The Same Coin

An Invitation

The staffer brought her from the elevator to the door of a room, and she noticed how timidly he rapped his knuckles when he knocked. Hisoka's voice called from inside, "Come in."

Winry dismissed the staffer with a nod and the man eagerly retreated back to the elevator. She breathed in, filling her chest with air then her nerves with steel, and barged through the door.

"Give me my gun!" Winry demanded, storming across the room to where he lazed in an armchair, and struck him hard across the face with the back of her hand.

Hisoka's head snapped to the side. His eyes shut and his nostrils flared, and Winry trembled as his expression metamorphosized into that smile. She realized her hand was damp — there was water still beaded on his skin, and his hair was wet. It fell around his face instead of flaring upward now, and his yellow star and blue tear had been washed away, too. He'd changed into clean clothes, but he didn't wear his torques or shoes.

For a moment Winry was struck by how he almost looked normal. It was almost as startling as it had been to see Chrollo when she'd gotten into the limousine.

"The rush of fighting has left me...sensitized," he warned in a whisper, not looking at her face. "If you strike me again, I may not be able to stop myself."

Her stomach dropped. "Give me my gun, Hisoka. Now."

Instead he closed his hand around her wrist, and turned her arm to take a better look. His amber eyes finally rose to find hers.

"What happened here?" She saw the bite mark she'd given herself while in the throes of her nightmare. Winry began to pull her arm back, but he didn't release his grip on her. He tsked at her before she had the opportunity to panic. "Don't run away or struggle, and don't lie. I am restraining myself as best I can already."

"I did it to myself," she admitted, "to wake myself up from a nightmare last night."

"And your nightmare was...painful?" Hisoka asked, closing his eyes again, his tongue protruding from the corner of his lips before vanishing.

"I—I think so."

"And you've been tired since you woke."

"What are you saying?" Winry went to pull her arm away again, and he let her go. "Do you know what happened to me? Did something happen to me?"

"Someone has forced open your aura nodes," Hisoka said, as if that explained it all.

"My what?"

"Aura — your life energy. Your vitality. The points on the body from which aura flow—" He rose to his feet, towering over her even without his shoes. Winry almost backed away to give herself space.

"Don't run away or struggle, and don't lie. I am restraining myself as best I can already," he'd said.

She forced herself to stand her ground.

Hisoka touched his pointer and middle finger to each of her shoulders, to the base of her throat, to the bottom of her sternum. The insides of her elbows. Then he nudged her between her eyes before sitting back down.

"Aura gradually leaks away without repercussions normally, but when your nodes have been forced open—" He opened his hand as he said it. "—and you do not close them or control how quickly you aura escapes, you'll grow weaker and weaker. If you expend large amounts of energy at the same time, the process happens much quicker."

It was what he had done to Kastro during the match, she realized. By the end of the fight, Kastro had barely been able to get up.

"That was the steam around Kastro's body? And was aura what you used on your feet, and on his?" Winry asked.

Hisoka's head jerked up and he stood quickly, watching her with an expression of genuine — almost comical — surprise. His uncharacteristic reaction caught her as completely off-guard as she had him, and Winry moved away without thinking about what she was doing, only for him to grip her chin in his hand. He stared at her face, feeding his hungry eyes with the sight of her grimace.

"You saw that?"

"Yes."

"You are a onesome little creature, aren't you," Hisoka marveled breathily. "No matter. You'll need to close off your nodes. Your aura is leaking all over me."

Winry yanked her face out of his grasp, and he chuckled low in his throat then paced away from her.

"I saw it during the fight — the 'steam' leaving your body while you sat watching. Your loss is subtle. If I had not paid attention during the match, I might not have noticed it at all.

"Stand naturally," he instructed. "Relax yourself. Close your eyes. Concentrate on keeping your aura in your body."

She cast a distrustful glare on him, but did as he bid.

"Your aura is like blood — it runs through you. Feel it coursing its way. Find its pulse, then visualize it flowing." His voice was suddenly beside her ear. Winry flinched. "From your head to your shoulders, to your fingertips, through your torso, to your feet. Visualize its complete circuit.

"Now — visualize it slowing. Don't push it back down, let it recede. Yes, gently. Feel it surround you, encompassing your body like a second skin."

She could feel it. It felt like the mineral oil that she quenched the hot steel for automail in. It was already familiar. She wasn't aware of the quiet sigh she gave.

"Be aware of this feeling. It needs to be second nature to you, to keep your aura in." Winry nodded, and she felt his breath on her neck. "Good."

"How long do I have to do this?" she asked, opening her eyes and turning to face him. "For as long as you live. If you don't, your aura will leak away until you die."

"How did this happen! I was just sleeping and woke up from a nightmare, and I felt pain. I wasn't doing anything."

"This was in your hotel room that this happened?"

"Yes."

"Well. Someone must have been in your room." He gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, and Winry backhanded him again. Hisoka's eyes rolled back in his head as he exhaled a shuddering breath. She recoiled away at his visceral reaction. "This is your final warning," he whispered. "Strike me again and I will take it as an invitation.

"It wasn't me," he continued after he composed himself. "That's a mystery for you to solve, and this wasn't the reason for why I called you here."

"What do you want then?"

Hisoka strode away from her to where a pile of his clothes laid. He rummaged through them, then returned holding out a rectangular piece of card stock.

It was an Atelier Garfiel appointment card, marked for today and — Winry glanced at her watch — now. 1 hour appointment with Winry Rockbell for Hisoka Morow. Her eyebrows rose almost to her hairline as he sat.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"It means that I am paying you to be here right now, Miss Rockbell. You are at my service." He gestured to a second armchair, then pressed his fingertips together in a steeple. "Make yourself comfortable."