belated birthday fic for izkariote

[tasogareika]

This is so grossly delayed orz. Anyway, yes - a very belated semi-completed fic for my bestest aniki. So sorry I took so long with this because I fail at ficcing but I hope you'll enjoy it nevertheless. ;w;

Title : A Symphony of Fire & Ice - Part I
Fandom : Gintama/Fullmetal Alchemist - Alternate Universe
Rating : PG-13
Pairing : None, unless you count bromance.
Warning : Blood, violence, gore! Also emo to the nth degree. Totally un-beta'd and my first fic in FMA (kind of) so expect loads of errors scattered everywhere. orz
Notes : This is only like... half of the real deal actually, but I've delayed this long enough so it'll be up here. I PROMISE TO FINISH THIS THOUGH. ;~;9



A SYMPHONY OF FIRE AND ICE

Lost in a dream from which I can't awaken.

The question came unexpectedly one day, after a day of nothing but battle and bloodshed once again

“What do you want to do after this whole war is over?”

Roy turned his head sideways towards the younger man sitting on the floor beside his cot, rolling over to the side to regard his younger brother with a slight smirk. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

A frown, and a slight pout. “How should I know that?”

The elder only laughed at that response before looking at his sibling again who had turned back from facing him once more. “Well then, what do you want to do after everything here?”

“I’m going wherever you want to go, of course.” The answer came without so much as missing a beat.

Mustang, of course, knew the answer already-ever since their parents died, all they had was each other. Being the elder one, he was the one who had to fend for them both; it was easy enough to say that two of them had been through thick and thin and so came out of this united as one. He cherished his brother, and in turn his brother cherished him. No matter what would happen, they’d always be by each other’s side and supporting one another until the very end.

He let a smile cross his face before responding. “You’d better watch my back then for backstabbers.”

A snort from his younger brother at that comment. “That goes without saying.”

Back then, Roy Mustang believed that nothing in the world could stop him.

This weakness and brokenness.

It’s been five years since the Ishaval civil war-and though they say time heals all wounds, there are some wounds that can never be healed no matter how long it’s been. It’s safe to say that that’s the worst sort of emotional wound that one can ever imagine. A wound so deep and hurtful that the tears have long since run day and wouldn’t come no matter how much one would want it to come.

That sort of emptiness was something that Roy Mustang knew best of all. Five years down the road and the pain was still as fresh as it had ever been despite the time that has passed. And as much as he wants to blame anyone, the Flame Alchemist knew that he couldn’t blame anybody except for himself. He could only wish that he hadn’t been so weak back then. Things wouldn’t have come to this otherwise. Now even with Havoc and Fuery and Hawkeye and Falman and Armstrong and Breda behind his back, the Lt. Colonel would never really feel quite at home as he once was. With or without them, the alchemist could never feel whole again.

After all, he had already lost half of himself back in that war half a decade ago.

The officers that were littering the corridors all quickly hushed up and scattered away to make room for the man as he walked down the hallway, some of the younger ones glancing in a mixture of surprise and awe at the eyepatch that covered where his left eye once was-what everyone had called as the scar of a war hero. Roy tried to look indifferent to the looks and the awe, but that all-too familiar sensation of disgust only wells up within him once again.

He was no hero.

He was only a sinner.

Stopping at the door of the Furher’s office, Roy only took a moment to straighten himself before he raising his fist to knock at the door. There was a few seconds of silence, and then came the call of ‘Enter’ from the other side. The alchemist murmured a quiet ‘excuse me’ before he did so, grabbing the handle and pushing the one side of the double oaken doors open as he stepped into the office.

“Ah, Lt. Colonel. I was expecting you.”

Roy turned around once he had closed the door-and only froze in surprise and shock at the man that was standing before the Furher’s desk.

The sky of silver cracking.

The strike had been swift, the fight violent and brutal and everything had happened in the blink of an eye-one moment they had been against the wall of the trench whispering to each other about what to do next and the next thing Roy knew was searing pain of bright lights as a flash bomb exploded right above them.

Everything turned white before him, everything was happening so fast and so sudden that his mind couldn’t even begin to digest what had happened before the next thing happened. All he could remember was the flash of blinding light, the firing of gunshots into the air, more explosions and a shout of ‘get down!’ before everything blacked out.

When he awoke, Roy found himself wincing at the lights shining above him as the flashlight flickered right before his eyes. The doctor blinked and ‘hmm’d when he saw the alchemist awakening before smiling and straightening himself back up as he scribbled onto the clipboard before glancing back at the man, who only blinked and managed to mutter out a distinctly confused “What happened?”

“Your squad got caught in a surprise ambush by the Ishvalans,” came the immediate response as the other turned back to scribbling on his clipboard with an almost intense concentration. Roy could feel a pit starting to form in his stomach-some innate feeling telling him that there was something wrong with this. Something very wrong. That feeling only grew worse as he glanced around to only see himself blocked off by the dividers, but the silence in the air was... very unsettling.

Roy tried to pull himself up, but a sharp pain ran through his back and the alchemist yelped as his arms gave away and he flopped back onto the cot. The doctor only moved after that happened, looking at the dark-haired man with eyes that were with some sort of lost emotion that only made the dreading feeling in his stomach grow all the worse than it already was.

“You shouldn’t move,” he went in an almost quiet voice, “You’ll only aggravate your wounds.”

“What happened? Where’s the rest of the squad?!”

There was a pause there and then that lasted for what seemed like forever before the doctor sighed and lowered his head. “I hope you would ask later,” came the almost inaudible murmur.

Despite the fear coursed through him at that statement, Roy could only press on-he couldn’t turn back. “What happened to them?! Tell me!”

“Dead.”

The alchemist froze completely at that, his blood turning ice-cold, his voice suddenly gone. “...dead?”

“Dead,” confirmed the doctor. “You’re the only one who came back alive.”

Oh god, no. It couldn’t be. “A-And my brother...?”

The tone that was used as he responded could only be one full of pity. “You were found under his corpse. He used his body to protect you. I’m sorry.”

Behind a forced smile, I harbour a grown shadow.

There were no words to describe this.

Five years already, and Roy had long thought he’d never be able to see those eyes again except for when he’d see himself in the mirror. But yet once again, fate was out to make a mockery of him. An absolute mockery.

Karma really could be a bitch at times.

“I see you’ve taken notice of our new recruit,” came the Furher’s voice, and the alchemist blinked before jerking his head and shook it to get himself back into reality.

He looked again at the other that was standing in front of the table (god he looked just like him) before turning back to his superior. “Sir, just what is the meaning of thi-”

“He’s to be... your understudy.”

What?! “My... understudy, sir?”

“He posses the same sort of alchemy that you do-different in some areas, but I’ve been told it’s the same concept in basis. He’s not a adept as you though, so I’d prefer it if you trained him for a bit in honing those skills.”

Roy only looked at the doppelgänger of his brother once again before turning back to the Furher, trying to protest. “But sir, I possibly couldn’t-”

“I insist, Mustang. Or would you rather disobey my command?”

No way around this, then. Mustang took a moment to steel himself before he straightened himself and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

King Bradley nodded, smiling slightly before he himself turned to look at the doppelganger of the alchemist’s brother. “Now, why don’t you start with the introductions first?”

The new alchemist nodded before directing those familiar cobalt blue eyes towards him, blinking once before he addressed the other alchemist in that familiar voice now so empty and dull and void of the emotion that his brother once possessed.

“Hijikata Toshirou.”

What comes after a war is one game.

Two weeks after the ambush (the last ambush the Ishavals ever sprung), there had been a final clash between the two forces. Between the alchemists and the power of the incomplete Philosopher Stones and the mere firearms that their opponents were equipped with, the result of that battle was obvious. Within two hours, the entire force was wiped out and the war had finally ended.

In that battle, it was recorded that the alchemist with the highest number of kills was Roy Mustang-burning all who faced him with so much fury that they were unrecognizable once he had went through with them.

Revenge was indeed a dangerous thing to be reckoned with.

The moment it was announced that the battle had ended, Roy had simply felt himself completely and utterly drained. He locked himself up in his tent, refusing to come out-for the moment he saw an Ishaval he was sure he’d only try and kill them, which he couldn’t know. The war was over after all.

...the war was over.

The war was over.

The alchemist only froze up, his whole body tensing as he raised his head to glance up before he sagged and buried his face into his palms. There was a pause of silence, and then quietly a pained sob was ripped out from his chest, quietly echoing in the silence. One sob, and then another. And yet another, and another and then more and more until they all converged together and the man couldn’t stop the tears that were falling from his eyes and staining his already bloodstained uniform.

For the first time in his life, Roy had never felt more lost than he was now.

The pulse that beats quickly catches my breath.

It didn’t take too long before Roy found himself starting to note the minute differences between this... Hijikata person and the person who he had once seen in that body and on that face. His brother was a left hander-the homunculus was right-handed; his brother’s eyes were in a shade of blue that was so much brighter than the dark cobalt ones that his ‘understudy’ had now. His brother used to talk a lot... and this person who took the form of his brother barely said anything more than ten words even when prompted.

But at the same time, he could see the many similarities that they shared. His handwriting was exactly just like how he remembered it was, even though they had switched hands. They both had an obsessive love of mayonnaise that was to the point of insanity (and it was the only time where the other displayed any sort of emotion) and he even smoked in the way he remembered his brother doing-impulsive and compulsive, smoking whenever he was stressed and needed to concentrate on doing something. Just like what he was doing now, as Roy watched the other flipping though the paperwork he had given him as the smoke trailed from the cigarette in-between his lips.

So different and yet so similar at the same time; it was pretty disturbing, to be honest.

“...what are you looking at?” came the voice (the voice just like his brother’s was) as the homunculus raised his head up to stare unamusedly at the alchemist.

Roy blinked and shook his head, quickly gathering back his wits. “Nothing at all.”

A pause.

“Do I really look like him?”

The Lt. Colonel only found himself taken aback by the statement, eyes widening in surprise as he looked at the younger officer. Hijikata only looked as impassive as ever in the few weeks they were together as he blinked once and then spoke again. “Do I really look a lot like him?”

There was an audible gulp, but then Mustang only lowered his head and nodded once. “...yes. You look just like him,” he admitted.

Far too much like him.

Soon a downpour will be coming.

Right after Roy had returned from the war, he had immediately requested for leave. It was given to him, of course-nobody could deny a war hero of his well-needed rest.

But that time was hardly used for rest.

Those days were only spent on research. Research about biology, about humans-its makeup, the organs, the blood and skin and muscle and bone. He had never quite understood them, but now he had to. He had to do this, had to remember all of this, had to do his research over and over until his theory was perfect. His theory of human transmutation.

He knew it was forbidden, knew it was taboo-but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was only the sole knowledge that this transmutation existed that kept him together, kept him alive, kept him sane. It was only because of this that he was still pushing himself on. This was his last hope, his only hope-so thin and fragile and all too easily broken, but he couldn’t care. So long as there was a way to bring his brother back, he would do it. Even if it cost him everything else.

Anything just to see his brother again.

Ride on the wind and ring the daybreak's bell.

In the beginning, he really know or remembered how he had existed. The first thing he remembered were the bright lights of the room he was in, himself lying on something soft and warm and oddly familiar. The homunculus made a soft groan as his senses started to kick in, wincing at the lights above him as he raised his arm to block them out from his vision.

“I see you’re finally awake,” came a voice-old, somewhat elderly. He turned his head to the side, dark blue cobalt eyes blinking as his eyes took in the sight of a man sitting next to where he was lying. The man was... somewhat old, hair that was pulled back neatly and a slightly wrinkled look on his face. But what really got his attention was that eyepatch over his eye-it looked normal (or what his mind seemed to register as normal) but a subconscious part of him told him it wasn’t. It wasn’t normal at all in the slightest. It spoke of something-something intangible, something that was beyond him, something that he couldn’t reach at all.

Something foreign and yet oddly familiar to him at the same time.

He blinked and glanced away from the man, instead taking to look around the place where he was in. His mind registered he was lying on a ‘bed’ even though he wasn’t quite sure what it exactly was, telling him that there was a ‘pillow’ under his head and that he was currently ‘covered’ with a ‘blanket’.

Strange. So many words in his mind that he understood, yet couldn’t really grasp the meaning of what it tried to say. Even the words he formed and spoke next seemed foreign to him.

“...where am I?”

“In the house of King Bradley, of course! Shouldn’t you feel proud that you’re here?”

The dark-homunculus blinked at the sudden sight of a face right before his, neither advancing nor backing-either the concept of fear hadn’t really registered into his brain, or he just could feel the fear that should have crept into his psyche.

Envy (...where did he get that from?) stared at him for a while longer before finally backing off, taking a few steps back to stand besides Wrath (...the man he saw when he woke up, apparently) and gave him a look before an exasperated look appeared on the other’s face. “Another blank-looking idiot. Are you sure he’s going to be useful?”

“...I’m not an idiot,” he found himself speaking before he could even think and then blinked after he had done so-that was almost as if it had been out of reflex. But why...?

The older (oldest?) homunculus only continued to give him that strange, questioning look. “Right. Are you really sure he’s going to be useful?” The question was repeated again as Envy turned to the side, and he followed the other’s gaze to see a woman appearing from the shadows of the room almost suddenly. He supposed he should feel something, but somehow nothing seemed to register in his mind for the moment as the woman walked up to him and gazed down at him, a small mysterious smile on her lips.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she responded to Envy, though she never broke her gaze from him. “After all, he’s the Lt. Colonel’s beloved little brother.”

Another snort from the green-haired homunculus, the snort itself sounding quite amused. “Human Transmutation, huh? Honestly, these stupid humans never learn from their mistakes.”

The lady only smiled. “It works out for us in the long run at any rate, Envy. Besides, I’m sure the Flame Alchemist would love to see his brother once again. Wouldn’t you agree-” she stopped at that point to reach out a hand and pat him on the head, fingers sliding down after that to cup his cheek and raise his head to look properly at her. “-my newborn Pride?”

I’m searching for the sky that I’ve lost.

It was supposed to be a dream, the most beautiful dream that would ever be realized in his eyes-but it had been nothing but a nightmare. A nightmare that had burned into his memory and left a scar in his heart that would never ever fade as long as he still lived. No matter how much time had passed, he could remember everything whenever he closed his eyes. Every single thing that happened that night.

He had been in his room there and then-all the books and papers he poured through all scattered across the table and bed and the floor, with only the space where the transmutation circle was cleared. The circle itself had been drawn out, of course-a symbol of terrifying and unmistakable power.

Roy repeated the formula over to himself again and again as he readied the ingredients that were echoing endlessly in his head.

The clanking of metal against concrete.

Water: thirty-five litres.

The sound of blocks hitting against the floor.

Carbon: twenty kilograms.

The swoosh of liquid as it splashed into the container.

Ammonia: four litres. Lime: one and a half kilograms. Fluorine: seven and a half grams.

Grains of powder flowing down from mid-air, soundless as it landed down onto the circle.

Phosphorus: eight hundred grams. Salt: two-hundred and fifty grams. Saltpetre: one hundred grams. Sulphur: eighty grams. Iron: five grams. Silicon: three grams. And fifteen other elements in small quantities.

The alchemist stood up and straightened himself as he set the last bits of the needed ingredients in place. Everything had been set up just as he imagined it, just as he visualized it. Just as how he would visualize his brother returning back after this, looking as annoyed as he always did and they’d just be able to spend their days just like before the war had broken out...

But before that-one last thing.

Roy stepped forward into the circle, one hand drawing out a small silver dagger that had been inside the pocket of his. He walked up to the ingredients, stopping before them and held up his free hand over the pile. There was a flash as the man brought up the blade, then a subtle hiss as he cut once, deep into the palm of his hand. Crimson liquid flowed out of the cut and the alchemist watched at the injury with mild interest before he extended his arm to hold it over, and the blood dripped down slowly from his hand and into the water. A steady drip drip drip sound echoed in the silence of the room as the blood splashed into the clear liquid and mixed itself into it.

Blood. It was gold of the soul, the silver of the will. Everything was etched in blood-from life itself to the memories that made a person into who he was.

And now the memories of his would make up the brother that he remembered in his very blood.

Moving to kneel on the edge of the circle, Roy took a moment to prepare himself mentally-closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath to calm himself. His heart was pounding with anticipation, the blood in his veins rushing with the joy of soon being able to see his brother again. Soon... soon, he’d see him again. And then everything would be alright. Everything would return to just like how it used to be before everything happened.

The alchemist wringed his hands, opening his eyes and letting out a deep breath before he placed his palms down onto the circle. There was a pause, and then a low hum started to sound within the room. It grew louder and louder as the power started to grow bigger and bigger, lightning crackling and a low howl of some invisible wind ringing within the area as everything started to grow bigger and larger; bigger and bigger and larger and larger-

Then there was a roar and a flash of while light and Roy found himself vanishing into oblivion.

A white oblivion.