“So you want something simple. Since you seem like you’re pretty active, what would you think of something that has a wide range of movement at the joint? And it might be good to make it out of sturdy materials that won’t have any give even if something happens. If you don’t like the leg, you could even switch it with a different one.”
“Sounds like automail can do anything,” Darish said, responding with something like a smile at Winry’s purposefully bright tone before continuing. “So then, could you make a leg the same as my original one?” His voice became terribly cold and monotone, and that smile turned resentful. He wasn’t sneering, exactly—his expression was too muted for that kind of active malice. “So I can have whatever leg I want? And I can switch it out just like that? Why is that all anyone ever talks about? It’s not an automail leg I want. I just want my leg back.”
His gaze became filled with anger as he stared her down. His tone and what he was saying overpowered her.
“I lost consciousness while I was under the carriage, and by the time I woke up, my leg was gone. I still can’t believe it. But you, the doctors, and the other mechanics just keep telling me there are other legs out there! You’re all so full of yourselves, telling me that you can make me a new one!”
He aggressively snatched away the prosthesis Winry held and threw it on the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“No leg’s going to fit me like my original one. I can’t just replace it! Don’t you dare tell me I can just switch out my leg! Nothing’s better than my original leg! Why don’t you get that?!”
His shoulders heaved from his ragged breathing. Even though he aggressively wiped away his tears, he couldn’t stop crying. Big, wet tears splattered to the ground. Darish took a deep breath, then continued in a quivering voice, “Lettie’s such a crybaby. She’ll fall right over or get lost and sob on the spot. That’s why I’d always run to her side and help her. I protected her.”
“Darish,” Winry said, frozen. She could only watch as his large tears welled up and spilled over.
“When we were coming to Rush Valley, I told Lettie to stay home, but she came anyway. She followed me like she always does. But she can’t keep doing that, not when I can’t save her anymore!”
Winry at last realized the real reason why Darish was irritated with his little sister.
He had been cold to Lettie while she held his crutch because he was irritated at himself for being a burden. When he had heard that she’d gotten caught up in trouble, he had looked worried even while shouting at her because he was angry at himself.
There was no sibling rivalry between them. He was just frustrated that he wasn’t able to protect her like he had in the past, and by how that reality had been forced on him.
He sobbed as he said in an increasingly heated tone, “I was proud of my leg. I knew I could trust my leg to be fast in taking me to her. There isn’t any other leg like it. You didn’t even know that, so don’t tell me you can give me a leg better than my original one!”
His emotional outburst rendered Winry speechless.
Back when Darish had run into Winry on the road, he hadn’t been distracted by the weightlifting competition—he’d been watching the other kids running freely. The reason why he had been so absorbed in thought and forgotten to even say hello when he had come to the shop was because he had been preoccupied with memories of his original leg.
After getting all his long-pent-up feelings off his chest, Darish once again wiped his face. This time his tears stopped for good. To Winry, it felt almost as though it were the moment he fully closed off his heart, having given up hoping that anyone would understand him.
Darish left Winry, who was still frozen on the spot, and moved over to his fallen prosthesis. He wordlessly put it on. He dragged his deadweight leg and left the plaza behind, his small form disappearing into Rush Valley’s clamor.
Even though Darish had left, his words echoed in Winry’s mind.
“I can’t believe I said something so insensitive,” Winry said, turning pale and slumping onto her butt on the spot.
Darish hadn’t simply been distrustful of mechanics or the prosthetic leg that had hurt him. He had been wounded by everyone’s insensitive attitudes as they had enthusiastically boasted about their skills and focused solely on telling him the benefits of prostheses.
It was because he’d had such a hard time until now that she had wanted to give him the best automail there could be. Despite her intentions, Darish had only seen the many things she had said as a dismissal of his original leg. What Winry should have done was try to understand Darish’s feelings about losing his leg. She should have started by listening to him.
Winry clenched her fists in the gravel, the sand crunching in her palms.
“I forgot to consider my client’s feelings,” she said.
Winry’s many customers floated into her head.
There was Milia, who had asked Winry to remove her automail for inspection. There was Kaas, who had been worried about how his automail’s maintenance would change. Winry could think of all kinds of other examples. She had said so many things to so many customers, like, “This right here is a great part.” “If it doesn’t work out, then I can adjust it for you.” “It’ll hurt a little, but it’ll heal up right away.”
She had done what she had thought was the best in each circumstance, thinking that would satisfy her clients, but had it in actuality? Milia had looked worried. And Kaas had been very hesitant until he had made a decision, hadn’t he?
“They were anxious, but I …”
Winry took a deep breath as though she were trying to relieve herself of even a slight amount of the weight of the heavy emotions that burdened her. All she could manage was a faint, trembling gasp.
In Resembool, she hadn’t had the means, knowledge, or materials she had access to now. Regardless of that, she could say with confidence that she had thrown her whole self into her work. She had regularly racked her brains thinking about where someone’s automail might hurt and what concerns the wearer might have to ensure they would be happy.
However, she had gradually replaced that care with new techniques, knowledge, and materials. Though none of those things could be used as substitutes, she had mistakenly believed she could compensate with whichever she had most of at the time.
All she had seen was the joy of things that had once been out of her reach—of introducing clients to materials she had never been able to procure before and being able to do things that had been impossible for her in the past. Winry was aghast to find that she had been so focused on those things that she’d lost the ability to do something that had once come to her so naturally.
“. . .”
After slowly standing up, Winry forced herself to run her errands on heavy feet, then headed back to Atelier Garfiel.
She found the new electrical tool she had been impatiently waiting for had been delivered to the studio. As she looked at the brand-new machine sparkling in the setting sun, she had mixed feelings. She had been so convinced that if she just had this tool and could create an incredible piece of automail, she would have the key to making Darish happy.
She was embarrassed for ever having had such a silly thought.