it was the worst morning ever.
When Winry opened her eyes in bed, she felt as though a lump of melancholy had settled inside her. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Actually, it might have been exactly the opposite—it felt like her whole body and heart were completely empty. Nihilism seemed to be the only thing permeating her.
Winry hadn’t thought she would be able to rest, but the physical and mental fatigue had quickly led her into a deep sleep. Thanks to that, even though she had been sopping wet from the rain, she hadn’t caught a cold. But her limbs felt strangely heavy, and she had a hard time getting up.
Regardless of that, she somehow got out of bed, washed her face, and changed, then went down the stairs like usual to open the studio’s shutters. A glorious blue sky unfurled before her, as though the deluge of rain had never happened. An invigorating post-rain breeze caressed Winry’s face, and the puddles that littered the ground glittered with reflected bright sunlight.
When she turned to look back into the studio, the new machine was set up, fully back to normal. However, the sight didn’t bring Winry any joy. Even her puzzlement about her numbness felt distant as she silently prepared the shop for opening.
“Good morning, Winry my dear.”
As she wiped the workbenches with a well-wrung rag, Garfiel entered the studio a little earlier than normal.
“Good morning,” Winry replied, heart heavy as a stone. She paused her cleaning.
“Looks like you got some beauty sleep. But even though those bags under your eyes are gone, you still have such a glum look on your face.” Garfiel plucked the rag away from Winry after glancing at her spiritless face and hearing her equally dispirited voice. “All right, that’s enough prep work. You don’t need to come into the studio today.”
“What?” Winry froze.
Garfiel must have meant she was forbidden from entering the studio because she was useless as a mechanic. She couldn’t blame him for that after the fiasco from the day before, but having her incompetence thrust right in front of her made her cast her eyes down in shame—where she saw something being thrust in front of her: a package wrapped in a cloth with a floral design, and a canteen.
She looked up in surprise to find Garfiel smiling at her.
“Here, that’s your lunch and some water. Your task today is to run an errand at Mr. Dominic’s place. He’s splitting some metal with me, made from an ore they can only get around there, so take a trip up to his place for me, will you?”
It seemed Garfiel had woken up early to prepare her a lunch with that in mind.
“Well, off you go—quickly, now. Otherwise the sun will be setting by the time you come back.”
“Okay.”
When he gently urged her to, Winry took the lunch and canteen from him.
Given her failures the day before, she wanted to work hard and redeem herself, but she was also terrified of making another mistake. Garfiel, in his wisdom, had realized that and was sending her outside for a change of pace.
Winry decided to accept his consideration. After she finished her light breakfast, she changed into a black miniskirt and a white camisole to go out.
On her way toward the mountain road that led to Dominic’s place, she passed by a line of hotels. Winry looked up at the row of windows of the hotel that Darish and his family were staying at.
Maybe Darish really hadn’t forgiven her initial insensitivity? Or maybe he had gotten mad when Winry hadn’t shown up after he had waited for so long, paying her a visit even while it was pouring rain? At present, Winry didn’t have the willpower to figure out the truth of why he had taken her off his service.
Winry refocused on the road before her and quietly left the hotel behind, her face still stricken with sorrow.
As she climbed the steep slope of the mountain road, the view started to change. The boulders surrounding her began to fall away, opening up the full expanse of the sky. It was liberating. The direct sunlight started to make her feel hot. A wild goat stood on some sun-bleached rocks nearby, and far below the narrow road she was on—hardly wide enough for a single caravan—a river flowed.
She forged her way along the arduous path for several hours, traversing a rope bridge on the way, and finally arrived at Dominic’s house.
The house, which had been built on a tract of land developed right in the mountains, looked like several interconnected boxes. Smoke rose from a tall chimney. Windmills rotated on top of the towering bluff behind the house.
This was Winry’s second time visiting. Just like the last time, when she had come here with Edward and Alphonse, the sound of metal being forged rang out loudly from Dominic’s abode.
“Hello?” Winry said. She rapped on the front door, which brought Dominic’s son Ridel and his wife Satera out to greet her.
“Why hello, Winry,” Ridel said.
“Come in. Thanks for everything last time. Look, it’s Winry,” Satera gently told the tiny baby she cradled in her arms.
The last time Winry had been to this house, she had been present while Satera had given birth in the middle of a storm. Winry had somehow helped safely deliver the baby. Ridel and Satera had told her they considered her Satera and the baby’s savior.
“We named him Pitora,” announced the proud parents.
“Hello, Pitora,” Winry said. “It hasn’t been very long since then, but he’s grown so big.” She gently touched a finger to the baby’s full cheek. She was a bit jealous of the fast-asleep baby, who snored quietly without a care in the world.
“So, I came by today to get some steel for Mr. Garfiel. Would it be okay if I go by Mr. Dominic’s studio?” Winry asked Ridel as he warmed up milk in the kitchen after letting Winry have a good look at the innocent baby’s face.
“Right, Mr. Garfiel told me about the order. Dad has it, so you can go on over.”
Ridel pointed in the direction of the studio. Winry patted the cheek of the sleeping infant one more time before heading out. She knocked on the door to Dominic’s studio. After she got a grumble in reply, she opened the door and was greeted by the characteristic swelter that came from refining iron. In the middle of the cozy room, a stern-looking man pounded on a hot metal sheet as sweat formed on his forehead.
“Hello, Mr. Dominic,” Winry said.
“Come by, have you?” Dominic said without even looking at Winry’s face. As he tempered the metal, the way the corners of his pursed lips lowered into a scowl made him look exactly like a stereotypical stubborn old man.