The Same Coin

Bone and Blood Vessels; Nerves and Muscles

"I was never quite sure before, but today's match proved it," Machi waxed as she held Hisoka's two severed arms in her hands, shaking her head to herself.

"Hm?"

"You're an idiot."

Hisoka's expression was an unsettling symphony of his usual smug self-assuredness, and a bashful child who'd been caught succeeding at something they shouldn't have.

"That's quite possible," he acquiesced.

"What was that, performance art or something?"

"Well," he shrugged noncommittally before looking to where Winry sat in an armchair, her legs folded under her. Her expression remained unchanged. Not a word needed to be exchanged between them, though. Machi couldn't understand. While Winry wouldn't claim she did, she almost certainly could learn. And that understanding was slowly coming within reach.

"What is Hisoka to you?"

Perhaps she'd been wrong. Perhaps — dare she say it? — they were almost friends?

They had returned upstairs to Hisoka's suite to perform the procedure. They hadn't passed many people, but the few they had gaped openly when Winry and Machi had walked by with Hisoka between them, both of them with one of his arms in hand. Dr. Hirano had been sent up, too, and had seemed startled when Winry only shooed her away

"Okay. You're paying me so I guess I can't complain," Machi said. "Winry, come hold his arm?"

Winry did as Machi asked, rising to her feet and crossing over to the pair. Machi handed her the left arm. She had the feeling the concept of this should've been more unsettling, but instead Winry felt all too comfortable. It was like being back in Amestris and assisting with amputations. Off comes the limb — or stump, depending on the circumstances — and then on went the automail. Too easy. Holding Hisoka's arm, however, was strange. Knowing that they would be putting it back on was even stranger. She hadn't considered that possibility before.

"First I'll need to stop the bleeding," she said as she use her Nen string to make a tourniquet around both stumps, pulling them tight.

"Hey," Hisoka said, feigning a whine. "Be gentle, if you don't mind."

Winry pressed her lips into a thin line and sucked down an unamused breath. Be gentle. His classic warning that was normally leveled against her when she was getting too confrontational — although, who knew, maybe he meant it now. Maybe he was feeling sensitized. Better that he take those emotions out on Machi instead of her, though.

"Yeah, whatever. Turn off your aura."

Neither Winry nor Hisoka spoke as Machi announced she was starting Nen Stitches, and her fingers began weaving through the air gracefully. Her grandmother had taken her to see a group of musicians when she was younger, and it reminded her of the way the conductor had led them with his hands and baton. Hisoka's expression twisted, his high-arching brows raising and lips parting. His breathing grew shallow. He was enjoying this — lavishing in the sensation of Machi's needle piercing through his stump.

"There, all done. Bones and blood vessels, nerves and muscles," Machi said. She tugged on the Nen String in her hand, drawing them tight and Winry felt the arm she was holding get tugged out of her grasp as the limb drew itself back to its stump. The automailer in her went weak in the knees as she watched his flesh seal back together, leaving only a scar encircling his arm as evidence the incident had ever happened at all. Hisoka smiled as he stretched his fingertips, then flexed the muscles of his forearms.

"That's brilliant."

"Next I'll do your right arm. You can hold it yourself this time."

Winry gave Hisoka his last missing limb then perched herself on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. This close to him, she could smell the musk of his sweat from the fight, and see the dirt on his face. The makeup on his cheeks — the star and teardrop — were ever so slightly smudged. He tilted his head back to look up at her, smiling so that she could see his teeth.