Braid

At sixteen years old, Roy Mustang considered Riza Hawkeye to be perfect. Despite the fact that she was a year and a half younger than him, Riza oftentimes seemed like the older of the two; she was usually the one leading him away or getting him out of trouble and explaining certain academic aspects to him, things that, one would think, would be the other way around. He had never seen her make a mistake or be unable to do something. For the first few years of his living at the Hawkeye manor, Roy thought Riza was this perfectly independent, unshakable and untouchable girl. He thought she could do anything.

Which is why, when Roy caught Riza scowling at herself in her bedroom mirror, one of her hands grasping at a small part of her nearly waist length hair that was draped over her shoulder, he couldn't help but be curious.

"Riza, why exactly are you grimacing at yourself in the mirror?"

She quickly dropped the piece of hair that appeared to be giving her trouble and turned to face Roy, her expression of annoyance now replaced with one of surprise at his sudden appearance at her doorway.

"Mister Mustang, would you please not startle me like that again? Or at least let me know you're there before you start talking?"

Roy held his hands up in surrender, an apologetic smile on his smile.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just, when you see your teacher's daughter scowling at herself in the mirror and holding a part of her hair like it's responsible for committing some terrible crime, your curiosity tends to run away from you. So, what's wrong?"

Riza sighed and turned back to the mirror, her annoyed expression back on her face as her fingertips touched the same strand of hair.

"I was trying to teach myself how to braid my hair and I discovered something, Mister Mustang: the person who said that braiding hair is easy should be held accountable for telling such an egregious lie."

Roy chuckled at her matter of fact reply and walked up behind her, his face joining her's in the mirror's reflection.

"You know, I could do it for you, if you want. I'm surprisingly proficient in the art of braiding hair."

Riza's eyebrows shot up.

"Really? How'd you learn to do that, Mister Mustang?"

"My sisters," Roy replied as he swept Riza's hair back and pulled it into a low ponytail. "They never exactly taught me personally. It's more like I saw them do it so much that I just kind of...picked it up."

There was a moment's pause as Roy continued to work on Riza's hair, putting his fingers in a peace sign and using them to split the hair, separating it into two identical curtains of golden blonde. Finally, Roy broke the silence.

"I gotta say, this is a little strange."

Riza cocked her head slightly.

"What is? Braiding my hair?"

"Well, yeah, there's that- this is the first time I've ever braided a girl's hair who wasn't my sister- but it's stranger still because this is the first time I've ever seen you struggle to do something. I always thought you were good at everything. Perfect, really," Roy confessed.

"Trust me, Mister Mustang, I'm far from perfect. No one person is good at everything. That's what makes people so interesting; we're always able to learn new things, experience new things, learn from our mistakes. From the day we're born to the day we die, we're always learning. I'm no exception."

Roy smiled fondly at her as he continued to braid, overlaying the pieces of her hair together.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're very smart, Riza?"

"Yes, Mister Mustang. You tell me that pretty often."

Now it was Roy's eyebrows that shot up.

"Oh? I didn't realize."

He suddenly stopped his work on the braid and locked eyes with Riza in the mirror.

"Although...if I keep saying it, then it must be true," Roy said sincerely. Riza's eyes widened and a slight blush appeared on her face. She gave him a thankful smile and he returned it, starting back on her hair. The two stood in silence as Roy finished the braid. Satisfied with his handiwork, Roy found a rubber band and tied it around the middle of the braid's end, tugging at it lightly to tighten it.

"There. Done. What do you think, Riza?"

Riza grabbed the braid and brought it over her shoulder. She touched the pattern of the hairstyle, smiling a small smile. She turned to Roy, her smile growing broader.

"I like it a lot, Mister Mustang. Thank you."

Later that night, as Roy tried to fall asleep, he couldn't help but remember how soft and smooth her hair had felt on his hands and fingers, how each strand was very reminiscent of spun gold (or at least how Roy imagined spun gold looked like) and how pretty Riza looked with her hair back. Granted, she was always pretty but it was hard to fully appreciate that fact when she always hid her face behind her hair.

In the future, Roy decided, he was going to have to make sure she kept it pulled back more often.