This is a circle I’ve never used before, so I couldn’t tell you what it means or who it’s intended for. But I can give you a good idea where the next burglaries could be.” I pointed at three different buildings. “These places would complete the design.”
“Lieutenant Colonel!”
We both turned in surprise as the office door burst open and Lieutenant Eastman rushed in, nearly tumbling over the doorstep. He caught the edge of a nearby cabinet to steady himself and looked up, anger and frustration written all over his face. “He’s struck again! The military storage warehouse at the corner of North Street and Third Avenue!”
“In the middle of the day?” I said in disbelief.
“You’re sure it was him?” Hiroto asked, his steady voice visibly calming Eastman down.
The Lieutenant’s eyes flicked to me, and then back to the Head Investigator. “There were several witnesses, sir. All of them report the same description as last time.”
“I see.” Hiroto picked up a red flag from a nearby jar full of them and stabbed it onto the location that had just been robbed, a location that I had pointed out as a possible hit point just a few seconds ago. “Looks like you were right,” he said. “Now there’s only two places left, and I doubt even this thief is daring enough to hit one of them.”
“Why?” I asked.
“The locals wouldn’t stand for it,” he answered. “It’s the temple of their Sun God, Leto.”
* * *
We went to inspect the crime scene soon afterward. It was nothing special, just a storage warehouse that held mostly food packs. But this week there had also been a few crates of standard issue weapons, and it one of these crates that had been busted open and relieved of its contents.
Lieutenant Colonel Hiroto began drilling the two guards on duty as soon as we got there. Neither of them had seen him get in, though it was clear enough how he got out: a broken window twenty feet above the ground.
“The building was locked tight,” the guard said for the tenth time as I walked inside, bored with the cross-examination Hiroto was giving him. “I don’t know how he could have gotten in, especially without us seeing him. The locks on the doors showed no signs of being tampered with, and the windows are too high, even for someone with automail legs.”
It’s as if he can walk through walls, my mind finished, though I couldn’t hear him any more. That’s what everyone in Lior was saying. And the sound of the words, combined with their description of the thief, sent a series of chills running up my spine every time I thought about it. For I remembered a day, not even a year ago, when Malik had said those same words.
I tried to convince myself that it meant nothing, that it was merely a coincidence. After all, people didn’t walk through walls. And Akira was most certainly, irreversibly dead. I couldn’t change that, and neither could anyone else. And even if he was somehow alive, he certainly wasn’t a thief!
Those hopeful thoughts were shattered only an instant later.
The crate that had been broken open stood at the back of the warehouse, and as I scanned the floor, looking for footprints, a shred of cloth, any kind of clue, a silver flash from a nearby stack of boxes caught my eye. I walked over to find a silver State Alchemist watch resting on top of a box.
That’s right, I remembered dimly as I lifted it by its chain. A State Alchemist was killed last time. This must have been his. Then I noticed something sticking out of the lid, and I brought my other hand up to cradle it as I flipped it open.
The clock face within was broken, the glass shattered and the hands bent. Some of the internal workings poked through a rip in the face. I winced at the sight, knowing that it was no accident. Someone had purposely broken, probably with a knife or dagger. A piece of paper had fallen to the ground as I had opened it, and I bent down now to pick it up with trembling fingers.
Lieutenant Colonel Hiroto came up behind me as I straightened and unfolded the paper, but I hardly heard his inquiry of what I had found. The paper was an old newspaper clipping about the Serra’s Point train accident, a list of the dead to be exact. And there at the top, right under the photo of the wreck, was Akira’s name, circled in red ink.
Again came Hiroto’s question, but I couldn’t hear it past the buzzing in my ears. Carefully, I folded the clipping back and set it down on the box beside the watch before slumping down on the floor, leaning back against the crates and burying my face in my hands.
The robbery pattern may have been a message to someone else, but there was no mistaking this. Someone knew I was here, investigating this. Someone who also knew about my past, and very likely what I had done, though I had tried so hard to cover it up and leave it behind. This was a message aimed directly at me.
And for the first time since the day of the accident, I dared to truly believe that Akira may be alive.