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The puppies of Black Hayate ran clumsily, stumbling over one another, sinking their tiny paws into the puddles left by the morning watering.
Riza watched the scene in silence, her hair — now reaching her waist — swaying gently with the cool breeze. Golden strands shimmered under the sunlight, revealing faint silver reflections.
One of the puppies curled up in her lap, and she felt the softness of its fur beneath her fingers.
Yuki — the one that most resembled his father.
Riza looked at him with a mix of tenderness and longing. Ever since old Hayate had passed, she felt as if a small part of her had gone with him.
Those puppies now filled a new space in her heart, without ever erasing the sweet memory of the companion who, for so many years, filled her old apartment with life — and small messes.
A finger brushed against her face, sliding gently down her cheek until the trace of emotion had faded.
She turned her head to look lovingly at the man who cared for her with such devotion. Discreet gray strands mixed with his black hair, and soft lines of time traced the corners of his eyes.
“Are you all right, Riza?” Roy’s voice came gentle, almost a whisper.
“Were you thinking about the pardon? It’s been a year today…” he added carefully.
She blinked and gave a sad smile.
“No… I was remembering Black Hayate. The day I adopted him. Yuki is his copy.”
She glanced briefly at the little dog, who left the comfort of her lap, leaving behind small traces that he had been there — a few white and black hairs scattered over her lilac dress.
“I’ve just been more sensitive lately… don’t worry.”
“It’s impossible not to worry, love.”
She felt the word warm her chest, especially that last one — love — wrapping around her mended heart like a soft embrace.
“And you? Were you thinking about the pardon?”
He sighed, resting his hands on the grass and tilting his head back, gazing at the blue sky.
The song of birds echoed softly around them — a perfect melody for the end of the afternoon.
“Yes…”
The weight of the memories was still there, but no longer crushing — only reminding him that they had survived.
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. It was a silence full of remembrance.
The sound of war still lived somewhere in memory: fire, blood, dust, and Hughes’s laughter echoing among the explosions, bringing light to that hostile place as he spoke about Gracia — his beautiful future.
The public trial for their crimes. Amestris had become a democracy under his leadership.
Roy believed his destiny would be the guillotine, but instead of a death sentence, he received the people’s pardon.
They had witnessed the efforts of Führer Mustang and Brigadier General Riza Hawkeye — both seeking redemption and rebuilding a nation once scarred and stained.
“We kept our promise, Roy,” she said softly, her voice breaking the quiet. “Now the country can follow its own path… and we can follow ours.”
Then he looked at her again — with that gaze that seemed to pierce through time itself.
He remembered the long years of renouncing, with almost superhuman strength, the love that pulsed inside his wounded heart.
Every fiber of him echoed the same stubborn refrain: I love you more than I love myself, Riza Hawkeye.
He had longed to have her by his side — not only as a comrade-in-arms, but as shelter on cold nights, as the warmth and longing of skin meeting skin.
A smile appeared on the corner of his lips.
Roy turned on the grass and gently cupped her delicate face in his hands — firm and tender all at once.
As if holding a rare jewel — precious, yet fragile as a petal.
Her brown eyes revealed both expectation and love, shining in her irises.
He leaned in and kissed her; the sweet taste of her lips still made him dizzy — even after countless times.
Riza’s hands wandered into his hair, her fingers sliding through the dark strands in soft caresses.
For a moment, they stayed there — lost in that silent exchange of affection.
A concrete and mature kind of love.
A love she once doubted could ever materialize — especially after watching him almost be consumed by hatred and vengeance while fighting Envy on the Promised Day.
And later, when she felt her life slipping away, the blood soaking through her uniform and the ground beneath her.
Roy had been restrained by two men, unable to use his Flame Alchemy — helpless, blackmailed, utterly vulnerable.
But he had understood her unspoken words — the message in her eyes.
Suddenly, something stirred in her belly — kicks from the inside out.
“He or she is kicking,” she whispered after breaking the kiss.
Roy slowly placed his hand on her round belly, feeling the movements — as if the baby were trying to break through a wall.
He smiled the way she loved seeing him — eyes glowing with the expectation of their child’s birth, still two months away.
“This is our beautiful future… I couldn’t wish for anything more than this.”
She laid her hand over his, tracing small circles with her fingertips.
The wind passed softly, caressing their faces and carrying the sweet scent of flowers.
A feeling of peace surrounded their souls; though the scars would never be forgotten, they could finally be happy — without guilt.