Au Jour Le Jour

By KJ

Author's notes: This is the first serious, multi-chaptered fic on this account written and plotted entirely by KJ. The title means "each day as it comes." Please enjoy and look for more to come!


A few miles beyond the city limits of Central was a far different environment from the stately buildings and military surveillance of the city. Children ran through the streets, laughing and playing as their parents circled around fires, talking quietly and planning for the next day. Among the crowd of deeply tanned skin and red eyes, one man stuck out.

His skin, though dark, was not of the same ethnic shade as the rest of the crowd, and his black hair didn't quite seem to go with his complexion. As he laughed at a comment made by a man sitting across the flames, his face suddenly slackened, his lips curving into a frown. He slid his hand into the pocket of his black pants, reminded of the weight that was no longer there.

Falsely-scarlet eyes shut.

The man sat for a second, lost in old memories.

Memories of the Ishbal War.


Roy Mustang set the telephone back on its base, a satisfied smirk on his handsome face. "So," he thought, "The kid finally decided to take me up on my offer."

Sitting at his desk, he lost himself in his thoughts for a second. There was something he could not remember that made today special. There was some reason why today's date, October third, kept drifting through his mind, searching for something to connect with. It troubled him. Whatever it was, it seemed to be extremely important. He drummed his fingers on the desk.

Suddenly, his fingers froze. Reaching down to the bottom drawer of his desk, he quickly pulled it open.

Inside the desk, among crumpled papers and empty pens, was a battered and worn pocketwatch, nearly identical to the one currently sitting in his pocket. The back was scratched, and a large burn mark defaced the crest on the front, but Roy had held onto it all these years; whether out of sentimentality or curiosity, he didn't know.

He picked it up. Its cool weight pressed into the palm of his hand. Tapping his nails on its face, he gently opened it.

Inscribed inside were the words, "Don't forget 3. Oct. 1910."

Today's date, inscribed by someone else years ago.

Inscribed by the soldier who had called himself "Edward."