Stand Up and Walk

What it Means to Be a Soldier

"Beckoned now by the snow-white backdrop, I go into a yet unseen world. Lost as I traveled under a gray sky, with a different map each day, so many dreams ran together. I wonder if someday, even with my modest stride, I'll be able to get beyond those clouds. Falling raindrops provide a persistent diffuse reflection, as though able to see into my heart, wounded for acting tough. Beams of light crisscross and shoot on forever without announcing where they're headed; faint afterimages burn into my eyes. Wherever I am under this sky, I should still arrive at a yet unseen world."
—Nico Touches the Walls, Hologram

...

You sit on the floor with Alphonse and help him polish his armor. You scrape a small patch of rust off his back, and you can't help but to notice all of the many scrapes, dents, and scratches that adorn him.

A deafening silence fills the air, and the weight of it presses heavily on your chest. You finish with Al's back, and for a few moments, you linger behind him, picking at the skin around your nails.

Eventually, the silence becomes too much for you. You turn to look over your shoulder at Ed, who is lying on his side on one of the beds, back to you and Al, staring at the wall in front of him.

"So...what now?" you ask. "What's the plan?"

For a long, long moment, he stays silent. Finally, he shifts, bringing his arm up in front of him and staring into the metal of his palm. "What are we gonna do?" he repeats, a heavy sadness resounding in his voice.

You can't blame him, of course. After all, you've just found out that Maes Hughes is dead.

You'd gone back to his house to pay the man and his family a visit, as per his request. Imagine your surprise when Gracia answered the door, tear tracks staining her face as she informed you that her husband had been murdered not even a week earlier.

Elicia's face flashes through your mind, and your heart aches. The carefree, happy-go-lucky little girl that you had met that spring was gone. In her place was a lost, broken child without a father.

As silence consumes the room once again, you think back to how you lost your own parents, and you wonder when you forgot what they looked like.

You push yourself to your feet and walk slowly across the room, turning to look out the window. You cross your arms and grip your elbows tightly. "I never told you what happened to my parents," you say slowly.

You feel the boys' eyes on your back as you swallow. They'd asked a few times over the many years that you'd known them, but you'd always brushed them off.

It's not a memory that you like to dwell on.

You gather your thoughts and almost chicken out, a shudder rolling down your back. You close your eye and force the words out.

"It was storming that night," you begin, almost mechanically. "It was late, and I was upstairs in my parents' bed. I had a nightmare, so they told me that I could sleep with them that night. Mom and Dad were downstairs in the living room, and I guess the rain and the thunder were too loud for them to hear who was coming."

Your heart pounds loudly as the memories wash over you. "All of a sudden, my mom rushed into the room and locked the door behind her. She dragged me out of bed, shoved me into the closet, and told me not to move or make a sound until the sun came up. She told me she loved me, then kissed me on the forehead and closed the closet door.

"I was confused and scared, so I squeezed myself into a half-empty box of clothes in the back corner and then pulled the flaps closed above me. Downstairs, I heard my dad shouting, and then I heard some loud thumps, and the sound of stuff breaking.