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On Worlds' Parallels (AU), By angerulegna, Spanish to English translation by me
Kaori Ayanami
post Jun 16 2011, 11:47 AM
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(Following is my Spanish -> English translation of Royai AU fanfic, "De la simetría de los mundos" ("On World's Parallels") by angerulegna at FanFiction.Net. Translation is done with the author's permission. Please let me know about any wording mistake.)
WARNING! It may include mild spoilers up to FMA manga chapter 101 and FMA:Brotherhood anime episode 59.

Chapter 1

"I LOST your presence,
but I will find it;
since hidden knowledge
tells to my conscience
that in another existence
I will get you back
" Amado Nervo


«What surprised me the most was the sound of blood when hitting against the ground. As ordinary as the water that spill the cleaner women while doing the washing of the floors of an office.

I suppose it's nothing particular. Water. Blood. Similar densities. The acceleration and gravity laws are the same for all bodies.

If I close my eyes I can still see the chain of actions in crescendo. A tiny shine moving along a sword. An invisible line being drawn in the air, but sharp enough to cut with a single slash with... the neck of that woman. The dark spatters on the ground and that run-of-the-mill sound resounding since then in my head.

—Those dreams Mister... Mustang? Do you see them in color or in black and white?

Lying back on the couch of another therapist. Of another female therapist to be more precise. I don't exactly feel that my 'problem' is getting better. Counting her there are already 4 the professionals that have tried to help me. Five if I include the masseuse of the Ritz but at least with her I could actually appreciate the 1500 grand she charged for her session.

—I don't see those 'dreams' Miss Kimberly. I'm not even really asleep when they happen. I'm part of the scene and sometimes it's as real as being talking to you. Two physicians, two psychiatrists and a hundred of tests rule out the presence of tumors in my brain. And before we get to the word dopamine I must warn you that the only schizoid symptom of my personality are those non-incapacitating 'hallucinations'.

—I'm psychologist, not psychiatrist Mister Mustang and I remind you that you're here out of your own free will and that likewise you can leave when you want it.

In order to be fair to my new psychologist, she doesn't resemble at all the others who have seen me. Maybe the masseuse a little, but that's Havoc's fault and mine for asking my bodyguard his opinion on the selection. What else could I have expected? The guy has no idea about doctors, but he has always had a weakness for big breasted women. As for me I'm more of a legs guy, but if a woman has both. Who am I to complain?

—Speak to me about the woman in your vision —she doesn't give up. I like that in a woman—. Yes, you already brought up that she is a stranger and that you can't see her face but... How is she? Can you describe other of her features?

—Twenty-something, height 1 65, about 50 kg, blonde hair... Do you color your hair? —I hadn't considered it at all, but the overall look of the woman I see and Miss Kimberly is the same. If she was blonde I could swear that...

—We're not here to speak about me. Does she resemble some other woman of your life? Some cousin, girlfriend, mother, sister?


—How is your relationship with your girlfriend Mister Mustang?

—I have no girlfriend.


—You are not going to believe me, but being a Republic Counselor is a harsh job. Is it just me or are we straying from proper professional ground? —Personally, that would be a lead I wouldn't mind at all. Behind that conservative appearance, dark hair, wool stocking, turtleneck sweater and low-heeled shoes can be noted a very interesting woman.

—Dreams, Mister Mustang often are manifestations of our unconscious. Complete depictions of our deepest fears. A woman being murdered in front of your eyes in a cruel way, without you being able to prevent it. Sounds like some kind of affective disorder with the opposite sex. A feeling I see reinforced by the unseemly attention you pay to certain areas of my anatomy and your unchanging flirting.

Not kicking the bush, not raising her voice, but with an exemplary strength. Not even Olivia could get me back to my place in such a natural way.

—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.

—When did start to appear those scenes?

—A couple of years ago.

—What happened affectively speaking in your life a couple of years back?

—I broke up with my fiancée... an attractive blonde.

—Out of what reason?

—Unfaithfulness. —Then I was just one more lawyer of the Armstrong & Armstrong firm, but being Olivia the daughter of an ex president she has always had enough fame for all kind of speculations about our breakup to head the gossip pages for months. “Playboy breaks Princess Armstrong heart".

—How do you feel about that unfaithfulness?

By a moment I feel disoriented. I see how the picture of an office overlaps the office where I am. Now it's me the one who's seated at a desk and Miss Kimberly is standing up dressed in a bright blue military uniform. Her hair is blonde as gold and her chin is up. She has a sad gaze that pains me more than anything else but in her eyes I can see too an unwavering determination that calms me down.

—Are you sure you want to follow me?

—Follow you where Mister Mustang?

The scene vanishes as quickly as it had formed. Damn! I even said something aloud that 'Are you sure you want to follow me?' Follow me?

—Mister Mustang are you feeling alright?

—No. I mean. What I mean is that I just... I want you in my campaign advisors team. I want you to follow me, to be at my side giving me advice.

She ends up silent and looks directly into my eyes. I know the proposal I just made doesn't make much sense, but not all my decisions are totally rational. Over the course of time and in this profession you learn to follow your instincts, to listen to that little inner voice that is pointing you when to speak or shut up, when to propose or refuse. And just now I know she is what I want, what I need.

I took her by surprise. Good sign.

She frowns. Bad sign.

—Mister Mustang. If you think that... —It'll be better not letting her finish that

—I see potential. "Professional" potential in you. As I already told you, you're not the first specialist I consult, but you were much more perceptive, receptive and assertive than the average of people I'm used to deal with. How long have we been in this session 20 30 minutes? And you have gone right to bring up many key points that took to others entire days being able to point. That’s what I need. Somebody who helps me to assess my opponents quickly. A sincere and objective view of what my public actions are projecting. I bet that you're good with words. I'd like you to check up a couple of speeches I have to make next week.

Again she ends up silent. Good omen?

—I'm flattered, but I don't think it's ethical of me to accept your proposal. Me being your therapist I shouldn't...

—In that case you're fired. I don't need you as my psychologist. I want to see you first thing tomorrow at my office.

—Mister Mustang...

—I can pay you twice as much as you earn attending appointments. —I goofed up again. Those expressive cinnamon-colored eyes will end up being my doom. Of course she doesn't work just for the money. She is not that kind of person—. I can leave you a couple of afternoons for you to attend the patients you want to see. Look. I know that maybe in the while we have been talking I have not showed the best image I could of myself. I’m a politician and flattering and flirting with others’ interests is what I do for a living. But the true reason behind why I’m engaged in what I’m engaged is to help people, the ones who truly need it. This country was at the mercy of the mafia for a long time and the only thing that left behind was orphans, hunger and devastation. I know I can do something for the things to change, but for that I need to have authority enough. I need to climb up posts for my voice to be able to be listened and the actions I take to be significant. What I’m asking, is for you to help me with that dream. Give me a week to show you what I truly do and if what I do doesn’t convince you, you come back here and go on with your usual job. Is it a deal?
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Kaori Ayanami
post Jun 29 2011, 08:04 PM
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(I will add to this translation the author's notes too ^^)

Chapter 2

Riza (POV)

When I heard the sound of my apartment’s door moving I was in the kitchen drinking a glass of water. Normally at 3 in the morning I would have been sleeping in my bed, but the strange nightmare I had with Mister Mustang had kept me awake for a couple of hours already.

Without a second thought I took the pistol I keep under the sink and calmly aimed at my visitor or visitors. The surprise factor was on my side. There was no way anyone could foresee my actual position in the darkness and silence of the early morning.

Whoever was trying to get in was not very skillful or got experience enough at forcing locks. Weird or not, I found that thought comforting. It couldn’t be Zolof.

A minute, two minutes. Finally the intruder managed to make the mechanism give way. A sizable silhouette got in backwards dragging on the ground what in the half-light seemed to be a couple of heavy suitcases, with a smaller package on top and closed the door trying to make the least noise possible.

—Shit this thing is spilled out now —said the voice of a young woman.


An authentic horror scream resounded through my entire apartment and over a couple of blocks around. As soon as I turned on the light the shriek ceased.

—For God’s sake woman! Do you want to kill me out of a fright? —Considering I still held a gun in my hands, I suppose the remark wasn’t completely unjustified. Leaving the offensive tool aside my toaster I went to greet my best friend.

Wrapped in a wonderful white-leather coat with a McDonald’s little box on her hands and a wide scarlet smile on her lips Rebeca was what she always had been. A warm and tempestuous surprise in my life. We have exactly the same age and studied the same at the same university. Psychology, but there is where all resemblances between us end. Soon after we graduated Becky decided to make up a second career as a model and a millionaires’ companion and it was that way that my life changed forever. One of her clients turned out to be none other than the father from which my mother had run away when she was a teenager and as an additional bonus one of the scariest gangsters of this country.

—What are you doing here? —I asked her after holding her tightly.

—I didn’t know I needed an invitation in order to come to visit you —Becky loosened her coat and took a seat on my living’s room sofa— On the other hand I should be the one who asks you what the hell are you doing here. You living in a hole like this, it’s at world’s end. You didn’t even get a doorman. Can you believe that I had to drag my cases till the elevator? And look notice, the scream you make me do and nobody even showed to become aware of it. In this damn city you get murdered and the only ones who notice it are your neighbors’ cats And what happened to your hair? That dark chocolate color makes you look so extremely… ordinary? Besides the fact that you have never liked to get too much ready. Now nobody would glance you a second time anymore not even by mistake. And what’s this gun-threatening-your-visits thing? That thing was one of those who actually shoot right?

—You know better than anyone that after splitting up with Zolof, I needed a couple of changes in my life —I seated on the sofa too. The criticism on my apartment and my new hair color wouldn’t be the only ones for me to hear this night— And for your own peace of mind I inform you that I only aim at visits who arrive unannounced and go forcing their entrance to my apartment at 3 in the morning.

—I wanted to catch you unaware with breakfast —she pointed pouting the quite stained little box that lied over my center table—. You were supposed to be asleep and that the delicious aroma of reheated McDonald’s coffee would wake you up —That was quite a gesture considering that to this very day Becky can’t prepare even a fried egg.

—It would have worked if I hadn’t been awake.

—He’s again… —Rebeca was referring to my ex husband Zolof Kimberly an ex contract worker for my grandfather whom I had the misfortune to… ex fall in love?

—No. You can tell my grandfather that Zolof has kept his promise. I just had a nightmare. A very weird dream. I saw one of my patients. Ex patient. A man I don’t think I’ll see ever again being crucified with two sabers against the ground by the Republic’s President to then disappear in a bright white light explosion —Sharing with her my nightmare was my best try to lead tonight’s talking towards neutral grounds.

—Crucifixions, sabers, explosions, President Bradley? I’m sorry to inform you that you got asleep between the news and Friday’s action movie. And though the President has that sexy and manly billy goat air, I know you’re too boring for this to be a real homoerotic fantasy.

—It’s always good to count on another professional opinion.

We took the lid off the coffee which wasn’t spilled so much, it was still lukewarm and we ate the couple of McGriddles y McMuffins she had brought. McDonald's had been her only choice at the airport.

—You have no idea how much I’ve missed you —I said to her while we washed our hands on the kitchen’s sink.

—You were the one who made it all difficult by moving city and playing Cinderella. You know very well that your grandfather was determined to do anything for you to be able live at ease without the madman your husband.

—Don’t remind me about it —to think about my grandfather or my ex was really the very last thing I would like to do.

—I can’t believe you still use his last name —Unfortunately Rebeca didn’t share the same wish as me.

—Kimberly Hawkeye is a lot better than Hawkeye Grumman. Everyone in this country trembles just by listening the mention of the last name Grumman or remembering my grandfather’s good old times.

I had said the last part practically shouting. My throat went rough and I could feel the weight of the heartbeats in my chest. My rage wasn’t, nor was ever contra Rebeca. It wasn’t her fault that I had been stupid enough to not realize who I was marrying or who was actually my grandfather.

—He has changed Riza. Since he found you his only dream is to make you feel proud of him.

That was what I wanted to say to myself when I met him. The guy could not be as bad as his legend. Half the things that they said about him had to be a lie, exaggerations. My grandfather had to be a man who had made some mistakes in his youth, but that now at his life’s twilight the only thing he wanted was to amend them as best as he could. Unfortunately reality showed me a totally different face.

—Seriously? How I’m supposed to believe that when his idea of a birthday present for me is to give me my husband’s dead body?

—Riza, do I have to remind you your ex is a professional killer who beat you almost to death?

—And that’s reason enough to want him dead?

—Yessssss? OK. Divorce is enough. But since the subject came up. Your grandfather asked me to tell you that he respects your decisions and that if you need something. Anything. You just have to indicate the number of zeros.

Typical of him. Everything is settled by money. Everything is on sale. Everything can be bought.

—It won’t be necessary. You can tell him that in this middle-class slum I have everything I need. My clear conscience included.

—I would have added the slum thing myself on my own initiative, but don’t worry. Note of the message, made. Now that we already got through the unpleasant and awkward part of our reunion... would you be interested in knowing that I’m not here just visiting. But that I’ve got a secret… mission?

Rebeca is the very last person to whom you would like to tell a secret, but that feature of her personality has never made her less adorable or charming. With her long false eyelashes’ beating she made me to forget totally my bad mood.

—Another Gruman-esque petition?

—Ha ha. You think you’re very funny.

I made my way toward towards my room. There was no need of tidying up the sofa or taking out extra bedclothes. Rebeca would share the bed with me or she would technically seize my bed and my bedclothes till... someday.

—If it’s illegal. I don’t want to know.

—No. Wanting to save somebody’s life I think it’s not illegal.

—Saving somebody’s life?

—There’s a representative or councilor I already forgot which his post is. He’s got the name of a sports car. Anyway it’s not the important thing because we’re at the elections and the point is that Mr Ferrari is put forward to hold the head of the senate. The strange thing is that seemingly his campaign, that has some quite innovative ideas, has rejected all ‘Father’ helps, which from what underworld’s gossiping goes it’s about to cost him his head. Your grandfather wants me to approach and make to him a very very generous offer.

The underworld’s gossiping was probably a comment she overheard at a cocktail party or a banquet of the ones my grandfather uses to plan. That in case it was not him personally who told that to her. And as for ‘The Father’ he was but the contemporary, refined and even bloodier version of what my grandfather had been in some other time.

—Bribes, blackmailing, politics, mafia. I think I missed the part of saving somebody’s life.

—Do I have to spell it all? Mr Lamborghini’s days are numbered unless your grandfather intervenes in favor of him. So I come to save his life.

Mr Ferrari, Lamborghini... Rebeca couldn’t be talking about...

—Aren’t you talking about Mustang are you?

—Mustang! Of course that was the trademark. Did you know the guy was dating Princess Armstrong? That’s, well, like if Versace (may he rest in peace) had married Gautier.

N/A: Yes, exactly as you’re afraid of Zolof J. Kimberly is the same Zolof J Kimbley or Kimbly or however it was spelled on the most popular translations. The Scarlet or Crimson Alchemist, the one who enjoys blowing up people and has his hand’s palms tattooed? That very same one.

The story is that when I was searching for the right way to spell his name, I found again a webpage where the origins of each of FMA military characters’ last names were explained. For the ones who didn’t know about it o had forgotten like me. Everyone is due to weapons, planes, armories and military elements which did or do actually exist.

Zolof is not an exception, he got his last name from a destroyer of the American Navy at the First World War called the USS Kimberly (DD-80). If you remember all the mess that is always l's in Japanese with the r's and the (Riza/Lisa LangFan/RanFan Ling/Ring) since the sound of those letters has the same representation it’s easy to understand that Kimberly is the right form although not the most familiar for us.

And I chose to use it because... well I think by this line you already know why I did
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A Pierrot's Aria
post Jul 1 2011, 03:41 AM
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I hope you don't mind me commenting here rather than the Royai thread. I just don't want to risk going too off topic there. xD;

Another great chapter; I really enjoyed it! I really didn't expect Rebecca to be the one entering Riza's house for some reason. laugh.gif

Overall, I think this chapter is a really nice interaction between Riza and Rebecca. biggrin.gif I really loved the part where Riza is thinking "Mr Ferrari, Lamborghini... Rebecca couldn’t be talking about.." ..."You're talking about Mustang, aren't you?" That made me chuckle. xP

(I think the only thing I'm finding confusing is the format of the speech due to use of dashes instead of double quotation marks. So sometimes I lose track of who's speaking. ohmy.gif )

Thank you so much for taking the time to translate and for sharing chapter 2 with us, Kaori Ayanami! I'm looking forward to the next. biggrin.gif

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post Sep 8 2012, 03:59 PM
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I'm not sure if you're still on anymore, but I just wanted to say thank you for translating this story! I really hope you finish it, because I would love to know what happens next! smile.gif

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