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A few months after the Ishval campaign, Riza graduated from the military academy. Despite the excitement that came with surviving such an institution, it was a rather brief affair, something she appreciated. Truthfully, she was given an option to be absent in the proceedings to allow her time to recuperate. However, she entered the military of her own volition, so she intended to see it through to the end, wearing the same uniform she wore during the civil war.
After all, she did not want to prolong such matters, as she had already accepted her immediate promotion to Second Lieutenant following her “accomplishments” at Ishval. The image of an Ishvalan child she buried with her hands flashed before her eyes, stealing the breath in her lungs. She blinked, blanking out for a few moments before she heard her name being called to receive her accolades.
Her shoulders remained stiff all throughout the ceremony.
And so it was this that led her to accept Rebecca’s invitation to a small fête with their fellow cadets, if only to distract her mind from the stench of blood she could not seem to get rid off her hands. The wine she drank did not help at all though, even if she was able to grin as her fellow cadets joked about the scars and automails they earned from the civil war.
I do not like it all, she thought sadly, but levity for such a situation we found ourselves forced into is the only way we can ever cope.
As it was, she left the party early, feigning an excuse that she still needed time to rest for a family visit. Never mind that the only family she ever knew was now a garden of daisies. Her fellow cadets, nay, soldiers, looked at her sceptically, but she has already risen from her seat before they can ever utter their dissent.
Not that it mattered anymore.
The following day, she went to the military headquarters of East City, retracing her steps to the office on the seventh floor. Gently, she knocked on the door of Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. A few moments later, she heard his voice beckoning her to come in, and was treated to the sight of him silently going over some reports. Upon her entry, his dark eyes drifted to her.
The stiffness in her shoulders eased, even as she saluted him firmly. “Lieutenant Colonel, congratulations on being promoted.”
“I would congratulate you as well, but you know how it is,” he greeted back. Roy waved his hand, letting her ease her stance. He peered at her curiously, resting his chin above his hands. “Now tell me, despite your doubts, why did you still wear that uniform?”
She expected this question already, and raised her head. “If I remain in doubt, I will remain paralysed by fear, so I choose not to be idle. My life is already forfeit because of Ishval, so I have to ensure that others will not pay the same price.”
“And so, if the ways of this world are based on equivalent exchange as alchemy says,” she continued, her hands turning into fists, “then in order to allow for a new generation to enjoy a life of happiness, then the price that we must pay is to carry the bodies of the dead across a river of blood. That is the law of equivalent exchange, and that is how we shall progress. Therefore, I must continue, not just for me, but for the sake of those that will come after us.”
“And so,” she declared, meeting his stare, “Every inch of this uniform, I wore it willingly, sir.”
After a moment of silence, Roy nodded, satisfied with her response. “Your specialties?”
“Guns,” she said without a pause. “Unlike swords and knives, it does not leave the feeling of victims dying by your hands.”
Roy gave her a piercing look. “You would deceive yourself, then.”
“Yes, that is the truth.” She continued to meet his gaze.
“Very well,” he said firmly, rising from his seat. “I am thinking of recommending you as my aide. Therefore, I will entrust my back to you. You know what that means, yes?”
He did not even pause. He just eyed her sharply, and let the next words fall with no hesitation that she was slightly taken aback.
“If I go out of line, that means you can shoot me.”
Truth be said, that was not what she expected.
To go so far for his ambitions, yet still have this precaution as part of his calculations. Simply put, Roy Mustang was never truly the reckless man he pretended to be in front of others. She understands better now why her father chose him as an apprentice all those years ago. Looking at him now, though, it would appear that his youthful visage had not changed at all. At a glance, it would appear that he was still that same enthusiastic boy quietly reading her father’s books, only to argue with her father as he was corrected for the rather dismal-looking transmutation circles he drew clumsily.
It was too much, the transformation of that keen boy into the resolute man that he was now before her eyes. However, with everything that happened in Ishval, she did not have to wonder why that was. Given that, she will do her best to keep up with him, and since shooting him was part of his plans, it was not far off to assume that one must not flatter him irresponsibly.
She took a deep breath, looking up at him.
“So, Riza Hawkeye,” he asked, his voice as smooth as smoke, “will you follow me?”
“Yes,” she said firmly, bowing. “If that is your wish.”
Then softly, gently than she ever knew she could, she uttered, “Even into hell.”
She met his dark eyes as time slowed down in the quiet room.
She shut her eyes, hearing his slow exhale.
That was the promise they made that day.