Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aizawa Shouta sighed as he eased into his seat at the conference table. While he hadn’t been involved in the fight at Kamino – unlike Yagi, who was still wrapped in bandages and sporting a cast on his arm – exhaustion permeated his body. 

The two weeks since the battle had been hectic for everyone. Between All Might’s impromptu retirement, the destruction of Kamino Ward, and several of Shouta’s students now in the hospital – and under watch thanks to their hairbrained scheme of infiltrating a villain hideout – his migraines had only worsened. Shouta massaged his forehead, idly wishing for his sleeping bag. Hopefully the pain medicine would kick in soon.

Looking around the table, he was greeted with the sleep deprived faces of other members of the team. Nezu and Detective Tsukauchi sat at the head of the table, and other Heroes and members of the police force were also in attendance, including Yagi, Gran Torino, Snipe, and Hawks.

“Thank you all for coming,” Nezu finally spoke up, an uncharacteristically grim expression on his snout. “As I’m sure you know, the events at Kamino have shaken Japan and the world of Heroics to its core. However, it’s done far more than that.” The small white furred mammal clicked a small button on his remote, and the screens around the table came to life, displaying a photo of the Nomu Factory. “We've been conducting an investigation into the villain of Kamino and his headquarters, including his creation of 'Nomu'. During our search of the ‘Nomu Factory,’ we came upon a very startling discovery.”

The screen changed to show the body of a man, a corpse. Short of preservation, judging by the state of him, he’d been dead for at least a few weeks. Despite that, the man’s face was intact enough to ID: he looked vaguely American, Shouta noted, with no visible quirk. And, strikingly, the victim was wearing a strange blue outfit. While much of the jacket was destroyed, enough remained undamaged to give it a vaguely uniform or militaristic look. It reminded Shouta of the official dress uniforms soldiers wore to the few formal functions he’d been forced to attend.

But it was also clear this was no ordinary corpse… patches of the victim’s visible skin were blackened and degraded, reminding Shouta of the Nomu. Considering where he’d been found, perhaps this man was a failed or incomplete version?

“I don’t recognize that uniform,” Hawks frowned, leaning forward to look at the screens.

“You wouldn’t,” Nezu said, eyes flicking back to the crime scene photos. “Information about the Nomu Factory has been restricted from the public to prevent panic, but this…” Nezu turned to face them. “This information is not to be shared without the express permission of myself, Detective Tsukauchi, or government authorization. It is a matter of international concern, because this officer is from a nation known as Amestris.”

Everyone stiffened. Shouta felt himself pale. 

Amestris. 

“Like… from the continent of Atossa, Amestris?” squeaked Sansa, the cat-headed officer’s fur standing up in alarm. “The Hidden Continent? Where quirks don’t exist and technology doesn’t work and planes can’t fly over it lest they fall out of the sky? That Amestris?! ”

“Yes,” Nezu nodded. “That Amestris.”

Shouta took a deep breath. The continent of Atossa, popularly called the ‘Hidden’ Continent (despite it being nothing of the sort), was a landmass to the west. Most of it was bordered by ocean, except for the uncontested eastern border near Russia. Uncontested, because there was a damn near global agreement not to enter the Hidden Continent. That was thanks to the Hidden Continent having the same reputation as the Bermuda Triangle, the continent’s very bedrock made technology sputter and die.

And because, on the Hidden Continent, quirks did not exist.

It wasn’t just that quirks had never evolved, making every resident of Atossa quirkless. Any visitors to the continent wouldn’t be able to use their quirks. Even mutant-types suffered from constant fatigue. In fact, anyone that crossed the borders into the Hidden Continent quickly fell sick, with constant nausea, migraines, and bone-deep exhaustion. 

They only knew the bare basics about Atossa — the names of the countries located there, what their borders looked like, and occasionally who was fighting who. Apparently, at one point, Atossa and the rest of the world had interacted much more freely, but centuries ago, long before the advent of quirks, travel to and from Atossa began to lessen. Rumors emerged, whispers that Atossa and its people were cursed. It wasn’t until the emergence of quirks, several centuries later, that travel had been outright banned, as Atossa barricaded itself to outsiders.

So the fact that there was an Amestrian soldier in the Nomu Factory…

“As you may have deduced, we have informed the Amestrian government of this development,” Nezu said. “This has become an international issue, one we are no longer handling alone. Amestris is sending one of their best officers to aid in the investigation.”

Tsukauchi continued. “As far as the public is concerned, the Amestrian is not here to investigate anything. Officially, the Atossans are trying to reconnect with the wider world. But, in truth, our visitor will be representing the Amestrian government on an adjacent investigation into Kamino and the League.”

“That’s why you’ve been selected,” Nezu said, gesturing to the Heroes and police officers around the table. “Tsukauchi's team, Gran Torino, All Might and Eraserhead are all involved in the investigation into the League of Villains and All for One. Snipe, Hawks, and myself, on the other hand, have collaborated on cases involving foreign individuals and governments.”

“An Amestrian is coming here?!” Snipe whistled, the sound coming out distorted through his mask. “I can’t remember the last time someone came over the border. Legally, I mean.”

“From what I’ve heard, most don’t want to cross anyways,” pointed out Detective Ikibara, one of Tsukauchi’s colleagues. “Doesn’t just being at the border make you sick?”

“Yes,” Yagi nodded and the room turned to look at him, surprise permeating the air. “I went near the land border, once, when I was in France. It truly does live up to its reputation. There is a… wrongness about it, you could say. I am not a superstitious man but…” Yagi pressed his lips into a thin line. “The deeper you try to go, the worse it gets.”

“You said they’re only sending one person?” Shouta asked, hoping to get the conversation back on track. “Isn’t that a little… lacking? One of their soldiers was killed, and this operative will be in a foreign country.”

“We’ve been told by the leader of Amestris that this officer is one of their best,” Tsukauchi reassured, though the man’s eyes said he too was uncertain. “But he’ll retain the right to commune with his superiors on the case, and we will help with any communication needs if they arise, due to the technological divide.”

“We will also be overseeing him during his stay,” Nezu added, tail twitching.

Shouta frowned. Overseeing… “You can’t mean to say they’ll be at U.A.? We’re a school, not a hotel.”

“Yes, but several of the staff including myself are involved in this investigation,” Nezu explained, nodding to the various U.A. teachers present. “And considering the differences in technology and that this is a foreign country… he may need more readily available resources and an escort. Plus, the dorms are currently under construction, so we can offer housing.”

Translation: they may need to be taught Japanese, how to use modern technology, and be given protection. 

Shouta sighed. This better be counted in his paycheck from the Underground Association and Nezu.

“So when are they arriving?”

“In two weeks,” Tsukauchi tapped his remote and a map appeared onscreen, showing the continent of Atossa and the neighboring satellite states of England, France and Spain. “A translator and a couple officials from Foreign Affairs will be meeting the delegate at a seaport on our side of the Mediterranean. They’ll accompany the Amestrian on a plane to Japan, whereupon we’ll start the investigation.”

The Continent of Atossa - art by @quasar-crew (aka me!)

“Who are they sending?” Gran Torino asked, looking over the map to where a rough approximation of the Amestrian borders were drawn, the circular shaped country in the almost center of the continent.

“I don’t know much about them,” Nezu admitted, and wasn’t that a thing in itself, that Nezu didn’t know. Atossa truly was isolated. “I haven’t been told much beyond his name and title: ' der Vollmetallener Alchemist.'  It’s something granted to what they call State Alchemists.”

“Alchemists ?” Shouta asked, tilting his head at the unfamiliar word. 

“As I said, I haven’t been told much. Führer Mustang said his man would explain what’s needed when he arrives, it's more secure than by written correspondence. But I do know his name: Edward Elric.”

Edward groaned, rolling his shoulders as he stepped off the gangplank onto solid ground. He stumbled as the earth swayed beneath him, his legs like jelly after several days at sea. Gritting his teeth, Ed rode out the nausea, struggling to breath around the hot, humid air that stuck in his lungs. 

One of the nearby Aerugan sailors chuckled at his misfortune. “Got land legs, Amestrian? Careful, ya might trip!”

Ed muttered some choice swears in the direction of the sailor, valiantly attempting to stand upright. It didn’t work. Of course I get my sea legs only to have it backfire the moment I set foot on solid ground again, Edward grumbled. The worst part was, the Aerugans that had ferried him across the Mediterranean Sea said it was tame compared to the swells on the ocean. 

After a few minutes, the ground stopped heaving and Ed was able to walk away with some of his dignity intact. Technically this port and the ferry were only semi-legal. It wasn’t illegal, but it wasn’t exactly legal either. Travel between Atossa and the Outside was forbidden, but most of the enforcement was done by natural barriers. The Mediterranean served as a divide between Atossa and the continent of Afrika, and the Ural Mountains east of Xing separated the land border.

And that of course, wasn’t even considering the effects of crossing. Not all of Ed’s nausea was due to the waves after all.

With his bag in one hand and coat flipped over his arm, Edward wandered inland. The nondescript coastal town wasn’t very big – the sailors had mentioned that Cairo, found a hundred miles further inland, was much larger – but thanks to the… questionable legality, they’d refused to take him further. Even still, people bustled around Ed, the reek of fish filling his nose as nets were unloaded. Vendors called out to him, most in a language he didn’t understand but Ed caught fragments of Aerugan and English amid the noise. 

Scanning the crowd, Ed searched for his contacts, wishing he’d gotten a picture of their faces. The Japanese said they would have someone here to meet him… 

“Well that’s one way of doing it,” Ed said incredulously as he finally spotted his contact.

They were standing on the end of the docks, painfully obvious in the professional clothing that was very ill-suited to the heat (though Ed’s own clothes weren’t much better). The figure shifted from foot to foot as they looked for him, their bright blue hair standing out like a spotlight. Oh, and they were holding a sign that read: “Edward Elric” in Amestrian. But, blue hair.

Edward blinked, then sighed, rubbing his eyes. Right. Quirks.

It wasn’t that Amestris and the rest of Atossa didn’t know about quirks, it was more that they were regarded as utter myth. After Mustang had requested Ed take this mission, he had read through almost every government record and shady newspaper article on the subject. Most of it boiled down to: “Quirks: strange powers and physical changes developed by people on the Outside. Responsible for Atossa completely closing its borders to the Outside around 200 years ago.”

So yeah, really helpful.

…

“The fact of the matter is, we know very little about the world outside Atossa,” Mustang said, nodding to the globe on his desk. On it, Ed could see outlines of the rest of the continents, beyond the borders of Atossa. The Outside. “Xing has the primary land border, while Drachma, Aerugo and the other countries are bordered by water. There is very little if any exchange of information between them and the Outside, let alone with Amestris, who has been at war with our neighbors for the better part of centuries.”

“What about Xing?” Ed asked, nodding to the border it shared with some other Outside countries. Kazakhstan and Russland — Russia? — if he was correct. “Ling’s the Emperor, and our ally. Couldn’t you ask him about sharing their records on the Outside? Al’s has been going through quite a few Xingese texts about alkahestry.”

Mustang made a half-hearted gesture. “We could, but the rail line across the desert between Amestris and Xing is still under construction. We don’t have any reliable way to transport government documents until then. Though… perhaps I will speak to Alphonse about researching Xing’s knowledge of the Outside.” Mustang nodded to Hawkeye, who scribbled a note. “But regardless, it’s still secondhand information. Visitors, legal visitors, to or from the Outside are almost non-existent.”

The Flame Alchemist and Führer sighed as he leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses to rub his face. “Unfortunately, I have very little intel to give you. While the murder investigation is of concern, this is also an information gathering mission. We need to know what the rest of the world is like, what we’ve missed in the past centuries. We need to know about threats.”

Edward grimaced. “You can’t mean to declare war, Bastard?” Mustang’s coup, Promised Day, had only been a mere four years ago. They had barely just settled the new peace treaties.

“No, but knowledge is a powerful thing, as you well know. And it’s something we’re lacking.” Mustang smirked, a mischievous look in his dark eyes. “Think of it like research, Fullmetal. You love doing that, don’t you?”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Why me then? You wouldn’t have pulled me out of retirement just for research. That’s what you’ve got Breda or Falman or the rest of Investigations for, and they’re terrifying at it.”

(It was true. Ed was good at research, he knew that, but he wasn’t a specialist for the kind of information gathering or investigating that Falmon or Breda could do. The members of Investigations were smart, tactical and very good at their jobs, and it arguably would have made more sense to send some of them.)

“Fair point,” the Führer nodded. “Frankly? Aerugo. They control the nearest border, and refuse to let an intelligence squad through, but they’re willing to entertain letting one soldier through. You.”

“And Aerugo is suddenly fine letting a damned State Alchemist through?”

“Oh not in the least,” Mustang smirked. “But you don’t look like a soldier, Fullmetal. You’re unassuming. Don’t mess around with alchemy in Aerugo and you’ll be fine.”

Ed restrained himself from taking the bait. “So it’d just be me going?”

Mustang sighed. “Yes. I wouldn’t have done this lightly Fullmetal. Putting aside your lack of political skill, you’re the best I have. You’re experienced, not just in research. You have combat expertise, can make and revise plans on the fly, and have a talent with languages. State Alchemists are known as one-man armies, you more than most.”

Ed grimaced at the reminder, covering it with a cocky grin. “Aw, complimenting me Bastard?”

“I’m surprised you can see it.”

Edward’s hackles were up in an instant, teeth bared and already swearing a blue streak. Ed didn’t even know if he was actually angry at the slight anymore. It was just an instinctive reaction by this point, a fact of nature. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Mustang mocks Ed’s height and Ed goes up like a volcano about it. 

Eventually, Mustang sighed, rolling his eyes. “Your temper is going to cause another international incident.”

Taking a breath, Ed stared at Mustang, eyes narrowed. One-man army. “Do you think it’ll come to that?” He asked quietly, ire dissipating. The question – with Aerugo, or with the Outside? – went unsaid.

“I hope not,” Mustang muttered. “But it's best to be prepared.”

Ed grunted. From there, the conversation turned to other things; when he would leave – in three weeks – how he’d get there – semi-legal travel through Aerugo, then the Japanese would get him the rest of the way – and how he’d contact Mustang about his findings. And, of course, there was the matter of language. Because he was travelling to a foreign country on the literal opposite side of the globe.

“None of this is in Amestrian,” Ed muttered as he shifted through some of the letters Mustang had received from the Japanese officials. “Why’d they send letters in… what language is this? It has a similar alphabet to Drachman and Amestrian… like that,” Ed pointed to one of the words on the page. “That’s the mord root, like murder.”

“It’s called English,” Hawkeye explained, nodding to the page. “It does have roots in Atossan languages. It’s an offshoot from the satellite state called ‘England’, it emerged from before travel was barred and then developed independently. Anyways, there’s no books on learning the Japanese language in Amestrian, but our translators can convert between English and Amestrian. That’s why the letters are in it.” Hawkeye handed him a set of textbooks. Ed flipped through them, finding them all in the same bastardized Drach-Amestrian as the letters. “For this trip, you’ll need to learn English and then learn Japanese.” 

Edward leveled a glare at Mustang. “Did you seriously just give me homework? And tell me to learn two languages in three weeks?!”

Mustang, the absolute bastard, gave him a smirk. “What, you can’t do it?”

“Shut it, Bastard.” Ed flipped through the textbooks, scanning the unfamiliar letters and words. English didn’t look that hard, it even had the same alphabet as the western Atossan languages. And Japanese shared some similarities with Xingese… “Two languages in three weeks, huh?” Ed snapped the textbooks shut. He was in for a lot of late nights.

Edward looked at Hawkeye. “My pay better be doubled for this. At least. ”

Riza nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching up. In the background, Mustang made some sort of noise. Probably objecting being ignored. “Shall I send it to the Rockbells?”

“Yep, that’ll work. Thanks, Riza.”

“‘Thanks, Riza’,” Mustang parroted, his voice pitched high. “When am I going to get a ‘Thanks, Roy! Wow, you’re such a great commanding officer!’”

Ed waved a hand at Mustang, sharing an amused look with Riza. “The leader of our country, everyone.”

That set off several minutes of banter between Edward and Roy, which only devolved further when Mustang made a comment about Ed’s height. It ultimately ended with them wheezing for breath from laughter, and Hawkeye giving them both a dry look. “Are you done yet?” The comment was accompanied by a pointed stare.

Ed sheepishly went about collecting his papers and the language books, and was just turning to leave when Mustang called out: “Oh, and Edward?”

He turned.

“Please, be on your best behavior,” Mustang said, raising an eyebrow. “We don’t need another international incident.”

Edward flashed his teeth. It was not a smile. “No promises, Bastard. You know how I work.”

“Yes,” the Führer of Amestris replied dryly. “That’s what worries me.”

…

Edward eyed the contact, then flicked his gaze around the port. No one else seemed to be waiting for any wayward Amestrians. And no one else had such an obvious or bright quirk. He heaved a sigh. Well, no time like the present.

“Hello,” Ed said in Japanese as he approached the presumably-Japanese-contact. Blue-Hair startled, looking at him with wide eyes. Edward hoped he hadn’t accidentally insulted her (?), but his Japanese wasn’t that rusty. He hadn’t studied this for nearly three weeks straight for nothing. “You are Japanese? I am Edward Elric.”

“Uh, yes!” Blue-Hair recovered quickly, nodding and responding in Japanese. “I am Hamada Yazuki, they/them.” Right, they, then. “I’m with the Japanese government and I’ll be your translator and escort to Japan, Elric-san.”

That’s right, in Japan they used surnames for everything.

“Thank you… Yazuki?” Ed tried and then immediately swore. No, that wasn’t right, wasn’t the name order reversed? And which honorific was he supposed to use? “Er, sorry… Hamada?” Blue-Hair, Hamada, nodded and Ed relaxed slightly. He gave a slightly sheepish smile, continuing in Japanese. “I am sorry for any bad speaking. I am new at this.”

Hamada waved a hand dismissively. “No worries. We weren’t actually expecting you to know Japanese, that’s why the department sent me. My quirk is Polyglot. I can understand and speak any language I hear spoken.”

Edward had two thoughts at that moment.

First: How does that work?!

Second: You mean I didn’t need to learn two entire damn languages?!

Instead of cursing out his Bastard Führer, Ed stared at Hamada with wide eyes. “Seriously?! That’s incredible!” Ed exclaimed. “So, how does that work? How much do you need to hear? Can you understand written languages? How many languages do you know? Also… seriously. How does that work. ”

Hamada chuckled. “That’s right, you’re unfamiliar with quirks!” They waved at Edward to follow. “Come on, we can talk more in the car, and I can answer any questions you have. Including about my quirk.”

Following, Ed and Hamada wound their way through the port. Eventually they were spat out on the far side, approaching something that certainly looked like a car, but was unlike any model Ed had ever seen.

“Here we are.” As Hamada approached, they stopped and glanced back at Ed. “Uh, do you know what a car is?”

Ed nodded dryly. “Yes, I know what a car is.”

Hamada heaved a sigh of relief, nodding to the car. “Great, let’s go then.” Hamada climbed in the front, joining the driver, and Ed took up residence in the backseat. He immediately gave a sigh of relief as cold air washed over him, a stark contrast to the heat outside. Some sort of internal cooling unit? Glancing around, Ed found that the vehicle’s seats were quite a bit softer than those of Amestrian cars, fabric instead of leather, and some sort of plastid resin covered quite a bit of the interior. 

Once he was seated, the car came to life with a low rumble and pulled out onto the road. Ed leaned forwards, looking between Hamada and the driver. “Where are we going?”

“We’re headed to the airport,” Hamada explained, pulling a slim black rectangle from their pocket. A pocketbook? “It’ll take a few hours to get there, so I apologize for the long trip.”

“It’s fine,” Ed muttered, distracted as Hamada’s fingers touched the black rectangle and it suddenly lit up with light and color. As their fingers moved across the rectangle’s surface, the surface changed, colors and text spilling across it. What on earth? “What is that?”

“What?” Hamada glanced back at him, following his gaze to the thing in their hand. “Oh, this is a cell phone!”

Ed looked at it skeptically. “That’s not a phone.”

“No, it is,” Hamada twisted in their seat, showing it to him. As Ed watched, Hamada moved their finger over the ‘cell phone’, brightly colored icons appearing and moving across it. “It’s got a lot of uses. You can call people with it, take pictures, use the internet, text or play games!”

What. On. Earth.

“Okay, explain each of those?”

Over the next hour, Hamada showed Ed the various functions of the ‘cell phone’. Ed was dumbstruck. This thing was… well, Ed didn’t even know how to describe it. It was a radio and telephone and camera and mail carrier all rolled into one. It could access a non-physical library called the “internet” that was so vast, Ed would need ten thousand lifetimes to see it all. And all of it somehow existed on a flat black device that fit into the palm of Ed’s hand.

What. The. Hell.

Hamada seemed to find his amazement amusing, barely pausing to consider the implications of the innocent looking flat tablet held in their hands. Then, they tried giving Ed his own. Ed vehemently refused, because this thing had to be worth ten times more than his automail! It had to be worth a small country! He’d never be able to afford it!

And then, Hamada proceeded to rock his world further by informing him that these things were so common that a significant portion of the population carried one around in their pockets. 

“Truth,” Ed muttered in Amestrian as he cradled the small device. “The Outside is amazing.”

Of course, the cell phone had to have limitations. It wouldn’t work when Ed was wearing his gloves, and when he attempted to tap it with his automail, nothing happened. Apparently, the touchscreen worked by electrical capacitance, or something. Hamada had also warned him that while this brand was sturdy, cell phones were fragile. So he couldn’t throw it at anything and would have to be careful when holding it with his automail. Made sense, Ed reasoned, it couldn’t be all powerful.

Eventually, Ed ended up stowing the device in his pocket, intent on investigating the other anomaly in the car. Namely, the plastid resin making up the doors. 

Edward pressed his fingers into it, testing its sturdiness. It flexed ever so slightly, its rigidity almost like wood. Carefully, one eye watching Hamada and the driver, Ed pressed the palms of his hands together and laid one on the strange material.

A connection sparked in his mind, the subtle current of alchemy flowing through him. He poked at the material, tugging on different elements and compounds as he worked to analyze its chemical structure. He didn’t initiate a reaction, didn’t deconstruct it, he only examined it. Carbon. Hydrogen. Chains of layered polymers. Polyethylene and polyester. 

Ed drew his hand away, letting the alchemic energy fade. “Huh.” He looked towards Hamada. “Hey, Hamada-san, what’s this material on all the doors?”

Hamada glanced back. “Oh, that’s plastic. It’s an artificial material. Used in almost everything.”

Nodding, Edward opened up his phone and made a list in the ‘notes’ app. Alongside a list for “Making Outside technology work in Amestris” which included phones (he was going to figure out  instant ‘video’ messaging), he started another list: “Outside Materials”.  

He may not have been planning to do alchemy, but if he needed to transmute something, he wanted to know what was in it so as to avoid a rebound. Better safe than sorry.

You’re not getting anything from me, Truth, Ed thought in the direction of the entity. 

He could almost feel Its chuckle, reverberating through dimensions. Aw ~Li-ttle Al-che-mist~, you don’t want to come and play?

No, Ed thought viciously. Head-Truth may have been his imagination, but he wouldn’t put it past the Entity to somehow still be there. I’ve paid my Tolls. You swore it.

That I did… Ed could almost see Truth’s too-wide grin, could almost see the Being thoughtfully tapping Its chin with a right hand made of flesh and blood. You got the Answer, ~Li-ttle Al-che-mist~. You solved the Riddle. You exchanged your arm for your brother’s soul, your alchemy for your brother’s body.

But you didn’t take my alchemy, Ed muttered, rubbing at the metal in place of his right arm, taken once more after the Promised Day. I made the Exchange, but my alchemy stayed with me. Why?

Because you’re not done, ~Li-ttle Al-che-mist~, Truth said, had said, a thousand voices clashing and clamoring and harmonizing. You could do it without alchemy, but it is quite fun to see you use it. And, well…

An image suddenly pressed into Edward’s mind, no mere phantom but vivid and bright and w h i t e . It was Truth’s razored smile and the Eye of the Gate looming behind It. A warning. A threat. A promise. 

You know what happens if you attempt to disobey the Laws. Your soul is m i n e.

The w h i t e abruptly drained away, as if it had never been, and Ed was left with static filling the Void in his mind. Besides, I never specified when I would take your alchemy away, Truth chuckled, had chuckled, waving the right arm that used to be Ed’s dismissively. The Toll will come in time, ~Li-ttle Al-che-mist~. You need not fret.

“Hooray,” Edward grumbled, leaning back into the seats of the car. “Lucky me.”

“What was that?” Hamada twisted, looking back at him.

Edward waved a hand, automail imitating the gesture of Truth. “Nothing…” he said in Japanese. “Nothing at all.”

Eventually, they made it into a more populated area and Edward ended up with his face pressed against the glass of the window. Outside the car, the buildings built themselves higher and higher, unfolding like flowers made of metal and glass and concrete. The world moved by in a blur of greens, grays and browns, until the driver finally pulled to a stop at a large building that glinted in the sun.

“Cairo International Airport,” Ed read in English. He blinked. “What’s an airport?”

Hamada laughed, pulling their own luggage out of the trunk of the car. “You’ll see.” Ed followed them out, loosening his collar as the oppressive heat set in. Deserts, augh.

With the Japanese officer in the lead, they guided Ed into the shimmering metal building. Now in an area crowded with people, Ed was suddenly struck with the sheer diversity of quirked appearances. Everywhere he looked, it was like something out of a fairytale. He saw someone with a snake head, another with feathers instead of hair. His brain blanked for a solid minute when he spotted someone that was made of water.  

“What the hell are quirks?” Ed muttered.

He could understand people with animalistic traits. They were like Darius and Heinkel, but instead they were natural chimeras. But some of this… How was it physically possible for a person to be made of water? Where was their brain? They were a person, obviously, but they couldn’t be anatomically classified as human!

Ed groaned. If he didn’t get some good research papers on the subject or some explanations he was going to scream.

Ignoring his mild crisis, Hamada tugged him away from the crowds, into a side terminal. “VIP treatment,” Hamada explained when Ed sent them a questioning look. “You’re travelling with permission of the Japanese government. We’ll be on the same plane, but we get to skip the lines.”

Ed smirked. Nice.

He knew when they were approaching the security checkpoint, Ed could recognize security officers a mile away. Even on a different continent, with different uniforms and with hair a vibrant shade of scarlet or spikes jutting from their forearms, they had the same demeanor as those from Amestris. Done-with-this-shit. Hamada produced their and Ed’s papers, handing them forward. Ed could tell when they reached the line regarding his nationality. The officer sent him an interested look, then huffed, nodding to a nearby contraption.

“Take off your jacket and put it on the conveyor belt,” Hamada explained, doing the same. They placed their luggage on the conveyor, removing a few items from their bags, including some bottles and a larger flat rectangle similar to their phone.

Ed did as instructed, putting his jacket in one of the bins and putting his bag on the moving belt. With that done, the officers waved them through what was basically an open, freestanding door frame. Weird but okay?

Following Hamada, Ed stepped through the door frame, and immediately hissed as a shrill beeping rang out. The security officers startled, glancing between their computers and Ed before they began talking amongst each other in their native language. Hamada cut in, adding their two cenz and nodding pointedly towards Ed. Ah yes, a conversation about him and the beeping gate, marvelous.

“Do you have any metal on you?” an officer asked in English, scanning Ed’s body.

Did he have any metal on him.

Ed couldn’t help his snort. He tugged off the glove on his right hand, exposing his automail to the air. He held his hand up to the security officers, letting the light glint off the metallic casing, a wry grin on his face. “Yes,” he said dryly, amused at their gaping expressions. “You could say that.” 

The security officers muttered further until they finally pointed Hamada at Ed. “Uh, Elric-san, they’re wondering what those are and if they’re weapons,” Hamada asked, eyeing Ed’s metal hand.

“You don’t have automail?” Ed frowned. With how advanced the technology on the Outside was, why were they surprised about automail? When Hamada’s confused expression didn’t change, Ed resigned himself to explaining. “They’re prosthetics, mostly made of metal,” Ed explained in Japanese, trusting Hamada to translate for the security agents. He gestured down his right arm with his left hand, then rapped his left thigh. “My right arm and left leg, all the way down.”

Hamada’s eyes widened, some unidentifiable emotion in their eyes. “How does that happen?” They muttered quietly.

Edward ignored them. “It’s not a weapon,” he told security, which wasn’t entirely a lie. It wasn’t a weapon, yet. Ed’s arm wasn’t transmuted into a sword. “At least, no more a weapon than anyone else’s fists.” That was a lie. Ed’s automail could punch straight through walls and was much more damaging than a regular fist.

The security officers talked with each other but eventually they waved Ed through. His bag also set off alarms, which turned out to be his automail maintenance kit and silver watch. After Ed explained to Hamada, and Hamada explained to the officers, Ed was finally released alongside all his metal belongings.

As they walked away, Edward glanced at Hamada. “What was that thing?”

“A metal detector.”

Ed laughed. “No kidding.” The Fullmetal Alchemist, defeated by a metal detector. Thank Truth that Mustang and the rest of the unit wasn’t here, Ed would have been a laughingstock. 

He and Hamada joined the rest of the colorful quirked crowd in the airport, navigating their way through towards their terminal. Eventually, they reached their gate – no relation to the Gate – and they found seats in the waiting area. “We’ve got a little time before our flight,” Hamada explained, sitting back in their chair. “It’s going to be a long trip. We’ve got a three hour flight to Dubai, a four hour layover and then a ten hour flight to Tokyo.”

Long trip, they said.

Ed gave an incredulous laugh. A long trip was taking several weeks to cross Amestris or the Xerxes Desert on foot. Travelling across the world in under a day?! They were travelling thousands of miles, and it was hardly noteworthy, as evidenced by the thousands of people streaming through this place.

“You keep saying it’s an air port, and flight,” Ed commented instead, tilting his head as he eyed Hamada. “Why?”

Hamada gave him a mischievous grin. “Why do you think?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Hamada’s answering grin nearly split their face in two. 

Edward gaped for a brief moment, and then an excitement that had been stirring in his chest burst. He practically squealed with joy. He didn’t care if it was unprofessional of the official Amestiran diplomat, humans had figured out how to fly! They could FLY!

“This is pretty exciting for you, huh?” Hamada chuckled. 

Ed sent them an almost scandalized look. “How are you not more excited? Flight. Flying. Ever since humans first looked up we’ve been drawn to the heavens, and you lot can reach it! You can defy the force of gravity!”

“I suppose we can,” Hamada said thoughtfully. 

With the anticipation of flying now on his mind, Ed couldn’t find it in himself to sit still. He paced alongside the bay of windows, and his gaze was quickly drawn to the strange machines that he could see out of them. Dozens of strange mechanical… things were either parked alongside the building, or moving across the large flat field outside. They were long metal cylinders with flat thin appendages like fins affixed to their sides, and even stranger, large cylindrical objects with fans inside them hung beneath the fins.

“What are those things?” Ed asked, pointing out the window.

Hamada glanced over. “That’s an airplane. It’s the machine that’ll take us there. It’s basically a big metal bird.”

Ed looked back at the ‘airplane’. “That thing can fly?!” 

He called bullshit. There was no way that thing, a hundred feet long and with ‘wings’ like a flat ruler could ever support itself in the air. How on earth was it supposed to generate enough lift?

Hamada smirked. “See for yourself.”

They gestured out the window, onto the wide field. Ed followed their gaze and as he watched, he saw the distant figure of one of the ‘airplanes’ speeding down the field until… it ascended. Like magic or air alchemy, the metal behemoth lifted itself off the ground, easily rising into the air.

“Holy shit,” Ed muttered. 

Okay, maybe that thing could support itself in the air. If it was moving fast enough… well, evidently those flat fins could provide a suitable amount of lift.

A few hours later and Ed found himself pressed into his seat on the airplane, the smooth plastic of his seat clenched between his fingers. He was practically vibrating as the craft finally pulled away from its docking station, and soon they were rolling smoothly down the field.

Then the aircraft roared and Edward watched as they moved faster and faster and faster until… Truth, they were rising. They were flying!! Edward pressed his face close to the plastic window, looking at the ground that was rapidly falling away beneath them. He felt equal parts wonder and terror as the buildings became smaller and smaller, and the clouds became closer and closer.

Ed looked at Hamada, seated next to him and staring with amusement. “Hamada. Hamada, can you get me the blueprints for this thing? I can be paid in blueprints. I want all the design schematics.”

Hamada laughed. “Planes won’t work in Amestris, no technology works there. There’s a no-fly zone around Atossa because planes could drop out of the sky if they go over.”

Edward continued staring at them. “That doesn’t matter. I just need to know.”

And who knows… once they had designs, maybe Amestris could make them work.

They touched down in ‘Dubai’ a mere three hours later, and Ed stretched his arms wide as he stepped off the plane. He grinned at Hamada, bouncing on his toes, who watched him with obvious envy.

“How are you so chipper?” they complained. “Plane rides are so boring!”

Ed shrugged. “I’m used to travelling long distances with little to do. Back in Amestris, I’ve probably spent weeks on the trains.” Hamada grumbled, walking away and forcing Edward to catch up. With his bag in hand, he hurried after. “So, when is our next flight?”

Edward wasn’t ashamed to admit he was excited to get in one of those machines again. He wished Winry was here, she would have loved this.

“Four hours,” Hamada said, checking something on their phone. “Our gate is nearby in this terminal, so we won’t have to walk far.” Indeed, they had barely walked for twenty minutes before they had found the gate their next flight would leave from.

Ed looked around the terminal as they walked, with its vaulted ceilings, glittering lights, and lined with gold, silver and white. Dozens of shops and cafes filled the interior of the building, Ed even saw a few book stores. “Can we visit some of these shops?” Ed asked, looking back at Hamada.

Hamada grimaced. “I wouldn’t recommend buying anything. Most things in airports are typically under quality and overpriced. Plus, this is Dubai,” they waved a hand to the opulence surrounding them, “everything is expensive.”

“Nah,” Ed waved the comment away. “I didn’t plan on buying anything anyways. Besides, I don’t have the right currency. Unless you think there’s a currency exchange that’ll accept cenz? ”

“Probably not.”

With Hamada’s blessing, Edward left his baggage with them and left for a bookstore. But not before the Japanese officer showed him how to set an alarm on his new “phone.” A good idea, if Ed was being honest.

The bookstore Ed decided on was small, barely a cubby hole in the wall compared to the vast libraries of Central City. But, it was filled with dozens of books, all of which Ed had never seen before in his life. Score. The first one he picked up had the title written in some sort of strange writing that was all squiggles. It looked kind of like Xerxian, if he tilted his head sideways and squinted. Another book in English proclaimed itself a: “Travel Guide to the Arab Emirates”. 

But Edward’s favorite book by far was one in English titled: “Languages of the Afro-Asian Continent: Essential Phrases for Any Traveller.”

Ed had looked in it, curious to see if any Atossan languages were included – there were two: Xingese and Drachman, and the phrases included for both were rather archaic – and was greeted by a list of several hundred languages. While on the one hand it wasn’t surprising, the book covered several continents after all, it was still fascinating to see so many. Ed spent over an hour going through all of the phrases, checking their place of origin against the map in the back of the book. 

Eventually, to Edward’s chagrin, the alarm on his phone went off and he had to replace the book on the shelf and head back to join Hamada. They raised an eyebrow as he walked over, a slight grin on their face. “Enjoy yourself?” 

Ed’s smile nearly split his face in two. “I loved it,” he answered in Amestrian, before switching to Japanese. “There are so many languages on this continent, I’ll never be able to learn them all.” He chuckled, eyeing Hamada. “I guess you don’t have that problem, huh?”

Hamada shook their head. “Not particularly. Though, if I haven’t heard a language in a long time, my knowledge of it tends to fade. Of course, once I hear someone speak it, I can understand it again.”

Ed and Hamada chatted more about Hamada’s quirk until they boarded the plane. Ed had the same excitement for their take-off as last time, but once they were at cruising altitude above the cloud layer — 40,000 feet, 40,000 FEET!!! — the world below became a near endless field of white, which even Ed would admit wasn’t quite as interesting. (He still took dozens of pictures with his phone’s camera. He was going to lord this over Mustang until the day he died.)

After getting some water and snacks from the plane staff, Hamada put on some strange devices in their ears – headphones, they said – so they could listen to music on their phone. (“It plays music too?!”) After Hamada gave Ed a pair of his own, they showed him how to access the plane’s ‘WiFi’ and use the vast library known as the “internet.”

He was entranced.

After countless rabbit holes in which Ed learned more about the designs of planes and phones, he ended up researching history, hoping to understand what had happened on the Outside these past few hundred years. At some point, the search engine called “Googol” offered him another resource in his deep dive.

“history of the entire world, i guess?” Ed read off in English. “Well, that’s one place to start.”

He clicked on it.

20 minutes later, Ed resurfaced from the video. “You know,” he muttered to himself. “I almost want to say that Truth made that.”

Although it wasn't very in-depth, it had given him an idea about the last few centuries on the Outside, what they knew about Atossa, and when their information started to become scarce. A few more Googol searches later, and Edward figured he had a decent idea of their histories.

For starters, the weird thing that Ed had noticed (and that had really thrown him off for a short time) was that they had different dating systems. While it was currently 1919 in Atossa, the Outside listed the date as nearly two centuries later, saying the year was around 2100. Ed wasn’t sure when their dating systems had diverged, but evidently they’d adopted different calendar systems at some point. 

Anyways, Atossa and Outside had fairly similar accounts for most of history. The Outside had records of the Arcadian Empire from when it had covered half of Atossa and the Mediterranean. They even had stuff from Xerxian philosophers like Plato and Socrates. But their records of events in Atossa really started to drop off after Xerxes’ destruction nearly a thousand years ago.

According to historians, after Xerxes “vanished”, travellers to and from Atossa became scarcer and scarcer, but not nonexistent. By 500 years ago, travel had almost dried up completely (which aligned with Atossan accounts), and although residents of Atossa could leave, they were widely ridiculed. The historians posited that this was when Atossan Sickness began to set in, also known as the sickness that came when anyone crossed the borders. One story, cemented in the local legends of the peoples near the Atossan border, said that the entire land had become cursed. In Atossa, ghosts roamed the earth, sucking the life force from anyone that set foot there. It became a forbidden location, one that no one was to enter. 

While Edward wasn’t quite sure he believed ‘ghosts’ were the cause, the ‘Atossan Sickness’ was all too real. Ever since he left the Aerugan coast, Ed had felt it. His stomach was clenched like he had a case of mild nausea, and he felt on edge, like there was something big that had suddenly vanished from his perception. But, apparently it was much more severe for Outsiders entering Atossa, who would be bedridden with migraines, nausea and fatigue until they either died or left. 

The other significant event, of course, was the development of quirks about 200 years ago. There was nearly a minute of the “history of the entire world, i guess” video dedicated to the past two centuries and change. The video described in broad terms how the first quirked baby had been born in China (“there’s a glowing baby ”), the spread of quirks (“rats? maybe”), the upheaval that had befallen the Outside (“every thing is broken”), and Atossa permanently closing its borders (“Atossa said no one but now they mean no one”).

By this time, Ed’s eyes were starting to hurt, the harsh light of the phone screen seared into his eyelids and the beginnings of a headache pressing into his skull. He groaned, downed another cup of water, and shifted back into his seat. Outside his window, the sky was pitch black save for a blinking light off the plane’s wing.

Edward yawned, eyes sliding shut as he leaned into the plastic wall of the plane.

They really do have a lot of plastic, Ed muttered, and that was his last conscious thought before sleep claimed him.

Chapter Text

Tsukauchi Naomasa would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous for the Amestrian delegate’s arrival. It wasn’t just that a foreign soldier had been killed on Japanese soil, making the investigation into All for One and the Nomu an international incident. It was the fact that their new arrival was from Atossa.

There were as many myths about Atossa as there were unknowns about it.

Some said that the inhabitants were the living dead, who preyed on the souls of any who ventured over the borders. Others said that they were something like human, but not quite right, cursed by nameless gods. Lights danced in their eyes and their touch twisted the world to their will. Not quirks, the myths said. No, those of Atossa could bend light and matter to their will through magic.

As a detective with a lie-detector quirk, Naomasa knew better than to trust rumors and whispers corrupted by fear, time and prejudice. But he was still human, and he couldn’t help but wonder…

He was pulled from his reverie by the sound of his name, and he turned to see Akira, one of the other detectives he worked with. The woman’s ears flicked upward as she glanced from him toward the doors. “Tsukauchi, that was Hamada, they said they’re five minutes out from the station.”

Naomasa took a breath. Here we go.

“Thank you Akira-san,” he nodded, rising to his feet. He tipped the rest of his coffee back, placing the now empty cup on the desk. “Wish me luck.”

Akira chuckled. “Try not to worry too much, ‘masa. It won’t be that bad.”

No, Naomasa chuckled sardonically as he headed upstairs to get Chief Tsuragamae. ‘Bad’ was four weeks ago when one of my best friends fought his archnemesis again, had his identity revealed live on television and was forced to retire. It’s doing wonders for the crime rate. This is just an international incident involving a continent where there’s no quirks and no modern technology, and the delegate is the member of a country we know almost nothing about. Oh, and the incident was caused by said archnemsis, so who knows what he was up to.

Yes, perfectly fine.

It took a minute to fetch Tsuragamae, but quickly enough Naomasa and the Chief were heading to a meeting room near the entrance, where they’d greet the Amestrian. From there, Naomasa would take them to get their identification printed. (The other fun thing about an isolated country, no valid passport.)

After a few minutes that felt like hours, during which time Naomasa worked on breathing and shoving the lingering anxiety out of his chest, there was finally a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Tsuragamae barked out, and the door opened. The first thing Naomasa saw was Hamada, the translator’s bright blue hair catching his eye, before his gaze moved to the figure behind them. 

Naomasa wasn’t sure what he had been expecting the Amestrian delegate to be, but it wasn’t this.  

For a moment he wondered if they had the wrong person, if the true Amestrian delegate was standing on the Mediterranean coast, awaiting a rendezvous that had already left. He wouldn’t go as far to say he had been expecting someone six feet tall, with corded muscles and a sniper rifle slung over one shoulder. But that would have been easier to comprehend than the figure currently in front of him.

They were young.

Unless Atossans aged differently, the Amestrian looked to be in his late teens, early twenties at most. And he was rather short. He couldn’t have been taller than five and a half feet. Sharp golden eyes flitted around the room, their brightness matched by the Amestrian’s hair, which was of a similar color. He wore a brown trench coat much like Naomasa’s own, with black collared shirt and a pair of pale gloves covering his hands.

Naomasa glanced at Hamada. Part of him hoped they would deny it, say this wasn’t the Amestrian, but…

But the Amestrian walked with the same grace that Naomasa only saw in Pro Heroes like Eraserhead. His golden eyes were calculating as they swept around the room, cataloging each exit and individual almost unconsciously, with an ease that only came from experience.

As much as it pained him, Naomasa could recognize skill garnered from experience. And this Amestrian had it.

“I’m Detective Tsukauchi,” Naomasa said, finally speaking as he bowed to the Amestrian. “Welcome to Japan, we appreciate you coming. I hope you had a safe journey.”

Naomasa and Tsuragamae looked to Hamada, expecting them to begin translating. But the Amestrian managed to further shock them in the one minute since they’d met. 

“Thank you, Tsukauchi,” the Amestrian said, hesitating briefly before he gave a nod in return. “My name is Edward Elric. I appreciate you aiding in my arrival. The trip was good, your technology is quite impressive.” It was only years of experience that kept Naomasa from reeling back in shock. The young man had answered in Japanese. Heavily accented, to be sure, and the honorific he used wasn’t quite right, but as far as they’d known, no one in Amestris knew any Japanese.

Elric (?) hesitated, looking between Hamada, Naomasa and Tsuragamae. “Er, I do not know what the correct greeting is. Should I bow? Or shake hands?”

Naomasa couldn’t help but chuckle. “No worries, Elric-san, we do both.”

The Amestrian relaxed slightly, reaching forward with his left hand to shake with Naomasa and then Tsuragamae. The Chief grinned down at Elric, which was almost comical considering there was nearly two feet of height difference between them.

“It is good to hear you like our country, Elric-san,” Chief Tsuragamae chuffed as Elric stared up at him. For someone who allegedly came from a continent where there were no quirks, he seemed surprisingly nonplussed by the fact that there was a man with a dog’s head in front of him. Elric’s eyes simply sharpened with interest and his mouth twitched into a smile. “Ah, I am guessing you are surprised by one such as myself? No need to worry, I don’t bite.” 

The Chief chuckled and Elric joined in, something playful in his eyes. “Not really,” Elric laughed. “I know some people at home who are like you.”

Truth.

The ping of Naomasa’s quirk had him blinking slightly, a sense of incredulity rising in the back of his mind. Because what?! Wasn’t the population of Atossa supposed to be entirely quirkless?

Tsuragamae also seemed surprised, but he recovered quickly enough. “Well that is surprising!” the Chief woofed. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you come to know Japanese? We were under the impression that no one in Amestris was familiar with our language.”

Elric nodded. “You’re correct. My commanding officer provided me with books on the English language, and some English books on the Japanese language. I learned them so I’d be able to do my job properly over here. It is rather difficult to visit a foreign country and be unable to speak the language.” The Amestrian gave a dry smile. “Niemand würde mich verstehen.” ^[1]

Naomasa blinked. Dismissing the strange language, presumably Amestrian, he focused on the rest of the sentence that he could understand. “Weren’t you contacted about the incident only three weeks ago?”

“Yep,” Elric nodded. “There were many late nights before I arrived.” 

Truth.

Maybe, Naomasa mused in the privacy of his own mind, there was some merit to the myths of Atossa.

They bid goodbye to Chief Tsuragamae, who had to return to his work running the force. With Elric in tow, Naomasa headed to one of the break rooms so they could finish with the paperwork needed for Elric’s delegate travel visa. Then, Sansa would take Elric to his lodging at U.A. 

“You’ll be back here tomorrow for a meeting with the rest of the investigation team,” Naomasa explained as they walked. “We’ll bring you up to speed on our progress and what information we have. Here, this is us.” Naomasa let them into the breakroom where Sansa was. The cat headed officer looked over as they entered, then gave a chirp.

“Ah, you must be the Amestrian! Don’t be alarmed, I’m perfectly friendly!” Sansa’s whiskers twitched as Elric gave him a wide eyed look. “Ah, I apologize. I am Officer Sansa, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Elric said. Sansa gave the Amestrian the paperwork, which he took with a good natured groan. “Ah, paperwork. I can’t escape it even when I’m halfway around the globe.”

Sansa perked up, ears twitching forwards. “Oh? You do it a lot in your home country?”

Elric shrugged. “Not as much as some, I just don’t like it. Though who does?” He glanced down at the paperwork in hand, then blinked. He looked back up at Naomasa and Sansa, waving the papers. “I can only read half of this.”

Naomasa reached forward, taking the papers and flipping through them. What was the problem? The papers were correct, they were written entirely in Japanese. It took Naomasa a moment to realize, and when he did, he sighed, barely avoiding the temptation to hit himself in the head with the sheaf of papers. “You can’t read kanji, can you?”

Elric rubbed his neck, shrugging. “Not very well, no. I haven’t yet been able to memorize as much of your logographic language — kanji you said? —  as your phonetic ones.” Elric frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe you could read out the questions and I’ll give verbal answers? Or do you need the answers written?”

“If you give them verbally, Elric-san, we can copy the responses,” Naomasa said as he handed the papers to Sansa. The cat-headed officer gave him a betrayed look. “Sansa here can write them down for you.”

“Thanks,” Elric smiled, finding a seat in one of the chairs.

They started off with all the standard questions, but they had already reached a hiccup in the first five. “What’s your age?” Sansa asked, looking over at Elric.

“I’m twenty,” the Amestrian reported tonelessly. This time, Naomasa couldn’t restrain from gaping and neither could Sansa. “What?” The Amestrian scowled, and despite his youth, it managed to be a terrifying thing. “Yeah, I’m young. Doesn’t mean I’ll do any less of a job. The Führer sent me for a reason. Unterschätzen Sie mich nicht." ^[2]

Sansa shakily copied Elric’s answer, watching the twenty year old (twenty!) out of the corner of his eye. “If you don’t mind my asking… how does a twenty year old end up the officer and delegate on an international murder investigation?”

Elric bared his teeth in a smile. “I’m good at what I do. Plus, they needed someone to learn two languages in three weeks.” Elric’s smile dropped, scowl returning. “Of course, Führer Mistkerl failed to inform me that there would be someone with a quirk that could understand any language there to meet me. Maybe I could have gotten some more sleep.”

Truth.

So he did learn the Japanese language in three weeks, Naomasa thought, exchanging a look with Sansa. Just who the hell is this kid?

“Before we start,” Naomasa said, catching Elric’s attention. “I want to let you know that my quirk is ‘Lie Detector’. I can tell when somebody isn’t telling the truth.”

Elric’s gaze sharpened, molten golden eyes staring at Tsukauchi with startling intensity. “What kinds of truth?” Elric asked, tilting his head. “Say, for instance, that I say something that is a personal truth, that I believe to be true, but in reality is False. Like, I wholeheartedly believe that two plus one is four, while you know the Truth is that it is three.”

“Personal beliefs that you fully believe in will register as true, even if they are countered by what is fact,” Naomasa replied, amused.

While he didn’t usually divulge the limitations of his quirk, the question on personal belief was by far the most common. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been asked it. (Of course, sometimes he lied about it. He couldn’t have too much information about how his quirk worked get out, that would defeat the purpose. And that was the other thing, nobody seemed to think the guy with the truth-telling quirk would lie.)

“Well what about objective or perspective-based truths?” Elric asked, leaning forwards. “Like, say what you call ‘blue’, I call ‘red’, but I know that you call it blue. If I say ‘the sky is red’, I wholeheartedly believe that, but I also know that it is ‘blue’ to you. What happens then?” Naomasa blinked, and exchanged a glance with Sansa. This wasn’t one of the usual questions. “Or what about reversed belief in those truths?” Elric continued. “Say I fully believe that the earth is flat, but I say that it is a globe. Would that register as true or false? One is a Truth, a fact of reality, and the other is a truth, based in my personal belief, and I say the Truth but not the truth. Does it still register as a lie?”

Elric snapped his fingers. “Speaking of that, can you determine absolute Truths? If I know a Truth, an absolute Truth, one not based on personal beliefs, does that register differently than a personal truth? What about if I Know a Truth, but never learned that Truth? I just Know it. How would that register? Hell, what about different languages? Can you register a lie if it’s spoken in a different language?”

Naomasa’s brain stuttered and stopped as Elric continued, listing questions that were getting increasingly philosophical and epistemological in their reach. Finally, when Elric had drawn breath to begin another series of questions, Naomasa was finally able to cut it. “Sorry,” he apologized and Elric finally paused, watching him. “I don’t actually know. It’s hard to determine an… absolute Truth, as you call it, so I haven’t been able to test that.”

Elric slumped, but then snapped his gaze to Naomasa, golden eyes blazing. “If we have time, come talk to me,” the Amestrian said. “I might be able to help you test that.”

They moved on from the questions about Naomasa’s quirk, finally focusing on the paperwork. Slowly, they went down the list of questions, filling out the sheet. But with every question, Naomasa felt like he had more questions than answers.

Name: Edward Elric. Nationality: Amestrian. Age: 20. Birthday: January 12, 1899.

( Truth , Naomasa’s quirk pinged, and the blood drained from his face. 

“We have a different system of dating,” Elric said when he spotted Naomasa and Sansa’s pale expressions. “You all use a calendar system where the years are over a century ahead of ours. I’m not sure why.”

Well that was better than the alternatives, but Naomasa suddenly wanted nothing more than a strong glass of whiskey. Why did he get the feeling this simple paperwork was going to be a minefield?)

Weight: 170 lbs, or 77 kg.

(“What?” Sansa looked at Elric incredulously. The Amestrian couldn’t have been more than 140 pounds, if that. “How is that possible?”

“77 kilograms,” Elric repeated, unblinking.)

Height: … 5’ 4”

(“I am 5 feet and 4 inches. 163 centimeters,” Elric snarled. “Call me short on pain of death.” They moved on quickly.)

Quirk: N/A – Not Applicable

(“Everyone in Atossa is really quirkless?” Sansa asked, eyeing Elric curiously.

The Amestrian nodded. “Yep. From what I read there is occasionally a quirk in the satellite countries that skirt the border, like at the far eastern edge of Xing or on the far western side of the Drachman states. There’s a country called Frankreich — you call it France I think? It’s mostly quirkless but apparently there’s some quirks. Actually…”

Elric stared into the middle distance, contemplative. “I think the Armstrong family was originally from France… if so, a quirk might actually explain those sparkles that Armstrong was always wielding. We never did figure out what they were… wouldn’t explain how they still work on the continent though…”)

Allergens and Medical Conditions: Lactose-Intolerant.

(Sansa had been going down the list when he mentioned ‘lactose-intolerant’ and Elric tilted his head in confusion. “What’s that?”

“It means you can’t digest dairy,” Naomasa explained. “For example, if you were to drink too much milk, you’d get sick. The level of tolerance can vary from person to person though.”

Elric watched them, unblinking, his expression slowly morphing to one of shock. “You mean that’s a thing?” he screeched. He turned molten golden eyes on the ceiling. “Mistkerl! I had a Truth damned reason! Apparently I’m lactose-intolerant you idiots!”

The Amestrian had them list ‘lactose-intolerance’ with great vindication.)

After what felt like far too long in Naomasa’s opinion, they finally answered all the questions. Sansa headed off to get the paperwork filed and scanned, while Naomasa took Elric to the printing desk. After taking a photograph, Elric’s official delegate travel visa was printed.

“Here you go,” Naomasa said, handing Elric the card. The young man twisted it over in his gloved hands, running his fingers along the katakana that formed his name. “This is your travel visa. Make sure to keep it on you, it will serve as a form of identification and grants you diplomatic immunity.” 

Elric nodded, slipping the card into one of his pockets. 

Naomasa escorted the Amestrian soldier down to the lobby, where Sansa was waiting to escort him to U.A.. Elric shook hands with Naomasa – again with his left hand – then sent a small smile towards the detective. “Thank you for your hospitality,” Elric said, stepping back to give Naomasa and Sansa a bow. It wasn’t quite the right angle, but Naomasa appreciated the attempt.

With that, Sansa guided Elric out towards the parking lot and Naomasa bid them farewell. But, as they were walking away, he could hear Elric mention to Sansa: “You know, my brother would really like you.”

“Really?” Sansa gave Elric a curious look. “Why?”

Elric shrugged. “He’s just your kind of person, I guess.”

“Thank you for coming, everyone!” Nezu chirped, looking over the assembled teachers. Shouta groaned. The principal of U.A. was entirely too chipper for the time of day.

“I’m sorry to pull you away from your evenings, but the Amestrian delegate will be arriving shortly, and I would like you all to meet them!” Nezu chuckled, rubbing his paws together. “We wouldn’t want any cases of mistaken identity would we?”

Shouta grumbled under his breath, sinking deeper into his capture scarf. While he understood the logic of having the Amestrian stay on U.A.’s campus – it was a secure location, with Pro Heroes that could offer protection, ready access to many resources, and several of the teachers were involved in the Kamino Investigation – that didn’t mean he was happy about it. He had many other things he should be doing, and catering to a foreign diplomat was not one of them.

“Do we know how long they’ll be staying?” Kan asked.

“As long as the investigation takes, I’d wager, Sekijiro!” Nezu cackled. “They’ll be staying in a visitor's apartment on the second floor. I hope you all make them feel welcome!”

So long as I don’t have to guard our guest overnight too, Shouta grunted. Though he supposed, with the new dorms that had been constructed, he might soon be making use of the apartment he had reserved on campus much more often. 

Even prior to Kamino and becoming a boarding school, U.A. had had on-campus housing. It was used for visiting guest instructors, exchange students, and faculty and staff that lived too far from campus to commute, or who needed affordable housing. Shouta did have a house in Musutafu that he shared with Hizashi and half a dozen cats, but he’d occasionally sleep in his U.A. apartment if it had been a long day and he didn’t feel like driving home.

Aside from himself, Shouta knew Kan and Yuka – Thirteen – lived in the on-campus housing and Snipe lived there part-time. While the faculty had a separate wing, they shared the building with a number of support and security staff.

Shouta was drawn from his reverie when his husband elbowed him in the side. “Oh, come on Shou~!” He glared at Hizashi, vision tinting red as he activated his quirk, but the Voice Hero was nonplussed. “It’ll be fun! No one knows anything about Atossa! We have the opportunity to learn so much!” Hizashi gave a sunny grin that hurt Shouta’s eyes. “Maybe they’ll even come on my radio show!”

“I am interested to hear about Atossan history,” Snipe commented. “We have practically no records since the onset of quirks, and what we have from prior to that is very minimal.”

But, just because they’re Atossan, doesn’t mean they’ll know the history, Shouta thought with a slight eye roll. Though I am curious as to how their society is structured and what it’s like living on a continent where everyone is quirkless…  And how does trade work if they’re so isolated from the outside world?

Any further thoughts were dashed as a knock sounded from the main doors. Nezu clapped his paws excitedly. “Ah! That should be the delegate!”

The door opened, first revealing a dark haired man, who nodded to them all. Kuzon, if Shouta was remembering correctly. He was one of the security staff at U.A. and had a fire-type quirk. Shouta didn’t know him well, but they’d shared equally tired glances in the wee hours of morning several times. “Ah, Principal Nezu? The delegate’s here.”

“Come in, come in!” Nezu grinned. The door opened further and Kuzon stepped inside onto the genkan, holding the door to permit the mysterious Amestrian entry. 

What?

Shouta blinked, his gaze flickering between the alleged-delegate and Nezu, who still had a gleeful grin on his face. This had better be some sort of logical ruse on the part of the principal. Otherwise… Shouta didn’t know what to think.

The “delegate”, if it truly was them, was young. His angular facial features said he couldn’t have been older than the third-years, but he was shorter than most of the first-years. And the longer Shouta looked, the more confused he became. While his height said fifteen and his face said eighteen, the arrival’s eyes said old old old, holding a weight that Shouta usually only saw in retired Pro Heroes.

Nezu, uncaring of Shouta’s internal crisis, stepped forward. The principal looked up at the new arrival, seemingly not at all surprised. Of course, this was Nezu, he’d probably been watching them since they first set foot in Japan. “Welcome, welcome!” Nezu chittered, bowing. “Do not be alarmed! Am I a dog? A mouse? A bear? I am Nezu! He/him pronouns, if you please.” 

The delegate – though Shouta wasn’t willing to ignore the possibility this was a ruse – raised both eyebrows as they watched Nezu. “Uh, nice to meet you? I am Edward Elric, from Amestris.”

Shouta blinked. Wasn’t the Amestrian not supposed to know Japanese? Speaking of… Shouta glanced behind Elric, but no translator followed in after. And Kuzon, the security guard, was already turning to leave. Elric noticed this too, and turned to give Kuzon a nod. “Thanks for getting me here.”

Kuzon blinked, obviously surprised at being addressed, then gave a smile. “No problem.” The guard turned towards the assembled faculty and bowed. “Have a good evening, everyone,” he said, then vanished into the night.

“Thank you for coming, Elric-san!” Nezu grinned, bringing Shouta’s attention back to the curiosity in the common room, still standing on the genkan. “Welcome to U.A., it is our pleasure to have you. Come in, come in.”

Elric bobbed his head, hesitating on the genkan as he surveyed the neatly ordered shoes around him, before realization struck and he toed off his boots.

The now sock-footed young man slowly walked closer, his eyes flitting between the assembled staff and faculty. The golden gaze was calculating as it swept over them, another mark in the paradoxical nature of the individual in front of Shouta. With every passing second, it was seemingly more and more likely that this actually was the Amestrian delegate.

And Shouta didn’t know how to feel about that.

One part of him said Amestris must not have been taking them seriously, sending someone who barely looked out of school. Another looked into the calculating too-old gaze, and felt kinship with someone who had seen too much of the world. And, a final part of Shouta, aching deep within his chest, recognized both sides and whispered that he’s just like my students.

“Pardon the question,” Elric said, glancing at Nezu. “But what kind of place is this? It’s far too elaborate to be a hotel. It looks more like a university campus.”

“You’re close!” Nezu grinned, scampering over to Yagi and scaling the former Hero’s shoulders. From his new elevated perch, Nezu stared down at Elric — which seemed to bother the Amestrian slightly, if the tick in Elric’s eye was any indicator. “This is U.A. High School! We’re the premier school in Japan and around the world for Heroics!”

Elric developed a sudden coughing fit. After a minute, he got it under control, but he still watched Nezu with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m staying at a high school? ”

Shouta felt some sense of satisfaction that the Amestrian was surprised by this too. 

Nezu waved off the question. “U.A. is one of the most secure locations in all of Japan! And since you’re new to the outside world, what better way to help you acclimate than a place of learning?” Nezu gestured to the assembled teachers. “Several of the faculty are Pro Heroes on the investigations team, including myself! And I’m sure the rest would be happy to help you, should you need it.”

“Pro Heroes?” Elric echoed, tilting his head. “I am not familiar with that term.”

“You might call it something different in Atossa?” Yagi offered. “We’re professional peacekeepers, if you will. It’s essentially a public service position. Heroes fight Villains and others who commit crimes, protecting the public from harm.”

“So the guy in brightly colored spandex I saw fighting a shark on a bridge was a Hero? Not a method actor or your usual city weirdo?” Elric asked, furrowing his brows. Shouta choked back a laugh, reveling in the expressions of the Limelight Heroes. Usual city weirdos. He was starting to like this kid. “But why were so many people watching it then? There was a whole crowd!”

Shouta nodded, with the usual spike of irritation when the subject arose. “Yes, it’s an ongoing issue, particularly in Limelight Heroics. Presently, it's regarded as a spectator sport by the media. It makes it much harder to protect people from harm.” It was yet another reason why he preferred to work Underground.

Elric eyed Shouta thoughtfully, something like appreciation in his eyes. Meanwhile, Nemuri chuckled, playfully rolling her eyes. “Spectator sport or not, Heroics is a very popular career,” she told Elric, nodding pointedly outside. “This school is devoted to it, to helping our students work their way up in the industry.”

“Ah,” Elric said, his voice going flat. “So you teach kids to become… Heroes?”

“Yep,” Kan looked at Elric, chuckling. “You barely look older than our third-years!”

“Really.”

“Anyways,” Nezu clapped his paws. “Let’s get to introductions! Elric-san has had a long journey, we wouldn’t want to keep him longer than necessary.” Their mammalian principal looked down at Elric, fangs flashing in a smile. “As I said, I am Nezu! I am the principal of U.A. and one of the lead investigators in the murder case.”

“I am Yagi Toshinori,” Yagi said, nodding his head slightly in lieu of a full bow, with Nezu perched on his shoulders. “I… I was a Hero but I recently retired.” The rest of the room winced at the reminder. “I currently work as a Heroics teacher at U.A., and I am also part of the investigation team as… well I suppose you’ll see tomorrow.” 

“I’m Sekijiro Kan, Vlad King,” Kan bowed. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Sokeki Mato, or Snipe.”

“Kayama Nemuri, Midnight.”

“Sugaku Yuurei. I’m also known as Ectoplasm.”

“Aizawa Shouta. Eraserhead,” Shouta muttered from within his scarf.

“Hello, Lil’ Listener! I’m Yamada Hizashi, better known as Present Mic!” Hizashi crowed, stepping forward. Elric stiffened slightly, the tick in his eye worsening. Hizashi immediately noticed Elric’s unease – he wasn’t a Pro Hero for nothing – and backtracked a few steps, lowering his voice. “Ah, sorry about that. I can get a bit loud! Go right over people’s heads sometimes.”

“HÖR A-” ^[3] Shouta jerked as the Amestrian abruptly cut off the start of his bellow. The young man took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “Don’t call me little, please. I am…” the Amestrian gritted his teeth, visibly forcing the words out. “Rather sensitive about my height.”

Well that’s one way of putting it, Shouta muttered. 

He idly wondered if the individual in front of them had been a last resort on the part of the Amestrian government. Otherwise, Shouta couldn’t understand why they’d send such a… young and volatile personality on a diplomatic mission.

Hizashi blinked, then laughed. “Sorry about that!” 

They continued around, introducing the rest of the staff present. Elric’s gaze lingered on Ishiyama, obviously surprised by Cementoss’ physical mutation. Since Elric came from a continent where everyone was quirkless, it was understandable, but Shouta hoped that wouldn’t have to deal with quirkist behavior from the Amestrian. Though considering his lack of reaction to Nezu, perhaps it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Well, that’s everyone!” Nezu commented. “Some of the faculty aren’t here, but you’ll likely meet them after spending time on campus. Chiyo or Recovery Girl’s medical office is in the main building, and Thirteen, Kurose Yuka, is currently away. But I’m sure you’ll see them around! Aizawa, could you show Elric his lodgings?”

Shouta grumbled into his scarf, but nodded. 

After catching the keycard Nezu tossed at him, Shouta and the Amestrian slipped their shoes back on and Shouta led the Amestrian to his quarters in the visitors wing. “The first floor has laundry facilities, a full kitchen, and a common area, as you saw. Your apartment has a bed, kitchenette and bathroom,” Shouta explained as he opened the door, stopping on the genkan. “… Do I need to show you how to use the faucet or toilet?”

Elric grimaced, shuffling around Shouta as he shook his head. “No, thanks. We do have those in Amestris, they’re just not as… streamlined as yours are.” Under his breath, Shouta heard the Amestrian mutter: “Though what the ones at the airport needed all those buttons for, I don’t know.”

Shouta nodded, handing Elric the keycard. “Here’s an ID card, it will give you access to your housing and parts of campus. Don’t lose it. The system uses it to make sure you’re not an intruder. If you have problems… knock on the door two down, on the right.” That was Vlad King’s room. He could deal with their delegate. Shouta was going to find his own apartment and sleep. “Sleep well, Elric-san.”

“Thank you, and please, call me Edward.” Shouta nodded. He was turning to leave when Elric – Edward – spoke up once more. “By the way… it’s been bothering me but what’s up with your second names? Radierkopf? Eraserhead? You don’t look like a pencil.”

Shouta made a slight choking noise. Thank god Hizashi wasn’t here, he’d get a kick out of this. “Ah… no, those are our Hero Names. They’re aliases, false names, used in the field.”

“Aliases,” Edward muttered. “I see. Like Vollmetallener? ”

“Sure.” Shouta wondered where the example of Vollmetallener came from. “Anyways, was that all?”

Edward nodded and Shouta let himself out. Finally, finally, he would be able to sleep.

(He didn’t sleep, he was too busy thinking of the too-young delegate with too-old eyes a few doors down. He was too busy wondering what could have given Elric such old eyes, why Amestris would send someone so young, with such a temper, across the globe to a place they knew almost nothing about.)

It was a two hour car ride until Sansa finally dropped Edward and his luggage off at his lodgings for the foreseeable future. Ed was expecting a hotel, or some sort of inn, only to be met by a security guard of all things. Kuzon, as he introduced himself, was a Xingese-looking man in his thirties, who only raised an eyebrow as he looked Ed over, obviously noting his age. But Kuzon didn’t comment on it, either because he didn’t care or because he was too tired to care.

“This way,” Kuzon said, gesturing to Ed to follow. Ed complied, looking around at the place he’d be staying. If it was meant to be a hotel, it was the weirdest one he’d ever seen. The grounds were massive, and in the pitch black night under artificial lights, there seemed to be no end to it. Even the space they were walking through now was something more akin to a parkland.

If Ed was being honest, it reminded him of the university campuses in Central and East City, except with different architecture. 

Eventually, Kuzon stopped outside a brickwork building, which, admittedly, did look like a hotel or apartment complex. Kuzon knocked on the main door, opening it slightly and calling inside, “Principal Nezu? The delegate’s here.” Ed frowned at the ‘principal’ part, but waved it off. Maybe he’d misremembered the word.

“Come in, come in!” A tinny voice from inside called. Kuzon pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside, holding it open so Ed could follow him. Edward did so, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the eclectic group standing in the open entrance hall. They were a diverse bunch but most were humanoid. Most.

Ed’s eyebrows raised as a literal animal – a stoat? It looked like a stoat – stepped forward. Oh, it was also wearing a miniature suit. What the hell. “Welcome, welcome!” The stoat chittered, because of course, animals could talk now. Why not. “Do not be alarmed! Am I a dog? A mouse? A bear? I am Nezu! He/him pronouns, if you please!” 

Okay, the talking stoat (chimera?) was named Nezu. And he could talk.

“Uh, nice to meet you?” How did one greet a talking stoat? “I’m Edward Elric, from Amestris.”

Edward resisted fidgeting, feeling the stares of the room on him. He could only imagine they, like Tsukauchi and Sansa, were internally questioning everything about him. Ed resisted the urge to growl at them. He was an international delegate. No growling. 

Kuzon, evidently sensing his job was done, turned to leave. Before he could, Ed sent the man a smile. “Thanks for getting me here.”

“No problem,” the guard said, shrugging. Kuzon turned towards the assembled strangers and bowed deeply. “Have a good evening, everyone.” Then he vanished into the night.

The stoat stepped forward again, grinning. “Thank you for coming, Elric-san! Welcome to U.A., it is our pleasure to have you. Come in, come in.”

Ed nodded, moving to do so, but hesitated, glancing at the small foyer he was on. Shoes had been removed and neatly arranged on the floor and into small cubbies. Interesting… was there some sort of thing about removing shoes? Giving a mental shrug, Ed toed his boots off and stepped up onto the same floor level as his audience. 

Walking closer, Ed’s eyes flitted over the assembled strangers, evaluating them as he did. They were… odd, appearance wise. There were over ten of them in total, and they ranged from a blonde skeleton, a man with hair like a bird’s crest, to a literal block of cement. (Edward was very distracted by the living block of cement. How the shit. Were they actually cement? How did they digest anything? Did they breathe? Would it count as human transmutation if Ed accidentally transmuted their body?)

“Pardon the question,” Edward said, pulling his gaze from the assorted strangers to the stoat – Nezu, he reminded himself. “But what kind of place is this? It’s far too elaborate to be a hotel. It looks more like a university campus.”

“You’re close!” Nezu grinned, scampering over to the blonde skeleton and scaling his body like a tree trunk. From the elevated perch, Nezu stared down at Ed with beady black eyes. Down. Of course the one person in this room shorter than Ed had to make themselves taller. “This is U.A. High School! We’re the premier school in Japan and around the world for Heroics!”

… What.

Ed only just stopped himself from swearing, covering it up with a coughing fit as he attempted to sort through his thoughts. His first was: Wait, I'm going back to school?! Screw that! Once he reasoned that Mustang wouldn’t have concocted this much of a convoluted plan to send him to school, his next thought was: Why the hell am I staying at a school?!

Finally, Ed recovered his breathing and stared up at Nezu. “I’m sorry, I’m staying at a high school?”

“U.A. is one of the most secure locations in all of Japan!” Nezu said, waving off the question. Which didn’t make Ed feel better. Why the hell was a school one of the most secure places in the country? Either they really prioritized student safety or this place had some sort of conspiracy going on. (And Ed had been to school and the military – usually, such security was reserved for only the dirtiest government secrets. And why would a school of all places be guarding such things?)

Ed mentally shook his head, filing that thought for later since Nezu was still talking. “–since you’re new to the outside world, what better way to help you acclimate than a place of learning?” Nezu gestured to the assembled weirdos. “Several of the faculty are Pro Heroes on the investigations team, including myself! And I’m sure the rest would be happy to help you, should you need it.”

“Pro Heroes?” Ed echoed, tilting his head.

“You might call it something different in Atossa?” the blond skeleton wondered. “We’re professional peacekeepers, if you will. It’s essentially a public service position. Heroes fight Villains and others who commit crimes, protecting the public from harm.”

Edward thought back to his car ride with Hamada, and then Sansa. Both times, there had been some sort of commotion that had slowed them for a minute before they’d bypassed it. Ed had still managed to see what it was about though…

“So the guy in brightly colored spandex I saw fighting a shark on a bridge was a Hero? Not a method actor or your usual city weirdo?” Ed asked, furrowing his brows. He’d figured it was the latter. Every city had folks who ran around naked or had non-typical clothing choices. Heck, Alphonse had been one of them, since he wore the armor around everywhere. (At least, that’s what people assumed.)

“But why were so many people watching it then?” That was the main issue Ed had had with it, and the reason why their travel had been slowed. A large mass of people had stopped to watch the city weirdos. “There was a whole crowd!”

“Yes, it’s an ongoing issue, particularly in Limelight Heroics,” huffed a slightly disheveled dark haired man, a strange pale scarf around his neck. “Presently, it's regarded as a spectator sport by the media. It makes it much harder to protect people from harm.”

Ed eyed the man with curiosity and interest. At least someone seemed to recognize it. And that dressing in primary colored spandex in broad daylight still classified someone as a ‘city weirdo’ regardless of their apparent “Hero” status. (Though this “Hero” business was sounding more and more like a reskinned version of the State Alchemist program. Peacekeepers, his ass.) 

Another of the strangers, this one a dark haired woman in a thick sweater, chuckled. For some reason, she made Ed think of a calmer and less murder-happy Lust. “Spectator sport or not, Heroics is a very popular career,” she said, nodding outside to the campus grounds. “This school is devoted to it, to helping our students work their way up in the industry.”

“Ah. So you teach kids to become… Heroes?”

“Yep,” another of the strangers said, a tall muscular man with pale hair who wouldn’t have looked out of place at Fort Briggs. Or as one of Armstrong’s cousins. “You barely look older than our third-years!”

“Really.”

Ed’s voice went flat, something nauseous twisting in his gut. “Peacekeepers.” Popular career. Training kids. It didn’t quite taste like the military, that whole thing on the street had been far too showy, but… it reeked of something poisonously familiar.

(Amestris was a military state, and one that had been at war, after all. With all that fighting, soldiers had to come from somewhere. Ed still remembered tasting bile when he’d walked past a tailor’s in Central City, kids younger than himself crowded at a window and pointing to the uniformed blue coat displayed in the window, just their size.

Start ‘em young, Ed could imagine the old brass saying. It’s an easy jump from kids playing soldier. At least until they actually were soldiers, and the rose-tinted glasses turned red.)

“Anyways,” Nezu clapped his paws, breaking Ed from his spiraling thoughts. “Let’s get to introductions! Elric-san has had a long journey, we wouldn’t want to keep him longer than necessary.” The stoat looked down at Elric – that was still annoying – fangs flashing in a smile. “As I said, I am Nezu! I am the principal of U.A. and one of the lead investigators in the murder case.”

“I am Yagi Toshinori,” the blonde skeleton, Yagi, gave a nod. “I… I was a Hero but I recently retired.” Maybe because he was a skeleton? “I work as a Heroics teacher at U.A., and I’m part of the investigation team as… well, I suppose you’ll see tomorrow.” 

Well that was informative. Not.

The people went around introducing themselves, and though Ed attempted to remember their names, he found most of them slipping from his mind a short time later. Though he did note that Disheveled Man’s name was Aizawa. Eventually, the energetic man with hair akin to a bird’s crown spoke up, and Ed’s blood pressure immediately went up.

“Hello, Lil’ Listener!” Ed missed the rest of what the man – Yamada, his subconscious supplied – said. Little. He tensed, forcing his feet to stay right where they were. Ed would not attack the foreigners. That was not good delegate behavior. He tuned back in, only to hear: “–go right over people’s heads sometimes!”

THAT’S IT!!

“DON’T—” Edward got the first word in Amestrian before Sense and Logic hit him with a hammer, and he reined in his indignation. He took a deep breath, forcibly making himself relax. “Don’t call me little.” It was painful to say the word. “I am… rather sensitive about my height.”

Yamada, despite looking a little wide eyed, laughed. “Sorry about that!”

Okay, maybe Mustang’s version of foreign diplomacy wasn’t completely ruined. But if many more people said something about his height or his age, Ed was going to do Edward Elric’s style of diplomacy: throwing hands. Mostly his own. Automail hurt when used as a club. 

The rest of the faculty, because he was at a fucking school, finished introducing themselves. Ed was particularly interested in the guy called Ishiyama, aka the living block of concrete, aka Cementoss. (What was up with those names anyway?) He’d have to ask the guy about his physiological makeup and biological functions at some point. If the guy had any. Because, you know, he was living cement.

What the hell were quirks?

Finally, finally, Edward was released from social convention. Aizawa escorted him up to his living quarters and handed him his key that looked nothing like a key. As Edward shut the door behind Aizawa, he let out a long breath. Alone at last. He set his suitcase on the ground, kicking off his boots and throwing his coat over the back of a nearby chair. 

First things first…

Ed began a slow circuit of the room, searching for any wires or out of place holes in the walls. Mustang and Fuery had actually been the ones to teach him this. After entering the military, they had teamed up to teach him how to look for places where people might be able to look or listen in on him, and how to be aware of tapped telephone lines.

Of course, Ed thought as he stared long and hard at the large, thin, rectangular box on a low table. It doesn’t help when I have no idea what I’m looking at.

Ed groaned, turning to feel along the drywall for any peepholes. The Outside has technology beyond what I could imagine, Ed thought grimly to himself. I probably couldn’t even recognize the sorts of listening devices they might have even if I tried. Let alone where they could be.

The ‘cell phone’ in his pocket could capture video for Truth’s sake. Who knew what sorts of crazy listening or watching devices they could have. Or how small they could make them.

“On the other hand, this is a high school,” Ed muttered. “Why would they have a surveillance system?”

(It’s also allegedly one of the most secure places in the country, a voice in his head that sounded like Roy Mustang argued. If that’s the case, why wouldn’t they have a strong surveillance system?)

Ed didn’t find anything he could recognize and eventually, he gave up, resigning himself to whatever the Outside had in store. He did, however, briefly clap his hands together and place them on the drywall, adding another thin coat to the wall’s surface. Might not work, but, better than nothing.

With that done, Ed decided to make use of the amenities offered. After a bath that helped alleviate the ache from his automail ports, he pulled on a sleeveless shirt. Japan, as he was finding, was much hotter than Amestris was in September, and a lot more humid. (But, at least it wasn’t as hot as Cairo.)

After performing some stretches, Ed unpacked part of his suitcase, withdrawing his travel journal and research notebook along with a pen. After taking a seat at the desk in the apartment, Edward picked up his pen, laid out the sheets of paper, and began to write.

…

Dear Alphonse,

You would not believe the day I’ve had. The Outside is… well it’s hard to describe. I spent over three days crossing the Mediterranean and I’m not a fan. I had to oil my automail more because of the humidity, and the boat was like one of Teacher’s lessons. The ground was constantly shifting because of the waves, and when I got back to dry land, I was land sick! 

Anyways, I arrived at the port and met the Japanese contact. They had blue hair! Blue! But even cooler, their quirk (the Japanese call it kosei, which literally means “individuality”) lets them understand any spoken language!! I’d murder Mustang for making me learn two languages in three weeks, but this way I don’t need to rely on someone else for translations. Gives me some more freedom over here.

But that’s not even the coolest part. We got from the Mediterranean port to Japan in a day. A DAY, Al. 24 hours. And you want to know how? Flying. The Outside has figured out how to FLY. I’ve included a sketch, but they use these things called airplanes! I researched it and apparently they work both by pulling themselves through the air with an engine, and going fast enough to create enough lift so they can fly!! (The cruising altitude was over 40,000 feet Al. Mustang can never hold my height above me again, mwahahaha!) Don’t worry, I’ll work on getting blueprints. Winry will go crazy for this. Heck, we could rope Mustang in to figure out how to get them to work in Amestris.

On that note, the Outside has even cooler technology. They have these devices, they call them ‘cell phones’, and it’s like… everything but the kitchen sink. They’re these skinny black rectangles that fit in a pocket, but with it you can call someone from anywhere, send them letters instantly, take photographs, or do two-way video-calls! And, that’s not all, there’s this thing called the ‘internet’. It’s… it’s like every library in the world packed into one place, except it exists in the aether, made of electric signals, and every cell phone can reach it. It’s incredible.

Also, I met your new best friend (see sketch, I haven’t figured out how to print pictures yet). His name is Sansa and he’s a cat man. Yes, you read that right, a cat man. Like Heinkel, but house cat. NO, YOU CAN’T KEEP HIM. He’s part of the police force here, nice guy. Do you think he’d get high on catnip?

(Side note, to Jerso and Zampano, if you ever decide on moving out of Amestris, the Outside might be a good place. I’ve seen so many quirked people who have animal features — heck, I met what was literally a talking stoat — you guys would fit right in. Considering that I met a living block of cement, you guys would honestly be the least weird thing here.)

There was also this guy named Naomasa Tsukauchi at the police station, and, get this Al, his quirk lets him tell when people are lying. I know, right?! Apparently personal truths register as ‘true’, so he’s more effective at determining lies, but I really want to figure out how far it goes. Does he register Truths differently from truths? I’ve got so many questions and he gave me no answers. I am going to figure it out though.

Another thing, they’re having me stay at a high school. A HIGH SCHOOL. (I can’t believe Mustang would send me back to school, I swear to Truth.) But apparently it’s got better security? Anyways, it’s a school for “Heroes,” which is just their way of saying it’s their version of a government sanctioned supersoldier program. Basically like the State Alchemist program, but with none of the subtlety, since these guys are sent to address everything from petty crime to terrorists. (And for some reason they’re basically all called “villains”? That’s not biased at all.)

Oh, and did I mention this is a high school training kids to be “Heroes”? 

Absolute hypocrites, the lot of them. They didn’t say it, but I could see them questioning someone my age being in the military. Hah, well at least I’m the only one in Amestris. Seriously, this is worse than the propaganda back in Amestris. Like, at least you can’t officially do any official military training programs until you’re enlistment age. They’re got schools set up for it. What the hell… 

I wonder if I can convince Mustang to let me start a coup. I’m kidding, I’m kidding, but what if…

Anyways, I meet with the investigations team tomorrow. I’ll get to hear what information they’ve collected and what they know, then I can start my own research (both into the murder, and the Outside as a whole).

Your loving brother,
Edward

…

Dear Führer Bastard,

Eat shit.

Signed,
Edward Elric

… Okay, you got me, Bastard. You wanted to know about the Outside? It’s beyond your wildest expectations. To start with: technology.

The Outside has developed working flying machines. They call them ‘airplanes’, and they’re used commercially for transport. I flew across the globe in under a day Roy, and that isn’t uncommon. I’ll work on getting the blueprints and design schematics, but between me, Al, Winry, and you, we can figure out how to get them to work in Amestris.

Also, they have these inventions called ‘cell phones’. But, they’re not just telephones, you can call someone from anywhere, they can be used to send instant messages, they can create instant films complete with audio, and so much more. I still haven’t figured out everything these things can do. And, get this, a majority of people have them. They can fit into people’s pockets. Again, I’ll work on getting the designs, but with how miniaturized everything in the phone seems to be, we might not be able to replicate it in Amestris yet.

On quirks, I’ve seen a lot of people with heteromorphic quirks — quirks that change their physical appearance / biology. The superintendent of the police station had a dog’s head, the contact had blue hair, and I met a guy that was a living block of cement. Yeah, I don’t know how either. But, not everyone seems to have physical alterations. I’ve met plenty of people who wouldn’t be too out of place in Amestris (except for the fact that everyone is weirdly tall, and NO MUSTANG I AM A PERFECTLY NORMAL HEIGHT! THEY WOUlD BE TALL EVEN IN AMESTRIS!! THEY’RE AS BIG AS AL WAS IN ARMOR!!)

Tomorrow I meet with the investigations team, and hopefully I can start some more research on quirks, what they are, and how they work. 

I’ve included a longer summary on the last couple hundred years of history on the Outside, non-exhaustive but it should give you a start. Prior to Atossa getting sealed off a few hundred years ago, our records of history seem to compare fairly well. But, things drop off after the destruction of Xerxes. Xerxes would have been cause for concern– there’s a lot of legends about Xerxes getting smited by the gods, and the land turning cursed. But still, the level of exclusion can’t all be explained by Xerxes and superstition. Anyways, Outside’ developed Quirks a couple centuries ago and their technology kept advancing. Few wars, few peace treaties, a few global organization things.

Anyways, get this: I’m staying at a high school. A HIGH SCHOOL, Mustang. I can’t believe you’d do this to me. It’s also apparently where kids (younger than I am, I might add) are trained to become “Heroes”, which seems to be their version of the State Alchemist program. Can I start a coup, Roy? It’s working to reform Amestris’ military program.

Lastly… why the hell did you make me learn two languages in three weeks, you Bastard? The contact the Japanese sent has a quirk that lets them speak and understand any language they’ve heard spoken before. If you knew about this, I will transmute your hair white again, see if I don’t.

Signed,
Edward Elric

…

After adding his signature, Ed set his pen down and folded the letters, slipping them into two separate envelopes. 

Edward stood up from the desk, rolling his shoulders as he stretched the stiffness from his joints. After a minute, he went to his suitcase and pulled out two folded pieces of cloth. Ed knelt down, laying out both pieces of cloth on the floor, and carefully smoothed them until they lay flat. 

Staring up at him were two nearly identical transmutation circles, painstakingly hand stitched into the fabric, each around two feet in diameter. The circles were both marvelous in their simplicity and painful in their complexity. Intricate alchemic runes ringed the outside, but the central focus was nearly empty.

Sitting back on his haunches, Ed placed a hand on each of the transmutation circles. Reaching down towards the well of tectonic energy below (and by Truth, Japan was directly over a continental subduction, the potential energy here was massive), the resonating energy of the planet and the universe, Ed pulled a thread upwards and funneled it into the two alchemic circles.

They flared with blue light, a current of alchemic energy running through them for a brief moment.

Ed withdrew his hands and he waited.

Around ten seconds later, one of the transmutation circles crackled with energy before dimming. And around a minute after that, the second transmutation circle did the same thing. Edward grinned. Showtime.

He collected his letters, placing the one for Alphonse on one of the circles, and the report for Mustang on the other. Clapping his hands, Ed touched them to the transmutation circle containing Al’s letter. He reached out, drawing on the tectonic energy while simultaneously reaching out, for something that only a few had seen, he more than most.

His mind brushed static, a gaping Void filled with Everything, and Ed grinned. Alchemic lighting crackled under his hands as he linked the energy with his Gate, and opened it.

There was a blaze of light, and when Edward sat back, blinking the spots from his eyes, the papers had vanished from the circle. Another minute, and Ed had done the same thing with Mustang’s letters. Grinning, he stood back from his handiwork, staring down at the pair of teleportation transmutation circles.

About six months back, Al had returned to Amestris for a little while after visiting Xing. He’d brought with him knowledge of alkahestry and distance transmutations, along with alternate methods of channeling energy. What followed was about two weeks of sleepless nights, and on the other side of that, Edward and Alphonse had emerged having invented teleportation alchemy.

Of course, the method was only a prototype and wasn’t widely applicable.

The method of teleportation that the brothers had devised worked using two near identical transmutation circles that had the exact same dimensions and the same markings, linking them to each other. Instead of rebuilding an exact replica of the thing on the opposite circle — as other alchemic teleportation theories had proposed — Ed and Al used their Gates to transport it.

That was why the method wasn’t widely applicable. A user had to have seen the Gate to use it, because it involved opening their Gate and sending the object through the Gate Realm to traverse space. All transmutation circles were already linked to the Truth’s Realm, and this method made use of that. There were only three people who had used it thus far, Edward, Alphonse, and Mustang, since they had all come into contact with Truth and the Gate.

Since the alchemy required that the circles be identical, the brothers had stitched them into canvas cloth. Edward had two circles, one that linked to a circle belonging to Alphonse, and another that linked to a circle owned by Mustang. Before sending anything, they sent a slight burst of energy through to make sure it was safe to activate. 

(They did not want a repeat of the time when something had been on the teleportation circle when it activated.)

At present, the transmutation only sent inanimate, unliving objects through the Gate. Edward and Alphonse had considered trying it on an apple, but decided they’d rather run more calculations before they tried anything like that. (Because the risk of rebound was far too high… and all the people who could perform this transmutation all knew the costs of playing with life intimately. Sometimes, Ed wondered if that was on purpose.)

While waiting for a reply, Edward took a five minute detour. He went to the room two doors down (which turned out to be the room of Kan Sekijiro… or was it Vlad King?). After asking where he could acquire some food and being shown a communal fridge in the lower levels, Ed returned to his apartment with a dish of plain rice and dried seaweed. The seaweed was kinda like eating paper, but really good paper. 

Thirty minutes after he’d sent his letters, the circles flared with blue light. Ed quickly sent a reply, blue energy flaring from his end. A minute later, papers popped into existence inside the two circles.

Ed quickly snatched the papers, reading over Al’s reply first.

…

Dear Edward,

… I know it’s not possible, what with the travel time to Amestris from Xing, and then whatever permissions Mustang had to give you to leave Atossa, but now I want to join you. A cat-person, Brother. A CAT PERSON. Do you think he likes pets? Or is that considered rude? 

The technology sounds incredible. Please send me photos if you can. Your drawing skills leave much to be desired.

Regarding the “Heroics” school, try to keep in mind you are an outsider, Ed. From what you’ve sent, I don’t approve of it either but you also don’t know how the school is set up or what they teach the students. For all we know, their age of adulthood is lower too. Wait to make judgments until you’ve learned more, Brother. 

Also, joke or not, you cannot start a coup. We lived in Amestris and knew the people getting impacted, knew the sorts of atrocities that the government was aiding and abetting. Do not go overthrowing the foreign country’s government without learning about them first. That’s bad manners. Take Xing – there are plenty of things we may find frustrating here, but Mei or Ling are the ones better fit to tackle the problem. Even if you take issue with it, you wouldn’t lead a coup against Ling, would you?

… Actually, who am I kidding, of course you would. And for no other reason than to screw with Ling.

Mei is frustrated you got a foreign delegate position before her, and Xiao Mei sends you kisses.

Your loving brother,
Alphonse

…

Fullmetal,

If it wasn’t for your tendency of encountering the unbelievable, I might be inclined to think you’re lying… however your track record proves otherwise. 

Try to get your hands on copies of the blueprints. Even if we can’t make the designs work, they’d still hold value for scientists and engineers back in Amestris, and we could reverse engineer them to improve things here. On that note, also try to see if you can get more detailed accounts of the history. What you gave us is a start, but more detail would be ideal.

Keep me updated on the meeting and any new information they’ve uncovered. 

I was not aware they would have a translator, nor was I aware they would send you to a high school. (However, considering you never interact with people your own age aside from Winry and Alphonse, it might be of some benefit to you! Perhaps you can learn some manners for this position of yours.)

For both our sakes, please don’t throw a coup against the Japanese government. Lest you forget, you’re there for information gathering, and that’s rather difficult if you end up imprisoned for capital crimes. If you must, give it at least a few months so I can get some intel, and then you can demonstrate your usual disregard for any sort of organized authority. Though, do note, inciting revolutionary ideas in the locals is far more impactful than leading one as a foreigner. 

Also, don’t lie. You’re glad you learned the language. I know you, and you’d hate being reliant on someone to translate your every word.

Signed,
Führer Roy Mustang

Omake:

In the Domain of Truth, the Entity known to Edward Elric by that same name sat in a howling void of Everything and Nothing, eternity stretching to the horizon. Truth hummed to Itself, quite happy to exist in the Void, nowhere and everywhere all at once. However, Its relative peace was disturbed by Time suddenly whispering through the place where there was no time.

Truth blinked, watching as a Gate sprung into being in the middle of the Void. The Gate bore inscriptions that marked it as the one belonging to Edward Elric. 

“What in the name of me?” Truth muttered. It half expected the Little Alchemist to come strutting through the Gate, nevermind that Truth had given the alchemist a warning that if he messed with the Laws, his soul belonged to Truth. However, when the doors of the stone monolith creaked open, a human did not exit the Gate.

Instead, it was a boot.

A stinky, ratty old leather boot falling apart at the seams popped from the shadows within the Gate, landing with a thud on the ‘ground’. Then the Gate Realm s h i f t e d, and Edward Elric’s Gate was now under and next to the fallen boot, never having changed positions. The shadows pulled in boot inwards, and then the doors to the Gate shut with a bang, leaving Truth alone with Itself in the Void once more.

Truth blinked. “What has the Little Alchemist done now?” 

Truth Knew, and It wasn’t sure whether to laugh in delight or groan at the continued antics of the two known as the Elric brothers.

In no time and some time, Truth propped Its head on the taken arm of Edward Elric, sighing in exasperation as boots, books, papers, tiny statues and countless other objects of varying sizes flew over Its head. Three Gates in particular, all belonging to those who had visited Truth’s Domain, flickered open and shut as they sent and caught the objects like some twisted game of tennis.

“I and the Gate are not mail carriers,” Truth grumbled in annoyance, as a book hit It in the side of the head and then continued on its journey.

The Entity grimaced, and when the next sheaf of papers went to collide with Its head, it snatched them out of the ‘air’. Truth examined the package of letters, ripping open the seal on one and manifesting a pair of glasses. With the lens delicately balanced on Its nonexistent nose, Truth began to flip through the pages. 

“If you're going to send your mail through here, I'll read it,” the Being grumbled, then raised an eyebrow at something mentioned in the letter. “Oh, no he didn’t. That’s just sad.”

Of course, Truth already Knew everything in the letters, but there was a point to this!

Chapter Text

Aizawa felt an incredible sense of déjà vu as he took his seat at the conference table. Everyone from their previous meeting a couple weeks prior was in attendance, with one new addition: the Amestrian delegate, Edward Elric.

Shouta had stayed the night at his U.A. apartment and when he’d awoken in the morning, he and Nezu had discovered Edward sitting in the common space on the ground floor of the apartment building. After the three of them had gotten the foreigner some breakfast – which Edward expressed his immense appreciation for – they met with Yagi and departed for the police station via the Tokyo-bound shinkansen.

Upon their arrival, Elric had taken the time to affix several unfamiliar pins and badges to the front of his black vest. The primary one was a metallic, pointed badge showing a dragon rampant on a plain backdrop. Perhaps it was the Amestrian crest or coat of arms?

Once Elric had finished with his badges – which Shouta would admit did make the young man look more like an official delegate – they joined the others in the meeting room. Nezu clapped his paws a few times, calling for the room’s attention from his seat at the head of the conference table. “Thank you for coming,” Nezu said, looking around the assembly. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

Everyone claimed their seats, with Edward sitting opposite Nezu at the other end of the table. Meanwhile, the Heroes claimed one side of the table and Tsukauchi and the other detectives claimed the other. 

“For starters, this is the Amestrian representative,” Nezu gestured to Edward, who raised one gloved hand in a lazy salute.

“Nice to meet you,” Edward said, quirking his lips. “I’m Edward Elric, feel free to call me Ed or Edward. We don’t have the same preference for family names that you do.”

Nezu smiled at him and looked around at the assembled individuals. “Let’s introduce ourselves once more for Elric’s benefit and in case there is anyone you’re unfamiliar with, starting from the left. As you know, I am Nezu, one of the principal investigators on this case.”

“Yagi Toshinori,” Yagi nodded to the Amestrian. “Good to see you again, El– pardon me, Edward.” 

“Gran Torino,” the Hero said shortly. Aizawa was honestly surprised to see Torino working this case. But, he supposed that while the older Hero had retired from the Limelight, he continued his work with the Underground. Though, after Kamino, and Torino’s role in helping All Might, Aizawa assumed Torino would have taken time to rest. Apparently not.

“Snipe,” the teacher and Hero tipped his hat towards Edward. “You may call me Snipe or Sokeki, Edward-san.”

“I’m Hawks,” said the Hero in question, lounging back in his chair. He eyed Elric curiously, and while his posture looked relaxed, Aizawa knew the young man was analyzing every move Edward made. “Pro Hero.”

“Aizawa Shouta. Eraserhead,” Aizawa muttered, the redundancy irking him slightly. Hadn’t he just done this? “Underground Hero and investigator.”

“Hamada Yazuki.” That was the translator that the police and government had assigned to this case. Aizawa didn’t know them personally, but Tsukauchi had talked about them before. Apparently Tsukauchi had collaborated with Hamada on prior cases. “I’ll be acting as a translator if needed.” 

“Akira Shuurin,” the woman introduced herself, her long ears twitching forward. “I’m a detective, part of Tsukauchi’s unit.”

“Sakamura Ronen,” the wolf-man grinned, showing off his fangs. “Like ‘kira, I work with Tsukauchi on cases. I’ve got a nose for finding answers.” Sakamura tapped a finger to his elongated snout.

“Nose for trouble, more like. I’m Ikibara Toru,” said the last of Tsukauchi’s colleagues. Ikibara, Aizawa remembered she’d collaborated with Midnight on a handful of cases, thanks to her toxin-filtering quirk. “Good to meet you.”

“As you know, I’m Sansa Tamakawa!” Whiskers twitching in a cat version of a smile, Sansa looked down the table at Ed. “Good to see you again, Edward-san.”

“Detective Tsukauchi, the other lead investigator on this case,” Tsukauchi nodded to the room, looking at Nezu. “Thank you all for coming."

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Edward nodded, before his expression turned serious. He looked at Nezu, golden eyes meeting the rat’s head on. “Now, I know the basics of the situation, but debrief me. What’s up?”

Aizawa listened with half an ear as Nezu explained the situation, from All for One and the kidnapped student fiasco, to the discovery of the Amestrian soldier in the Nomu Factory. Edward had given Yagi a sharp glance when Nezu explained that he was All Might, the man who had fought All for One. Eventually, Nezu passed the crime scene photos of the half-transformed Amestrian to Edward, and the young man didn’t so much as grimace at the gory images placed before him.

“Officer Talfon, Unit 12 Southern Forces,” Edward said as he looked the image over. The Amestrian reached into his coat, pulling out a photo that turned out to be of the man prior to experimentation, which was passed around the table. “He went missing over a year ago; his partner was found killed in West Amestris. We assumed Talfon was taken prisoner by Creta, but Creta swore up and down they weren’t responsible, and the border patrol claimed that nobody had managed to get through.” Edward hummed thoughtfully, tapping the photograph. “Guess someone from the Outside managed to sneak in and nab him… the question is why?”

The table fell into silence for a few minutes before Edward looked up, sweeping his gaze across the assembled Heroes and detectives. “Moment, von vorn, ihr sagt— gah, verdammt, auf Japanisch, Edward…” ^[1] Elric grimaced and shook his head, beginning again in Japanese. “You said this guy, All for One, was obsessed with quirks, right?”

“Yes,” Yagi nodded, expression grim. “He has the power to give and take quirks. Nobody knows just how many he has, but we can only imagine that they number in the hundreds if not thousands.” Toshinori tapped one of the photos of Nomu. “He created the Nomu, and while we don’t know the specifics, we know he forced quirks onto people. The human body… it isn’t adapted to handle another quirk aside from its own.”

Elric fell silent again. Shouta had no idea what he was thinking, but he could see the Amestrian’s gaze was thoughtful.

“You said he’s lived for several hundred years?” Edward asked, sifting through the pictures to look at one of the decimated Kamino Ward. “And you’re sure it’s actually been him the entire time? Not a line of succession between leaders?”

“I’m sure,” Yagi said, his blue eyes blazing slightly.

The Amestrian’s eyes fell to the pictures again. “One last question… his power, what color was it? What form did it take?”

“… Red and black energy,” Yagi answered after a moment. He paused. “Why?”

“No reason,” Edward muttered. Shouta highly doubted that. “I… he reminds me of something, or someone, I suppose.” The Amestrain stared into the middle distance for a long moment, eyes unfocused. “I’ll need to talk to the Führer about this.”

Nezu nodded. The principal went to speak, but was interrupted by someone else speaking up. Sakamura, from his position across from Shouta, eyed Edward critically. "What exactly are your qualifications?" Sakamura asked. “Why were you chosen? No offense but… you look kinda young.”

It was the elephant in the room. The question they were all wondering.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you wanted the full introduction,” Edward said, rolling his eyes. Then the Amestrian stepped back from the table and stood straight. Ramrod straight. At attention, like Aizawa had seen soldiers do in the past. “Major General Edward Elric of the Amestrian Military, der Vollmetallener Alchemist.”

“Vollmetallener Alchemist,” Hamada repeated in Elric’s native language. They hummed thoughtfully for a moment, then translated: “The Fullmetal Alchemist.”

The room went dead silent.

Shouta wasn’t as well versed in the hierarchy of military command as some, but he was pretty sure Major General was three or four steps down from the highest position in the army. And that wasn’t even considering the apparent Hero Name the Amestrian had just dropped. What the hell?

“A twenty year old is a Major General?" Sansa asked, voice strangled. If the table had been surprised before, now they had been shocked into incomprehensibility. This… this kid was only twenty?! And he was a Major General in the military? And they had sent him on a diplomatic and investigatory mission halfway across the globe?!  

Shouta would repeat: What. The. Hell.

“Is that normal?!” Sansa asked, and the cat-headed officer honestly looked afraid of the answer.

Edward shook his head. "I have my own extenuating circumstances, so no, it’s not normal.” Well, that was some relief, Shouta supposed. Dealing with a country that conscripted teenagers into the military, and at a young enough age that a twenty year old could work their way up to such a high rank… well, things would have been tense to say the least.

“What about that second name you listed? ‘Fullmetal?’” Hawks repeated, tilting his head in a bird-like gesture. “Is that your Hero name?”

Edward snorted. “No, it’s my State Alchemist title. Fullmetal. Vollmetallener, in Amestrian.”

“Does that have anything to do with the unusual abilities those of Atossa are said to have?” Ikibara asked, sending the delegate a questioning look.

Edward blinked, eerie golden eyes staring blankly at the detective. “Unusual abilities? Like quirks?”

“No, not quirks,” Ikibara waved a hand in the air, indicating something only she knew. “It’s that magic native to Atossa? The one that can turn lead into gold?”

Shouta vaguely recalled having read something similar in a book of legends once upon a time. He’d waved away the idea, since quirks looked (and honestly sometimes functioned) like magic. Shouta had argued that, if anything, the legends were caused by quirks that had developed in Atossa, maybe even prior to the rest of the world.

"Warum sind immer alle so verdammt besessen von der Blei zu Gold Sache?!” ^[2] Edward muttered angrily to himself for a moment, and whatever he said, Hamada didn’t bother to translate it (though, the translator’s eyes did widen slightly.) Then, he took a sharp inhale. “Okay, first off, are you talking about alchemy?”

Hamada didn’t offer a translation, so Aizawa could only assume it was some concept exclusive to Atossa or Amestris. Seeing their confused expressions, Edward huffed, scowling. “Alchemy isn't magic, it’s science.”

The Amestrian paused, then looked towards Hamada. “Can you help me translate? I don’t know all these terms.” Hamada nodded, and Edward continued with Hamada filling in certain Amestrian words when needed. “Alchemy is the science of understanding, deconstructing and reconstructing matter. It’s based in the natural sciences, chemistry mostly, and on the laws of conservation. It is ruled by equivalent exchange.” 

Or, maybe Shouta was wrong.

Reaching forward, Edward snagged a pen from Aizawa. He quickly drew a circle on the table – how on earth could he draw a perfect circle freehand? – and filled it in with a few triangles, creating a star-like symbol within the bounds of the circle. Edward touched his hands to the drawing and then there was light.

Blue lightning crackled over the table’s surface. As Shouta watched, the wood of the table warped, shifting like a fluid until it had reformed. Now, there was a divot in the table and a miniature wooden likeness of Nezu, detailed down to the scar over the principal’s eye, had been molded from the table itself.

“This is alchemy,” Edward said, gesturing to the small statue. “It can be used to shape objects at a macroscopic or atomic level.” Edward touched the table again and the statue melted away, the wood returning to its original state with no sign it had been restructured. He snagged a piece of paper and sketched the same circle down, tapping it lightly with his pen. “This is a transmutationskreis.”

Edward paused, looking to Hamada. “Transmutation circle,” the translator offered after thinking of an appropriately equivalent term.

“Transmutation circle,” Edward said, testing out the Japanese, then nodded. “Right, a transmutation circle is, essentially, the medium through which the reaction proceeds. To perform alchemy, you must intimately understand the material that you are changing, as well as what you are changing it into. I am skilled in alchemy, so I can use a simple transmutation circle for this, but someone else would need a more complex one for the same process.”

The table processed that, slowly digesting the fact that, apparently, Atossa had a science built around reshaping matter.

“Are you sure this… ‘alchemy’ isn't just quirks?” Snipe asked, eyeing the table where the statue had been. “I’ve seen some quirks do some pretty similar stuff. Heck, there’s a student at U.A. whose quirk allows her to create anything using her body fat.”

Edward blinked, momentarily surprised by the mention of Yaoyorozu’s quirk, then shook his head quickly. “It’s not a quirk,” He said and raised a hand, tilting it like a balance scale. “Alchemy is… ordered. It has Laws, but anyone with enough knowledge can learn to use it and apply it. From what little I’ve read about your quirks… you have a quirk you’re born with or that develops at a young age, and unless you’re like this All for One, that’s the one you’re stuck with.”

“Perhaps that is why All for One kidnapped an Amestrian?” Tsukauchi asked, pulling the drawing of the ‘transmutation circle’ towards himself. “If alchemy does what you say, perhaps he wanted to take advantage of it.”

Edward shook his head. “If that’s the case, he was looking in the wrong place. You can learn alchemy from books. Any library with a decent science section will have at least one book titled ‘Introduction to Alchemy and Alchemic Principles’. The average Amestrian is going to know as much about the inner workings of alchemy as the average someone from the Outside would know about the process of organic reactions in chemistry. Not to say they can’t learn or know it, but that it’s a specialized field.”

The Amestrian paused, eyeing the table. “Unless everyone on the Outside does know about the process of organic reactions in chemistry?”

Nezu chuckled, “No, unfortunately not.”

“Maybe All for One made a mistake then?” Shouta wondered. “It doesn’t matter how powerful someone is, they will make mistakes.”

“Even so, why turn the soldier into a Nomu?” Akira pointed out. “As far as he and everyone knows, Atossans are quirkless. Wouldn't that make it useless to use an Atossan for a Nomu?

“Saving resources? Experimenting?” Gran Torino hummed, rubbing his beard. “With men like All for One, you have to understand that almost every plan and every move they make benefits them in some way. His research into alchemy didn’t go as planned? No matter, he’s got another victim to experiment on, and no one knows where to look for them.”

Edward nodded, pointing his pen at Gran Torino. “Ja. What he said.”

“What if it has to do with the fact that Atossans are quirkless?” Nezu offered, and the table turned to look at him. The principal clicked his claws against a teacup. “All for One is no fool. It is well known that those from outside Atossa fall ill, that quirks themselves do not function, while one is on the continent. Perhaps… he wanted to take advantage of that.”

“All for One is obsessed with quirks,” Yagi said, frowning. “He aspires to godhood through them. He wouldn’t do anything to threaten his quirks or the supremacy he wishes to gain through them.”

Nezu nodded to Yagi. “That may be true, but it’s possible All for One could have desired to understand why all residents of Atossa are quirkless, why quirks don’t work on the continent. If he could… it would give him an advantage. If he knew how to create quirk dead zones, or how to impose their effects on individuals, he could render a majority of offenses against himself useless.”

The room went utterly silent as the implications of those words sank in.

Shouta, having the ability to temporarily erase other quirks, knew better than anyone that people in their current society, Heroes and Villains alike, were dependent on their quirks, especially in combat. Shouta took advantage of that, using his own quirk to nullify theirs and take advantage of the resulting confusion to strike. 

So the idea that All for One, already a formidable foe, had wanted to understand how to render his enemies quirkless at a distance, whether individually or through a larger area of effect, was terrifying.

“Do we have any way of knowing whether he made any progress in this?” Tsukauchi demanded, and Nezu’s whiskers twitched.

“Impossible to say at the moment. But, if this theory is correct, it offers us a place to start searching.” Nezu swept his gaze around the table, making eye contact with every one of them. “Stay on alert. If you uncover anything in your own investigations regarding this, contact me or Tsukauchi immediately.”

Everyone nodded, and Nezu let the silence hang in the air before turning to look at Edward. The Amestrian watched them all with calculating golden eyes. While Shouta knew the Amestrian had no idea of how dependent their society was on the role of quirks, Edward likely knew enough.

“Elric-san,” Nezu said, addressing the delegate. “Can you offer us any more information on Amestris? I understand if you cannot share something, but we’d appreciate anything you have.”

“Uh, can you tell us about your arm?” Hamada asked tentatively. 

Shouta blinked. What was that about Elric’s arm? 

Edward sent Hamada a sharp look, obviously not appreciating the comment. But then, he sighed and began tugging off the glove on his right hand. "Well, I suppose you’d find out eventually. For all I know, there’s someone with a metal detector quirk.” Before Shouta could question that, Elric had pulled off his glove and begun rolling up his right sleeve. Then, he held up his arm.

For a second, Shouta didn’t process what he was looking at.

Then, it hit. Metal. He was looking at metal.

“Is that… armor?” Akira asked softly, and Edward snorted. 

“I wish. No, this is what we in Amestris call mechanirüstung.” Automail, Hamada supplied in a breathy whisper. “It’s a type of prosthetic that can replace lost limbs, allowing individuals that choose it to have near full functionality again.” Edward tugged the collar of his shirt down, exposing metal in his shoulder. “It’s wired directly into your nerves, so you can move it as you would a regular limb.”

Shouta gaped as the Amestrian demonstrated, moving his hand. Sure enough, if it hadn’t been for the soft clicking sound of metal on metal, and the fact that Shouta could see the screws, well… he’d already mistaken it for a regular hand.

How on earth did Atossa have such advanced prosthetics? Japan had a few forms of prosthetics that could respond to brain signals or muscle movement, but none with this level of precision or complex articulation, and all prohibitively expensive. Typically, only Pro Heroes who had been injured in the line of duty were able to afford such things, if they chose them at all.

Ectoplasm, who had replacement prosthetics on both his legs, had the money and connections to afford the expensive sort. But instead, the Hero used relatively simple jointless prosthetics, which were easier to care for and more reliable in combat. (And outside of work, he often chose to forgo the prosthetics entirely and instead use a wheelchair, which was much more comfortable and less stressful on his body.)

“Of course, it’s not without faults,” the Amestrian continued, giving a wry smile. “It’s very painful to have the surgery done and the amount of metal makes it incredibly heavy. It puts a lot of stress on the remaining bones and muscles.”

“That’s why you weigh 170!” Sansa exclaimed, and Edward rolled his eyes. 

“Ja. I’ve got over fifty pounds of metal bolted to me.”

“Your arm is that heavy?!” Hawks asked incredulously. The Hero eyed the limb, looking equal parts impressed and horrified. Like Shouta, he was probably imagining how difficult it must be for Edward to walk, considering how much weight was offset to one side. Yet, Elric hardly seemed to notice it.

Elric shook his head in response to Hawks. “Nah, it’s my right arm and left leg. They’re about thirty pounds apiece.”

“What the hell causes a kid to lose two limbs?!” Snipe muttered under his breath, but everyone heard it.

And, everyone was thinking it.

Edward shrugged, waving his metal hand dismissively. “Someone dared me to rip off my arm and bludgeon someone and I couldn't take no for an answer.” Shouta blinked. He’d admit, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting… but it wasn’t that. He found himself raising an eyebrow slightly incredulously, a gesture mimicked by others around the table.

The Amestrian paused for a few seconds, then chuckled. “Nah, just messing with you. I get too many of the military recruits asking, so it’s just second nature at this rate to screw with them.” Edward went quiet again, his gaze briefly flicking down the table toward Nezu and Tsukauchi, before returning to rest on his metal hand. He clenched it into a fist, and Shouta could hear the plates grinding together. “In truth? War, poor decisions, people not thinking of the consequences. Take your pick.”

The delegate rubbed at his neck, giving a deep sigh. “While a new government recently came into power in Amestris, and Mustang is attempting to reconcile the previous actions done by my country, you must understand that Amestris is a warring state. We’ve been at war with basically all our neighbors for over a century.”

“That’s why we had such trouble sending our letters through Aerugo, isn’t it?” Tsukauchi asked, and Edward nodded.

“Ja. Only recently was Mustang able to get a tentative truce in place with Aerugo, and they were only willing to entertain it since it was the previous Führer that commanded the war effort. Even still, travel between Amestris and Aerugo is typically illegal for most citizens and especially for soldiers. It could shatter the already fragile peace.”

Perhaps that is why they only sent one representative, Shouta thought. Any more, and it would be considered a threat or a declaration of war.

“Anyways, when I was young, one of the ongoing military conflicts came into the village where I lived,” Edward sighed, his metal hand flexing quietly at his side. “We’re close to the border and at one point it swept through and…”

Elric shrugged. “Well, use your imagination.”

Shouta was.

And he could see it. The Amestrian’s gaze held the weight of a veteran because, in more ways than one, he was. He had lost limbs to a war and had seen whatever horrors it offered, regardless of whether he fought. (And that too made Shouta wonder. How and why had this child become involved with his military? The very military whose wars had cost him so dearly?)

“If that’s the case, why did you join the army?” Hawks asked hesitantly, echoing Shouta’s thoughts. “Revenge?”

“I have my reasons,” Edward said vaguely, then frowned slightly. “But no, revenge has nothing to do with it. If it's anyone’s fault, it’s my own. Don’t get me wrong, I hate war and I’m not a fan of the military, but…” The Amestrian looked into the distance, a lopsided smile on his face. “But, while there’s some bastards, it’s better than it was, and… and they’re trying to make things better, at least.”

Sometimes, Edward wondered if someone had put a curse on him, for how much he seemed to run into trouble. Then he remembered that he’d met the embodiment of Truth and the Universe Itself and realized, yeah, someone probably had.

The Amestrian groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets in hopes of driving away his building headache.

Ed was hidden away in his apartment, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of printed scientific journal articles all featuring marks and annotations, a dozen books from U.A.’s library, and even more printed pictures and video clips. The mess of papers spilled onto every available surface, from the desk to the bed to the dining table and even the floor. At this rate, Ed would need to invest in a corkboard and some red string if he had any hope of keeping his thoughts straight.

At the meeting with the investigation team, they had informed him of the man known as “All for One.” He was apparently the one responsible for the chimera-like “Nomu” and for the kidnapping and murder of Officer Talfon. The man was also apparently semi-immortal, had a god complex, and his quirk involved the ability to take quirks from others.

It was unnervingly familiar. Now, Ed fully believed in coincidences. He knew that sometimes, the world was just a random place, where things happened as they did for no particular reason (at least, from a non-omniscient standpoint). But he also knew not to overlook potential connections, and really, what were the chances that he’d encounter another semi-immortal asshat with delusions of godhood and a red-energy based power set?

Low, if Ed had to guess. But on the other hand, it wasn’t zero.

Either way, it was a place to start. So, for the past two days, he’d been doing nothing but research, trying to figure out if there was any connection between All for One and the Dwarf in the Flask. It was a familiar activity, trawling through the deepest depths of archives and now, the internet, in search of stories regarding “All for One”. Before Ed drew any conclusions about All for One, including the man’s potential homunculi-ness and connection to Amestris, Ed had to confirm if All for One really did meet the relevant criteria.

And what he’d discovered was this:

1: It did seem that All for One was, in fact, immortal. Stories from the Dawn of Quirks, the past centuries and the deepest, darkest depths of the internet spoke of a boogeyman, named Wanyūdo after a malevolent yōkai. Wanyūdo was someone who did not age, who stole quirks and bestowed them upon the loyal or worthy, and killed anyone who stood in his way. While the immortals Ed was familiar with were as such due to philosopher’s stones, the Outside had numerous examples of longevity quirks, but no recorded true immortality quirks. 

2: All for One’s power exuded red energy, and he could call upon a wide variety of abilities, including changing his form. Searching ‘Kamino Villain’ had guided Edward to shaky video footage depicting the fight between All Might and All for One, each impact hitting like an exploding bomb. The sheer power at play was terrifying. It had certainly explained Yagi and his presence at the meeting, if he was this guy’s ‘nemesis’ or whatever. Zooming in on the footage, Ed had been able to see All for One’s body rippling with tendrils of red and black energy that swelled his skin with muscle and bone. Again, an eerie similarity to the powers of the Homunculi.

3: No one seemed to know a Truth damned thing about quirks.

The detail on All for One had dried up quickly, so in hopes of satisfying his own curiosity and understanding All for One and his obsession with quirks, Edward had switched the focus of his research to quirks. He’d read about their classifications, a long list of quirk examples, medical studies, quirk theory, and so, so many papers.

And yet.

“Like, what the fuck even is a Quirk Factor?” Ed muttered in frustrated Amestrian, slapping a paper he’d printed against his palm. “This one says it’s the physical part of the body that is responsible for the quirk, like how the eyes of a person with a quirk giving them Binocular Vision would be their Quirk Factor, since that’s the altered element. But this one says it’s a metaphysical factor, and don’t even get me started on their methods of classification!”

Edward hissed, sorely wanting to slam his head into the table. He refrained though. He needed to keep his last few brain cells that were still functional.

At the very least, the similarities between All for One and the Dwarf in the Flask seemed to be just that, similarities. Coincidence rather than connection. Alphonse had been rather alarmed when Ed had asked him to look into additional Homunculi – and to ask Ling if he remembered anything else from Greed – but thankfully, it seemed there was nothing to find. The Dwarf in the Flask had always focused his attention on Amestris and his involvement in foreign nations had mostly been limited to warfare and bloodshed. Plus, Al agreed that with how controlling the Dwarf was, it was very unlikely he would have allowed one of his homunculi to stray halfway across the planet. 

Pushing away his notebook with a sigh, Ed leaned back in his chair. He sat for a few minutes, massaging his temples. Now that he’d emerged from his research, Ed was suddenly much more aware of how stiff his joints felt, and how hungry he was. You should take better care of yourself, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Al said. Go get some food, Brother.

Ed grumbled, but decided he should follow Head-Al’s suggestion. 

Grabbing his keys, Ed left his apartment and walked over to the main building, where the cafeteria was located. He admired the campus grounds as he walked, still empty of students, and even more expansive in the light of day. Aizawa and Nezu had told him that the students would be coming back in a few days, so Ed had a little more time before he’d have to start dodging teenagers. (He had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to interact with people near his own age other than Al and Winry, so he was determined to not make it a problem in the first place.)

After snagging a meal from the kitchen staff, Ed wandered a bit. He hadn’t properly stretched his legs in a while, and he figured it’d be better to become familiar with the school’s layout now, before it was overrun with teenagers.

During his meanderings, Edward ended up running into Nezu.

Though, “running into” implied they walked into each other. It was more appropriate to say that Ed was walking through a hallway and then Nezu popped out of a vent grate above Ed, teacup in hand. The chimera was lucky Ed didn’t pull a blade on him.

“Ah, Elric-san!” Nezu chirped while Ed stared incredulously. “Good afternoon! How has your research been going?”

Ed blinked then his shoulders slumped, grimacing. “It could be better. At least my initial theory on All for One turned up false, but I’m currently at a dead end on quirks. I haven’t been able to find any papers to give me a straight answer on what they are or how they function.” He sighed, running an ungloved hand through his hair. “I need to figure out how All for One got into Amestris and his motives as to why he kidnapped a military officer. Maybe I can even figure out why quirks don’t exist on Atossa. But to do that… I need to understand quirks.”

By this point, Ed had both hands fisted in his hair, uncaring of how it snagged in the crevices of his automail. “And I can find no straight information on quirks. How can you not know anything about something so fundamental to your society?!” Ed muttered in frustrated Amestrian.

Nezu hummed, dropping out of the vent and to the floor. The little chimera strolled over, patting Ed’s knee consolingly. “Yes, that is quite the problem… How about you come to my office for tea? I might be able to help you out. I know quite a bit about a lot of things.”

Edward considered it. It wasn’t like he had a lot of other options.

“Sure,” Ed said, nodding. “Why not?”

Nezu’s office managed to be both intimidating and cozy at the same time. The principal had a high backed chair behind a rather large desk, a bay of windows lining one wall. Ed took a seat in one of the chairs near the desk, huffing a surprised laugh as he sank deep into the cushions.

“Would you like some tea?” Nezu asked, already pouring tea into two cups. Ed nodded, gently taking the offered cup in his left hand. Once the pair had claimed their tea, Nezu leaned forwards across the desk. “So, what questions can I answer for you, Elric-san?”

Ed gave a sly grin. “That depends… what answers are you willing to give?”

Nezu’s beady eyes gleamed, calculating. Edward hadn’t met many people like Nezu, but he knew the type. Analytical, planning, a manipulator (not necessarily bad) and a rule breaker (at least when it suited him). In some ways, Ed was reminded of Mustang or even Hohenheim (though Ed’s father had been less cunning and more experienced). Edward grinned. Nezu seemed like an interesting one, all things considered.

“Well Elric-san, information is a trade,” Nezu’s whiskers twitched. “If I answer your questions about quirks… would you answer mine about alchemy?”

“Equivalent Exchange,” Ed nodded. This, he was familiar with. “Answer my questions about quirks and help me understand and access schematics of your technology — whether planes or phones or computers — and you have a deal. Quirks are related to the case, but we both want to learn about the sciences of the other.” Ed raised an eyebrow. “Is that sufficient?”

Nezu cackled, showing his fangs in a grin. “It is indeed! Now, where would you like to begin?”

They began with quirks.

“Quirks are divided into several different categories,” Nezu explained, gesturing with his teacup. “They are generally known as ‘emitter’, ‘mutant’, and ‘transformation’ types, though I’ve always preferred the terms ‘operative’, ‘heteromorphic’ and ‘composite,’ each with additional modifiers and categories depending on the individual quirk. Operative quirks can ‘operate’ or act on the world, and typically fall under either ‘passive’, which are always ‘on,’ or ‘active,’ which can be consciously turned ‘on’.” 

“Heteromorphic quirks involve changes to the physical body, but this is a bit of a misnomer, since most quirks involve some alterations to the physical body.” Ed hummed, making note of that. So quirks, whatever they were, definitely had physical components, regardless of their metaphysical properties. “Composite quirks involve the user shifting their physical form in some fashion, or quirks with many sub-components. Operative quirks in particular usually require certain changes to the body to enable the user to handle their quirk. For example, a person with an ice-type quirk is typically more resistant to cold.”

“What about people like Hamada?” Ed asked, thinking back to the translator. “Their quirk is language based but they still have blue hair… and how does the language portion work? How can they hear only a few words of a language and suddenly know the rest of it? It doesn’t make sense that something biological could cause that. No matter how good at languages you are, you can’t hear five words and suddenly understand a whole language.”

Nezu shrugged. “Unfortunately, we don't know. Quirks are incredibly diverse and we have yet to understand how they can work or operate in such ways. As for Hamada, their blue hair is technically a variant of a heteromorphic quirk. Many early quirks were much simpler, usually involving something no more extreme than a change in hair color. As quirks grew stronger and more diverse, minor quirks like these persisted, and we call them vestigial quirks.”

“Take your hair or eyes, for example,” Nezu gestured to Ed’s hair and he raised a hand self-consciously. “Due to their vibrant color, it may be regarded in Japan as a vestigial quirk.”

“But I’m quirkless?” Ed tilted his head. “It’s not caused by a quirk.” 

“That may be the case, but today even quirkless individuals often have vestigial quirks, minor mutations that generally aren’t regarded as a true quirk, since they aren’t to the same magnitude as other quirks.” Nezu hummed, taking a sip of tea, then waved a hand over himself. “For example, my quirk, ‘High Specs’, increases my intelligence. It would be classified as a passive mental operative-heteromorphic quirk. It is always ‘on’, but it can’t be erased in the same fashion as non-morphic quirks, since it is written into the structure of my brain.”

Edward nodded, making a note in his journal. “Okay, so it’s not a heteromorphic quirk? I thought you might be like Cementoss – Ishiyama? – and I have so many questions about him. Is he actually made of cement? What are his biological functions like, if he has any?”

“No, I’m a rare case of a quirked animal,” Nezu’s tail flicked. “And as far as I’m aware, Ishiyama does retain biological functions similar to that of a human. He also has the ability to create and control cement.”

“Huh? That honestly makes things more confusing. If Ishiyama is made of cement, can he control  himself? And if he retains biological processes, does that mean he has cement organs? Or is the cement more like a hard shell in place of his skin?” Ed groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “The last would make the most sense but honestly, I’m kinda afraid to know the answer.”

The Amestrian paused, then looked back at Nezu, frowning. “Also, what did you mean earlier? That it’s ‘rare’ for animals to have quirks? Humans are animals, why wouldn't quirks, whatever they are, appear in other creatures?”

Nezu shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure myself. Some of the acceptance of humans being the only creatures with quirks may be biased, but frankly, I’m fine with this question going unanswered.” 

Edward opened his mouth to answer, then paused. He considered Nezu’s answer, eyes flicking from the slight tension in the small mammal’s furry frame, to the scar across one eye. He also considered what he knew of human curiosity to things that were ‘other’. “Yeah,” Ed nodded, voice going soft, as he connected the dots. “Some questions are better left unanswered.”

Edward, for all he craved knowledge, knew that.

Brushing off the silence, Nezu tapped a paw to his teacup. “It’s widely accepted there is some heritable genetic component to quirks, considering children typically have a quirk similar to one of their parents, or one that is a combination of the parents' quirks.”

“What about evolution?” Ed asked, tilting his head. “Anything about how quirks initially came about?”

“Very little. There are a few theories, the most prominent one being that quirks were the results of a pathogen spread by rats, but if that was the case we’d expect quirks in more species.” Nezu sipped his tea, humming contemplatively. “And, since there were little to no records preserved from during the Dawn of Quirks due to the upheaval that occurred, we have nothing to pull from there either.”

“Hooray,” Ed grumbled. “Back to square one.”

“Now,” Nezu set his teacup down with a sharp clink, and leaned across the desk, fixing Ed with a beady-eyed stare. The small white furred mammal grinned, and it was all teeth. “I believe you owe me some information regarding alchemy?”

“Alright,” Ed took a sip of his own tea. “How much do you know about chemistry?”

As it turned out, Nezu did know a lot about chemistry. Not as much as Edward, but Ed had memorized the molecular weights and structures of thousands of chemical compounds by the time he was eleven. Regardless, Nezu was already in an excellent place to start learning about alchemy. 

“Okay, so like I mentioned at the meeting, alchemy is the science of understanding, deconstructing, and reconstructing matter. We change materials, whether their shape or composition, and we do this through transmutation circles.” Ed sketched out a basic shape-changing transmutation circle onto a piece of paper. “They are fundamental to alchemy, and it takes a lot of practice to draw them.”

“I am impressed that you can do it freehanded!” Nezu exclaimed, eyeing Ed’s perfect circle. “Is such a precise circle necessary?”

Ed tilted his hand back and forth. “Eh, kind of? A more perfect circle means a better and more even distribution of energy, reducing impurities and the chance of a rebound. And yeah, it takes a lot of practice to do it freehand. Most beginners use a… oh what do you call it… it’s zirkel in Amestrian? It’s the prong-shaped thing for drawing circles?”

“A compass?” Nezu asked.

“That’s it!” Ed snapped his fingers and pointed at the principal. “A compass. Beginners usually use a compass to draw their circles, but Teacher made me and my brother practice till our hands couldn’t hold the chalk anymore.”

“Why didn’t your teacher allow you a tool?” Nezu asked, his snout wrinkling. He seemed almost offended on Ed’s behalf.

“She didn’t want us becoming reliant on it, said it’s a bad habit.” Ed stood straighter in the chair, tipping his chin up. Pitching his voice to mimic Teacher’s, he quoted: “If you rely on something like that, you'll only limit yourself. Do you want to end up dead!? What're you gonna do if you're stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a stick?! Or, if the enemy decides to stab you with it?!”

“She was right,” Edward shrugged, voice returning to normal. “It’d just be a hassle honestly, especially for the work I’ve done. They might be useful on paper, but a compass won’t work on dirt or stone. It’s why chalk is the favored tool of alchemists, it can draw on almost anything.”

“Chalk, you say? Does it need to be a specific type then?”

“Nah,” Ed waved a hand dismissively. “Technically, you can use anything to make the transmutation circle, it just needs to be continuous and of the same substance. Ink, chalk, lines drawn in dirt, it all works. But, you have to draw the circle onto the thing you actually mean to transmute, and typically you can only transmute matter within the bounds of the circle.”

Nezu nodded, gesturing a paw at the circle on the paper. “So this would just alter the paper, not the wood underneath?”

“Yep,” Ed reached a hand forward, pressing it to the circle and in a crackle of light, he had reshaped the entire paper into a folded crane. He offered it to Nezu, who blinked as he inspected it, twisting it around in his paws.

“Fascinating. But doesn’t this contradict your point?” the furred principal asked. “You changed the entire paper, not just what was within the circle, as you did with that miniature wooden statue of myself.”

“Some transmutations can affect wider areas,” Ed said, shrugging. “But in this case, since I’m an experienced alchemist, I can use the circle as a waypoint and direct the transmutation beyond the bounds of the circle into the entire paper.”

Mustang, Armstrong, Kimblee and dozens of other State Alchemists that Ed had known could all do that. It was a pretty common technique with those who wore (or had tattooed) alchemic circles on their hands. Ed even did it when he used himself as the transmutation matrix.

“Alright,” Nezu unfolded the paper crane, examining the transmutation circle still on the interior. “So, the circle provides the instructions and power for the transmutation? Or is it the alchemist who does that?”

“Yes and no,” Edward made a face, puzzling over his explanation. “While the sister-discipline of alkahestry uses solar radiation, alchemy uses tectonic energy to power transmutations. You’re lucky in that regard, because Japan is sitting directly over an oceanic subduction zone.” Even when he wasn’t doing alchemy, Edward could almost feel the teeming mass of energy miles below as the plates of the earth slid over the mantle and ground against one another. “The alchemist links the circle to that energy, initiating the transmutation.”

Alkahestry, with its focus on life, drew power from the sun, the origin of all life’s energy. Alchemy, with its focus on the non-living, drew power from the earth and its motion. Use the Gate to link that energy into the circle matrix, which controlled the flow, and boom, transmutation. 

“Tectonic energy?” Nezu leaned forward, ears pricking up in interest. “So you must be over divisions between tectonic plates?”

“Not necessarily, it's just easier to draw up the energy over plate boundaries,” Ed said, gesturing downwards toward the one that lay alongside Japan. “Technically alchemy can be done anywhere on earth.” Ed paused, then squinted into the distance. “I wonder if alchemy could be used in space then, if we’re reliant on tectonic energy…” he muttered to himself in Amestrian.

“What was that?” Nezu asked, and Ed waved a hand.

“Nothing important, just questions for myself. Anyways, getting to your other question, transmutation circles can both access tectonic energy and direct it.” Ed snagged another piece of paper and started drawing out another circle, this one more complex and used for transmuting steel. “There’s two basic parts to transmutation circles. First is the circle itself, which is the conduit that focuses and dictates the flow of power. Then there’s the alchemic runes inside the circle, which represent different elemental aspects and properties.”

As Ed spoke, he drew out the respective pieces, then pushed the circle forward to Nezu. “I won’t get into it now, but different runes and shapes within the circle direct the energy and the transmutation in different ways.”

“So, the circle acts as the instructions in the reaction,” the stoat hummed in contemplation, taking another sip of his tea. “I presume more complex circles are needed for more complex transmutations?”

Edward nodded. “Yep, but it can also depend on the alchemist. A simpler circle means the alchemist has more flexibility with how the transmutation proceeds and controls almost the entire process, but it has a higher risk of rebound. On the other hand, some circles can be coded to proceed automatically once given an energy connection, and there is little if any chance of a rebound.”

“Rebound?” Nezu titled his head. “You haven’t mentioned that term.”

“Alchemy works on equivalent exchange. If the reaction isn’t equivalent, then you face a rebound.” Ed hummed, drumming his fingers on the table he searched for an example. “Like… say you try to transmute steel from the earth. You can draw out the necessary iron and carbon from the dirt, but if the reaction isn’t balanced, if you try to make more than what you started with or are uncertain in what you are doing, the reaction fails and the transmutation takes the necessary pieces from you.”

Nezu’s eyes widened. “That’s quite the price for failure,” the principal commented, whiskers twitching in thought. “With quirks, usually the biggest drawback of overuse is exhaustion on part of the user, though there are more extreme cases where the body can’t handle its own quirk.”

“Alchemy isn’t a quirk, despite the similarities they might share.” Ed pursed his lips, staring into the distance. “If you perform alchemy, you have to respect the Laws. The severity of the rebound can range rather dramatically depending on the complexity and type of transmutation you’re doing, but playing with imbalance can lead to disastrous consequences.”

“There are different types of transmutations?” 

Edward nodded. “There’s three major types, not counting classical elemental subclasses like earth” Tugging the old paper crane towards him, he tapped a finger on the circle, folding it once more into the crane-shape. “This would be an example of a shape-change transmutation. It’s macroscopic, you can see the transformation, and you don’t change the material, just its physical shape.” 

“The next level is molecular transmutations, and with these you break apart compounds to repurpose the existing atoms.” Ed grabbed a pencil from Nezu’s desk, holding it up to the light. “Take this thing, it’s made of wood with a graphite core. Wood is primarily cellulose — made of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen — and graphite is pure carbon. I could take the molecules apart to make carbon dioxide and hydrogen peroxide — made of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen.”

“Atomic transmutations are the last type, and that’s when an alchemist fully changes the elements involved.” Ed waved a hand, caught somewhere between a smile and scowl. “This is the infamous ‘turning lead into gold’, but that’s hardly the only thing you can do. It’s basically where you knock protons off or add them on to change the structure of the atoms.” 

“And all alchemists can do this?” Nezu asked, wide eyed. 

Ed shrugged. “Well, anyone can but not everyone knows how. Atomic transmutations are among the hardest forms of alchemy, but once you figure out how to focus the energy it’s not much more difficult than molecular transmutations.”

“So you’re a living particle accelerator,” Nezu muttered, looking somewhere between gleeful, manic, and shocked. Edward wondered why. Sure, atomic transmutations were difficult, but they weren’t that implausible, not when the Outside had quirks that defied physics! Look at Hamada’s quirk – now, that was some utter bullshit!

“What’s a particle accelerator?” Ed asked, tilting his head. 

“Nevermind,” Nezu waved a paw. “Not important. Is it really that easy?”

Instead of answering verbally, Edward clapped his hands and pressed them to his teacup. Blue lightning crackled through the air as the teacup went soft in his hands. Static charge built around Ed’s fingers as hydrogens were pulled in and discarded and the teacup twisted and collapsed, taking on a glittering sheen. Finally, the energy dissipated, leaving behind a gleaming metal knife, only a few inches in length, with a dragon curled around the handle.

Ed offered the newly made knife to Nezu. The small mammal twisted and tapped it with his claws, sending out a metallic ringing. After a minute, Nezu set the knife down and turned his dark eyes on Ed, glittering with excitement.

“Fascinating!” Nezu exclaimed, examining Ed closely. “You did it differently that time! You didn’t use a circle!”

… Whoops.

“Uh… it's an advanced alchemy technique,” Ed offered, sweating slightly. It wasn’t that he was trying to hide that he could do clap alchemy. Old habits die hard, and at some point, he would have done it reflexively, regardless of his intention. But the fact that it happened just after he finished explaining how essential a transmutation circle was… “It takes years of practice and an intimate understanding of alchemy that few can grasp.”

It wasn’t technically a lie. Seeing the Gate of Truth did give Ed, Al, Teacher and the rest who’d seen It a much deeper understanding of alchemy, including how to use their own bodies as a matrix. Even Tsukauchi wouldn’t be able to call it a lie!

Nezu hummed, and Ed hoped that meant the stoat accepted his answer. “Well, either way it’s an interesting ability! Must be very handy, I imagine!”

“Yep,” Ed tried for a smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “Anyways, there’s one more thing I have to mention with regards to the Laws…” Edward locked eyes with Nezu, his own utterly serious. “There is one thing in alchemy that is Taboo, above all others. Transmutation of humans, of living beings, or trying to bring back the dead, is strictly forbidden. It’s Law, and you will pay the Price if you disobey it. Understand?”

Nezu nodded, and Ed felt something like relief as he saw Nezu seemed to realize the importance. Not completely, Nezu hadn’t seen (and felt) the effects of human transmutation. But, if Ed had guessed right, and the chimera had been experimented on… then he understood not to play games with living beings. Hopefully.

“Good,” Ed took a breath, exhaling sharply. Then he clapped his hands, giving a grin. “Well! That’s all the basics of alchemy! Ready to try?”

Nezu smiled, all his teeth showing. “But of course!”

Leaving the discussion of alchemic principles behind, Ed acquired some spare material from Nezu and transmuted it into a lump of pure graphite the size of his fist. He sketched a transmutation circle onto some paper, placing the soft carbon on top. “This is a precoded transmutation circle,” Ed explained, gesturing to the paper. “It contains all the instructions to transmute the physical shape of this graphite into a small statue. It’s designed so that anyone that touches the circle will initiate the transmutation. You are, essentially, acting as a switch, completing the alchemic circuit.”

“So I just touch it?” Nezu asked, the tips of his paws hovering at the edge of the circle.

“Yeah, once you complete the circuit, it’ll open the Gate to let the tectonic energy flow into the circle to initiate the transmutation.” Ed made a semicircle with his fingers on each hand, then brought them together, forming a small O to represent an open Gate. “You won’t need to do anything, but you’ll be able to feel the energy well.”

“And so, the teacher becomes the student!” Nezu cackled with a laugh. Then, hesitantly, he touched his paws to the circle.

And… nothing happened.

Ed frowned, reaching over to tug the paper towards him and inspect the circle. “Huh? What’d I do wrong? Is it the matrix or did I miss a few degrees with the shape?” Ed poked the circle, and to his surprise, static crackled as the circle lit up and the graphite in the center warped. Within seconds, the transmutation died down, the graphite reformed into a simple duck shape, reminiscent of one of the first transmutations Ed himself had done.

“Ah… perhaps since I am not human I cannot perform alchemy,” Nezu said quietly. Ed could hear the utter disappointment in his voice.

“No, that’s not it,” Ed shook his head, confused beyond belief. “I coded this so that if anything living touched it with intention to transmute, the reaction would go. And, you don’t have to be human to use alchemy. There are alchemic traps that react to any living beings that cross their borders – usually with the requirement that said being is larger than a dog or cat.”

And the circle was correct… So why hadn’t Nezu’s touch activated the transmutation?

“There’s no reason the circle shouldn’t have activated,” Edward muttered, looking between the graphite duck, the circle, and Nezu. “Unless…”

“What are the differences between you and I?” Nezu asked, also deep in thought. “If what you say is true, and my not being human does not affect the alchemy, what else is there? Could it be that I am not experienced enough, or don’t know what to look for?”

“No… you could give that circle to a three year old and it would work, so long as they had intention,” Ed scowled.

What else was there?

“Quirks,” he and Nezu realized at the same time, locking eyes with each other. 

“Is it possible?” Nezu asked, head tilted and whiskers twitching.

“Maybe?” Ed frowned. “If having a quirk means you can’t do alchemy… then I’ve got even more questions about what quirks are. Alchemy is a science, being inert to a transmutation circle like that, it's like if you dropped lithium in water and it didn’t explode. The only thing that could remove alchemy like that would be…”

The Gate.

“We need more data,” Ed declared, pushing back from the desk. “Where can we find a quirk user?”

Nezu grinned, hopping down from his own chair and coming to stand next to Ed. “Snipe is on campus at the moment, let us go acquire him!” With Edward in tow, Nezu scampered off towards the apartments to find the Hero in question.

They found Snipe in his on campus apartment. They knocked on the door labeled “Sokeki Mato” and after a minute, someone Ed didn’t recognize opened the door. “Ah! Sokeki-san!” Nezu exclaimed, grinning up at the person who was apparently Snipe outside of his costume. The Hero looked shockingly normal outside of the weird clothes. He had dark, shoulder length dreadlocks and was dressed in a loose pants and shirt. “We have use of you!”

Sokeki blinked at them, then stepped aside to let them in. “Alright? What’s up?”

Nezu went to the dining table and gestured for Ed to put the transmutation circle on it. Ed did so, placing the paper with the original circle and a new lump of graphite on the table. “We need you to touch this circle.”

“Uh… isn’t that one of your alchemy things?” Sokeki asked, looking at Edward.

Ed nodded. “Yep, we’re testing a theory but we need more data points. You aren’t an animal like Nezu but you do have a quirk, so you’re a new subject group. Now, please touch the circle.”

With great trepidation, the Hero touched his fingertips to the circle. 

“Was something supposed to happen?” Snipe asked, glancing between Ed and Nezu.

“Usually, but in this case we don’t know!” Nezu exclaimed, clapping his paws. “Isn't it exciting? Even Edward-san doesn’t know! We have a mystery to solve!”

“Well that’s concerning,” Sokeki said promptly. “And do you mean… aside from the murder?”

“Ah right, that too,” Nezu nodded, waving a paw.

Edward and Nezu scoured the U.A. campus, having every person they came across attempt the circle. None succeeded. Eventually, their meeting had to finish, the two of them jointly deciding to save examining technological blueprints for later after being presented with this new puzzle. Ed headed back to his apartment with infinitely more questions about quirks and how they worked. 

As Ed cataloged his findings in his coded journal, he found himself wondering over it again. “They can’t use alchemy,” Ed muttered privately in Amestrian, nibbling the end of his pen. His mind kept circling back to it, this possible impossibility.

There were only a few reasons why someone couldn’t do alchemy, even with a completely pre-coded transmutation circle and they all boiled down to one thing: the Gate of Truth. Losing access to alchemy was the outcome Ed had expected when he traded his Gate, his alchemy, for Alphonse’s body. However, for him, Truth had stalled on his payment, not taking it immediately but at some indeterminate time in the future. 

“What if they don’t have Gates?”

That was the only reason Ed could think of as to why quirk-users couldn’t perform alchemy. Of course, the way to test that would be to find some quirkless individuals on the Outside and see if they could perform alchemy. The only problem was that even “quirkless” individuals on the Outside had vestigial quirks like altered hair color which could potentially impact it. Ed had no idea.

“That, or it has something to do with Atossa,” Edward considered, looking at the map of Atossa and the rest of the world he had on his desk. “Maybe alchemy is inherent to the continent? But that doesn’t make sense either, I can use alchemy outside the continent, so it would have to be the people in Atossa.”

Edward groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Every question just opened up a thousand more.

But, that was research and the pursuit of knowledge for you.

Eventually, Ed started working on his letters to Mustang and Alphonse. The end result was a book-length stack of papers and grievances documenting the complete lack of nothing that the Outside knew about their quirks, what he had learned thus far from Nezu, and the strange phenomenon that was Outsiders being unable to use alchemy. Hopefully, he could get some more input from both of them on everything. 

As the daylight waned, Edward finally tucked the teleportation circles into his suitcase and collapsed into bed. He slept deeply that night, dreaming of quirks, Gates, alchemic circles and Truth in the shape of a duck. 

Chapter Text

“Why am I being subjected to this?”

“Because,” Shuzenji aka Recovery Girl – which was one of the weirdest aliases Edward had ever heard – tapped the ground with her cane. “From what I understand, your country is, technologically speaking, over a century behind us, correct?” Ed shrugged but nodded. Not strictly true, but close enough. “Well, then I can only assume that our medical technology and advancements have also progressed. Are you familiar with vaccines?”

“Yeah?” Ed tilted his head. “We’ve got them in Amestris. They made one for the flu epidemic in 1905, though by the time it came out, a lot of people had already died. There’s a few more too. I’ve gotten all mine, it’s a requirement if you’re part of the military.”

Shuzenji nodded. “Well, since you’re from an isolated continent, you’re at a higher risk of catching any number of the diseases we have in the rest of the world. Thus, I want to get you up to date with the immunizations here and give you a general physical. If you do get hurt or sick, I need to understand your baseline first so I can properly treat you.”

Edward shivered and nodded. Getting sick with whatever crazy diseases existed on the Outside, let alone with the added complication of quirks? Yeah, no thank you. “Sounds good.”

Shuzenji nodded, heading out of the patient room and gesturing for him to follow with her cane. “This way, dearie. Leave your coat and shoes here. We’ll start with a physical examination.”

Ed did as instructed, setting his overcoat on the patient bed and pulling off his boots. When that was done, he followed the old woman (who really reminded him of Pinako) down the hall into a larger adjoining room. It was filled with various medical devices, only around half of which Ed recognized, and a few medical staff puttering around in the background. 

“Mizaki here will take your height and weight, along with the rest of your vitals,” the old woman gestured to one of the staff, a woman with black hair. “Mizaki,” Shuzenji addressed the nurse. “Once you’re finished, take Elric-san back to the main patient room and we’ll get him up to date.”

Mizaki nodded and turned to Edward, bowing deeply. “Nice to meet you, I’m Mizaki. I’ll be taking care of you today, alright?”

When Ed nodded, she guided him to what looked like the weight and height tools that Amestrian doctors had. Huh, well that was something that hadn’t changed. “Stand here.” Ed followed the instructions, stepping onto the scale and watching a digital number tick up… and up…

Mizaki’s eyebrows shot up as she read his weight. “Do you have increased bone or body density?”

“No,” Ed said dryly, and didn’t elaborate.

Mizaki stared at him for a long, long moment. Then she sighed, and Ed heard her mutter under her breath: “Even without quirks, Atossans still manage to be weird.” Ed couldn’t fault her for that one. Even for Amestris and Atossa, he knew he was a weird one.

From there, Mizaki moved on to taking his height, while Ed stood ramrod straight, feeling every centimeter he didn’t have. While he’d reached a fairly respectable height in Amestris, everyone on the Outside seemed to be giants. Even Mizaki was taller than him. While Ed had gotten better about his height complex as he grew older (and got taller) it still… irked him.

“A touch shorter than average,” Mizaki muttered as she wrote down the numbers. “But it doesn't seem to be due to health problems.”

Ed’s eye twitched.

“I. Am. Not. Short,” Ed growled in Amestrian, ignoring the look of confusion Mizaki sent him. “I am a perfectly normal height, thank you very much. It’s not my fault that quirks made you all gigantic.”

Moving on from the minefield that was his height, Mizaki guided Ed to a chair and had him sit down, pulling out a cuff and pressure gauge. “This will take your blood pressure,” Mizaki said, gesturing for him to offer an arm. Edward stuck his left arm forward pointedly and Mizaki wrapped the cuff around his bicep, then put a weird clip on one of his fingers. “That measures your blood oxygen levels,” the nurse said when Ed sent her a questioning look.

A few more tests later, where Mizaki checked his vision and shined a light in his eyes and ears, Ed was guided back to the patient room where he’d left his coat and shoes.

He took a seat, absentmindedly pulling up the “search engine” on his new phone, which allowed him to access the vast library of the internet. (Truth, he loved this thing. Instant library access. He could have cried.) Ed made some notes to see what existing information he could find for heteromorphic quirks and set an alarm to remind himself to see Nezu later. He and the principal had another meeting on alchemy and quirks which, if Ed was being honest, had fused into one topic of figuring out how quirks blocked the use of alchemy.

He looked up as Shuzenji entered, the doctor’s eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hello again,” ‘Recovery Girl’ said, Mizaki trailing behind. “Okay, roll up your sleeves all the way, dearie. I need both arms.”

“Uh… why?” Ed asked, his right hand clenching into fist in his lap. 

“Some of these shots can cause severe muscle aches, particularly around the injection site. It’s not a bad thing, it means your immune system is responding,” Shuzenji explained, nodding to the needles Mizaki held. “However, because of that, we prefer to put injections in both arms so it doesn’t hurt as severely.”

“Uh, I’m good,” Ed said. He wiggled the fingers of his left hand in a wave. “You can just do one arm.” 

Mizaki and Shuzenji exchanged a look. “Alright, but, could you explain why?”

“I’d rather not,” Ed muttered in Amestrian, then shook his head. “No, thanks,” he repeated.

Shuzenji raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Young man, if I am to be your primary care physician while you are outside your home country, I need to be informed of any health concerns. Any of them. I can promise you doctor-patient confidentiality, but I cannot help you if you don’t help me understand first. That includes any concerns you have about immunizations, potential allergens, or existing medical conditions.”

Ed took a breath. The only existing condition I’m concerned about is the fact you’re a doctor who isn't familiar with automail.

“Elric-san?” Shuzenji asked again, and Ed sighed.

Truth, fine.

Ed shrugged off his vest and unbuttoned his collared shirt, tugging it off and leaving him in his sleeveless undershirt, both arms exposed to the air. One of flesh and blood, and one of metal. “Here,” Ed partially raised his right arm, offering it to the doctor. “If you want to try getting a needle through that, be my guest.”

The seconds ticked by, until…

“I was under the impression that there were no quirks where you were from, young man?” Shuzenji said slowly, leaning forward to inspect his arm, but not touching it. Ed appreciated the respect for his personal space.

Ed huffed, twisting his metal hand around and flexing the fingers. “Not a quirk. It’s a prosthetic.”

“A prosthetic?” the doctor blinked in surprise. “With such range of motion and responsiveness?”

“Yeah, I was surprised you don’t have something like automail on the outside,” Ed withdrew his arm, placing it in his lap and twiddling his fingers. “I’d have thought otherwise, what with your more advanced technology, but at least Ametris has an edge in something.”

“How does it work?” Mizaki asked, watching his fingers move with fascination.

“It’s wired into my nerves.” Edward tugged at his collar, showing the outer part of the port and the bolts that secured the automail to his bones. “The port is at my shoulder, where the wires are joined with the nerve endings. Lets me move it like a regular limb, except it’s, ya know, metal.”

“Wouldn’t that be prohibitively painful?” Mizaki asked, furrowing her brows. “Anything coming in contact with the nerves themselves is… that would be utter agony, even for daily use.”

“Oh, yeah, the surgery is super painful,” Ed nodded, grimacing even in memory of the operation. The only thing that he ranked higher than the automail surgery on the physical pain scale was being deconstructed within the Gate, but even then, that wasn’t really a physical pain so much as it was metaphysical. “You can’t use anesthetics in the surgery to attach the automail ports, otherwise you don’t know if the nerves are linked correctly.” 

“I… I’m sorry, you didn’t get anesthetics?!” Shuzenji asked, an edge to her voice. “Why would you go through with that?”

“I wanted the mobility that automail would give me,” Ed shrugged, waving a hand in demonstration. “I needed it, honestly, for what I was doing. But the pain of surgery is one of the main reasons people don’t get automail, along with the weight of the metal and chronic nerve pain. Attachment and detachment ain’t a breeze either, but it’s nothing compared to the surgery.”

Edward shook his head, pulling himself out of memories to refocus back on his audience. He blinked. Mizaki looked pale and Shuzenji was taking measured breaths. Were they really that worked up about this? Yeah, automail wasn’t a walk in the park, but surely they understood he knew that? 

Shuzenji took a deep breath, then nodded to Ed’s hand. “May I?” In answer, Ed reached a hand forward and let her inspect the metal appendage. Gently, she turned his hand around, moving his fingers with great care. “Since the nerves are wired in, how’s your sense of touch?” She pressed lightly into his palm, or at least, Ed assumed so.

“I don’t get any sensation from it,” Ed explained. He nodded to where her hand had stilled over his palm. “Can’t feel a thing, not heat, texture, none of it. There’s pressure, kinda? But that’s more psychosomatic. Like how if I see someone hit my hand, I’ll sometimes feel it. Not through the nerves, but I still register it.”

“Ah,” Shuzenji nodded, releasing Ed’s hand. “I’m familiar with that. I’ve worked with other prosthetic users who have sensations in their limbs. Ectoplasm does like to complain when he bumps his legs into the tables.”

“… That’s one of the faculty?” Ed asked, squinting. He was pretty sure he recalled one of the people he met on his first day going by Ectoplasm.

“Yes. Ectoplasm or Sugaku-san,” the doctor confirmed, then she rapped her cane against the ground. “I’ll admit, I am out of my depth in regards to your automail, however I could reach out to one of my colleagues who is a specialist in biomechanics if it would be of use to you? They would likely be better suited to handle your care with regard to your arm.”

“Nah,” Ed waved his hand dismissively. “I know how to take care of my automail, enough, anyway.” For all that Winry and he quarreled over his treatment of his metal limbs, he had gone months at a time without heading back to see his mechanic. Could he replace or rebuild his whole arm? Not a chance, especially not since he’d be down a hand, but he could do his own maintenance.

Shuzenji nodded, accepting his answer. “Very good. Now, to get back on track, is there any other relevant information to add to your medical file before we get you your immunizations?”

“Uh…” Ed reached down and pulled up his pant leg, exposing the glinting automail above his sock. “My left leg is metal too?”

Shuzenji heaved a sigh.

Tsukauchi hadn’t intended to see Edward Elric again so soon, but fate seemed to have decided otherwise.

He had come to U.A. in search of Toshinori, being directed by one of the secretaries towards the office of the man in question. After finding the door, Naomasa knocked and was rewarded with a “Come in!” ringing in Toshinori’s familiar cadence. Naomasa pushed open the door, finding Toshinori seated at his desk, scribbling over various papers.

“Paperwork?” Naomasa asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Paperwork,” Toshinori confirmed with a groan. “Even after over thirty years… it never gets less exhausting.”

“You also have to fill out All Might paperwork and your paperwork as All Might’s secretary,” Naomasa pointed out. And then, for the past several months, Toshinori had also been working as a teacher. “I swear, every Hero that I know seems to hold down three different jobs. Eraserhead does night patrols, teaches classes at U.A., and works with me in investigations. Present Mic has his radio show, is on call for cases, and is a teacher too. When do you all sleep?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” Toshinori said flatly.

“Sleep is for the living,” Naomasa protested, reaching over the desk to gently smack his friend in the arm. “And you should do it.” He paused, eyes flitting over his friend. “How are you doing, Toshinori?” Naomasa asked seriously.

Toshinori was looking significantly better than he had a month ago. His arm no longer hung in a sling and he had lost the bandages that had previously wrapped his body. Naomasa’s friend also managed to look significantly healthier than normal now that he was wearing clothes that actually fit his smaller form. He looked less like a living skeleton and more like a naturally lean individual.

“As good as I can be, all things considered,” Toshinori said with a shrug. 

Naomasa raised an eyebrow. “I know you’re lying by omission.”

The Hero held his facade for all of a few seconds before he sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “Physically? I’m fine, save for the fact that One for All is nothing more than dregs to me. It’s fully Young Midoriya’s now.”

“And mentally?”

“It’s… hard. I’ve been a Hero for so long that… It's hard to imagine myself without that. I’ll manage, of course. I have the position here at U.A. training the next generation of Heroes, as well as making sure my employees at the Tower are taken care of… maybe I could convert it completely to Hero Support? It already manages calls for emergencies and disaster management.”

“All good ideas,” Naomasa nodded. “But?”

“But… I worry. The Symbol of Peace kept the crime rate down just by existing. I know that there is reliance built on that and that without that presence, things may devolve… Hell, they already have, you’ve seen the statistics. And I– I don’t know where things are going to go from here,” Toshinori admitted. “And that terrifies me.”

“You’re not the only one,” Naomasa said, sliding into the seat across the desk from Toshinori. “But we never know the future.”

“Mirai did,” Toshinori said tonelessly, and Naomasa sighed. 

“Even Nighteye doesn’t know everything, future sight quirk notwithstanding,” Naomasa argued. “He said you were going to die, didn’t he? Well, you didn’t. You’re standing in front of me and I’m pretty confident you’re alive.”

“I know, it’s just…” Toshinori started slowly, hands clenched into fists. “… I worry for our students. There’s a power vacuum in the underworld now that All for One is gone. There’s going to be infighting as villains seek to fill it, and we both know it's going to destabilize things both above and below ground. Plus, the League of Villains is still out there. While they will be greatly hindered by the removal of All for One, it may also force them to take desperate measures.”

“All for One is a greater evil left alone,” Naomasa pointed out. Of that he was certain. Whatever chaos would follow from the removal of the Emperor of the Underworld… it was better than letting him remain. All for One had been a deep rooted sickness in Japan since quirks first began.

“I know that, of course I know. Me and my predecessors have been fighting him for over a century. But…” Toshinori buried his head in his hands, taking a deep breath. “I fear a pandora’s box has been opened, one we cannot go back from. And it is not me, now retired, who will have to bear the burden. It is present and future Heroes.”

Naomasa shuffled around the desk, rubbing circles into Toshinori’s back and letting his friend breathe. When Toshinori had calmed, Naomasa stood and steeped some herbal tea, nudging a cup over. His friend took it gratefully, sipping the warm drink. “Chamomile?” Toshinori asked.

“Yeah, it works wonders for my nerves” 

“Didn’t know you enjoyed Western teas,” Toshinori hummed. “And yes, I imagine things have been quite stressful for you of late.”

“You’re telling me,” Naomasa rolled his eyes, returning to his original chair and slumping downwards. It wasn’t good for his back, but he didn’t care at the moment. He had moping to do. “This entire business with Amestris is just… god, it’s a mess. Between the kidnapping, the Nomu, Atossa’s… everything, and Elric, I know I’m going to need to file for vacation time at the end of this.”

“You may need to file for a few more,” Toshinori said over his teacup and when Naomasa gave the other man a questioning look, his friend continued. “Edward-san has been talking with Nezu. Sokeki-san said they came to him about something alchemy related a day ago.” Toshinori shivered. “We think they’ve bonded.”

Naomasa paled. In lieu of any alcohol, he pulled the teapot over and poured himself a cup.

“Fantastic,” Naomasa groaned. “As if Nezu needed ways to manipulate matter. Forget vacation, maybe I should just retire.” Toshinori hummed sympathetically and together the two of them commiserated over their shared doom. Eventually, Naomasa glanced back at Toshinori. “By the way, are you attending the reception tomorrow?”

“The one the government is hosting to formally greet Edward-san?”

“That’s the one. Since you’re directly involved in the All for One investigation, I presumed you’d be invited. I know myself and Nezu are going as the principal investigators and Elric’s supervisors in Japan.”

“I was invited,” Toshinori affirmed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not certain of going, however. Kamino is still fresh in everyone’s minds and it may distract from the purpose of the meeting. This is a diplomatic event after all.”

Naomasa rolled his eyes.

“As if you aren’t essentially a diplomat yourself. You have close connections with a significant number of foreign heroes and the government sends you to work with the Americans more than they send their actual diplomats. Plus, I know you have Stars and Stripes’ personal number.” Naomasa had only felt slightly betrayed after he’d found that out. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Elric would appreciate a distraction.”

From what he’d seen of the delegate and his general knowledge of teenagers, Elric would probably much rather not attend, or at the very least, would not want to deal with foreign politics. Naomasa knew he didn’t want to.

“Plus, you can’t leave me to suffer alone,” Naomasa argued. “Eraserhead and Hawks are going to be there too. You know what Aizawa is like. We need a shield, Toshinori,” he pleaded, halfway to his knees and a dogeza. “Please, you can’t be a Hero and leave me to suffer foreign relations. I got a Master’s in investigative procedure! Not diplomacy!”

“Fine,” Toshinori chuckled. The Hero sat up straight and folded his hands over his lap, the guise of a  formal professional falling over him. “I shall don my suit and tie. But you owe me one for this, Naomasa.”

“Fine, what will it be?”

Toshinori’s hands rose to clutch at his hair, rapidly losing the professional persona in favor of tangling his already messy hair even further. “I want to get Young Midoriya a gift and I am at an utter loss. Please, ‘masa, I have absolutely no idea what to do! What if he doesn’t like it?”

Naomasa blinked, then burst out laughing.

“What?” Toshinori asked, giving the detective a confused look. “It’s a legitimate concern!”

“Toshinori, I mean this with all the love in my heart, but you could give that boy some of your old socks or one of your high school jackets and he would frame it as a family heirloom.”

Naomasa chatted with Toshinori for a while more, eventually bidding his friend goodbye and promising to see him the next evening. Of course, as he was crossing the grounds, he ran into a familiar face. “Elric-san!”

“Tsukauchi?” Elric blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here? Is something going on?”

“No, no,” Naomasa waved a hand dismissively, brushing off the Amestrian’s concerns. “I came to U.A. on other business. How are you today?”

“Fine,” Edward said with a shrug. “The doctor on site here gave me a physical and got me up to date on immunizations for the Outside. Made me go a bit stir crazy though, she asked all sorts of questions about mechanirüstung and I’m honestly just relieved to be out of there.”

“Your prosthetics?” Naomasa verified, and Elric nodded.

“Yep. It’s weird, by the way, that you don’t have mecha– automail. With all the computing power you have on the Outside, I’d have thought for sure that you’d have something like it. Honestly, if we had these same resources back in Amestris, automail would likely be a lot cheaper.”

“It is an interesting difference,” the detective agreed. It still amazed him that two out of the Amestrian’s four limbs were metal. Naomasa could only imagine how much time it would have taken for Elric to adjust. “But, if you’re set on it, you might be able to talk to the officials tomorrow about opening trade in regards to that. It is within your rights as a representative of your country.”

Edward tilted his head. “What’s that about tomorrow?”

“The reception?”

When Elric’s expression didn’t change, Naomasa elaborated further. “The formal reception and welcoming ceremony by the Japanese government recognizing your status as a delegate and celebrating the presence of an Atossan in Japan for the first time in living memory?”

Naomasa was relieved to see recognition visibly strike the Amestrian. “That’s tomorrow?” Edward groaned audibly. “Verfluchte Politik, verfluchter Mustang, dass er mich dazu zwingt, mitzumachen. Right, I forgot about it.” ^[1] The delegate sighed, not seeming to notice Naomasa’s expression as he processed that the delegate had forgotten about his own reception ceremony. “Dann brauch' ich wohl die Uniform, ugh.” ^[2]

“I’ll be there,” Edward said, returning to Japanese. “Will Sansa be driving me to Tokyo again?”

Naomasa shook his head. “You’ll be heading there with Nezu. However, Hamada and Officer Sansa will both be present in an official capacity, as will several other members of the investigations team, including Hawks and Eraserhead.”

“Radierkopf?” Elric blinked in surprise. “Huh… I wasn’t expecting him to attend this kinda thing.”

“Oh, it’s not willingly,” the detective clarified.

Edward chuckled. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

Comfortable silence descended upon them for a minute before Naomasa snapped his fingers and looked at the Amestrian. “If you have a moment, I’m available if you’d like to try testing the limits of my quirk. I was thinking about some of your questions and I am curious myself.”

Elric’s eyes lit up, and he gave Naomasa a brilliant grin. “Wunderbar! Komm, wir können in das Büro, das ich verwende.” ^[3]

Before Naomasa could think to ask what Edward had said, the Amestrian was towing the detective along behind him. They returned to the main U.A. building, Edward leading him to a mid-sized office tucked within the halls of staff offices.

“U.A. loaned this to you?” Naomasa asked, noting in the large table absolutely covered in papers and the written scribbles he couldn’t read. The mess did feel very Elric in nature, even with the short time frame Naomasa had known the young man.

“Ja,” Elric nodded. Sweeping some of the scattered papers aside, Edward took a seat at the table and Naomasa joined him. “So, do you have a preference for questions?”

The detective shook his head. “No, if you have something, please go ahead.”

Edward gave Naomasa a considering look. "I've got a few things to try," the Amestrian said. "But first, the one I'm most curious about is how a Truth registers. Here, how about this—" In the next instant, Naomasa heard Edward speaking and despite not understanding the words – his ears suddenly filled with static – something in his mind must have registered them. 

T R U T H

For a fraction of a second, the world went  w h i t e . He stood in a howling void and in front of him sat a humanoid figure, made of Nothing and Everything, a too-wide razored smile pressing into his mind. In a sound like the universe itself was tearing in half, a thousand voices whispered and roared in discordant harmony:

"Y-O-U   H-A-V-E   N-O-T   E-A-R-N-E-D   T-H-A-T   K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E"

He could not breathe, lest he taste every molecule in the air. He could not see, lest he See more than what the human mind was built to. He could not hear, lest he hear more things that Only Those Who Had Paid could Know. Suddenly he was staring out of his eyes again, his vision and ears filled with static and his heartbeat pulsing too-loud in his ears. Had Naomasa been more aware, he might have seen Edward in front of him, worry etched into his expression. 

Faced with the embodiment of the Universe, All, One, God and Truth, Naomasa did what any reasonable person would.

He fainted.

Edward should have realized that this would happen. 

He had paid to Know these things, these Truths. You could not know Truths without having Paid for them, without having Earned them. He'd wanted to know if Tsukauchi could detect a Truth, but he should have known better. The detective hadn't Paid.

Regardless, Edward opened his mouth.

And he spoke a Truth.

Tsukauchi vanished as the world went w h i t e and Ed was left standing in a place irrevocably etched into his memory, the place where Knowledge lingered and Balance was served. And across from him, wearing the limbs that It had taken, was Truth in all Its glory. Strangely enough, It was sitting in front of a Gate, but it wasn't Ed's Gate, or even Al’s. Instead, this Gate was covered in a design that made Ed think of a spire reaching upwards, holding a starburst surrounded by interlocking rings. Inscriptions lined the rings, reading: "invenire mendacium."

A Gate in the Void - art by @quasar-crew (aka me!)

To find a lie? Ed questioned, narrowing his eyes.

He wasn't able to examine the strange Gate further however, as his attention was drawn to Truth as It waved a finger – using the right hand It had taken from Ed – in admonishment. "Tsk, tsk, ~Li-ttle Al-che-mist~," Truth chided him from where It sat. "That's not allowed."

Ed blinked in surprise, then narrowed his eyes. "What the hell am I doing here? I didn't commit the taboo!"

The Entity gave the distinct impression of rolling Its eyes, despite having no eyes to roll. "No, you didn't. But you were sharing Truths, Truths that have not been earned."

"So?" Ed scowled. "I've spoken them before!"

"You spoke a Truth to a mortal that can detect falsehood," the Being said. "Most cannot confirm whether what you say is a Truth. They may believe it, and make it a truth to themselves, or disbelieve it. But regardless, they do not Know."

"… Oh."

Heat rose to Ed's cheeks, paired with a pit forming in his stomach. Fear. "… Does Tsukauchi have to pay the Toll?"

"No," Truth waved a hand dismissively. "I took the liberty of ensuring he will not Know it. Now…" the Being gave him a too-wide smile, teeth on full display. "I suppose I don't need to tell you to not do that again?"

"I won't," Ed swore, and It knew that he spoke the Truth. "I do have one question though…”

Truth tilted Its head, an invitation.

Edward gestured to the Gate that Truth sat in front of, where spiraling rings and inscriptions drew inward like a whirlpool. Like Ed's own, the monolith was strangely beautiful yet eerie all the same, standing weightless in the Void. "That's not my Gate. Whose is it?"

Truth grinned and then It spoke, a thousand voices laughing in chorus. "Why, whose do you think? That's the Gate of your dear detective!"

Then Ed was 

f a  l      l             i               n                          g

Ed's eyes snapped open (they had never closed) in time to see Tsukauchi's eyes roll back in his head. Edward lurched forwards, just managing to catch the man as he fainted dead away. Looking down at the limp figure in his arms, Ed found himself rather at a loss.

"Well," he said to the unconscious Tsukauchi. "I guess people with quirks do have Gates…”

He’d need to completely rework his theories on quirks now.

For the second time in under an hour, Edward found himself at Shuzenji’s office, this time with an unconscious Tsukauchi slumped over one shoulder. The doctor stared at him in a mixture of shock, horror and no little frustration. “Get him on a bed,” the old woman ordered and Ed complied, hefting the detective up and depositing him on a vacant bed. A nurse started taking the detective's vitals while Shuzenji turned to Edward.

“What happened?” she asked and Ed was abruptly reminded of being questioned by Mustang.

“He just fainted!” Ed said, raising his hands in surrender. And he definitely didn’t have anything to do with it. Nope, no siree. He was innocent of all things accused. Leaning around Recovery Girl, Edward looked past her to the nurse inspecting Tsukauchi. “How is he?”

“He’ll be fine,” the nurse said. “Looks like his blood sugar was low… must have been what caused him to black out.”

On cue, Tsukauchi groaned. The man shifted upright, a hand going to his forehead. “God… what hit me?”

Yes, yes It did, Ed thought.

“Detective, how are you feeling?” Shuzenji asked as she moved to the bedside.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Tsukauchi muttered. “Or got a spike driven into my skull…” He shook his head, hand moving to rub the side of his skull. “Ack, my ears are ringing.”

Shuzenji nodded, stepping back and letting the nurse take over again. The nurse held up her index finger in front of Tsukauchi’s face. “Can you follow my finger please?” She watched him closely as she moved it side to side, then nodded, pulling a small penlight from her pocket. “Good, now I’m going to shine a light in your eyes.” After a few seconds, the nurse pulled away, humming in approval. “Well, you don’t seem to have a concussion.”

“Good?” the detective asked, blinking rapidly. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ow.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Recovery Girl asked, side eyeing Ed as he took a few steps forward. Sue him, he was curious.

Tsukauchi blinked, wrinkling his nose. “Uh… Elric and I were talking and then… nothing really.” He looked over at Ed in confusion. “Did a bomb go off or something?”

A truth bomb, Ed thought.

“No,” he said instead, shaking his head. “You collapsed and then I carried you down here.” Ed rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly. Carrying the detective, who must have been something like 80 kilograms, after getting his immunizations wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. “How are you doing? You gonna be okay?”

Tsukauchi nodded. “Yeah, yeah…” He yawned, wincing and putting a hand to his head. “I’m sorry about fainting, it was very unprofessional, and you had questions too…”

“It’s fine,” Edward said quickly, waving his hands. “Honestly, I’m just glad you’re okay. You scared me for a minute.” Ed paused for a few seconds, then continued. “I’ve found that drinking lemon tea helps me with my headaches, so maybe have some of that?” Truth-induced headaches, specifically. And yes, Al, he knew it was concerning to be able to pinpoint something that could alleviate that specific brand of pain.

“Here,” Recovery Girl handed the detective several small, colorful things, each about the size of a grape. “Eat those gummies, it will get your blood sugar up. This doesn’t seem like anything serious, but call your doctor if you faint again, especially if the memory issues persist.”

Tsukauchi nodded, but when he attempted to get to his feet, Shuzenji stopped him. “Oh no, while you might be doing better, I’m keeping you under observation for another half hour. You can take a different train back to Chiyoda–”

Not long after, Edward was shooed out of the office.

Alone with his thoughts, he had ample time to think about what the hell just happened.

Ed returned to the office the school had lent him, absently collecting his papers and then trekking back to his apartment in a daze. Once there, his mind snapped into focus. He snatched a piece of paper and pen, scribbling the design of the Gate he’d seen in Truth’s Domain. It was absolutely horrible, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

He grabbed an empty mug and one crackle of energy later there was a pile of pushpins in his hands. Time to get to work.

Lifting the drawing of the Gate, Edward pinned it to the wall, front and center. “So Tsukauchi has a Gate,” Ed muttered to himself, stepping back. “But so far, people with quirks can’t use alchemy.” He scribbled a second note, also pinning it to the wall. “Invenire mendacium. To find a lie. Lie detector. Just like his quirk…”

“The Gate is the source of all alchemy and they have Gates, but can’t use alchemy–” a third note, a fourth, “–but the Gate also represents what you know of alchemy, and the detective’s Gate was covered in engravings–” a fifth, “–so… his quirk is his alchemy?” Ed scowled, glaring at the pieces of this puzzle. He crossed his arms, metal fingers drumming against his bicep. “But that doesn’t make sense… quirks don’t follow the Laws of Alchemy. Yagi doesn’t consume matter despite growing larger, All for One doesn’t face a rebound despite throwing all that energy around and changing the shape of things…”

“Hell, this is a damn paradox!” Ed growled, throwing up his hands as he started to pace. “Quirks are linked to the Gate so they must be alchemy, but quirks can’t be alchemy because they don’t follow the Laws.” He paused, mind going to another thing that behaved similarly. “Philosopher’s Stones. Quirks are like philosopher’s stones… doing feats impossible by the normal balance of Equivalent Exchange.”

Ed had once used his own life force to do impossible feats. Did that mean quirks all drew power from human souls? From their users’ soul? One Googol search later told him that the average lifespan of those on the Outside, of quirk users, was similar and in fact longer than that of Atossans. 

Another note to the wall.

“Quirks do cause exhaustion… could they be doing a slow draw on the lifeforce in other ways? No, that wouldn’t work, there isn’t enough equivalency.” Stopping in the middle of the room, Edward glared at the Gate at the center of his current mess.

“You’re something else,” he muttered sourly.

“Okay Edward, think small. What do you know about the Gate?” Ed asked himself, raking his hands through his hair. “A: It’s the origin of alchemy. B: It’s the gateway to Truth. C: It governs Equivalent Exchange. D: The Dwarf in the Flash contained a firmament of the Gate’s knowledge. E: … It’s a great goddamn mystery.”

Ed sacrificed one of the bathroom towels and now with string in hand, began linking pieces together.

“Okay. What do I know about quirks? A: They’re near unique in every individual. B: They have some heritable genetic basis. C: All quirk users all have some physical mutations. D: This physical mutation can be more extreme, like in heteromorphic quirks. Or it can be more minute mutations that work in tandem with less physical quirks. E: They do not obey the laws of physics, or of common sense.”

He shoved a last pin into the wall with extra force, standing back with a scowl. “Quirks are definitely physically linked… but they don’t obey physics. Don’t follow the Laws.”

“They’re connected to the Gate, inscribed into the Gate, but they aren’t alchemy.”

Ed stared at the wall turned impromptu conspiracy board, covered in slips of paper with string criss crossing between the notes and drawings and facts and theories. And, in the center of it all, one lone monolith in a white void. 

“It’s just… something else,” Edward murmured. “A Quirk Gate.”

Somewhere in his frantic mutterings, Ed’s phone unexpectedly went off. He swore at the sound and fumbled the device into his hands, staring blankly at the screen. Meeting with Nezu: 17:45. Current time: 17:30.

“Aw, shit,” Ed muttered. “Right. Hey, Al, you–” He stopped. Right… no Alphonse.

Ed set the phone down, raking a hand through his hair as he stared at the mess he’d made of his apartment. Papers were strewn across every surface, he’d scribbled at least two transmutation circles onto the wall itself and a third on the desk, and two dozen notes were pinned around the central picture of Tsukauchi’s Gate. In all, it rather looked like someone had released a mad scientist or conspiracy theorist into the room and left them there.

Which, Ed supposed, wasn’t entirely incorrect. It was a chaotic mess of researching… Usually, Alphonse complemented Ed’s chaos, catching the ball and sending it back, guiding their research into some form of order with his own ideas. But Alphonse wasn’t here… he was a thousand miles away, asleep, unable to help Ed make sense of this mess.

Right. Ed shook his head. He had his notebook and clean clothes around here somewhere. And, he winced as his fingers snagged in the tangled strands of his hair. A hairbrush.

A few frantic minutes later, Ed stood outside, the air still slightly muggy after the day’s rain. He paused to take a few deep breaths, which more or less helped calm his mind after the research mania. As he walked, he watched the sky get dimmer and dimmer, the light leeching away as the sun sank below the horizon. Within fifteen minutes, the sky had gone from light to dark, the lamp posts along the path flickering awake.

“The sun sets fast here,” Ed murmured, clutching the straps of his bag. It was a small thing, caused by Japan’s low latitude, but regardless, it prompted an ache in his chest. It was strange, unfamiliar, and more than anything, was another reminder of how far from home he was. As if the quirks weren’t big enough.

Ed shook off his melancholy, refocusing on his goal. He was soon standing outside Nezu’s office and, like the last time he’d been there, the door opened as he was raising his fist to knock. “You’re doing that just to mess with me,” Ed accused as he entered, swinging himself into what had become his chair and setting his bag beside him.

“Maybe,” Nezu admitted, giving a needle toothed grin, then paused to squint at Ed. “Are you alright, Edward-san? You look a bit… ruffled.”

“Research,” Ed said with a shrug. “Anyways… any particular flashes of brilliant realization for you?”

“Unfortunately not,” Nezu shook his head. The principal reached under his desk and pulled out two cups, pouring tea into both and offering Ed one, which he took gratefully. “My greatest insight is that perhaps due to how quirks seem to be ungrounded in the Laws that govern your alchemy, that is the reason quirks are incompatible with it. Would you like to play go while we talk?”

Ed blinked at the non sequitur. “Go? What’s that?”

“It’s a strategy game! The aim is to, in essence, place your pieces in order to surround and capture the other player’s. The rules are simple, but the games can become very complex.” Nezu explained, already pulling out a large gridded board, along with a bag of white and black stones. “I like to play as many people as I can,” Nezu said with a sharp grin. “Each person provides their own challenge, and the game provides insight, you could say.” 

“Eh, why not?” Edward shrugged. 

Surround and capture your opponent’s pieces? Battlefield tactics. Ed wasn’t familiar with go, but he had gotten very good at chess – it was basically mathematics and risk assessment – though he still lost to Mustang more than he won. Ed had always thought it funny how the Führer played into the stereotype of ‘military commander plays chess’. But, Mustang always maintained that chess was a good way of “Keeping one’s mind strategic and nimble, Fullmetal. You should play sometime. You could stand to learn a thing or two, though I could understand your difficulty, given your short attention span.”

Of course, after that Ed had begun a truly epic diatribe of how he was “NOT SHORT DAMNIT,” but the point was made.

Nezu briefly explained the rules of “go,” which seemed simple compared to chess and its unique rules for pieces. The players took turns placing identical stones on the board – which could never be moved once placed – and their goal was to completely surround and thus “capture” their opponent’s stones. The game ended only when one of them resigned or they both forfeited their turn, and the winner was decided by who captured the most territory and enemy pieces.

“Would you like white or black?” Nezu asked, gesturing to the two colors. Ed chose white, so he moved second, and watched as Nezu placed the first stone. “What of your research? Any success on your front?”

“No,” Ed scowled, his frustration mounting once again. He and Nezu placed a few stones in quick succession. “We know that quirks and alchemy must be related somehow, otherwise quirk users wouldn’t be incapable of using alchemy. But if it turns out that quirkless people on the Outside can’t use alchemy either, that means the factor lies in a difference between Atossans and the Outside.”

“Indeed,” Nezu hummed, eyes flicking over the board. “Perhaps the difference is the existence of the quirk factor?”

“I still don’t know what that is,” Ed muttered crossly. They each added a few more stones. “I’ve read papers that said it was both ‘the quirk’, ‘the mechanisms that enable the quirk’, and ‘the altered part of the body that utilizes the quirk’. That’s multiple things, and not any singular trait across all Outsiders and quirk users that could be said to be fundamentally different from Atossans.”

“You’re proposing the difference is something metaphysical?” Nezu asked, adding another black stone.

“I mean… I feel like the difference must be metaphysical. There’s not really one physical or genetic thing that could allow for quirks’…” Ed waved a hand through the air expansively, “everything.”

He needed to figure out that metaphysical difference, how it arose, and how it was connected to the Gate.

Nezu hummed in agreement. “Quite. Your move.” Oh, right. Ed eyed the board and placed another of his white stones. “Excellent. Oh, and I wanted to inform you of the plan for the government’s welcome reception tomorrow. Myself, Tsukauchi and several others from the investigations team will be in attendance, and it will be held in a government embassy building. I assume you have formal wear?"

“Yeah,” Ed nodded, thinking of the clothes he had stashed in his suitcase. Mustang would be so pleased. “Where are we meeting?”

“We shall meet at the main entrance of your apartment complex early in the evening,” Nezu explained. “We shall be taking the shinkansen to Tokyo. I will arrange transport and accompany you on the trip. Dinner is provided, of course. I also must warn you that the media will be there… you will be rather big news, as the first Atossan making an official visit to another country, let alone Japan, in centuries.”

“Joy,” Ed muttered.

He really hoped he didn’t accidentally start a war… Why was he the diplomat again? He was better at science and smashing heads than trying to not smash heads when politics was on the table. Well, whatever happened, Mustang brought it on himself.

“Anyways,” Nezu clapped his paws. “Are you ready to continue our alchemy tests? I have asked more employees, including some who are quirkless, to take part tonight. Ah, I do believe that is a win for me. Congratulations, you did decently for a novice!”

Edward blinked, then whipped his head to look at the board incredulously. Had… had he been beaten already?! Sure enough, Nezu seemed to have encircled almost every one of Ed’s white stones when he’d been distracted. As the game board stared at Ed mockingly, he felt a flame kindle in his chest. Who cared that go was a game, that he was a relative novice, this meant war.

However, he had some other problems and questions to deal with right now, aside from figuring out how to beat the rat god in an unfamiliar foreign strategy game. “Yeah, let’s get to more alchemy trials. Are we going anywhere in particular or…?”

Nezu nodded, hopping down to the floor and scurrying over to the door. “Yes! I have arranged to have some employees meet us, but if we encounter anyone in the halls, we shall certainly ask them for their participation as well. More data points! Now, after you, Edward-san.”

Standing from his chair, Ed followed Nezu to the door and stepped into the hall, bag hooked over his shoulder. They had walked only a few paces when Ed glanced down at Nezu’s smaller strides as the stoat hurried to keep up. Not entirely sure why he was doing it, and hoping it wasn’t too rude, Ed hesitantly asked: “Uh… would you like a ride?”

Nezu paused mid-step, looking up at him. “If you’re quite sure? I know I can be a bit heavy.”

“Yeah,” Ed nodded, more certain this time. “Climb on.”

Nezu’s eyes glittered in delight and he didn’t need any more prompting. Ed bent down to give the principal an easier time, and after digging his claws into the thick fabric of Ed’s pants, Nezu maneuvered his way to perch on Ed’s shoulder. Carefully, Ed stood straight again but Nezu balanced easily, so he needn’t have worried.

“Onwards!” Nezu exclaimed and one clawed paw pointed past Ed’s face. 

Edward chuckled, following Nezu’s directions as he walked towards their destination. After a few twists and turns and a flight of stairs, they ended in a series of offices. A few people were idling around a conference table in a common space, but straightened as Ed and Nezu walked in. “Ah, sir!” A man who looked to be in his mid-thirties nodded to Nezu. He was dressed in a suit, like the others lingering around the table. 

“Kanahoshi,” Nezu chirped, and Ed could feel Nezu’s whiskers flicking forward in a smile. “Thank you for coming. Edward-san and I appreciate you lending us your time. This is Kanahoshi,” Nezu said to Ed, hopping down from Ed’s shoulder to the table as he waved to the man across from them. “Kanahoshi-san, everyone, this is Elric, he is our visiting delegate from Atossa.” 

The stranger, Kanahoshi, gave Ed a smile, and Ed could see the curiosity in the other’s golden eyes. Idly, Ed noted that Kanahoshi’s eyes were more than just gold. The colored veins of the iris seemed to flicker, even at a distance. His quirk?

“Pleased to meet you Elric-san,” Kanahoshi said, bowing deeply while the others around the table followed his lead.

“Edward, Kanahoshi is the staff manager for U.A., and these are some of our other employees. Though for today, I’ve asked them to help us with our alchemy study.” Nezu smiled toothily at his employees, who chuckled. Kanahoshi in particular gave his boss a slightly more amused grin, rolling his eyes. “Of course, I’m paying them for their time.”

“You just told me to ‘come to the conference room because you needed a bigger sample size,’” Kanahoshi said dryly. “Should I start running, sir?”

“No, no,” Nezu reassured. “Basically, we just need you to put your hand on a circle.”  As Nezu said that, Ed reached for his bag, pulling out the lump of graphite and the paper with the transmutation circle he had stowed inside. He laid them flat on the table, in clear view of the curious eyes. “It’s perfectly safe,” Nezu continued. “We’re just testing how the circle reacts. Kanahoshi, since you are of seniority, would you like to go first?”

“Okay?” 

Kanahoshi shrugged, reaching out a hand to touch it to the circle. He’d only brushed his fingers against it when the transmutation circle lit up, blue lightning crackling over the graphite as it twisted and reformed. Kanahoshi and the others stared in shock while Ed grinned and Nezu clapped excitedly.

“So quirks are a factor!” Nezu exclaimed, picking up the now duck-shaped lump of graphite and turning it in his paws. “Those without quirks can use alchemy, but those with quirks cannot!”

“I… what is this?” Kanahoshi asked, his voice suddenly sounding hollow.

“It’s alchemy,” Ed said, nodding to the transmutation circle as he looked around at the shocked and awestruck faces in the room. “It’s a science from Atossa, where I’m from. Long story short, I’ve been trying to understand quirks ‘cause we don’t have them back home. Strangely, people like Nezu who have quirks can’t use alchemy, and you just proved that apparently, somehow, quirks block the use of alchemy.”

Ed scowled at the duck in Nezu’s paws. “The question is why.”

“So, who’s next?” Nezu asked, and several hands shot up. 

Several minutes later and the results were the same. The employees, all quirkless, were able to activate the transmutation circle, while Nezu and the quirked employees could not. “Come, Edward-san!” Nezu exclaimed after the last employee had tried, shoving the paper with the transmutation circle and the graphite duck into Ed’s hands. “There is more testing to be had! We need a bigger sample size! There are more confounding variables!”

“I… can I come along?” Kanahoshi asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Ed blinked, looking at Kanahoshi in confusion, and at the strangely wanting gazes of the other employees. “Uh… sure? Just going to warn you, it’s probably gonna be boring. Nezu and I have developed a tendency to… go off on tangents. And I have no idea when we’ll be done.”

“That’s fine,” Kanahoshi nodded. “I'd like to see more of your ‘alchemy’.”

“Fine by me,” Ed said with a shrug. “Nezu?”

“Me as well,” the principal chirped, scrambling back onto Ed’s shoulder. “Come along then!”

They then proceeded to scour the U.A. campus with Kanahoshi in tow. Over an hour later, they had asked nearly fifty more people to try and activate the transmutation circle. No one with a quirk could do it. But the quirkless employees? Most had the same results as Kanahoshi. Most.

There were two outliers, a woman named Yorime and Yagi Toshinori himself. 

Yorime worked in security for the U.A. campus, managing some of the yet-to-be-named defensive measures Ed had heard about. When her turn came, she placed her hand on the circle but to Ed’s surprise, it failed to light up, unlike every other quirkless employee so far.

“Eh, I guess this means I do have a quirk,” Yorime chuckled after Ed expressed his confusion.

“What do you mean?” Ed asked, blinking.

Yorime shrugged. “I’m diagnosed as quirkless, but I’ve always thought I might just have a very minor quirk.” She gestured to her eyes. “I can see in the dark a bit better than other people, and my eyes have a bit of eyeshine to them, like you get with cats. They call it tapetum lucidum.”

“And that’s not listed as a quirk?” Ed muttered incredulously, because they definitely didn’t have that back in Amestris.

“Not significant enough to be a quirk, I guess, according to most metrics,” Yorime said, huffing. “But the boundaries between really minor quirks, being quirkless, or being physically quirkless but having a weird thing you can do that’s labeled as a quirk, it’s this big gray area.”

Edward blinked. He inhaled. He exhaled. He turned to Nezu.

“Full offense, your quirk science sucks. ”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Nezu said, to which both Yorime and Kanahoshi nodded in solemn agreement. 

However, while Yorime’s situation made sense, since she had a quirk that was not listed or recognized as a quirk, at least on paper and thus fell into a strange gray area, Yagi had been more of a surprise.

It had gone a little something like this.

Ed, Nezu and their tagalong Kanahoshi had been wandering the halls, having any straggler they came across try the transmutation circle. It was to the point that Ed would need to redo the circle soon from all the hands that had touched it. Their next victim happened to be Yagi. From the bag slung over his shoulder, he was obviously headed home, but had the misfortune to encounter them.

“Yagi!” Ed exclaimed and the man jerked slightly, turning towards them. 

“Edward-san? What are you doing here? And… Principal Nezu?” the tall man blinked down at them, looking rather confused at their presence. Then, realization seemed to dawn. “Oh. Oh no. This is what Sokeki was talking about, wasn’t it? Your experiments.”

“It’s harmless!” Ed protested at the same time that Nezu asked: “Won’t you try, Yagi-san?”

Yagi looked between them. “Uh… try what, exactly?”

Ed went to the nearest table and set down the transmutation circle with the shapeless lump of graphite on top. “We just need you to put your hand on this circle,” Ed said, gesturing to the circle in question. “That’s it. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Um, okay,” Yagi stepped forward, touching his fingertips to the circle. 

Edward fully expected it to do nothing. Because he knew Yagi was All Might, and All Might definitely had a quirk. Between the larger form that looked like an inflated puffer fish — wait… did that mean that Yagi’s larger form was him inflating to make himself look bigger as a defense mechanism?! No, focus Edward — and the powerful blows he’d thrown around at Kamino, there was no doubt of his quirk status.

So when blue light shone from within the circle, Ed’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

However… that was it.

The transmutation had connected, the energy bridge had been formed, but graphite didn’t transmute. It stayed a formless lump, instead of twisting and shifting into the familiar form of a duck that Ed had seen nearly a dozen times tonight.

“That’s new,” Ed muttered as Yagi removed his hand and the light died away. 

“New?” Yagi asked, an edge in his voice.

“Yeah,” Ed gestured to the paper, touching it with his fingertips and watching the duck take shape. “You’re the first one we’ve gotten that kind of reaction out of. Most quirkless folks initiate the transmutation, and it doesn’t work for quirked people. The energy connecting but not going anywhere… that’s new.”

“I… see,” the man muttered quietly, his face a little pale.

“Perhaps it is because of Toshinori-san’s quirk!” Nezu exclaimed, earning a sharp look from both Ed and Yagi. “Toshinori’s quirk functions like an energy source for him, you could say. While in the past he had ample energy to draw on, as of late that well of energy has been drained dry, making him unable to access it. While the… machinery of the quirk remains, there is no energy for it. He is functionally quirkless.”

“Yes,” Yagi heaved a breath, nodding vigorously. “That must be it.”

Ed narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two. While it did make sense, in a way – Ed had watched the videos on the battle of Kamino – he couldn’t shake the feeling there was something else to the equation that they weren’t telling him. It was a suspiciously could-potentially-work answer… But the fact that Nezu, who was one of the smartest beings Ed had ever met, had answered and that Yagi had seemed so nervous…

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

“Sure,” Ed said with a shrug, not bothering to hide that he only half-believed the explanation. “Still…” He pointed an accusing finger at Yagi. “You’re weird. That is a compliment.” Ed had often found the weirdest things held the best answers.

“Uh… thank you?” Yagi asked, then glanced at Nezu. “Is that all, or?”

“Yes, yes,” Nezu nodded. “I shall see you tomorrow Toshinori!”

The tall man bid them farewell, and Nezu hummed to himself. “Well, while we could go searching for more people, I do believe that is quite the high point to end it on. Shall we conclude this session, Edward?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ed nodded. He had plenty of data to work with and back up their hypothesis of quirkless equals alchemy. Plus, he had the oddity of Toshinori to keep him up at night as he worked to figure out how that and everything else quirk related linked back to the Quirk Gates. Ack, he needed to send a letter to Alphonse. His brother would help him work through this.

Ed waved to Nezu, who vanished around a corner, then looked over at Kanahoshi, still lingering nearby. “Uh… can I help you with something?”

Kanahoshi opened his mouth to speak, but cut himself off. After a few rounds of this, the man finally sighed and managed to find his words. “You… said there's no quirks in Atossa.” When Ed nodded, Kanahoshi continued, his voice becoming soft. “So someone like me… how would I be treated there?”

“Uh…” Edward blinked, because that wasn’t the question he was expecting. And oh boy if it didn’t raise quite a few very concerning red flags. “Normally, I guess,” Ed began cautiously. “Everyone in Atossa is quirkless, you have to understand. That’s just how things are. There are no quirks. There is alchemy, which is about the closest thing as people on the Outside understand it, but it’s more of a choice of profession. Some people become doctors, others become alchemists.”

“Like being a Hero,” Kanahoshi offered and Ed made a face.

“Not really? Some alchemists are employed by the military, like me, but a lot just operate in towns. Again… some people are doctors, others are alchemists. They’re both fields of study.”

“And anyone can learn it?” Kanahoshi stressed.

Ed nodded. “Yeah. Anyone is capable of learning alchemy, though apparently, people with quirks can’t physically do it. That doesn’t mean you’ll necessarily be good at it, though. Some people can memorize every principle but aren’t able to apply them, and others are able to see the form of things in their heads, but can’t do the correct calculations.” Ed paused, then looked Kanahoshi in the eyes. “I don’t mind the questions but I have to ask… why?”

Kanahoshi pressed his lips into a thin line, searching for words. Until, finally, he spoke.

“Outside of Atossa… quirks are the majority,” Kanahoshi said slowly. “The exact statistics vary from country to country, but in Japan, only 20% of the population is quirkless, most of those being either the elderly or adults. Quirks are central to our society, a perception of who you are and your capabilities. Those with ‘strong quirks’ are strong, those with ‘weak quirks’ are weak, and those who are quirkless… are nothing at all.”

A sinking feeling began to take shape in Ed’s stomach.

“It's harder for the younger generation,” Kanahoshi went on. “They get a lot more outright hostility because many kids are basically told without words 'your quirk is what defines you'. For me and others, reactions vary. Some people see us as no different to the quirked, some people have the implicit unconscious bias that we need defending, and others spit in my face if they figure it out.” 

“Not something you tell people?” Ed asked, holding back a shiver as the hairs on his body stood on end. 

Kanahoshi shook his head, a wry bitter smile on his face. “No… the thing is, it’s hard to tell if someone is quirkless. So many people have invisible quirks you can’t see physically, and even quirkless can have subtle changes like hair color or my eyes.” Kanahoshi waved a hand to his eyes and the corona-like iris. “People can really only tell if they see my ID or papers. It can make getting jobs a problem.”

“Nezu?” Edward asked sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh no,” Kanahoshi immediately shook his head. “Nezu's as good a boss as you can have when you're quirkless, better even. U.A. gives full premiums to employees, housing, you name it.”

“It’s more…” the other man’s lips twisted into a frown. “The job I had before this, before U.A., I worked essentially as a secretary. Managed the staff, talked to the customers, all that. The thing was, I worked there for nearly seven years. I was the most experienced person they had on staff and I was pretty good too… But, five times, I was skipped on getting a pay raise or promotion because someone else had ‘the right quirk for it.’” 

Kanahoshi gave a dark chuckle. “Kona had a quirk that let her get a surface level reading of emotions. Chikoro had a quirk that let him do summations in seconds. Hido literally had eyes on the back of his head.” The quirkless man sighed, staring at the floor. “I don’t begrudge them for getting the job over me. Those of us who are quirkless or with minor quirks often find ourselves in the same boat. But it still…”

“Stings?”

“Yeah…”

“And alchemy…” Ed began, tilting his head in question. 

“It’s…” Kanahoshi looked Ed in the eyes, holding his hands up helplessly. “I’m quirkless. I know you don’t quite understand what that means here, but if you don’t have a power, it’s… hard. And don’t get me wrong, I’m content with my lot in life! Nezu makes sure I’m treated fairly and as manager, I ensure the staff are as well. But Atossa, alchemy… it’s like a dream come true. Even if I can’t use alchemy, the idea of being normal in the truest sense…”

“Perhaps it’s a fool’s hope but…” Kanahoshi sighed, giving Ed a sardonic smile. “Well, as kids everyone always fantasized about what quirk they’d get. And… I know you’re here as a delegate and this is likely far out of line but I must ask… would you consider teaching a class on alchemy?”

Ed blinked and Kanahoshi quickly waved his hands. “You don’t need to agree! I just ask you to consider it…”

“… I will,” Ed said slowly, and Kanahoshi quirked his lips.

“That’s all I ask. Thank you, Elric-san.”

“Call me Edward.”

The other man laughed, giving a smile. And this time, it gleamed like the sun’s rays. “Then, call me Toume. It’s my given name.” Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out something small that he pressed into Ed’s hand. “Here, take this.”

Ed looked at the thing. It was a small, golden star shaped piece of plasticized paper… 

“It’s a sticker,” Toume explained, chuckling. “You can peel off the paper on the back and put it on almost anything. The star is a… bit of an inside joke you could say.”

“Thanks,” Ed grinned, slipping it into his pocket. 

Kanahoshi bowed deeply. “No… thank you, Edward-san.”

Dear Alphonse,

Okay… Truth, where do I begin?

I guess for starters… we can throw the ‘people with quirks don’t have Gates’ theory out the window. A few things happened but I ended up in Truth’s Domain and Tsukauchi — you remember him? The lie-detector guy — and saw his Gate. Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t do human transmutation, it was something else and I still have all my remaining limbs and organs. But the Gate was definitely related to Tsukauchi’s quirk. 

Plus, Nezu and I ran some tests and we’ve figured out that it’s definitely quirks. We had some people try to activate a pre-set transmutation circle and only those without quirks could initiate the transmutation. There were two outliers, but one of them said that while she’s labeled as quirkless on paper, she does have a minor quirk? Gives her eyeshine apparently. On that note, apparently vestigial quirks aren’t significant enough, in whatever metric quirks are measured by, to disrupt alchemy. We had a guy named Kanahoshi who had these cool eyes — definitely not something you’d see in Atossa — but the transmutation still worked.

So now, I have to figure out how the Gate, the very thing that dictates Balance and the Laws of alchemy, allows quirks and their blatant disregard for all things sensical. And, what the difference is between our “alchemy gates” and the “quirk gates.” Plus, figure out what the exact line is between quirkless, vestigial quirks, and then actual quirks, and how the Gate recognizes those boundaries…  Damn, I wish you were here, it’s so much harder to bounce ideas through letters.

Other than my research frustrations and missing you, things are fine here. I have to attend this reception-thing hosted by the Japanese government tomorrow which I am not looking forward to but if it goes south I’ll just hike out of Japan and Mustang can deal with the consequences for making me a diplomat. 

Any luck with your research in Xing? Say hi to the menace and Xiao Mei for me.

Love,
Edward

P.S. ⭐️ Enjoy this gold star thing! It’s called a sticker, got it from Kanahoshi 

…

Dear Edward,

How on earth do you manage to stumble into Truth’s Domain without performing human transmutation? Let alone into someone else’s Gatespace?! I swear Brother, you are giving me a migraine. And you’re not even here!

Sorry I can’t be of more help, but now that you know definitively that the Gate is somehow connected to quirks, it should make your research easier. Perhaps quirks are equivalent to alkahestry? Alchemy and alkahestry are both linked to the Gate, they both use it to channel energy, but through different methods and scripts. Quirks could be similar, using some aspect of the Gate we’re unaware of, and with a different channelling method.

Honestly, with how diverse you say quirks are, and the feats they are capable of, bypassing equivalent exchange… could quirks perhaps be drawing power from the Gate itself? I don’t know how it’d come about, or why Truth would permit it, since there’s no exchange of material or power, but it’s possible. It would also align with your theory of a “quirk gate.”

Good luck with politics, and please try not to start a war, Big Brother. And also, you cannot ‘hike’ out of Japan. It is an island, lest you forget.

Research is going great here! I’ve done some more testing with distance transmutations, and successfully replicated alchemy transmutations at a distance! I did it similar to how we channel energy through the earth, but this time I connected to the ground below what I wanted to transmute through the aklahestric-based solar radiation in the air. Two forms of energy connection, one transmutation!

Mei is saying you’re lucky there’s so much distance between you, or she’d have stabbed you a dozen times already. Xiao Mei sends kisses.

Love,
Alphonse

P.S. I love the star! It’s very shiny.

…

Mustang,

Hey, so a few things, Bastard.

First: I had a little encounter with our favorite Teller of Truths, and long story short, quirks are, somehow, connected to the Gate. I’ve messaged Alphonse about the same, and hopefully together we can figure something out. It’s driving me up the wall.

Second: I found out that quirkless people are the only ones that can use alchemy here on the Outside. Another point for the ‘quirks are connected to alchemy / the Gate’ theory. Oh, and quirkless people are treated like shit. So… can I take ‘em home? If not, one of them asked if I could teach a class on alchemy to the quirkless kids and employees at the school here.

I don’t know how bad it is but from what I’ve heard… Well, it's not as bad as the kind of treatment that Ishvalans got in Amestris, but some of the shit happening wouldn’t be out of place either.

Third: I have to attend the ‘welcome reception’ tomorrow, where the government’s gonna welcome me and all that political nonsense. I know this kind of thing is basically a ‘who has the biggest guns’ and all that, but… alchemy. Do I show it or not, Roy? On the plus side, it could show Atossa is not to be messed with. Especially with how quirkless people seem to get the short end of the stick, it could say ‘Hey, we’re not about to take anything lying down.’ On the flip side, it makes us interesting. And I’m not sure how much I like Atossa becoming interesting to Outsiders. We already know of one person that’s been kidnapped. Plus, while quirk users can’t use alchemy, and alchemy is a science to be shared… We both know how alchemy can serve as a weapon. And who knows what other governments might try to get their hands on it.

You’re the guy who does political scheming. What’s the best plan for this? Give ‘em a show? Something small? No alchemy at all? 

Sincerely,
Edward

…

Fullmetal,

Considering you’re writing this I’ll assume you’ve managed to not lose another of your limbs due to your close encounter with the Gate. But if quirks truly do involve the Gate… please tread carefully. I prefer my subordinates not being additionally scattered across dimensions. 

While I sympathize with the plight of the ‘quirkless’ on the Outside, I’m afraid I can’t authorize you to teach alchemy, and, this is an order Fullmetal, you shouldn’t either. From a relations standpoint, it’d be inappropriate for a diplomat. It’s a uniquely Atossan ability, and you’re basically handing them a weapon and the tools for rebellion while pointing a direct finger at who supplied them. It could start war, which is precisely what we want to avoid. Nor can you ‘take them home’ with you, Edward. You are not Al and they are not cats.

Now, before you deconstruct this letter to ash, let me clarify. You cannot teach Outsiders on the Outside. Presently, we are in no position to handle the subject of alchemy. Amestris would be losing a valuable tool of trade. Yes, it is a science to be shared, but as you mention, it can be a deadly weapon entering the hands of our not-yet allies. But, if we can cement an alliance… well, if Amestris or the Atossan countries took on a few refugees, who happened to learn alchemy while being residents? That's an entirely different story. 

As for the reception, give them a show. Just because you show off alchemy, doesn’t mean they’ll know how it works or how to use it. Those are two very different things. Use your clap alchemy. As far as they will know, that is how alchemy is done. As far as they know, everyone uses alchemy in Atossa. As for your concerns about unwanted interest, while it is a fair point, I’m afraid Atossa is already going to be in the spotlight simply because you are on the Outside. 

It is already known that there are no quirks on Atossa, so we can stand to gain from demonstrating our abilities. Using alchemy elevates Atossa to a greater place of interest and intrigue. It would not be ‘the place of quirkless people’, who are looked down upon, but ‘the place where people can do crazy shit without quirks’.

…

Ed paused, a feral grin stretching across his face as he read the next part.

…

Have fun with it, but don't go overboard. Show them what State Alchemists do on their days off.

Sincerely, 
Führer Roy Mustang

Chapter Text

“Shou, you look so handsome!”

Aizawa tugged at the collar of his suit and despite the uncomfortable attire, he felt a warm glow of satisfaction bloom in his chest at his husband’s words. “Thank you, Zashi…” Shouta said, twisting slightly and frowning at the restricted motion. He sighed. “I know Nezu wants me there to basically be Elric's bodyguard, but really, did he have to insist I wear a suit? It’d be much more logical for me to wear my work clothes.”

Hizashi shrugged, reaching forward to adjust Shouta’s tie. “You’re more inconspicuous this way. If you wore your work clothes, you’d stand out far more. No offense, dear, but Nemuri calls it the Hobo Suit for a reason. Plus, you’re always telling me about the value of stealth. It’s like that! Except a black tie suit.” Hizashi brushed a hand over Shouta’s jacket, grinning. “And you look fabulous. Honestly, this is making me sad I can’t go! I never get to see you in a suit!” 

“Thank you, Zashi,” Shouta rolled his eyes. Honestly, his husband.

“Besides!” Hizashi exclaimed, stepping back and looking Shouta over with an admiring eye. “Nezu knows you can keep a cool head under pressure. For all you hate social things like this, you’re good at handling them and obtuse politicians. Also, this delegate is a teenager and you’re an expert at wrangling those. Nezu trusts you with Elric’s safety.”

“Elric isn’t one of my students,” Shouta pointed out. “He’s a foreign delegate and has no cause to listen to me, aside from the fact that I’m there to serve as his protection detail. Even then, I feel that he wouldn’t care much.”

Hizashi snorted, flashing Shouta a grin. “You’re half of my impulse control when it comes to the media. If you can handle me or a class of teenagers, I’m sure you can handle one.”

“As you like to say Hizashi… don’t jinx it.”

Shouta’s husband laughed, nudging his shoulder gently and giving him a smile. “See? You’ll do fine. You’re even preparing ahead of time. Now, stand still, I need to get a picture and send it to Nemuri—”

Fortunately for Shouta, and unfortunately for Hizashi, Shouta found that despite his restricted movement in the suit, he could still tackle his husband before the other man pulled out his phone.

Over an hour later, Shouta arrived at the highrise in Chiyoda where the reception would take place. He was pleased to see the security in place was decent, with numerous guards and several checks in place for guests before they could enter.

“Name?” the guard asked as Shouta approached.

Aizawa gave it and handed over his Hero License. After a quick scan revealed its validity and a pat down (during which Shouta had to declare the presence of the numerous hidden knives on his person), he was allowed through. “You’ve been permitted to use your quirk, Eraserhead,” the guard said as he let Shouta pass. “Though we request only in the event of an emergency.”

Shouta nodded, slipping into the building alongside the other guests. Inside, Shouta tucked himself near the entrance, watching other guests trickle in as he awaited the arrival of Nezu and Elric. Shouta recognized several major political figures including the Minister of Foreign Affairs, as well as a handful of military officers in uniform. Hawks was there as well, though Shouta had the sneaking suspicion the latter was here not due to his role in the investigation, but because of his ties with the Hero Public Safety Commission.

At some point, Shouta’s surveillance of the growing crowd was interrupted by the soft vibration of his phone. He pulled it from his pocket to see what it was and was greeted by a message from Tsukauchi.

…

Private Hero Network Server: Underground_A673k-910
Encryption Key: k3za1k0M3sZ08n
Direct Message between DetectiveTsukauchi [Tsukauchi] and Eraserhead [Aizawa]
Last Message Sent: 1 minute ago

DetectiveTsukauchi [Tsukauchi]
Aizawa are you there yet?
Hamada and I are leaving now should be there soon
Hows the media situation looking?

Eraserhead [Aizawa]
Yes I’m here
Couple reporters from the Tokyo Times and at least one news crew
At least the Foreign Ministry chose reliable journalists 
Best to keep the tabloids out of this

DetectiveTsukauchi [Tsukauchi]
Wont last long after the news segment
So far the Ministry kept it under wraps there someone from Atossa in Japan
But the tabloids are going to be all over this once it gets out

Eraserhead [Aizawa]
Are they broadcasting it live?

DetectiveTsukauchi [Tsukauchi]
Not from what I heard
Alright were through security
See you in a minute

…

Shouta slipped his phone in his pocket in time to see Tsukauchi and Hamada enter. Tsukauchi caught his eye through the crowd and the two weaved their way towards him. Shouta nodded to the pair, giving a half bow which they returned. They were both dressed formally for the occasion in dark suits, though Hamada had gone with a cravat instead of a tie, and some light makeup.

“Everything alright in getting here?” Shouta asked.

Tsukauchi hummed in affirmation. “I spotted Toshinori as we came in, he’ll be along shortly. Any problems on your end?”

Shouta shook his head. “No, they’re taking security seriously, at least.”

Hamada looked between the Tsukauchi and Shouta. “Are you expecting trouble?” they asked quietly, eyes flickering over the other partygoers. 

“No,” Tsukauchi replied, equally quiet. “But we’ve both learned it’s best to be prepared. Besides, the last thing we need is another international incident, involving the Amestrian delegate no less. At that point, I’m pretty certain our allies would be right to question us.”

As Shouta nodded, he spotted Yagi entering the hall. While the man was nowhere near as imposing or identifiable as he’d been as All Might, Shouta surmised it wouldn’t take long for people to notice his presence, especially after everything that happened at Kamino. “Look alive, here comes Yagi,” Shouta murmured, drawing the others’ attention toward the approaching Pro Hero.

“Detective,” Yagi said as he came up to them, giving Tsukauchi a shallow bow, slipping into the formality particular to these kinds of events. “Aizawa-san, Hamada-san, glad to see you this evening.”

“You as well,” Tsukauchi said, bowing in return. “I appreciate you coming.”

“It’s no trouble,” Yagi dismissed quickly, his eyes flicking up and over the crowd. “Though a warning that I will likely be wrapped into conversation. There’s several political figures here that know me or of me. I doubt I’ll be able to remain with you for long.”

Tsukauchi chuckled. “That’s fine. If I need to run, you’re the distraction.”

While Hamada gaped at the light banter between the detective and the former top Pro Hero in Japan, Shouta’s phone buzzed with another incoming message.

…

U.A. Server - [Aizawa Shouta]
Direct Message between RatGod [Nezu] and Dadzawa [Aizawa]
Last Message Sent: 1 minute ago

RatGod [Nezu]
Aizawa, we are pulling up to the building now.
We will be inside in a few minutes.
Has Toshinori arrived yet?

Dadzawa [Aizawa]
Yes he just arrived as did Tsukauchi
…
Why have the usernames changed Nezu?
And why can’t I change it back?

RatGod [Nezu]
It suits you, don’t you think?
I’m quite happy with mine.

Dadzawa [Aizawa]
You are a menace.

RatGod [Nezu]
And also your boss.
Now, I must convince these guards to permit Edward entry despite his metal limbs and potential hidden weaponry. We’ll see you soon!

…

Shouta sighed, stowing his phone and looking at the other three. “That was Nezu. He and Elric will be in momentarily.” Despite that, it took nearly ten minutes until Nezu and Edward arrived. Shouta first noticed the principal, who scurried over to their group with a toothy grin.

“Ah, hello! Glad we found you. Apologies, it took a touch longer than expected to get Edward-san through the metal detectors.” Nezu gestured behind him, and Shouta looked up to see someone stepping out of the crowd to join them. 

It took Shouta a solid two seconds to comprehend that he was looking at Edward.

The Amestrian was dressed in a blue uniform nearly identical to the one that the soldier, Officer Talfon, had been discovered wearing, except this one was intact and free of blood and grime. The mock coattails swept behind Edward as he approached with the ghost of a scowl on his face. As he did, Shouta noted the medals displayed on Edward’s chest, including a pin of a dragon rampant, likely the Amestrian crest. He even had the markers on the shoulders that Shouta knew were used to indicate military rank. Epaulets, if he wasn’t mistaken.

It was the uniform of a military officer, and Elric looked the part.

“It’s Amestris’ army getup,” Edward said as he stopped in front of them, noting their stares. “I’m not a fan of it, but at least it’s comfortable. Kann's immer noch nicht fassen, dass Mustang mich in sowas reingesteckt hat,” ^[1] the delegate grumbled as he adjusted his sleeve cuffs, ever-present white gloves on his hands.

Tsukuachi chuckled. “Comfortable? Really? I’d have expected otherwise, considering its formalwear.”

Edward shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it formalwear…this is also the day-to-day outfit of most of the military, and it’s not unlikely soldiers will see combat in these. It has to be comfortable and at least somewhat practical, otherwise it could get someone killed.” 

The Amestrian went back to adjusting his cuffs while silence descended among his companions as they remembered that this delegate, this nearly-teenager, was also part of his country’s military. Though with how he wore the uniform, it was hard to forget. Has he seen combat in those clothes? Shouta couldn’t help but wonder. After a minute the tension was broken as Yagi coughed and gestured down the hall awkwardly. “Er… shall we make our way to the ballroom?”

“Let’s!” Nezu said, clapping his paws. “Edward-san, the official welcoming is not due to start for at least another 30 to 45 minutes, so please feel free to make conversation with the other guests.”

Yagi and Nezu said their goodbyes and vanished deeper into the building, presumably going up to the ballroom where the main part of the reception would be held. Hamada excused themself as well, since they were connected to the Foreign Ministry’s office and needed to go talk with their supervisor and inform them that the guest of honor had arrived. 

Edward hummed, sweeping his gaze around the entrance hall. “Impressive.”

The building was impressive, Shouta had to admit. The Foreign Ministry used this building to hold events such as this, for greeting foreign ambassadors or other persons of importance. It was slightly Western in design, the foyer boasting high ceilings with the flags of dozens of countries lining the curved walls, leading the eye towards a central area that hosted an indoor koi pond and traditional garden. The garden was flanked by a double stairwell, and between the stairs, a tall, transparent column that contained several elevators stretched towards the upper floors, the path to it bridging over the koi pond.

“Hier kann man das Geld ja praktisch riechen,” ^[2] Edward hummed quietly, gaze trailing over the room. The Amestrian’s gaze snagged on something in particular and Shouta followed his stare.

“That’s an elevator,” Shouta explained, guessing at his confusion. “It’s a… Well, it lifts things.”

“Oh, yeah I know what it is,” Edward said, pulling his gaze back to Shouta. “Aufzug, lift. We have them in Amestris, but they’re mostly in the cities. Except for Fort Briggs, it has loads of them.” The Amestrian shuttered, muttering to himself in his native language. “Erinnert mich daran, als General Armstrong mal 'nen Panzer aus einem rausgezogen hat…” ^[3]

Edward shook his head, dismissing the thought. “Anyways, yeah, impressive. Considering everyone going up, I’m guessing this isn’t where the reception itself is?”

“Correct, we’ll be upstairs,” Tsukauchi said, gesturing towards the higher floors. “The reception will take place in the ballroom. Shall we head that way, or would you like to look around first?” 

“Why not?” Edward shrugged. “We’ve got time to kill.”

For the next half hour, the three of them made small talk as they strolled around the foyer and then up to the ballroom. Edward had to duck out to find a drink and a lavatory, and when he came back he looked more angry than usual. When asked, he just growled something in Amestrian that Shouta could guess held many, many swears.  In hopes of improving the mood, Tsukauchi decided to try asking their resident delegate about himself, which Shouta was coming to learn was a recipe for a headache.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what is it you do in the military?” Tsukauchi wondered, looking over at Edward. “Are you normally sent on diplomatic missions?”

The Amestrian gave a choked snort, visibly repressing laughter. “Als ob! I’m not the guy you send for diplomatic missions, I’m the one you send to get shit done. Mistkerl only sent me because I have experience in investigations like this and a track record of getting myself out of sticky situations.” ^[4]

Edward’s eyes unfocused, looking at some point in the distance. “Actually, I’m technically retired from the military, but Mustang still asked me to take this mission.” 

“Retired?” Shouta echoed. How did one as young as Elric end up not just a Major General, but a retired one?!

“Yeah,” the Amestrian nodded. “I work in an automail shop back home. Winry’s the mastermind, but I help with getting and mixing the metals. Alchemy, you know.” He shrugged. “Aside from the automail, my brother and I are working on a few alchemical manuscripts and transcribing a history of Xerxes. And when I’m not doing that, I like to travel Amestris.”

“Who’s Winry?” Tsukauchi asked, catching the unfamiliar name.

Edward grinned. “She’s my best friend, aside from Alphonse of course. Also my automail mechanic and technically my boss since I’ve been working in the Rockbell automail shop.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s always so nitpicky about the alloy concentrations, too. I don’t know why she worries, I’m not about to give her poor steel or carbon fiber!” 

“An engineer, huh?” Tsukauchi chuckled. “Sounds a bit like that one U.A. Support student from the Sports Festival. Remember that one, Aizawa?”

“Vividly,” Shouta said dryly. Hatsume’s demonstration had put the Business Department into a frenzy as they suddenly had a whole new model for showcasing inventions and skills from the students in the Support and Hero departments.

“Winry’s an amazing engineer,” Edward continued, smiling widely with obvious pride. “Best automail mechanic in Amestris.”

“Impressive,” Tsukauchi hummed. His eyes flicked to Elric’s right arm. “She’s the one that designed your automail?”

“Yep, designed it and built it. I know my way around my automail alright, I can do my own basic maintenance and whatnot, but Winry’s a genius at it. I call her a gearhead, but she helps a lot of people,” the Amestrian smiled somewhat wistfully. “I hope she’s doing alright. I haven’t been able to write to her about how things are here. Though honestly, I’m kind of afraid that if Winry heard about all your technology, she’d come and never leave.” He shuddered. “Give her a plane or one of your ‘phones’ and she’d figure out how to take over the world.”

It was in that moment that Shouta swore that if Hatsume Mei and this Winry were ever to meet, then he would quickly evacuate to the opposite side of the planet in preparation for the many explosions and technological revolutions that were sure to follow.

They had made it to the ballroom by this point, which was quickly beginning to fill with people. The trio was working their way closer to the front when Hamada appeared at Edward’s shoulder. “Elric-san, we need you at the stage,” Hamada said, gesturing towards the stage and dais at one end of the ballroom. “The welcoming is going to begin soon.”

“Alright,” the Amestrian said with a sigh, golden eyes hardening as he stared down the stage like it had personally insulted him. “Let’s get this over with.” He strode off into the crowd, Hamada’s blue hair following in his wake.

While Aizawa and Tsukauchi waited for the reception to start, they met up with Nezu and Yagi. Nezu was perched on the Hero’s shoulder and gave Shouta and Tsukauchi a toothy smile as they approached. “Ah, hello! We should be getting started in a few short minutes. Would you like to join us?”

“Sure!” 

Tsukauchi startled while Shouta just glanced behind him, sending a flat look at the Pro Hero who had attempted to sneak up on them. Hawks didn’t let the glare phase him, instead moving to stand by Yagi’s other shoulder. Shouta repressed a sigh. Just what I needed in my life, he thought sarcastically, more extroverts. 

“Is that…? Damn, he cleans up well. Looks like a proper soldier,” Hawks murmured, and Shouta followed his gaze to see officials filing onstage, Elric among them. When Shouta sent Hawks a dry look, the Winged Hero raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking it too. It’s… strange to see him dressed so formally. Kind of intimidating.”

Shouta turned back to the stage, and indeed, Elric had managed to turn a neutral expression into a glower masked as an intimidating stare. “I think that’s just him wishing he could strangle whoever thought a public welcoming reception was a good idea,” Nezu chuckled.

Can I join in? Shouta privately wondered.

The room quieted as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Hakuro, stepped forward to stand behind the podium that had been placed on the dais. The few media cameras and journalists toward the front focused on the Minister as the lights dimmed slightly.

“Distinguished participants,” Minister Hakuro began, his voice carrying across the crowd. “I would first like to thank you all for coming today, for it marks a momentous occasion in history. Over a hundred years have passed since quirks first appeared in our world, and it has been even longer since the world truly stood with the continent of Atossa. So that is why it is my great pleasure and honor to welcome Major General Elric Edward of Amestris, from the continent of Atossa!” 

Edward stepped from the line of officials, bowing to the audience. Polite clapping followed, though it was interspersed with murmurs and whispers. Nearby, Shouta heard one person whisper to their neighbor: “He’s so young! An international delegate, at that age?” The Minister cleared his throat, the whispers quickly dying as he began speaking again.

“Major General Elric is in Japan on a diplomatic mission, here to see the world and how it has changed in the years since our two lands parted ways. Thus, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude not just to Amestris, but to Major General Elric making the journey here. It is my profound hope that this may mark the beginning of a new relationship between not just Japan, but between Atossa and the rest of the world.”

Applause sounded as the Minister stepped back from the podium. One of the aides gestured for Edward to step forward and he did so, making his way up to the speaking platform. The room quieted as Edward cleared his throat, though Shouta noticed a few of the officials looking around in confusion – presumably wondering where Hamada was to fill the role as translator.

“Thank you, Minister Hakuro,” Edward said, his thick accent ever present but his Japanese still understandable. The Amestrian took a breath, likely shoving down his nerves. Shouta wondered if he’d ever given a speech before. “Vielen Dank für Ihre Einladung. Thank you for having me. As we all know, it has been centuries since the governments of Atossa and the rest of the world have attempted to interact, and as we also know, with time comes change.”

“As I have seen in my visit, the world outside Atossa has changed dramatically. You boast technologies I had never heard of and even in the short week I have been here, I have met such a diversity of people with a vast array of experiences, skills and quirks. But just many things remain the same: the sun still sets, people still laugh and people still cry, and the traffic is always bad.”

Light laughter rippled through the room as Edward paused, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I want to thank Japan for having me here, for your generosity and for showing me your beautiful land.” Elric began clapping and the room followed his lead, giving a few seconds of applause before it died down. “And in thanks to that generosity, I would like to offer a gift to the Japanese government on behalf of Amestris and Atossa.”

Elric smiled. Shouta had a sudden feeling of foreboding.

“Just like Japan and the rest of the world, Atossa has hardly remained static. And it is in the spirit of that that I offer this gift, in honor of shared change and progress.”

Shouta tensed as lightning crackled over the podium in front of the Amestrian, hand going for a scarf that wasn’t there. Damn, a villain attack? Here? Now? But as Elric stepped back from the podium with that mysterious smile on his face, as Shouta watched the podium twist in shape, he realized. This is Edward’s alchemy.

Blue lightning arched across what had once been the podium, spilling down the steps of the dais and forcing the officials on stage and the crowd closest to scurry back. Despite the lightning encircling him, Edward looked perfectly calm, if a little demonic thanks to the electricity illuminating his face from beneath and the strange wind causing his hair to fly back. 

A mass of wood and stone twisted together into a long, serpentine shape, growing in size and coiling near the ground like a large snake. At one end, the ever shifting coil began to narrow, the nebulous mass of wood and stone elongating into what Shouta recognized as a head. The narrowing muzzle then split in two to form a jagged toothed maw, a tongue running out over newly formed fangs.

The serpentine creature extended itself, four legs lifting it off the floor it had formed from. It took a few steps, shaking itself down as it did so, from snout to tail. Though vague in details, its body was enough to hint at its nature.

Shouta gaped as a creature of legend, like the dragons of China and Japan, came alive in front of his eyes. The newly made dragon walked across the stage and with each step, it seemed to grow larger. At this point, Shouta could no longer tell what was wood and what was stone. Perhaps the dragon was simply now flesh and bone, wreathed in divine lightning. 

The creature slid across the stage, the elegant head turning to inspect each of the officials almost critically. Then it moved on to Edward. The dragon looped around its creator, a claim of ownership that went both ways, bathing both in an aura of crackling electricity. Edward smiled a little wider, his features fae-like in the uplight, and Shouta understood why alchemy might have been mistaken for magic.

The dragon uncurled from around its master, slithering back to its original position to take the place of the podium it had once been. It twisted and spiraled into place, rearing back with neck arched, fangs and claws bared.

As the dragon settled into place, detail spread over its body in a rippling wave. Gleaming fangs were bared in a snarl, horns gently curving back while the long spine arched, and a sea of scales rippled over the serpentine body. And with the scales came color. Red was brushed over the dragon’s scales, fading to white for its underbelly, the furred mane taking on a golden shine while its claws, horns and eyes became pitch black.

Then, and only then, did the arcs of lightning fade to lingering static. It was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, leaving behind the scent of ozone and silent awe.

"Show them what State Alchemists do on their days off." - Art by @quasar-crew (aka me!)

So this is what alchemy is capable of, Shouta murmured in his mind as he took in the statue that now adorned the stage. He was no alchemist, knew nothing of the craft beyond what Elric had told them in the investigation room. But even he could tell that this thing was a masterpiece. The detail alone was incredible, and that was just what Shouta could see. Not to mention the fact that Edward had made his creation come alive, stalking across the stage with an uncanny smoothness. 

Even someone with a telekinesis or substance-bending quirk would have found it a challenge to do such a thing. It spoke volumes of Edward’s skill and control of his craft. There could be no doubt in anyone’s mind. This was a statement.

“This is alchemy,” Elric said, his voice carrying across the room. “Despite appearances, it is not a quirk. It is an art from Atossa, something that everyone can do. Some of you may be asking yourselves what a continent of quirkless can bring to the global stage… I assume this is evidence in itself.”

Elric bowed to the audience, stepping back to join the other officials. With that, the spell was broken. Someone started clapping and applause rapidly filled the room, excited clamor humming in the background. Shouta could hear more whispered conversations in his earshot, people wondering how Edward had done it, if it was actually a quirk, and marveling over the statue, while the reporters were crying out unheard questions.

In all, Edward had managed to thoroughly disrupt everyone’s expectations.

“Did you know he would do this?” Tsukauchi hissed to Nezu. Aizawa glanced down at the principal, curious himself, since he’d heard through the grapevine that Edward had been teaching Nezu alchemy.

“Not in the least,” Nezu said brightly. “I don’t even know how he did that!”

May the gods preserve them.

On stage, Minister Hakuro looked incredibly off balance as he sought to figure out how to respond to the Amestrian’s words, the demonstration of power, and the loss of his podium and a good chunk of his dais. After a minute, he seemed to find something and cleared his throat, though it took another minute for the audience to quiet.

“Thank you, Major General Elric, for this magnificent gift,” the Foreign Minister said, bowing toward Edward. “You honor us with this demonstration of your skill, and with your presence in our country. We welcome being able to forge a greater relationship with the people of Atossa and Amestris, so that both our societies may benefit, paving the way for a richer future for us all.”

As Hakuro finished, the room broke into polite clapping, subdued from the more raucous applause that had followed Edward’s demonstration. 

“Further questions shall be held until the end of the reception,” the Minister said, the unspoken ‘because we need to process that and get a new podium’ hanging in the air. “For now, there is food available for your pleasure. Thank you.” The Minister bowed to more polite clapping and as the officials on stage scattered, the audience began an ebb and flow of movement. 

A significant number of people clustered closer to the stage to admire the new art piece, while others went for the miniature bar as servers brought out appetizers and drink platters. Shouta looked for Edward on stage, but he’d vanished. Shouta’s eyes immediately started scanning the crowd and back of the stage, concerned that their delegate might have been nabbed by an overeager attendee.

He needn’t have worried however, as Edward emerged from the crowd a few short minutes later, appearing next to Shouta. When Shouta gave the Amestrian a questioning eyebrow, Elric hummed. “People tend to… miss me, in crowds. At least if I’m not drawing attention to myself. Go with the flow well enough, and you can blend in. Right now, I’m not in the mood for being accosted.”

Or, you’re shorter than people realize and they forget to look down for you, Shouta filled in.

However, he did not say this because he valued his kneecaps. 

“That was very impressive,” Shouta said instead, nodding towards the new addition to the stage.

Edward smirked, preening. “It’s nothing much, just a little something I can whip up in my spare time. Give me a few days and some theoretical alchemy calculations and I’ll show something really impressive.”

“Breaking the rules a little, Edward-san?” Nezu asked, his dark eyes glittering and ears flicked forward curiously.

Elric chuckled, grinning at the principal with something like mischief in his eyes. “Not at all. Just a few… tricks of the trade, you could call it. Alchemy isn’t magic, but a fair amount of us know some sleight of hand.”

Shouta and the others glanced back at the rearing dragon. “Quite the sleight of hand,” Tsukauchi muttered dryly. “Where you been keeping that?”

“Atossa,” Edward said, grinning impishly.

Yagi eyed Elric with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. “Anymore tricks you’re hiding?”

The Amestrian’s grin stretched wider, turning razor sharp. “Well now, that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

Edward and Nezu hadn’t even made it to the reception yet, and Ed was already regretting letting Mustang talk him into this. As revenge, and to sooth his soon-to-be injured psyche, Ed imagined all the things he could subject the Führer to that would match this cruel and unusual punishment that Ed was about to experience.

For starters, Ed hated having to wear the Amestrian military uniform. While it was flexible and didn’t restrict his movement, he felt supremely uncomfortable wearing it. It was something soldiers wore, and for all that he was a State Alchemist and occasionally went along with Mustang’s orders, Ed didn’t think of himself as a soldier. He’d experienced some of the training, sure, but Ed knew he was far too bullheaded, brash, and dismissive of authority to truly count.

And though Ed complained about him, Mustang respected that. Ed knew that Roy had kept him from being used as a human weapon, letting him focus on his research instead. Ed was excellent at combat alchemy, yet he’d never been sent on combat missions. All the fights he’d experienced had been his own doing, whether accidental or thanks to his nose for trouble.

Shit, when had Truth gotten drunk and decided it was a good idea to have Ed attempt politics?! The extent of Edward’s experience with the subject boiled down to Mustang and Mustang’s coup, and occasionally punching Ling. This was going to end in disaster.

Though, looming disaster or not, Ed had to admit it was very funny to see Aizawa, Tsukauchi, Yagi and the rest staring in shock as Ed walked up in Amestrian blues. In any case, Ed’s chances of escape were much lower now he was stuck in the lavishly decorated building with Tsukauchi and Radierkopf.

Tsukauchi tried to make small talk as they wandered the building, but Ed quickly decided to ditch his entourage. With the excuse of finding a bathroom, which wasn’t entirely an excuse, Ed slipped off into the crowd. He loitered on one of the balconies overlooking the foyer, eyeing the windows as he pondered the feasibility of escape. Hmm… probably not worth the risk, considering how absurdly tall these buildings were. Ed didn’t even know what floor they were on. Ed sighed, glancing over at another guest standing at the railing. 

“Nice view, huh?” he asked, and they gave him a Look that Ed could only describe as if he’d just insulted their existence. Ed was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything to deserve that in the past minute. 

The person hummed something under their breath and then not so subtly shifted away from Ed before walking away.

Ed sighed, blowing air between his teeth. Ah yes, city people. They hated small talk. “Just like Central,” Edward grumbled in Amestrian. “In Resembool you can just chat with anyone! Why do city people have such an aversion to it?”

Ugh, culture differences.

Ed people-watched and plotted escape attempts for a few more minutes. At least he was, until someone walked up to him, a somewhat concerned look on their face. “Are you lost, young man? How did a child like you get in here?” they asked and there went Ed’s blood pressure.

With great effort, he took a deep breath. “No,” Ed said stiffly. They probably didn’t mean anything rude by it, they were just trying to help. “I am an invited delegate, not a child.”

They blinked, then stared at him with a severe expression. “This is… a joke? Young man, if you must joke, that is a poor one. You are far too young to be an ambassador.” Their gaze caught his uniform. “Military are you? I should inform your commanding officer of this.”

Fuck this.

“Get your eyes checked,” Ed snarked, brushing past what he now dubbed an Annoyance. “I may be young, but at least I can see past my nose.”

Ed stalked away, leaving the Annoyance gaping behind him as they processed the insult. He headed back towards his previously abandoned entourage, because despite how much Ed despised being “guarded”, Radierkopf and Tsukauchi were at least bearable to be around.

His expression must have been worse than he thought, because Radierkopf clocked him the instant he returned. “What happened? Are you alright?” Aizawa asked, and Ed just responded with a litany of swears in Amestrian. At least Tsukauchi read the room and Ed got to talk about Winry, which greatly improved his mood.

However, all too soon, Hamada appeared from the crowd to lead him to his fate.“Sorry, I can tell this isn’t your scene,” Hamada apologized as they left Aizawa and Tsukuachi behind and tried to shimmy closer to the front. Well, at least Hamada was apologetic about taking Ed to his doom.

“It’s not your fault,” Ed said, scowling as one partygoer elbowed him in the side. “Though excuse me if I don’t thank you for subjecting me to this.” Hamada chuckled, and by this point Ed couldn’t see which direction they were supposed to be going. Damned tall people. “Ugh, hold on.” 

Edward gave a sharp exhale, and channeled every bit of frustration and anger and ‘I’M NOT SMALL’ into his expression. Hamada, who had turned toward him, took a step back in surprise at Ed’s murderous expression. Ed ignored them, setting his gaze straight ahead and striding forward. This time, people were suddenly scrambling to get out of his path and he walked through with ease.

Once they had reached the stage, Hamada sent him a wary look. “You… usually don’t radiate that much murderous intent,” the translator said hesitantly. “Why were you walking like you’re going to rip off the arm of whoever touched you?”

Ed shrugged. “Al calls it my ‘murder walk’, since I wear it when I’m on my way to murder Mustang for whatever thing he sent me off to the far reaches of Amestris for. I really perfected it over those few years.”

“If only,” Hamada snorted. “I’m pretty sure my supervisor would tell me off for scaring my coworkers.”

Unfortunately, the rest of their conversation was cut short as Ed was pulled away by some of the Minister’s aides. Time to face his fate.

Edward was guided to stand in line onstage with a handful of Japanese officials. He could sense their stares, sizing him up. Ed ignored them, keeping his eyes fixed on the far wall, more concerned with the fact that he was the shortest on stage. However, thankfully for Ed’s dignity, the others weren’t as absurdly tall as Yagi or Chief Tsuragamae. Sure, Ed was a few inches shorter, but that was better than two feet.

“Distinguished participants,” the Minister began, and Truth, Ed was already hating this. “I would first like to thank you all for coming today, for it marks a momentous occasion in history. Over a hundred years have passed since quirks first appeared in our world, and it has been even longer since the world truly stood with the continent of Atossa.”

Well we’ve been managing just fine, Ed muttered internally, slightly petulant. We both know there’s plenty of semi-legal trade and immigration. Plus, there’s enough of a connection that our governments were able to contact each other, even if indirectly.

“So that is why it is my great pleasure and honor to welcome Major General Elric Edward of Amestris, from the continent of Atossa!” 

Despite the strangeness of hearing his name in reverse, and the political nonsense he was now part of, Ed found himself holding back a grin. Because while he might not have enjoyed these contests of ego, Ed did have a flair for the dramatic. He stepped out from the line of officials, sweeping into a bow toward the audience. Applause and whispers followed, and Ed could only imagine that every single one was a remark about his age. 

“Major General Elric is in Japan on a diplomatic mission, here to see the world and how it has changed in the years since our two lands parted ways. Thus, I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude not just to Amestris, but to Major General Elric making the journey here. It is my profound hope that this may mark the beginning of a new relationship between not just Japan, but between Atossa and the rest of the world.”

Edward could hear how hollow that statement was. But then again, he and the Minister both knew he wasn’t here for diplomacy. He was here to investigate a murder. Stellar way to have the first official meeting in centuries. A great start to the relationship. (Not that a lot of Ed’s own relationships were much better between Mustang, Greed, or Heinkel and Darius, let alone Scar.)

Hakuro stepped back from the podium to applause and one of his aides nodded for Ed to move to the podium. Guess it was his turn.

Edward took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

Showtime.

He strode up to the podium, his boots thudding against the stone steps of the dais. Granite. The podium was tall but his hosts had evidently prepared for people of many heights, as there was a small platform at the base that raised him up slightly to match the podium. Ed looked out over the ballroom, gently tapping his fingers lightly against the lectern.

Solid wood. Oak, likely, though the base chemistry was the same.

“Thank you, Minister Hakuro,” Edward said, nodding to the Japanese Minister. He took a deep breath, taking hold of the knot of lead in his stomach and envisioning deconstructing it into dust. He could do this. He just had to do what Mustang did at official functions: lure them in with charisma, and if they backstab you, hopefully it’ll be a little later and they’ll give you some notice.

He exhaled.

“Thank you for having me,” he said in Amestrian, repeating it in Japanese. He channeled Mustang as best he could, and while the flowery words – so unlike Ed’s usual bluntness – left a sour taste in his mouth, he was able to sneak in a joke about ‘bad traffic’, which got him a few laughs.

“I want to thank Japan for having me here, for your generosity and for showing me your beautiful land,” Ed started clapping and the room followed his lead, breaking into brief applause. On his last clap, Ed snapped the connection into place. His hands fell to his sides, one resting on the podium, the buzz of energy in his veins. “And in thanks to that generosity, I would like to offer a gift to the Japanese government on behalf of Amestris and Atossa.”

This time, Ed couldn’t hold back his grin.

“Just like Japan and the rest of the world, Atossa has hardly remained static. And it is in the spirit of that that I offer this gift, in honor of shared change and progress.”

Under his hand, the podium warped. It was solid wood, so thankfully there was a lot of material to work with. From the deep well of tectonic energy beneath his feet, Ed pulled and guided the power he needed. His mind whirled as he analyzed the molecules, performing and applying calculations, before discarding them just as quickly. Under Ed’s command, the lectern twisted into a long serpentine shape, alchemic lightning arcing around Ed and making his hair stand on end. 

Hmm, too small, Edward commented to himself. Needs to be a bit bigger.

As Ed stepped back from the podium, he clasped his hands behind his back, maintaining the circle as he directed the transmutation through his feet, using his body like a lightning rod. The crackling energy spread down the granite dais as it became pulled into the transmutation of shifting shape and elements. 

Granite, quartz; silicon and oxygen. Wood, cellulose; carbon and hydrogen and oxygen. The hydrogen can yield the necessary protons and electrons to make silicon from carbon if fused at the atomic level. I need more granite but I should save some cellulose… wood veins would add a nice touch to the statue.

But Ed wasn’t about to stand for just a simple statue. No… he was going to give them a show.

Ed probed the alchemic matrix, arranging and altering circles on the fly. His creation shifted and twisted, coiling near the ground as he shaped a head, horns and narrow snout which tore in two to make a gaping maw. Ed rotated a few circles, localizing the flowing energy to push his creation up onto four legs, to animate it.

The creature stood, shaking its long body down to reveal its full form: a serpentine Xingese-style dragon, similar to the one on the Amestrian crest. 

The roar of the alchemy filled Edward’s thoughts as he channeled energy through the dragon, making it stretch its head and flick its tail. It was relatively simple to keep the dragon in motion — Ed did something similar every time he crafted hands of earth and stone in a fight — but this time, he was trying to make it move like an actual living creature. It was like controlling a puppet with a thousand strings. But, never let it be said Ed didn’t enjoy a challenge.

In the space between physical and metaphysical, Ed linked his puppet’s strings and gave it the illusion of life.

The dragon slithered its way across the stage, each step and twist of its spine linked to systems of circles within Ed’s mind, matrices within matrices. The granite of the dais flowed upwards through the creature’s legs, another simultaneous molecular transmutation tweaking it slightly to join with the quartz and wood and silica.

Edward’s dragon moved smoothly across the stage until Ed guided his creation to loop around him. He could feel the power of the twisting alchemic lightning surrounding him, the energy making all his hair stand on end and causing his coat to snap back in the wind. The rush of energy and transmutation filled Ed’s blood, and he could barely keep from giving a giddy laugh. This is alchemy, he thought with a smile. The shifting flow of change.

After seconds and an eternity, the dragon slipped from his side, returning to claim its original position. It twisted into place, rearing back and turning motionless, letting Ed focus his attention on the finer detail.

He gave shape to rows of fangs, the curl of a lip and a narrowed pupil. The horns curved smoothly back but he placed a few nicks in them, for this thing was a fighter. A lion-like mane ran from the throat and midway down the neck, giving way to rows upon rows of scales that swept over the dragon’s body like a wave. At the same time, he arranged further circles in his mind and colored pigment spread across the statue.

Ed brushed the scales with ferric oxide, turning them a warm red that faded to the white of titanium dioxide along the dragon’s underside. The mane was colored with the yellow-gold of limonite, and the eyes, claws and horns turned black with charcoal.

And lastly, the wood Ed had saved wound its way in narrow veins across the dragon, forming the scars of past battles and the cracks of previous repair.

As he put the finishing touches on his masterpiece, Ed finally let the transmutation die down. The arcs of lightning faded to static, leaving Ed with lingering adrenaline and faint crackles of energy still flickering over his skin. 

The hall was silent. After Ed had taken a breath, he stepped forward once more, a smile on his face as he projected his voice across the ballroom. “This is alchemy. Despite appearances, it is not a quirk. It is an art from Atossa, something that everyone can do. Some of you may be asking yourselves what a continent of quirkless can bring to the global stage… I assume this is evidence in itself.”

Thunderous applause began and Ed smirked.

How’s that for a show, Mustang?

After Edward’s alchemy demonstration, the reception really started going. Ed slipped from the stage, keeping his head down as he wound his way through the crowd to find Aizawa, Tsukauchi and the others. Ed caught Nezu eyeing him closely and Ed could only imagine the interrogation he was going to get from the stoat when they next had a meeting. 

Most of them ended up scattering across the party, though Radierkopf stuck nearby as Ed made a beeline for the food table. “So, why are you following me?” Ed asked as he stuffed one of the appetizers in his mouth. “Did Nezu ask you to keep me out of trouble?”

Aizawa nodded. “Yes, Nezu requested I act as your bodyguard.”

“I am so sorry,” Ed said seriously, putting his appetizer down. When Aizawa sent him an odd look, Ed elaborated. “I can be a bit much,” he said with a shrug. “Plus the fact that I attract or pursue trouble like a magnet.”

“Major General Elric, sir!”

“Speaking of which,” Ed muttered sourly in Amestrian, turning to see some of the attending media crew, who had finally found him. While he appreciated their job – seeking truth and keeping others informed was something Ed very much valued – this wasn’t Ed’s typical wheelhouse. One of the crew pointed a large rectangular box at him, which Nezu had informed him was a type of camera used by news agencies. A camera that was presumably filming him.

“Sir, why did you decide to come to Japan?” one of the reporters asked. “Why not one of the countries closer to Atossa? Do you plan on going elsewhere in the world?”

Ed drew himself taller, staring at the reporter with a news camera. “I did not choose Japan as my destination, that was a decision made by Führer Mustang and the Japanese government, so I can’t say why they decided Japan would be the first place I’d go. As for if I plan on going elsewhere, while I would personally love to see more of the globe, it is not a decision that is left up to me.”

Ah, the practice of delegation aka let someone else deal with it.

“How are you so sure this alchemy of yours isn’t a quirk?”

“Because, as I have said before, anyone and everyone can do it. The quirks you have are many and varied, with no two quirks that are the same. However, alchemy is fundamentally the same thing across all its forms and the people who use it.” Though it was applied in different ways across the various alchemical fields.

“So then it's true all of Atossa is quirkless?”

Ed glanced at the reporter who’d asked, narrowing his eyes marginally at the man’s tone of voice. Arrogance and disgust, if he’d had to name it. Probably trying to rile him up for the tabloids. So this is one of the sorts Kanahoshi talked about, Ed mused privately. And as much as Ed wanted to rip the man a new one, he was also being filmed. And in the middle of the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

“Yes,” Ed said, giving a thin smile. Just smile. Pretend you're undercover and Teacher's looming behind your back. Just. Fucking. Smile. “While there are some quirks on the outskirts, there are none known within the continent.” Except perhaps for Armstrong and his sparkles. “Yet, we of Atossa do not need quirks.”

“The streets must be filled with crime, though!” the man protested. “You’d have no Heroes to fight the villains!”

“Atossa doesn’t have the same reliance on quirks as you do,” Ed said, attempting to channel his inner Al. Alphonse was so much better at handling politics and people than Ed. He just smiled and people had no idea when he’d outsmarted and/or manipulated them. “If we needed to fight, that’s what the military is for.” Or Ed and Al, becoming impromptu accidental vigilantes. 

“Major General Elric, how—”

“Regardless, it must be frightening to be in a new country!” the persistant areshole went on, raising his voice over one of the other journalists. His compatriots were beginning to give him sour looks, though whether for his rhetoric or hogging the questions, Ed didn’t know. “Will you have a Hero accompanying you during your stay for your protection?”

Ed stared at the persistent menace who was giving journalism a bad name. Asking hard questions was one thing, but this was not that. How would Al handle this? Ed was good at blatantly making threats, but Al would probably say something like… 

“I think you’ll find I can protect myself quite well,” Edward began slowly, accentuating each word. “While I understand those with quirks can’t stand to be in Atossa, my skills don’t require a quirk to work.” He tilted his head slightly towards the statue onstage, and he saw the reporters’ eyes quickly flick towards it. 

“Oh, er… I didn’t mean to offend…” the man stumbled and Ed barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure,” Ed said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. He looked at the rest of the journalists, narrowing his eyes. “I believe I’m done with questions for the moment, thank you.”

After the mortifying and abysmal performance of their colleague, the journalists agreed without any fuss, retreating while Ed slumped. Aizawa hummed behind him and Ed startled slightly, having forgotten the other man was there. “You did well,” Radierkopf said, indicating the journalists as Ed turned back to him. “Particularly that… persistent one.”

Ed sighed. “Thanks. I’m not very good at polite verbal beatdowns, not like my brother, anyways.”

“Handling public speaking is a learned skill, though some have more proficiency,” Aizawa hummed, his gaze somewhat distant. “I’ve always been the former, and my husband the latter.” The man briefly gave a toothy grin. “Though I dare say I handle the media much better.”

“Think I can get you to teach me?” Ed asked and Aizawa raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps. Impress me, and I’ll think about it.”

Ed gave a toothy grin. “Oh, it’s on.”

Edward ended up doing several more rounds with the media, but interacting with them was easy compared to the many politicians running around. At least with journalists, they were in pursuit of truth and informing people, which Ed was a big fan of. With politicians, while Ed knew good ones existed, the Amestrian government’s many many many problems had given Ed a… less than stellar opinion of politics overall.

So it was to his great misfortune that he was now being hounded by said politicians, and Ed had absolutely no idea which ones might have been somewhat okay and others would have been in good company with King Bradley. 

Aizawa had long left Ed to his own devices, though Ed had occasionally spotted the man trailing after him in the crowd. Ed was only half bitter about this, since he could have potentially hoisted the political discussion onto Radierkopf. Which… might have been the very reason Aizawa had left, sensing that eventuality. Smart man.

And that was nothing to say of the number of business cards Ed had shoved in his face, which he somewhat reluctantly took. He wasn’t qualified to discuss trade – that was something for Mustang to deal with – but he figured he could save the cards to look up the companies later and ask Nezu what his thoughts were on them. Because strangely enough, Ed had somewhat come to trust the little chimera.

Where that would lead him, he had absolutely no idea.

Ed’s latest escape had taken him by the drinks table where he’d snagged several more entrées along with a glass of something cider-like. He was slowly weaving his way through the crowd — staying in one place was asking to be ambushed — when his eyes caught one group of three standing near the wall. Ed immediately clocked them as soldiers, between their identical uniforms and stiff postures, all eyeing the rest of the party guests with trepidation. They looked just as uncomfortable as he was. 

Therefore, they were the ones to talk to. 

“Hey,” Ed said as he ambled over to the three with his glass of probably-cider. They stiffened at his approach, saluting. “Ugh, don’t salute me,” Ed grimaced, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I’m not your commanding officer and I’m basically your age, it’s weird.”

They hesitantly lowered their hands and Ed took the time to take a closer look at them. One was an older man that looked to be over fifty, while the other two, a young man and woman, looked to be in their late-twenties. Basically Ed’s age.

“Um, if you don’t mind my asking, sir… why are you over here?” the young man asked, the antenna on his head twitching. Some sort of insect quirk? The young man grimaced as the older soldier nudged his side sharply. “Er, sorry sir, that was out of line.”

“Nah,” Ed waved a hand dismissively. “I’m over here because you three look much less exhausting to interact with than the vultures,” Ed jerked his head behind him towards the soup of people who’d been hounding him. “I swear, I’d take dealing with a robbery over politics.”

“Thank you,” the woman said with a sigh. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

“Rin!” Old Man gave her a stern look.

“What?” ‘Rin’ waved a hand towards Ed. “He said it first.”

“He is a superior officer,” Old Man said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What have I told you about complaining in front of people who are higher ranking? He doesn’t need to listen to our troubles.” 

“But I’m not your superior officer,” Ed pointed out, taking a sip of his definitely-not-cider. “Besides, when it comes to stuff like this, I’d be shocked if you weren’t complaining. It’s so stuffy! Besides, I’ve heard Havoc complain about his troubles so often, from what date stood him up to the cockroaches in his apartment, that yours would be a breath of fresh air.”

“Ugh, cockroaches,” Antenna-Guy shuddered. “My mother lives in the countryside and she has a problem with those. She keeps asking me to help her with them because ‘ Son, you have an insect quirk! Maybe they’ll listen to you!’” He grimaced. “Like, no, Mother, I have a moth quirk, not a cockroach quirk!”

“I give up,” Old Man said with a sigh before he looked at Ed. “I’m Major Ryoka, these are First Lieutenants Tetsuga and Rin.”

Edward smiled, waving to them. “Nice to meet you, my name’s Edward. Though I guess you would use Elric, since that’s my last name.”

There was an extended pause until Ryoka spoke up: “And… your rank, sir?”

“Major General,” Ed explained, shrugging. 

The three exchanged looks. “I… so, your ranking system must differ from ours?” Tetsuga asked hesitantly. “Major Generals are pretty high ranking, here in Japan.”

Ed shook his head. “No, it doesn’t differ. I double checked and it is the correct translation!”

A pregnant pause fell over the three Japanese soldiers and Ed sighed. Right, rank was a big deal to some people, while Ed tended to take rank and shove it where the sun didn't shine. As evidenced by him threatening the former leader of his country at the age of twelve and routinely calling the current leader of his country ‘Bastard’ to his face.

“Ah, Mister Elric!” 

Ed groaned, glancing over to see one of the many annoyances that had pursued him that evening, some nameless businessman in a suit. “Ah, you again,” Ed said flatly, and evidently the guy didn’t know how to read the writing on the wall or Ed’s disinterested expression.

“You left in such a rush!” the man exclaimed, straightening his lapels. “I’m afraid we didn’t get to finish our conversation!” 

“Yes, well as you can see, I’m a bit busy,” Ed nodded to the three Japanese officers, who were looking between him and the business guy like it was a tennis match. “So if you can come back later…?”

The man glanced over at the soldiers, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, I see. I’m sorry, if these soldiers were bothering you I will certainly speak to their commanding officer.”

“No, you will not,” Ed said shortly, causing the businessman to blink in surprise. Ed knew he was already often blunt and rude by Amestrian standards, so he could only imagine how he sounded in Japanese, with its emphasis on formality and respect. But, he also found he didn’t care. “I was in the middle of a conversation, so I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.”

The man’s eyes flicked between Ed and the soldiers. “My mistake, Mister Elric,” he began slowly. “I was under the impression you might want to speak to someone of… higher status, perhaps. I am friends with several Generals in the army, if you wish to meet them.”

“And I was under the impression the people of Japan were supposed to be polite…” Ed said bluntly, raising an eyebrow. “My mistake.” 

The man gaped, sputtering out a protest. “Mi– Mister Elric!”

“I believe it’s Major General Elric,” Ed said, pinning the man with a glare that could melt steel. “Now, since you evidently don’t know how to take a dismissal, here’s one: go fuck yourself,” he finished in Amestrian, then turned his back on the man in a clear dismissal. Luckily, this time the nameless businessman took the hint and slunk away. 

“Now, where were we?” Ed asked as he turned to the three, only to find them staring at him. “What?”

“You absolutely roasted him,” Rin whispered reverently, eyes flicking over his shoulder towards the guy Ed had told off. “Don’t you know who that was?”

“No?” Ed asked, raising an eyebrow. “Should I?”

Tetsuga looked at him in astonishment. “You said that to him, and you didn’t know who he was?”

Ed shrugged. “He was annoying, trying to get himself power by schmoozing up to a foreign delegate, and I bet you 10,000 cenz that those ‘Generals’ he knows are connected via bribes.”

“Do you have no sense of self preservation?” Rin asked, though she looked rather impressed.

“Most people who know me would say no,” Ed grumbled, crossing his arms with a scowl. “But I do! I haven’t said anything incriminating and the only really provocative thing I said to him was that last bit in Amestrian.”

“What’d you say?” Testuga asked, and Ed gave him a toothy grin, repeating it. 

The three soldiers stared at him in incredulity and some degree of horror, until Ryoka started laughing uproariously. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to survive in your military! You’ve got guts, kid.” The Major waved a hand towards the politician that had stalked off. “That was Kuroru, he’s a bigshot in oil and half the news about him is about what corruption scheme he’s been a part of or environmental disaster he’s caused.”

“Real piece of work,” Rin growled. “My family lives on the west coast and one of the spills from his company devastated the wildlife, but he blamed it on a villain attack. Paid minimal reparations too.”

Ed nodded. “See? I knew it instinctually: an asshole.”

The three laughed and Ed let the corners of his mouth twitch up in a smile. He still hated fancy stuff like this, and if he was forced to go to another he didn’t know if he’d be able to resist strangling the person who suggested it. 

But, even though this place was unbearable and Ed still wasn’t a fan of military as a concept… these people weren’t half bad.

Chapter Text

It had been a month since the battle of Kamino. A month since Izuku’s mentor and personal hero had faced down his long standing enemy once again. A month since Izuku had been placed on veritable house arrest by his teacher (alongside several of his classmates) for their scheme of tracking the villains to their hideout and then running onto an active battlefield.

As Aizawa-sensei had said, they were lucky they hadn’t been killed.

The students were told in no uncertain terms that had All Might not just retired, they would have been expelled for their stunt. But with the League still at large, All Might retired and an uncertain future for Japan and Heroics at large, they were allowed to stay. Barely. But, if they did something like this again, their punishment wouldn’t be so lenient.

Izuku and his classmates had spent the past couple days moving into their dorm rooms and adjusting to their new accommodations. The usual month of summer break in August had been extended by several weeks thanks to the Kamino disaster, but now they were finally going to be attending classes again. At the front of 1A’s classroom, Aizawa-sensei looked as tired as ever, observing them all with a critical gaze.

“Over the next two weeks, you’ll be training to take your Provisional License Exams, which are the beginning of October.” The classroom erupted into excited chatter, which quickly quieted as Aizawa glared them into silence. “Considering what happened at the USJ, the commission decided to grant 1A a chance at early licensing. The summer camp was originally intended to be your training for the license exams. However, as you all know, that didn’t work out.”

Izuku listened with wide eyes as Aizawa described the plan for their training sessions over the next couple weeks. As expected, it would be very intense and there’d be little time for breaks.

“Another thing,” Aizawa paused and the class leaned forwards in anticipation. “U.A. is currently hosting a foreign delegate who is staying on campus for the duration of their time in Japan. They’re from the country of Amestris and no, you do not get to know why they are here. That is classified information.”

The class tittered in excitement. A foreign delegate at U.A.?!

“Do we get to meet them Sensei?” Ashido asked, her eyes wide. 

Aizawa scowled. “No, and I’m not going to tell you where to find them either, because then you little heathens will just seek them out. They’re here on business, lest you forget.” The class grumbled slightly but a glare from Aizawa quickly silenced them.

Izuku, meanwhile, was having a crisis of his own. 

“Uh, Sensei, when you say they’re from Amestris… like, the country in Atossa?” Izuku asked, eyes wide.

“Yes,” Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know that, Midoriya.”

Izuku chuckled nervously. The truth was, when he was younger and bullied for being quirkless, he’d sometimes fantasized about running away to Atossa, the continent where everyone was quirkless. That said, he didn’t know if he would have even been able to cross the border. And, even if he could, he wouldn’t leave his mother behind! Besides, Izuku had also found a few articles from the neighboring countries that claimed Heroes were a foreign concept in Atossa, and Izuku didn’t know if he could stand no one knowing who All Might was.

“Atossa’s the continent north of Africa, right?” Kirishima asked, looking into the middle distance like he was trying to remember his geography.

Yaoyorozu nodded. “Yes, they say the entire population is quirkless.”

The class ‘ooooh-ed’. “Wait, does that mean they don’t have Heroes?” Ochaco frowned.

Kaachan gave a derisive snort. “So? Atossa’s got the same rep as the Bermuda Triangle. Bet you they can fuck shit up regardless.” Izuku blinked. That might have been the nicest thing he’d ever heard Kaachan say about quirkless people in his earshot. He really was undergoing character development!

“Hey, Aoyama, you’re from France, right? Isn’t that in Atossa?” Jiro asked.

Aoyama blinked then gave a slight laugh, though it didn’t quite have his usual flair to it. “Oui! Though, France is not in Atossa. It is a border country, so there are people with quirks like moi.” Aoyama gestured to himself, dazzling the classroom with his signature lights.

Before the class could talk further, Aizawa’s voice cut through the chatter, eyes flashing red as his quirk activated. “Quiet. I can’t stop you from gossiping, but don’t seek out the delegate. They’re here on official business.” The class nodded dutifully and Aizawa swept his gaze across the room, his eyes landing on Izuku. “Also, Midoriya, come see me after classes.”

Oh no.

“Uh, yes, Sensei!” Izuku nodded, though internally he was despairing. What could he have done to provoke Aizawa-sensei’s wrath now? Was this about his role in sneaking out with the other students? Was this about All Might? Was he going to be expelled?!

“Rest in peace, Midoriya,” Kaminari whispered.

Thanks, Izuku thought distantly, tell my mom I love her.

Several hours later, once classes and training had finished, Izuku stood outside the doors to 1A. He raised his fist to knock, hesitated, then steeled himself. Best to get this over with. Hoping he wasn’t signing his life away, Izuku knocked.

“Enter,” Aizawa’s voice called, and Izuku pushed the door open. Inside, Aizawa-sensei was bundled in his yellow sleeping bag, staring out at Izuku. “Ah, Problem Child, you’re here. Good, now let’s get going.” Aizawa stood, shedding his sleeping bag as he did. Izuku’s teacher bundled the garnish yellow thing under one arm and then started walking toward the door.

Izuku nervously followed after. Oh great, he was getting taken to a secondary location.

“Uh, Sensei? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, Problem Child,” Aizawa said tonelessly. Well, that wasn’t ominous at all.  

Izuku followed Aizawa through the halls of U.A. They headed into the wing of the building housing the teacher’s lounge and other offices, eventually stopping at an unmarked door. Aizawa knocked twice and Izuku was surprised to hear a voice respond in thickly accented Japanese: “Come in!”

Aizawa pushed open the door and Izuku followed him in. The room was modestly sized and rather simple, with a large table and window looking out onto the commons. At the table, covered in papers and notebooks, was a young man. He didn’t look much older than Izuku himself, with bright golden eyes and hair. He wore a black long-sleeved collared shirt and strangely, he was wearing gloves on both hands despite the warm September weather.

The young man grinned at Izuku and Aizawa, flashing a surprisingly bright smile. “Ah, Radierkopf! Good to see you. This is the kid Nezu talked about?”

Aizawa nodded. “This is Midoriya Izuku. Problem Child, this is Elric.”

“Nett, dich kennenzulernen. Call me Ed or Edward,” ^[1] the young man said, giving a wave.

“He is the delegate from Amestris,” Aizawa said and Izuku felt his jaw drop. This was the Amestrian!? “As you know, there is no such thing as quirks in Atossa. Elric here has questions about quirks and Nezu and I decided that since you’re quite well versed in quirks, quirk analysis, and quirk theory, this would be a good experience for you. Consider it an extra credit assignment. Don’t tell your classmates, and be on your best behavior. ”

“Yes, Sensei!” Izuku nodded vehemently, trying to clamp down on his excitement and the anxiety curling in his gut.

Elric chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly. “No worries, Aizawa, we’ll be fine.” To Izuku’s mild shock and horror, Elric waved his teacher away dismissively. “We have quirks to discuss. Go back to your sleeping bag.”

Aizawa grumbled but, shockingly, did as Elric said, moving to the far side of the room and unfurling his sleeping bag, pulling what looked like paperwork from its depths. However, before Izuku’s teacher clambered inside, he paused, turning back toward Izuku and Elric. “Please try not to destroy the school and don’t do anything illegal,” Aizawa said as he narrowed his eyes at Izuku, who gulped. “And remember, you’ve got training tomorrow.” 

With that, Aizawa cocooned himself in his sleeping bag, ignoring them both. Izuku slowly let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Huh, usually that’s targeted at me,” the Amestrian muttered to himself. Before Izuku could think to ask about that, Elric was shaking his head, ponytail whipping around. “Anyways, quirks. Maybe you can help me understand them better.”

Izuku gave a nervous smile, wringing his hands together. He still stood near the door, hesitant to approach the ambassador. “Uh… I’m not sure Ed–, Elr– UH, sir! I don’t know what Aizawa-sensei told you,” Izuku cast a nervous glance toward his teacher in the corner, “but I don’t know why they thought you should talk to me. Sure, I do some quirk analysis but it’s not very good. I’m just a kid anyways, a novice…”

Elric laughed slightly, but it didn’t seem mocking. “I’m sure your analysis is great, kid. You wouldn’t have had Aizawa and Nezu recommending I talk to you if it wasn’t.” Elric then sent him a secretive smile. “Besides, I’m hardly one to judge that all kids are all amateurs. My brother and I, we knew more about alchemy than most adults in Amestris when we were twelve. Of course, we did have Teacher…” Elric shuddered slightly. “Aber sie war ziemlich heftig.” ^[2]

Izuku felt heat rising to his cheeks. The unexpected compliment from an utter stranger was… weird. But at the same time, it was nice. Then, his brain caught on one of the words Elric had mentioned. “Alchemy?” Izuku tilted his head. “What’s that?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Elric waved a gloved hand dismissively. “It’s a science back home in Amestris. Look up the interview I did for the Foreign Ministry, that’ll help. Nezu said something about it being on the news tonight. Anyways, you want to sit down… Midoriya, was it?”

“Yes, sir!” Izuku startled, darting over to take a seat. “And yes, Midoriya is fine.”

“Great,” Elric grinned before giving an eye roll. “And don’t call me ‘sir’, it sounds weird coming from someone not in Amestrian blues. Call me Edward, please.”

Izuku’s face turned an even brighter red. “But uh, you’re the foreign delegate? It’d be rude!”

‘Edward’ shrugged. “We don’t have the same preference for family names back in Amestris as you lot. Besides, most people who just call me ‘Elric’ are in the military. Doesn’t happen as much anymore, after the coup and my promotion and subsequent semi-retirement, but still sounds weird.”

“You’re in the military?” Izuku looked over at Edward. The Amestrian looked anywhere from late teens to early twenties, but he was Izuku’s height, and Izuku was already on the short side. Either way, he seemed young to be an ambassador in the military… but people in Japan could become Heroes by that age, so who was Izuku to judge?

“Yep,” Edward nodded. “For a few years by this point.”

“And it’s true that you and everyone in Atossa is quirkless?” 

“What is this, Twenty Questions?” The Amestrian huffed. Izuku shrank in his seat slightly but Edward nodded, continuing. “Yeah, there’s a few quirks in the satellite states and at the fringes of the border but other than that, everyone within the bounds of the continent is quirkless. I wouldn’t recommend visiting though, apparently quirked people get sick if they cross the border.”

“Does that apply to quirkless people not from Atossa though?” Izuku asked.

“I’m not sure…” Edward hummed, rubbing his chin. “Even before quirks came about, Outsiders didn’t enter Atossa much, though that might just have been prejudice. Don’t let the stories fool you though, there is still immigration to the continent… which might be mostly quirkless people, now that I think about it.”

Edward shrugged. “Atossans can leave without as much issue, as evidenced by me being here. Actually…” The delegate frowned, staring at some point in the distance. “I’ve been wanting to know, what exactly is it about Atossa that blocks quirks? We don’t have any research on our side about it. You have any ideas?”

“Well, a few studies think that the very bedrock of Atossa suppresses quirks,” Izuku explained, excitement bubbling up in his chest. This, he knew! 

He pulled his laptop out of his backpack and found the study in question, turning the computer around to show Edward. “This study thinks it’s due to the presence of small, random magnetic fields, which could disrupt electronics and cause them to malfunction. It could also potentially explain quirks not working, if those same magnetic fields were interfering with the nerve signals of Outsiders, who wouldn’t be accustomed to living in such an environment.”

Edward nodded, eyes tracing the graph that showed the lines of Earth’s magnetic field along with the section of smaller ‘random’ fields over Atossa. “The presence of small magnetic fields checks out. In Amestris, we have to build electronics with better wiring and shielding because of them, which could explain the gap in electrical technology between Atossa and the Outside. But as for the sickness…”

The Amestrian drummed his fingers on the table, then snapped. “What if it's like altitude sickness? When you go to a really really high elevation in the mountains, there’s less oxygen up there and if you’re not used to it, you can pass out. But people who’ve lived up there for generations can handle the thin air easily. What if the same goes for whatever’s up with Atossa? Those who’ve lived in Atossa or near the border are used to it, but it takes so long for Outsiders to adapt that most turn around.”

“Exactly,” Izuku nodded, gesturing to Edward with his pen. “But, if that’s the case… Why don’t you or other Atossans feel more ill effects? Altitude sickness goes both ways. And, that still doesn’t explain how it happened.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Edward leaned back, rubbing his face with one hand. “And to really understand the quirk dead zone, we need to figure out what caused it in the first place.”

"This is Midoriya Izuku. Problem Child, meet Elric." - art by @quasar-crew (aka me!)

The two of them talked about history for a little bit, hoping to find some thread to definitively connect the border sickness to, but the records were too sparse. Eventually, the conversation derailed into talking about different types of quirks and their classifications, and Izuku found himself attempting to explain the sheer diversity of quirked abilities to an increasingly shocked Edward.

“How does any of this make any biological sense?” the Amestrian despaired, burying his head in his hands. “Scratch that, how does this make any sense from a physics perspective? Where’s the conservation of matter or energy? Where’s the equivalent exchange?”

Izuku patted Elric’s shoulder consolingly. “Scientists have been having the same struggle for years. Despite our best efforts… nothing makes a lick of sense. That’s why I accept it, move on, and focus on applications.” Focusing on how quirks could be used was a lot easier than trying to figure out why they worked at all.

“I’m far too stubborn to quit,” Elric sighed, eyes falling to his hands. The delegate clenched his hands, gaze boring through the table. “Besides, when things start breaking the laws of equivalent exchange, I start having questions.”

Eventually, Aizawa-sensei informed them that they’d been talking for well over three hours, and told Izuku he needed to get back to the dorms. Izuku was surprised at how disappointed he felt upon leaving, but he also felt inexplicably happy as he carried Elric’s promise that they could talk more about Atossa and quirk theory in the future. 

Izuku woke early the next morning, falling into what was becoming his usual morning routine. By the time he got back to the dorms after his morning run, intent on taking a shower and getting breakfast, the rest of his classmates were beginning to haul themselves out of bed. 

He was quickly spotted.

“Midoriya! You’re alive!” Ashido’s proclamation was followed by the girl vaulting over the couch to throw an arm around his shoulders in a half-hug. The others in the common room, Kaminari and Ojiro, looked over in open surprise.

Izuku blinked at her. “Uh… yes?”

“Bro, we thought you might be done for!” Kaminari exclaimed from his place on the couch. “We didn’t see you last night and feared the worst.”

“Oh…” Izuku reddened. Right… he and Edward had lost track of time…

“So what did Sensei want?” Ojiro asked. 

“It’s—” Izuku opened his mouth to respond, but then his mind blanked. Shit, he wasn’t supposed to tell… uh… what should he say?! “It’s… uh… an e-extra credit assignment! M-make up work, you know.”

Kaminari’s eyebrows climbed his face. “Extra credit? You? Midoriya, if there’s anyone who doesn’t need extra credit, it’s you man. Come on, you can tell us!” Kaminari grinned, flipping his hair back. “I can keep a secret!”

“Uh… I guess it's more like a passion project? On quirks?”

“That makes sense,” Ojiro nodded. “You like quirk analysis, right? We haven’t done much with that yet in class… I’m glad Sensei’s giving you a chance to practice your skills! It’ll be helpful when we take the Provisional License Exam.”

Izuku nodded, because if he spoke he was pretty sure his voice would crack from the guilt.

“Now, how about you go practice the shower,” Ashido said, pushing off from leaning on Izuku’s shoulder. She wrinkled her nose. “No offense, but you kinda stink Midoriya.” She made a ‘move along’ gesture toward the stairs. “Go! Restore your hair to its clean, fluffy state!”

Izuku gave a small smile, complying and heading up to go shower. He didn’t understand all of Ashido’s humor – that’s what functionally not having any friends his own age for nearly a decade, especially none as outgoing as Ashido, would do to you – but he enjoyed her company. She and Ochaco were making sure he fulfilled his people interaction quota.

Izuku ended up having to jog to homeroom, slipping in the door as he shoved the last bit of the protein bar that was his breakfast in his mouth. His classmates were chattering amongst themselves, and no sooner had Izuku slipped into his seat than Sero turned to him from the neighboring desk.

“Midoriya, did you see the news last night?! Can you believe it?!”

Izuku blinked. “Believe what?”

“He’s talking about the ambassador from Atossa,” Jiro explained, turning in her seat to look at them both. Izuku blinked. What was that about Edward? “My moms sent me the link, and that guy’s demo was crazy. I’m having a hard time believing it wasn’t a quirk… maybe you’d take a look at Midoriya? Confirm it? You’re good at that.”

“Yeah, you should totally do that!” Sero nodded. 

“FUCKING SHUT UP!” Kaachan yelled from his seat in front of Izuku, making everyone in earshot (in other words, half of the prefecture) wince. Kaachan turned around, his palms beginning to burn with explosions before they winked out. Izuku would have been impressed at Kaachan’s restraint if he hadn’t spotted the dark clothed figure looming at the front of the room.

The class went deathly silent.

“Three seconds,” Aizawa-sensei said, the red leaving his eyes and his hair falling back into place. He looked down at his notes before his gaze flicked back up to Ashido, whose hand was high in the air. “Yes, Ashido?”

“Sensei, that interview last night, what can you tell us—”

“No.” Aizawa said flatly, and Izuku couldn’t help but wince at how fast Sensei shut her down. When Ashido went to plead her case, backed by a number of the class who began clamoring for answers as well, Aizawa just glared them into silence. Izuku wished he’d seen this interview about Edward they were talking about – it must be about Edward, right? – so he had some context for what had his peers so enamored.

“No,” Aizawa-sensei repeated. “What did I say about pestering me for the delegate’s whereabouts? He’s here on business. Now, unless you want to do double the training exercises, that’ll be the last of that, understood?”

And it was, at least until lunch time.

Izuku ended up at his usual table with his friends, where Ochaco was just as insistent to show him the infamous Interview™. “It’s the talk of the school,” she said, typing something into her phone as she searched YouTube. “Talk of Japan probably, if we’re honest. Here, see for yourself.”

Jiro was right. The demo was crazy.

“This is alchemy,” Elric said, voice tinny as it came through the speakers of Ochaco’s phone. On screen, the honest to gods dragon that Elric had made settled into a statue, energy crackling around it. “Despite appearances, it is not a quirk. It is an art from Atossa, something that everyone can do. Some of you may be asking yourselves what a continent of quirkless can bring to the global stage… I assume this is evidence in itself.”

Not a quirk, he said… This was the alchemy Edward had mentioned offhand?! Izuku stared at the dragon in equal parts amazement and confusion. How could that not be a quirk? It fit all the basic definitions!

“That’s quite fascinating!” Tenya said, leaning in to watch the video. “Hmm… the ambassador looks vaguely familiar. He’s staying at the school, isn’t he? I feel like I’ve seen him before…”

Ochaco shrugged, turning to Izuku. “So, Deku, what did Sensei want with you yester–”

“Excuse me, I have to go!” Izuku said quickly, standing and shoving back from the table. “I just remembered I have a thing!” Before his friends could get a word in edgewise, Izuku was hurrying from the cafeteria. 

It took several minutes to navigate the maze of U.A.’s corridors, not to mention remember where he was going, but soon Izuku was standing in front of the door he’d first arrived at less than 24 hours ago. He knocked and the voice inside had barely finished saying “Come in” before Izuku was shoving the door open.

Across the room, Elric was half out of his chair, hands raised in what looked to be a defensive position. But upon spotting Izuku he relaxed, lowering his gloved hands. “Midoriya? What are you doing here? Not that it isn’t nice to see you, but—”

Izuku pulled out his phone, quickly finding what he was looking for and then turning the device to face Edward. The Atossan leaned forward, eyes tracing the on-screen movements. He hummed to himself, grinning slightly as he muttered in another language. “Hah, cool. Dachte mir schon, dass sie's in den Nachrichten zeigen, aber die Aufnahmen sind besser als erwartet.” ^[3]

“This is the alchemy you talked about?” Izuku asked, and Edward’s eyes flicked to him.

“Yeah, what of it?”

Izuku was slightly shocked by how much his social anxiety had evaporated, but he’d take this rare moment of confidence. His anxiety would return ten-fold later to make him regret this entire moment, but that was future-Izuku’s problem. “This!” Izuku exclaimed, shaking his phone slightly. “How is this not a quirk?”

Edward sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Trust me kid, it’s not.”

“Well, how do you know?” Izuku pressed. He and Edward had bonded over quirks, and damn it this was Izuku’s thing. He had so many questions. “This has all the traits of an operative quirk. Have you considered having Aizawa-sensei test it? That could give you a more definitive answer if your ‘alchemy’ still works, since Sensei can erase the expression of most quirks.”

“Wait, what do you mean test?” Edward asked, raising a hand to halt Izuku’s ramble. “Erase?”

“Uh, yeah!” Izuku hoped he wasn’t violating his teacher’s privacy as a Pro Hero like this. But, on the other hand, anyone who spent enough time around Aizawa-sensei would learn about his quirk. Besides, hadn’t Sensei said to help the delegate with his quirk research? “Aizawa-sensei’s quirk is called ‘Erasure’. He can erase someone’s quirk by looking at them. He didn’t mention it?”

A couple seconds passed, the silence stretching long enough that Izuku began to shift in place anxiously. “No,” Elric eventually said, breaking the silence. “No, he did not mention that. And neither did a certain rat.” Edward turned to glare at the ceiling, his face somewhere halfway to annoyance.

“Uh… sorry,” Izuku said, his voice falling into a mumble as his anxiety reasserted itself. 

“What?” Edward blinked, looking over at him. “Oh, don’t apologize! You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m just going to have words with Aizawa about relevant topical information.” Elric laughed slightly. “Who knows, he might help me with a breakthrough. Thanks, Midoriya.” 

“Yeah…” In for a penny, in for a pound? “Uh, Elric-san, could you tell me more about this alchemy of yours? How is it not a quirk?”

“Sure kid,” Edward laughed, giving a wry smile. He turned to the table and rifled through the files on the desk to pull out a piece of paper. The Amestrian laid the paper flat on the table, on which Izuku could see a strange circular symbol. Then the delegate put a rock on top of it. “You have a quirk right? Tap the circle with your fingers.”

Izuku’s throat closed up.

He eyed the circle warily, the energy that was One for All simmering under his skin. You have a quirk, right? All Might’s quirk. His quirk. Quirkless. Deku. Worthless. Not his quirk. Did he have a quirk? Or was it all a lie? Him and his borrowed power?

“I… I’m not sure…”

“It’s safe,” Edward said, mistaking the reason for his anxiety. “This is just graphite and the alchemy isn’t going to like… make you see living shadows or start tasting sound or anything.”

“… Is that normally an issue?”

It would be cool if he could have synesthesia… 

“No,” Edward said, a wry smile on his face. “Nur falls du das Tor siehst.” ^[4] Before Izuku could ask what he’d said and question ‘even if it's not a normal problem should I be worried’— the Amestrian continued. “Anyways, the transmutation circle is perfectly safe. Trust me, I wouldn’t let you or anyone else near one that wasn’t.”

… Izuku had to do it. He’d seem suspicious if he didn’t. But what if he revealed something accidentally? What if he put All Might’s secret at risk? His secret? Izuku worried his lip, anxiety warring in his mind, his scarred fingers twitching nervously as he weighed what might happen and he was hesitating too long — Izuku reached forward and brushed his fingers to the circle.

Nothing happened. 

Izuku looked over at Edward, confused. “Uh… did I break it?”

Edward shook his head. “No, it’s something that Nezu and I have been investigating.” Edward reached over, tapping the circle with a finger. Energy bloomed beneath his hand, the rock twisting and reforming like the podium had in the video. Edward plucked the rock that was now shaped like a duck from the paper, offering it to Izuku. Izuku took it, turning it over in his hands.

“Preliminary data suggests people with quirks can’t do alchemy,” Edward explained, gesturing to the duck. “We’ve had people with and without quirks try to activate the circle, but only quirkless people can initiate the transmutation."

“People with quirks can’t do alchemy?” Izuku frowned, wrinkling his nose. But… people with quirks could do anything…

“Yeah,” Edward nodded, shrugging. “I’m not quite sure why yet, but I’m looking into it.”

Izuku felt simultaneously elated and heartbroken. He couldn’t do alchemy because he had a quirk! He couldn’t do alchemy because he had a quirk. One for All, his quirk, hummed under Izuku’s skin, the power he’d dreamed of since he knew what quirks were. The results of Edward’s alchemy sat in his hands, a what could have been.

“Well, if I can do anything to help you, let me know!” Izuku said, raising his head to look at Edward. The cheer came easy, despite the wistfulness ghosting through his thoughts. “I don’t know alchemy… but I do know quirks.”

The delegate gave a toothy grin. “Thanks, kid.” Elric took a breath, rolling his shoulders. “Now, you should probably be getting back to your lunch, I don’t want to keep you. And if you’ll excuse me, I have to go have a meeting with a certain principal.”

Edward liked to think he was doing a decent job at successfully dodging the student populace. 

Classes at U.A. were back in session as of yesterday and with the start of classes came a horde of teenagers. Ed was thoroughly not ready to interact with people near his own age, so he’d decided on the tried and true method of avoiding the problem.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t as simple as escaping to his apartment, since the students lived on campus and Ed still needed food. Which meant he had to walk to the cafeteria now and again. Ed tried to remedy the situation by heading to the main building at the crack of dawn, when he was sure the kids wouldn’t be awake.

Only to find, what do you know, a single student who apparently hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Excuse me, what are you doing, dressing like that?! You need to be in uniform!!”

Ed heaved a sigh. Seriously? People were berating him for not being in his uniform even here? Ugh, he already got enough of this from the stuck-ups back at Central Command. Ed turned around, a sarcastic remark on his tongue about sticking it to the military. It died in his throat as he caught sight of the one who’d accosted him.

It was a kid, infuriatingly tall, and dressed in the gray uniform that Midoriya had been wearing when Aizawa introduced them yesterday. Ed swept his gaze over the teenager, eyes catching slightly on the metal piping coming from the kid’s calves. His mind flashed back to the last time he’d seen such a thing: ‘Father’ Cornello after he’d experienced a rebound. Had this kid undergone the same? 

No, Ed, he shook himself slightly. Quirks, remember? Break all the Laws. Which apparently includes fusing biology and technology. Truth damn it.

“I’m not a student,” Edward said, focusing on the present and Cornello-kid. “I’m working here right now. Don’t need a uniform.” He raised an eyebrow. “And aren’t you a little early? I’m pretty sure classes don’t start for another hour and a half… at least.”

The kid blinked, then bent 90 degrees at the waist. “I apologize!” the kid practically shouted. “I assumed and have insulted you… please forgive me!”

“Okay, okay, I forgive you! Come on, stand up,” Ed said, waving the apology away. The kid straightened, his posture so stiff that if you’d put Amestrian blues on him and stuck him in the Central forces, he wouldn’t have looked out of place. Except for, you know, the engines sticking out of his legs. “Why are you so early, anyways?”

“Every good student knows being ‘on time’ is an hour before classes start. I would be remiss as a student if I was not here promptly and ready to learn! And as vice president, I must make sure my homeroom is clean and that I am available to aid my peers!”

Ed chuckled. “I like the enthusiasm for learning, kid. What’s your name?”

The kid, who’d prickled slightly at ‘kid’, somehow stood straighter at the question. “I am Iida Tenya!” the kid, Iida, said. “Might I ask who you are?”

“I’m Ed,” he said, nodding to Iida, then turned towards the cafeteria. “And I’m hungry.”

After leaving Iida in the hall and getting his breakfast, Edward headed to his office. He didn’t run into any more teenagers, at least not until Midoriya burst into his office halfway through the day to show Ed a video of his alchemy demonstration and ask him about it. Then Midoriya revealed to Ed the extent of Aizawa’s betrayal: not telling Ed he had a quirk that could erase quirks.

After Midoriya had left, Edward wasted no time in heading up to Nezu’s office. The door swung open just before he could knock – it never opened if he didn’t try to knock – and Ed stepped in to see the principal at his desk, pouring two cups of tea in front of the go board. 

“Ah, Edward-san!” Nezu chirped, whiskers twitching. “You’re here to ask about Aizawa?”

“Heard that, did you?” Ed asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I hear everything!” said Nezu, grinning. 

Ed didn’t disbelieve it. He’d learned over the course of his meetings with Nezu that the stoat did indeed have a surveillance system. While meant to be used by security, Nezu apparently liked to tap into it. Ed wasn’t sure how legal it was, but it definitely added to Nezu’s perceived omniscience. Very little if anything went on in the building that he didn’t know about.

“Right,” Ed said. Considering how much Ed had been muttering to himself lately about state secrets, or alchemic nuttery in general, he rather hoped the stoat hadn’t learned Amestrian. “Setting that concerning topic aside, Aizawa’s quirk is erasing other quirks?” 

“Indeed,” Nezu said, sipping at his cup and gesturing for Ed to do the same. Ed complied, sinking into the chair opposite. He gently took the porcelain cup, sniffing at the steaming liquid before taking a slow sip, humming with pleasure at the taste of lemongrass and spearmint. Nezu moved a stone on the go board. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I didn’t inform you.”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Ed said wryly, moving a stone of his own. “Is it because the erasure is permanent?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Nezu said, waving a paw. “Aizawa only erases quirks temporarily. So long as his gaze is on someone, he can suppress their quirk. It doesn’t work on heteromorphic quirks, such as my own or Ishiyama’s, but for those with operative or composite quirks, he can block their use.” Nezu sipped his tea, humming in thought. “Admittedly, I thought we initially had enough avenues to explore without pulling Aizawa into the mix. Plus, between the investigation into the murder of your soldier, his usual patrol routes, and preparing for classes to begin, I decided to give Aizawa some peace.”

“Fair, that man looks like he needs a month's worth of sleep,” Ed said with a shrug, adding a few stones to surround Nezu’s. “But you’re not off the hook yet, you still could have told me!”

“It’s his quirk, he could tell you,” Nezu chuckled into his tea, plucking some of Ed’s captured pieces off the board.

Ed dragged a hand down his face. “Ugh, little rat bastard,” he grumbled in Amestrian, though it was without heat. Edward let his hand fall, eyeing Nezu as he moved one a white stone. “Fine, but I’m getting my answers. How’s this, I’ll let you off the hook and tell you about the field of phase-change alchemy if you tell me where I can find Aizawa. I need to ask him.”

“Fair enough,” Nezu said as he took another sip, and Ed could clearly see the stoat hiding a smile behind the porcelain cup. More black stones were added to the board. “By the way, how did you enjoy meeting Midoriya? What was your impression?”

Ed considered the question. It was misdirection and they both knew it, but he’d let Nezu keep him a bit longer. White encircled a few of Nezu’s black. “He’s a good kid,” Ed eventually said. “A bit anxious and very knowledgeable about quirks. He feels a bit… biased, perhaps, to quirks as a concept, but that also might be having minimal exposure to the idea of a society with no quirks. Admittedly, I think you all have that bias.”

Nezu nodded. Ed took some of the stoat’s black stones and Nezu retaliated by capturing some of Ed’s white. “It’s true. Quirks are so ubiquitous that it's difficult for those of us with quirks, and even those without, to conceive of a society that doesn’t have any concept of them.”

“He made some good points about the Border Sickness,” Ed continued, recalling the conversation. Another stone to the board. “Showed me some papers with theories involving magnetic fields, which they claim are why quirks and technology don't work in Atossa.” Ed wiggled the fingers of his automail hand at Nezu. “Don’t know about quirks, but the technology bit tracks.”

“Excellent!” Nezu clapped his paws. “Midoriya really does show such potential in quirk theory and analysis, though he hasn’t had much time yet to work on it. He’s another perspective on this topic, I’m glad you could meet him.”

“He’s a good kid,” Ed repeated, shrugging. “Now…” Ed leaned forward, steepling his fingers and eyeing Nezu across the desk. “Mind telling me where Aizawa is right now?”

“He’s training with his students at Gym Gamma,” Nezu chirped, dark eyes glittering mischievously. “Would you like me to tell you how to get there?”

“Please,” Ed said, then glanced at the board. “If that’s the end… I win.”

Nezu’s furry brows rose as he snapped his gaze to the go board between them, Ed’s pieces encircling a much wider swath of territory than Nezu’s own. The stoat laughed, his dark eyes gleaming. “Impressive! You’ve gotten better!”

“I had a few spare minutes,” Ed said with a shrug. “I did some research… and spite is a powerful motivator.”

Nezu bared his needle teeth in a smile. “I do believe the game just got interesting. Challenge accepted… until next time, Edward.”

“You’re on,” Ed returned, with a wolf’s grin.

“They really don’t know the meaning of restraint here,” Edward muttered as he looked up at the massive building Nezu had pointed him towards. If Ed had seen it back in Amestris, he would have thought it was a warehouse or factory building.

It took a minute until he could find a door and upon entering, Ed took one look at the interior and wondered if it would be better to head back outside. 

Calling the inside chaotic would be an understatement. Rocky towers stuck up at erratic intervals, and Ed could make out human figures on a number of the pillars. Ice climbed down the side of tower, and what looked like rope was strung haphazardly like a spider web around another. One person seemed to be bobbing in the air. 

Considering the size of the gym-actually-warehouse, Ed was going to have a hell of a time finding Aizawa, even without the vertical element.

“You’re lucky I’m so curious,” Ed grumbled as he moved fully inside. 

It felt like walking onto an active minefield. No, scratch that, Edward had been on active minefields and those were safer than being here. Every few seconds an earthquake would shake the floor and Ed didn’t have any way to tell if it was just because of everything happening in the room, or if someone had a quirk that could cause earthquakes. Because quirks.

Ed sighed, striding around the rocky pillars. “Alright Aizawa, where are yo—”

kra-BOOM

Edward tensed as the unmistakable sound of an explosion rocked the ground, setting his ears ringing. Through the high pitched whine, he made out a garbled, incoherent yell, coming from above. He pivoted, looking upwards to sight of one of the columns exploding outwards, falling away from its neighbors.

His vision tunneled.

Can’t run, wall behind him. Falling, it’d collide– there, shattering he can’t deconstruct all the debris but what if he’s under the largest he could no it was unstable it’d collapse into the mineshaft again— if he could deconstruct the largest chunk he wouldn’t be in danger from the rubble it would bury him, he’d be in the shaft, rebar through his side—

His gaze flicked up, heartbeat thundering in his ears. Explosions. Red. Hands reaching for him, the open palm flashing brilliantly, dark red transmutation circle lighting up as cruel laughter filled the air and—

His breath hitched.

Kimblee.

"His breath hitched. Kimblee." - art by @quasar-crew (aka me!)

He slipped away from the hands — can’t let the man touch him, can’t let the hands get close — wrinkling his nose at the sickly sweet smell of nitroglycerin. He reached forwards, grabbing the man’s arm and hooking his automail around the other’s neck, then he shifted, dropped his weight and he slammed the man down. The other’s blond hair—

Blond?

He’ll live, just winded. Right, twist, hands meet, make the connection— Got it, deconstruction, it’s concrete: shale, clay, iron, silica— it’s coming it’s coming it’s coming, there — 

Ed jerked as the transmutation’s connection abruptly snapped closed, and not by his doing. He could still feel the transmutation, but where once the energy ready to fuel it had been abundant, the spigot had been turned back, leaving him only a thin trickle. In the metaphysical realm where Ed aligned the transmutation matrix within himself, he shoved against whatever obstruction he'd hit. Just open the Gate wider, there’s tectonic energy to spare, get ready—

deconstruction

The massive piece of stone bearing down on Edward crumbled into atoms, wafting away as dust. His shoulders spiked with pain, the brief millisecond of impact enough time to send some of the kinetic energy into his body. Ed grimaced, rolling his aching shoulders. Damn, he was going to be feeling that.

A groan—

He snapped around, arms half up but Ed wasn’t buried, didn’t have a piece of rebar in his side, pinning him like a trapped insect. Not- Kimblee was on the ground, blond not black, green not white. He was smaller not… not Kimblee.

“Fuck,” Ed muttered, staggering back a few steps. Wait, Winry, where was Winry what if—

“Bakugou! Elric!” 

Aizawa? What was Aizawa doing in Baschool– Edward blinked, and Aizawa’s worried gaze was suddenly near his own, his piercing red eyes– “Elric? Elric are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Ed nodded. He grabbed his left arm with his right and started squeezing. 

Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium…

“I’m going to ask you something. Can you tell me five things you see?”

“You. Not-Kimblee. Blue. Boots. Trenchcoat with Teeth.” Ed blinked, refocusing behind Aizawa. He must have a concussion if he was seeing double, no, triple— Wait, but there was only one Aizawa. “Does that guy have a duplication quirk?”

…Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine…

Aizawa, who was mouthing ‘Trenchcoat with Teeth’, glanced behind him. “Wha– Oh. That’s Ectoplasm, yes, his quirk allows him to clone himself.” Right, he was called Ectoplasm… weird name. ‘Ectoplasm’ was helping Not-Kimblee off the ground, who was still winded from Ed throwing him bodily into the ground… That didn’t happen last time, Kimblee had escaped—

No. Magnesium, Aluminum, Silicon, Phosphorus… 

“Huh,” Ed muttered, squeezing his left bicep so tight it hurt. “That’s handy. Duplication… So does he have an ‘original’ or do they all function independently and it's just the last one left standing that retains the mind?”

…Calcium, Scandium, Titanium, Vanadium...

“Going off of that, I’m going to assume you’re back with us?” Aizawa asked. 

Edward looked over at the man, shrugging. “Yeah. All here, except for an arm and a leg,” Aizawa looked alarmed for a split second before Ed wiggled the fingers of his right hand at Radierkopf, a wry smile on his face. 

Aizawa let out a sharp breath. “Good. Alright, hang on.” The man turned away from Ed to the kid, because it was just a kid, fuck, picking himself off the ground. Ed had learned a number of Japanese equivalent swears to express himself properly during his time in Japan, and this kid was using every single one and a number of others. “Bakugou, are you alright?”

“Of course I fucking am!” the kid, Bakugou, protested. He looked past Aizawa to Ed, his eyes blazing with fury and… hurt. “What the fuck did you do that for you bastard? I was trying to get your ass outta the way of those fucking rocks!”

Edward blinked. This kid would have gotten along great with me when I was thirteen, he thought to himself. Young Ed had used swearing as subject, object, adjective, noun and verb, purely to aggravate Mustang and any military officials who thought they were hot shit. Wait… honestly, for that very reason he and this kid would’ve been at each other's throats.

“Pro tip,” Ed said, raising an eyebrow. “Next time you go to rescue someone, don’t introduce yourself with explosions.” Bakugou bared his teeth in a snarl, but Aizawa put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. 

“Bakugou, enough,” Aizawa ordered, then turned to one of several Ectoplasms. “Take him to the on-site medics, I’m going to take Elric to Recovery Girl.” Ed went to protest but then his gaze caught on the teenagers appearing out of the woodwork, drawn by the commotion and shouting voices. Ugh, right. Where was the door?

Edward let Aizawa herd him out of the building, following him back towards the main campus building. “I’m fine, okay?” Ed muttered, glancing up at Aizawa. The man grunted in disbelief and Ed sighed. “Look, I know I messed up back there. I’m sorry. I wasn’t entirely… present.”

“You had a flashback,” Aizawa hummed quietly.

Ed grimaced. Gleaming red, hands reaching for him, pain — “Yeah. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with explosive idiots.”

Aizawa nodded, considering his answer. Thankfully, he didn’t press further. They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Aizawa spoke again. “What were you doing there, Edward?”

“I was looking for you,” Ed chuckled and Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Ed huffed. “I really don’t need a doctor, you know. I know why it happened… mostly. I’m not keen on repeating it.” He chuckled wryly. “Honestly, just being out here tells me I’m not back there.”

He was in open space, not deep underground. Buildings of metal and glass surrounding him, not brick and stone. The air was hot and humid, not biting and cold. 

“What happened, on your end?” Ed asked, glancing over.

Aizawa let out a breath. “Bakugou’s corner of the gym is admittedly always rather… loud. But when I heard shouting, I came to help.” The teacher glanced at Ed. “I saw one of those columns crumbling and Bakugou lunging to grab you. He wanted to get you out of the way… though his methods weren’t very good.”

Ed snorted.

“I was going to use my capture scarf to pull you both out,” Aizawa continued, leaving Ed to ponder how a scarf could be of any use. “However, you beat me to it. I saw you judo throw Bakugou into the ground and then do… something to disintegrate the rock about to hit you both.” Aizawa looked over, something unreadable in his gaze. “I thought your alchemy was about changing the shape or makeup of things, not vaporizing it?”

“It’s a form of alchemy,” Ed said. “You just stop at deconstruction. I guess you could say I disintegrated it, though more correctly, I atomized it.”

Though it had been a strange thing, what with the energy flow hiccupping midway through. Ed hadn’t experienced something like that before, something that could interrupt the energy flow of a transmutation. Except for…

Father. The Dwarf in the Flask.

“After I got to you two, I realized you were disassociating,” Aizawa said, dragging Ed from the past and back to Japan. “It took a minute to pull you out of it and back to the present.” Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to have a talk with Bakugou, mark him down for lessons on this. I’ve been meaning to work on his rescue ethic.”

“He is quite the personality,” Ed hummed.

Aizawa huffed. “That’s one way to put it. While his drive and perseverance will serve him well as a Hero, it’s unhealthy if he doesn’t learn moderation. Not to mention, his regard for others is… At the rate he’s going, he’ll drive away anyone who’d work with him, Kirishima aside. He’s learning, but if he keeps holding to this strength-is-greatness attitude, it’ll get him killed.”

“Mm-hmm.” 

A lot like Ed when he was younger, before that night, back when he thought alchemy could solve everything. Hell, even afterwards. He had thought that alchemy, that the philosopher’s stone, would be the solution and the Answer… but it was the problem and the question itself.

Speaking of alchemy…

“Out of curiosity, did you use your quirk back there?” Ed asked, giving Aizawa a sidelong glance.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I did. After you flipped my student.”

“Use it on me.”

“Pardon?” Aizawa gave Ed a slightly incredulous look. 

Ed just waved a hand for him to get on with it. “Yeah, use your quirk on me. It’s what I came to ask you in the first place.” Aizawa stared at him for a long moment, then gave a deep sigh. The man’s hair started rising, like a strong wind was blowing it upwards. Most notably, his dark eyes blazed red.

Shaking off the unsettling similarity of the color to a philosopher’s stone, Ed turned his attention to his hands. He didn’t feel any different at the moment… but let’s see what changed when he did alchemy.

He arranged the circle in his mind, clapping and activating the matrix, reaching downwards to pull energy from the Earth. It was much slower than usual. The energy still came, dancing through Ed’s body, an unseen charge building at his hands, but the flow was very reduced. He knelt down, pressing a hand to the dirt and calling one of his spears from the ground. The energy did as he wished, thousands of chemical reactions turning the iron and silica and carbon of the earth into steel.

But the barrier still nudged annoyingly at the back of his mind. It wasn't a true barrier, now that he thought about it… more like a filter, one that made it harder to drag the tectonic energy to his call.  Like there was something leaning on the Gate, trying to prevent it from opening. The reduced energy flow dragged out the reaction. Friction. In return, Edward made the circle wider, dug deeper, pulled harder on the Gate, drawing out more energy to meet his needs.

The transmutation was not near-instantaneous, stretching out into a good ten seconds. But once the transmutation was complete, Ed pulled the tip of the spear from the divot in the ground, spinning it as he tested the weight. Nothing abnormal in the transmutation itself, the design and makeup was as good as ever. It was just the energy input and rate of reaction that was impacted, though he could partially compensate for that by pulling up more energy than normal.

Ed glanced at Aizawa, a wide grin on his face. Radierkopf, on the other hand, just looked exhausted. “I thought your alchemy required circles?” Aizawa asked.

“It does,” Ed said, shrugging. But with the help of the Gate, he’d figured out how to not need drawn circles. He was the circle. 

Aizawa let out a defeated sigh. “So what was the purpose of that?”

“Well, your quirk doesn’t erase alchemy!” Though it definitely inhibited the energy flow. Somehow. Damn quirks. Ed was going to be up all night again because quirks and alchemy were definitely connected, and it all led back to the Quirk Gate.

“Yes…” Aizawa drawled. “I’ll admit I half expected it to, considering how similar quirks and alchemy are. Yes, I know–” Aizawa held up a hand to forestall Ed’s coming rant, “–you say they’re different, but you can’t deny there is some similarity between them.”

“Fine,” Ed grumbled. Didn’t mean he was happy about it though. 

“On that front, I hope you’re ready to dodge my students constantly,” Aizawa said, and Ed gave him a confused look. “They’ve seen you, here at U.A. They saw the interview, they know your face, they’ve connected you to reality outside the screen. Regardless of what I do, they are going to be pursuing you with endless questions.”

“Oh joy,” Ed groaned, dragging a hand over his face. He thought of all those faces peering down at him, and—

Truth, he was in for hell.

Chapter Text

I was right, Ed thought as he looked at the teenagers advancing on him. 

He was in for hell, and it was of his own making.

Ed had just finished another run to U.A.’s library and was trying to make his way out of the building with his books when he was accosted on the stairwell. The sound of his name had his head jerking up and he immediately regretted it, because now he couldn’t feign not having heard them.  

“Elric-sama!”

There were five teenagers jogging down the hallway, two of whom he recognized. First, Midoriya, who was tagging along at the back looking somewhere between scared, curious, and determined. The other was Cornello-kid, Ida something, the one who had scolded Ed for not wearing a uniform the other day. Aside from them, there were three others: a brown haired girl, a boy with double-toned hair split down the middle, and another girl with green hair. 

“Elric-sama,” Cornello-kid repeated as Edward weighed the pros and cons of throwing his books and ditching. He decided against it, the books didn’t deserve that. “It is an honor to see you again! I must apologize for my behavior yesterday and insulting you so severely!” The kid bent into a 90 degree bow while his companions gave their friend somewhat concerned looks. 

“Tenya, how did you manage to insult the ambassador?” the green haired girl asked. “He’s only been here a couple days.”

“Ah, hey again,” Ed said, repositioning his book bags on his shoulder. His gaze landed on Midoriya, who seemed unsure whether to hide or stare unblinkingly at Ed. “Midoriya. Who are your friends?”

Midoriya jerked at being addressed and his friends whipped their gazes over to him, predators smelling blood. The teenager swallowed as he gave a hurried nod. “Ah! Yes, sorry. This is Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki and Asui.” He waved to each of them in turn and Ed mentally filed away the names. Iida, right. Not Ida.

The teenagers bowed and Edward nodded in reply. “Nice to meet you. So, what can I do for you?”

“Well, we—”

“We want to know why you attacked Bakugou,” Uraraka said bluntly, Iida and Midoriya immediately putting up a protest while Todoroki and Asui watched on.

Edward sighed, shifting his book bags. “Okay, first, I did not attack… Bakugou, was it? I acted in perceived self-defense.” When Uraraka opened her mouth again, Ed continued. “Think of it from my perspective, I turned to see him lunging at me. My first instinct was that he was attacking and I responded accordingly.”

“Kaachan was trying to help,” Midoriya insisted, his voice gaining strength with his conviction.

Ed raised an eyebrow. “Be that as it may, if he’s called on to respond in an emergency situation, he could easily cause an adverse reaction or trigger a flashback.” He shrugged. “Think of it like a training exercise. I know how to handle and protect myself, but if it happened on the field, it could have much deadlier consequences.”

The kids quieted, mulling over his answer. Ed tried not to think about how he was turning into Mustang.

“I guess that makes sense,” Midoriya muttered and Ed nodded.

“There you go. Now, I do have to…” Ed paused, his eyes catching on something behind the group. “Your bag seems to be, erm, floating,”

“Oh,” Todoroki turned, impassively plucking it from the air. “That’s mine.”

“Your quirk?” Ed asked, eyeing the bag.

“Mine, actually!” Uraraka exclaimed, smiling. “My quirk is ‘Zero Gravity’, I can touch something and make it float. I’m training my endurance with our bags!”

Edward hummed, his fingers closing around the straps on his shoulder. Hmm… perhaps… ? He slung the bags off, holding them up to the teenager with one hand. “Could you do it on these please? I’d like to see how it works.”

“Oh, sure!” The young woman pressed the fingers of one hand to his bags and Ed marveled as the weight suddenly lifted. He relaxed his arm and carefully released the straps, grinning as the bags stayed suspended in the air. He waved a hand underneath and over them, his smile stretching wider. 

“Incredible,” Ed muttered, taking hold of the straps and slinging them around his shoulder again. 

Uraraka smiled, reddening slightly. “Thank you!”

“Also, I think your quirk is closer to affecting an object’s buoyancy, not its gravity,” Edward said thoughtfully. As the girl started to frown in confusion, Ed gripped the straps of his book bags, shifting his weight. “See ya!”

Before the teenagers could protest, Ed had leaped over the railing of the stairwell next to him. There was a shout of alarm from above and a second delay before Ed heard the air shift. He twisted slightly, something long and fleshy shooting past him to hit the wall. He hit the ground, bending his knees to absorb the shock before Ed was vaulting over the next railing, his weightless bags following him.

Teenage interaction, avoided successfully.

Back in his apartment, Ed spread out the books he’d acquired on his bed. A couple history texts and another book on quirks were included, recommendations courtesy of Midoriya and Nezu. He also had several new additions: books on the smuggling trade near Atossa and Japan.

They knew that All for One was responsible for the death of Officer Talfon, but how Talfon got to Japan from Amestris was another story. The leading theory was that All for One had made use of the smuggling routes and had managed to get Talfon to Japan by way of bribes. But then the question became, why Talfon? Why someone of Amestris? Amestris was landlocked and at the center of the continent, not to mention that it had been a military government for over a century. It would have arguably been easier to get someone from Aerugo or Xing.

Ed had a couple of potential theories… none of them good.

The first theory was that All for One hadn’t done this as a targeted attack on Amestris. Talfon had simply been kidnapped, whether by one of Amestris’ neighbors or by a crime ring within Amestris itself and ended up in Aerugo. Then, when All for One came calling, looking for an Atossan, Talfon had the unfortunate luck to be chosen.

But the other option was that All for One specifically wanted an Amestrian…  

The crackle of alchemic energy flung Edward from his thoughts and he tensed, head whipping around as he searched for the source. It took a second for him to realize it was coming from below his bed. Ed’s eyes widened in realization and he knelt down, sticking a hand under the bed to pull out the teleportation circles he’d hidden underneath, one of which was crackling with energy.

Ed quickly stretched the fabric flat on the floor and sent a burst of energy in reply. A few seconds later the circle blazed w h i t e . Ed blinked the static from his eyes and was greeted by a thick envelope and letter sitting atop the transmutation circle. He snatched the letter, quickly skimming it.

…

Fullmetal,

Here are the reports from Investigations on Talfon and what they’ve uncovered regarding any connections to Aerugo or Creta. We haven't found anything connecting Talfon to Amestrian smuggling rings and nothing has turned up any sign of human trafficking in the area. I’ve been pressuring Aerugo to turn over any intelligence they have on the matter, but they haven’t been cooperating so far.

I’ve sent the duplicated reports via the usual method. The Japanese government assured me that the missives we sent should be there within the week, though the passage through Aerugo does make security more of an issue. The usual encryption and transmutation-circle failsafes are in place. On that note, I haven’t received any duplicate reports from you, only the abysmal things you send this way. You have been remembering to keep up appearances, right Fullmetal? Can’t let the foreign nations know we also have a form of instant communication and physical transport.

…

“Damn it, I knew I was forgetting something. Oops.”

…

I’m glad to hear the reception last week went well, though I find it hard to believe you didn’t destroy or cause major property damage in whatever performance you pulled off. Are you sure there’s nothing you’re leaving out? Because for some reason I received a bill from the Japanese government yesterday. Something about “a reimbursement fee for the podium” and “while the gift is appreciated, can the Amestrian ambassador please bring their own materials next time”.  

Good job.

In any case, we’ll continue with investigations into Aerugo on our end. Inform me of anything else you learn. Best of luck.

Sincerely, 
Führer Roy Mustang

…

Edward’s lips quirked into a smile as he set the letter aside. However, it quickly vanished as he picked up the larger envelope, opening it and pulling out the contents: the folders containing what Investigations had turned up so far on Talfon, Aerugo, Creta, and information on smuggling and trafficking operations.

“Nice job Mustang,” Ed murmured as he flipped through the papers. 

Ed laid the folders out on his desk with more of his research materials, then flipped the book on smuggling in Japan open. With his journal open at his side, he pulled the nearest folder closer and started his work.

Several exhausting hours later, Ed emerged from his research. He blinked slowly, then shoved the books and papers away, hissing as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His stomach felt like it had been transmuted into lead and his brain was full of cotton.

“Shit,” Ed muttered.

Slowly standing, Edward stretched out his joints, grimacing at the aches pulsing from his automail ports. He rolled his shoulders, casting a glance at the time. 17:00… dinner time then, he had missed lunch. Well, it was time for a break anyways. Ed only paused to grab his keys and pull his boots on before he headed out.

Once outside, Ed paused, taking a moment to breathe. September was Japan’s rainy season, and today’s downpour had left the air cool and damp, a rich earthy scent filling Ed’s nose as he inhaled. It was a familiar smell, one that ultimately reminded him of home in Resembool: petrichor, the smell of wet earth that followed rain. Ed stretched his arms out to the side, spinning slightly as he breathed deep and relished the way the air filled his lungs. It cleared his head of the mental fog, grounding him to the present.

Shaking out his arms, Ed set his sights on U.A.’s central campus and main building. Hopefully the cafeteria would still be open. A few minutes later he was delighted to find that it was and that some of the kitchen staff had prepared an evening meal. A few students were scattered across the tables, some eating and others studying, but compared to what Ed had glimpsed it was nothing compared to the lunch rush.

After snagging himself something called nikujaga which he read as ‘meat potato’, Edward found himself a table tucked away in a corner that gave him a view of the whole cafeteria and out the bay of windows.

As he ate, Ed reflected on how weird the Japanese food was compared to what he was used to from Amestris. Amestris used a lot more barley and wheat and a lot less rice, not to mention Japan had way more spices. Ed also had a tough time using the chopsticks; even after being in Japan for nearly two weeks, neither automail nor his left hand were accustomed to it. Either way, the meat stew tasted great and Ed inhaled a couple bowls of the stuff before he returned his dishes.

Once back outside, Ed let himself wander.

The green space on U.A.’s campus was massive and it reminded Ed of the parkland that could be found in East City. Sidewalks weaved through trees and street lamps stood sentinel along the path. It wasn’t anything like the rugged, unkempt forests of the rural landscape that Ed had the most experience with, but it had its own charm. 

As the daylight waned, Edward found himself near the warehouse nee gym he’d met Blasty (Bakugou) in… was that just yesterday? He skirted around it, heading for the trees and walking trail that continued on the opposite side. As he did so, Ed caught the faint sound of loud voices and swiveled his head towards it.

He paused, weighing his options for a moment.

Encroaching twilight, vaguely loud voices coming from the woods… of course he was going to check it out.

Ed strode in the direction of the voices, following them until he’d reached the edge of a large clearing where two figures in student uniforms stood. Ed watched from the trees for a moment, taking in the two… no, three, figures. As he studied them, Ed realized two of those present had the heads of birds. Huh… Well, it made more sense than Ishiyama being made of cement.

“It’s not… hmm, again Dark Shadow,” said the bird in the student uniform. The other bird nodded, drawing Ed’s attention to the shadowy third figure. It took a second to conceptualize what it was… and when he did, his eyes widened. Shit.

The living shadow suddenly started enveloping the bird-headed student, giving an ear-ringing screech as it did and sending Ed’s heart hammering. “What’s going on here?” He asked, stepping from the underbrush and forcing his posture to relax. Play it cool, Ed.

The three tensed, the two students falling into defensive poses as they spun to face him. “Who are you?” Bird Head asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Ed— Elric Edward,” he introduced himself, stumbling with the order. He tilted his head, looking over the three. “You?”

“Je suis enchanté de faire votre connaissance, monsieur,” ^[1] said the second student, in… was that an Atossan language? It sounded vaguely similar to Amestrian. French maybe? The student swept into a dramatic bow, throwing off honest-to-goodness sparkles just like Alex Louis Armstrong. “Aoyama Yuga, at your service!”

“Tokoyami,” Bird Head said quietly. “Who—”

“And who are you?” Ed asked, turning to the living shadows. He narrowed his eyes as he scanned it, all too familiar and all too different at the same time. It was static that had taken a three dimensional form, but rippling darkness instead of white.

The black void cocked its head, glowing gold eyes peering at him. “I am Dark Shadow,” it said in a voice like static, scratchy and slightly garbled. Well, at least it hadn’t introduced itself as ‘Truth’. The shadows moved closer and Ed resisted the urge to step back. “And you are the truth seeker, alchemist!”

Edward stilled. It knew him. “Come again?”

“Truth seeker!” Dark Shadow repeated, beak clacking with a sound like shifting sand. Ed watched the shadow warily. The only times he’d been called by that nickname were…

“Sorry for them,” Tokoyami interrupted, rubbing his beak. The teen tugged at the shadow, a tactic which somehow worked, pulling the entity away from Ed. ‘Dark Shadow’ hissed in displeasure, weaving around Tokoyami’s arms to try and inspect Ed further. “I don’t know why they’re doing this… Ack, Dark Shadow, is this necessary?”

“Are you a student?” Ed asked the Shadow but Tokoyami shook his head.

“No, Dark Shadow is my quirk.”

Ed blinked, once, twice, thrice. “Your quirk is… sapient?” Tokoyami nodded. Welp, quirks were officially the most fascinating and the most frustrating research subject he’d ever encountered. Sapient quirk, sure, why not? They already broke every law of physics, what was adding ‘creation of sapient life’? What’s next, a quirk that rewrote the Laws of reality? …Oh who was he kidding. Yeah, probably.

“So…” Ed looked between Tokoyami and Dark Shadow, who had calmed to hover next to Tokoyami’s shoulder. “You are a separate individual from Tokoyami? But… also his quirk? How does that work? Is Dark Shadow like… cohabiting your body?”

Dark Shadow chirruped, starting to reply before Tokoyami closed a hand around the shadow’s beak. “First, who are you?” the student asked, tilting his head. “You are not a U.A. student.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” Ed confirmed. “I’m an… ambassador I guess is the word for it. I’m staying at U.A. while I’m here.”

“Wait,” Aoyama’s eyes flashed with realization and recognition. “Oui! C'est vrai! You’re from the country of Amnesty, correct?” ^[2]

Edward choked. “Amnesty?” Ed repeated the word, which he recognized from English. “I… shit, sorry, but that’s so far off it’s both sad and hilarious.” He shook his head violently. “No, my country is called Amestris.”

Aoyama blinked. “But… those sound very similar? How was I off?”

Ed pinched the bridge of his nose. “I… nevermind, forget it. Just remember this, it’s Amestris.” Calling it, ‘Amnesty’? Forgiveness? Ed wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or sob at the irony. He snorted. “Sorry, it's just… calling the country ‘Amnesty’ would be seen as incredibly crude by many people.” Forgiveness, hah! “Anyways, can I ask what you’re doing out here? And why Dark Shadow was trying to… suffocate you?”

Dark Shadow’s crest flared, the entity growing larger until it (they?) towered over Edward. “I was not!” they snarled, claws bared and eyes glowing as anger overtook them. “How dare you suggest that!”

“Dark Shadow, peace!” Tokoyami said but the shadow just hissed, seemingly unwilling to listen. Ed raised his hands, whether in a calming gesture or in preparation to clap, he wasn’t sure yet. Before he could though, Aoyama shifted and a brilliant burst of light seared Ed’s retinas. 

The light lasted less than a second, but it was enough. Ed hissed, rubbing at his eyes while Dark Shadow shrank, cowering away from the light. “Hah, thank you, Aoyama,” Tokoyami panted, pressing a hand to his chest. Now that Ed looked, he could see the static that made up Dark Shadow seemed to come from Tokoyami’s body.

“Pas de souci mon ami!” ^[3] Aoyama said, flipping his hair dramatically. “It is why I am here, after all! It is my pleasure to help you succeed!” 

“I’m sorry,” Ed said, hesitating slightly before he gave Dark Shadow a shallow bow. “I didn’t mean to insult you, I was just worried for Tokoyami.”

“Dark Shadow is my friend,” Tokoyami said firmly, patting his quirk on the beak. “They would not intentionally harm me and would go to great lengths to protect me. Though perhaps too much at times,” the student muttered under his breath and Dark Shadow gave what amounted to a sheepish chirp. “We’re fine,” Tokoyami said, focusing back on Ed. “Dark Shadow gets stronger with darkness and I’m working on improving my control. Aoyama is here to make sure nothing bad happens.”

“Yep!” Aoyama gave another dazzling smile. “We shall be fine, monsieur!”

Ed pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, but maybe try doing this in an actual training facility? There is no end to them on this campus. Besides, the whole reason I came over was because I heard shouting, in the woods, at twilight.” Ed raised an eyebrow. “Catch my drift?”

The two students and Dark Shadow at least had the sense to look embarrassed. 

“Right, on with you,” Ed said, shooing the teenagers and quirk away.

“Bonne nuit, monsieur!” ^[4] Aoyama said, waving as he pranced away with Tokoyami in tow. 

“Bye, truth seeker!” Dark Shadow called back, giving their own wave.

“Good night,” Ed called in reply, his hand falling to his side as the students trekked back through the trees. 

Truth seeker.

The only things that had ever called Ed by that name were the gatekeepers, the vantablack hands of the Gate of Truth that sang in tongues of static as they took him apart and put him back together. An abyss that ate matter and breathed time.

truth seeker came looking for Answers, the shadows had chittered as they ripped apart Ed’s molecules for the first time. forget there was a price! price! price! price! Then he fell into the Gate again, and again, and again. And each time, the chattering shadows pulled him into their depths with open arms and crawling static.

“What are you?” Ed muttered, staring after where Dark Shadow had vanished with Tokoyami into the trees. 

When Ed got back to his apartment, he added several new notes to his wall of quirk theory. 

Dark Shadow, sapient quirk. Knew the name the gatekeepers gave me and has startling “physical” similarities to Truth, though is far more emotional, perhaps because of connection to Tokoyami? Are they a second soul in the same body? A firmament of the Gate? If quirks are similar to alchemy with respect to the Gate, what is Dark Shadow? Homunculus? Or could Tokoyami’s Gate be his quirk? Not just represent it?

“Damn it, Truth,” Ed muttered as he stared up at the wall. “How come you put such restrictions on transmutation, while quirks seem to be hellbent on breaking every Law that exists for alchemy? What’s equivalent in that?”

Edward was up at dawn the next day and wasted no time in hurrying over to U.A.’s main building so he could grab some food and find a quiet place to work. Today, he decided to try his luck working outside, locating a table in a secluded part of one of the courtyards. 

After pulling out the laptop Nezu had given him, Ed set to work. The “email” system the Outside had was a remarkable method of sending letters almost instantly, which he had been using to communicate with the other people in the Amestris case. Ed quickly sent off an email to Tsukauchi and Sansa asking for their intel on smuggling paths between Japan and the Atossan area, as well as anything on All for One’s involvement with smuggling.

One of Ed’s unopened emails caught his eye, one from Nezu. Ed opened it and smirked slightly at the message within.

…

Edward-san,

Quite the performance you gave at that reception! The media has certainly had a field day with it. If you care for a laugh at absurdity and speculation, consider some of the tabloids below! Of course, I included reputable articles too.

I also attached some research papers you might enjoy, regarding the impact of electromagnetism on bodies and quirks.

Sincerely,
Nezu

Principal
雄英 (U.A.) High School
Musutafu, Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan

…

After figuring out how to open the digital attachments, Ed spent a few minutes skimming the articles and laughing at the contents within, then humming with pleasure at the research papers. However, his reverie was disturbed as a shadow fell over him. He glanced up to see a student standing next to his table, a tall young woman dressed in the student uniform with black hair in a high ponytail.

“Can I help you?” Ed asked, raising an eyebrow.

The student nodded, dipping into a bow. “Pardon my intrusion, but you are the visiting Amestrian dignitary, correct? Ambassador Elric?”

“Yeah,” Ed nodded, leaning back in his chair. “And you are?”

“Yaoyorozu Momo,” Yaoyorozu said, standing straight again. “If you have time, I was hoping I could discuss something with you…” She paused for a moment, then rolled up the sleeve of her uniform. Ed blinked but before he could ask, glittering light shone over Yaoyorozu’s arm and a small colored object popped out, clattering onto the table. 

Edward carefully took the object, running the thumb of his left hand over it. A small wooden doll. He looked up at Yaoyorozu, a smile taking shape on his face. He pushed out the other chair at the table with his foot. “I’m listening.”

“My quirk is Creation,” the young woman said, taking a seat. “And I couldn’t help but notice some similarities to what you described as ‘alchemy’ in the demonstration you gave on the news.”

Ed tapped the wooden doll with a fingernail. “Where is your material coming from?”

“The lipids in my body,” Yaoyorozu said, displaying her bare arm. “So long as I know the atomic structure of what I’m creating, I can make it. However, I can’t create anything living.”

“Because of lack of knowledge or sheer complexity?”

“Both,” Yaoyorozu said, another doll popping onto the table. “I have no trouble with pseudo-organic materials, cellulose is fairly easy at this point. I could also make wool since it’s primarily one type of protein. But living things, true cells?… Even bacteria have so much complexity, so many carefully balanced interconnected systems, and so much simultaneously occurring in a living system that it’d be near impossible to achieve. 

“Nor can I create food. It may not be living, but it's made of living or once-living things, and far too complex to make,” she added with a shrug. “Not to mention the fact that we still don’t know everything about how cells work, let alone an entire body. So, even if there was a ‘spark’ of life I’d be missing, it’s a non issue.”

This time, Edward fully grinned, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He fiddled with the wooden doll. “There’s a few differences in alchemy though…”

Several hours later and Ed could confidently say that it was the start of a beautiful friendship. The similarities between alchemy and Yaoyorozu’s quirk were fascinating, which made their differences all the more confounding. For example, the two still hadn’t figured out how Yaoyorozu could perform what was functionally an atomic transmutation – changing the identity of an element – within herself, or where the energy for the reaction came from.

Plus, when Yaoyorozu made a couple more dolls, Ed had realized she couldn’t have a fully one-to-one conversion of matter. If she did, she shouldn’t be able to make objects larger than herself, like the cannon she had mentioned. Doing so would eat through her entire body.

“Even if it isn’t one to one, perhaps I should put more attention into consuming more fats,” Yaoyorozu shuddered, taking a bite of the steamed buns she’d bought. “If something like that had happened in training, let alone the USJ… no, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” 

“Yeah, your training is a little crazy,” Ed snorted. “And that’s coming from me.” 

“It is rather intense,” Yaoyorozu agreed. “Bakugou is particularly explosive, I apologize for his behavior, by the way. He, Midoriya and Todoroki… their attacks can impact a large area, they need to work on reducing collateral damage to the environment. Hmm, perhaps I can suggest that to Aizawa-sensei…”

“Ah, heard about Blasty, did you? What were you kids doing in there anyways?” Ed asked, thinking back to the massive building. “Why did they have you in a place prone to avalanches?”

“Training,” Yaoyorozu explained and Ed gave her an incredulous eyebrow raise. “We’re training to be Pro Heroes, specifically for our Provisional License Exams which are coming soon. When it comes to the physical portion of Heroics, we train by experience. We’re put in mock situations and simulations, which are meant to prepare us for the field.”

Something in Edward eased at the thought. He still didn't approve of these kids getting trained for or put in a combat-based career at their age, because it reeked of training soldiers, but at least they weren't getting sent in with nothing. When Ed had joined the Amestrian military – even with Mustang’s aid and oversight – he’d been thrown in the deep end so fast it wasn’t even funny. It was sink or swim. And admittedly, Teacher’s training hadn’t been dissimilar. Between stranding them on a deserted island for a month and routinely kicking his and Al’s asses to teach them to fight… Yeah. Ed knew about sink or swim.

“That’s good,” Ed said, releasing a breath. “At least you go through lots of schooling before you’re put in life or death scenarios…”

Yaoyorozu winced. “Ideally.”

When Edward gave her a confused look, Yaoyorozu pursed her lips, taking a sip of her tea. “My class, 1A, we’ve been targeted by villains before… several times. First at an off-campus training exercise, and then a month ago during our summer camp. Both were by the same group, the League of Villains.” Yaoyorozu took a breath and though she hid it well, Ed could see her hands shaking slightly as she gripped her teacup. “It’s… I know the school is doing its best to protect us but it is difficult to not be worried. And now with All Might’s retirement…”

“I… that’s not right,” Ed said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’re fucking kids. You shouldn’t be fighting for your lives.” 

Yaoyorozu took a sharp breath, setting her teacup down with a definitive click. “You are right, but… well, I suppose it’s no use complaining, this is the hand we were dealt. All we can do is prepare and work to become the best Heroes we can be, so that we can meet any threat we are faced with.”

“Yeah,” Ed muttered quietly. “Yeah…”

Even as Yaoyorozu continued speaking, Edward’s mind was spinning, turning everything over in his head. He was calm, which he wasn’t expecting. They’re just kids, Ed thought to himself. Sure, he and Al had faced life and death when they were even younger, but that just meant Ed knew all the more that it wasn’t right. He knew how messed up he was. 

Ed and Yaoyorozu continued sitting for a number of minutes, drinking their tea and turning the conversation to more lighthearted topics. It was enjoyable while it lasted, as it was soon broken by someone shouting, rather loudly:

“There he is!”

Years of training, combat encounters and often rapidly running away when hearing that particular phrase had Ed spinning in his seat. He locked eyes with several students across the courtyard, one of whom was gesturing his way.

“Oh dear,” Yaoyorozu said, setting her teacup down.

“Maybe I’m lucky and they don’t mean me,” Ed muttered, then saw Blasty himself turning a corner to join the group. Ed could see the exact moment the teenager recognized him. “Well, it was nice meeting you, I enjoyed our chat,” Ed said as he turned to Yaoyorozu, shoving his stuff in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. 

The students started coming closer and Ed started running, shouting behind him: “Thanks for the tea!” 

Now, Ed normally wouldn’t run from a fight, but these were teenagers. He’d been one of those, and he knew how persistent they could be, how relentlessly they pursued their prey, and how annoying they could be once said prey was cornered. So, Ed figured he’d save himself future headaches and run. Avoidance, it worked every time.

By this point he could hear his pursuers shouting, but Ed didn’t care to listen. He vaulted over a wall  separating the courtyard from the rest of campus and continued sprinting across the green. 

“It’s so much easier to avoid a pursuit in a city,” Ed muttered. “Lots of alleyways and nooks and crannies. Here it’s just greenery. Trees.”

Wait… trees.

Ed changed his direction slightly, angling towards the forest. He heard the faint pop of an explosion and a glance behind him informed Ed that Blasty had started using his explosions as forward thrust. Clever. Ed lept into a roll, his hands hitting the ground as he did so. Behind him, an earthen wall nearly two stories high shot into the air. Now with a shield in place, Ed ran as fast as he could into the safety of the trees.

The cover wasn’t great, but it was enough to give Ed some more time to get the heck of dodge. He zigged and zagged, finally slamming himself into hiding behind a tree trunk and glancing back as he heard the distinct BOOM of an explosion destroying his barricade. 

“You getting chased by 1A?” 

Edward turned around at the voice, his gaze landing on a teenager a little taller than him (damn it) with vibrant purple hair. His uniform told Ed ‘student’ and his exhausted expression said the rest.

“Yeah?” Ed asked, tilting his head. 

The student’s expression tightened for a brief second, then they sighed. “Of course…” There was a pause, then Purple jerked his head to the nearby trees. “If you manage to hide, I won’t say where you are.”

Ed weighed his options. 

Two seconds later he was crouched in the bushes, keeping his head low while Purple turned to a tree trunk and started boxing it, punching the wood. Ed winced at Purple’s form. It wasn’t bad but it was obvious Purple was still a beginner. At least Purple had the foresight to wrap his hands. About fifteen seconds passed and then the 1A students came crashing through the underbrush like a herd of crazed cattle.

“Shinsou?” asked Red Hair with Shark Teeth.

“Purple Bitch?” asked Blasty.

“Ah, 1A,” Purple (Shinsou?) paused in his tree-boxing, turning to the other students. “What do I owe the displeasure?”

Oh no, Ed thought as he looked between Purple and the 1A students, who were sizing each other up like feral cats. Teenage drama, abort, abort! He considered retreating through the underbrush, but something – probably his nosiness – kept him staying, watching the teenagers through a gap in the brush.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Blasty asked, and Shinsou raised an eyebrow. 

“Obviously I’m hoping to coax a kappa out of hiding,” Shinsou said, waving a hand around. “Haven’t you ever seen it done?”

“… I think he’s being sarcastic,” one of the 1A students, a yellow-blond haired kid, muttered. “And aren’t you supposed to use cucumbers?”

“No shit,” Blasty said, scowling at Shinsou. “You seriously punching trees?”

“I told you, I’m looking for kappa,” Shinsou deadpanned.

Blasty scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Train up, that way it’ll be more interesting when we fight and I crush you under my shoe.” With that encouraging remark Blasty exploded off, his friends pausing just long enough to apologize to Shinsou before they chased after him. After a minute, the sounds of explosions and students crashing through the underbrush died down.

Edward stepped from his hiding place, brushing the leaves off his pants. “Looking for kappa, huh?” Ed asked, distantly wondering what the hell a ‘kappa’ was.

“Oh, look, a kappa,” Shinsou said flatly, one hand waving to Ed.

Ed snorted. “Thanks… Shinsou, right?”

Shinsou shrugged, going back to boxing his tree. “No problem and yeah, that’s my name. You are?”

“Edward Elric,” he introduced. “Call me Ed or Edward.”

Shinsou hummed. “Well, ‘Ed’, if you don’t want to get caught by 1A again, you might want to get going.”

Ed nodded and turned to head back the way he came. “Oh, one thing,” Ed glanced back at Shinsou. “I’ve done martial arts… you’ll want to drop your weight more. You’re leaning into your strikes, that’s good. But if your enemy isn’t there to catch the punch, you’re gonna lose your balance.” 

Shinsou blinked, then moved his foot back more, lowering his center of gravity. “Like that?” 

“Yep!” Ed nodded, waving as he strode away. “Good luck looking for kappa! Whatever they are!”

Shouta sipped his coffee, writing a note for his next lesson plan for the third years. Considering All Might’s retirement, maybe he should put more focus on lessons involving large-scale combat, and call in Yagi and Torino for their expertise. Hmm, he should also be thinking about Work Studies. Once the Provisional Exams wrapped up, perhaps he could ask Togata, Amajiki and Hado to talk to the students in—

His thoughts were interrupted as the door to the Teacher’s Lounge banged open. He fumbled his coffee, whipping around to see Edward of all people, pressed against the door like he was trying to keep something out.

“Aizawa,” Edward looked straight at him, his eyes radiating exhaustion. “Your students are way too fucking persistent.” The Amestrian’s head thudded against the door. “I admire their curiosity and tenacity but I’m also currently suffering for it.”

Shouta chuckled quietly, standing and making his way over to Edward. “Welcome to being a teacher. I take it that the hellions haven’t left you be?”

“They keep finding me,” Ed sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “Not to mention I have to eat at some point. They’ve learned to ambush me near the cafeteria.”

“You… you do know that you can eat off campus, right?” Shouta asked, and judging by the look Edward was giving him, he did not. “There’s a market a few blocks away. If you want, you could buy some food to keep in your apartment.”

Edward stared at him. “I don’t have money. Well,” Edward see-sawed a hand. “Japanese money anyways. I don’t think they’d accept cenz and I don’t think there’s an exchange rate for it either.”

Aizawa rubbed his face, letting out a long sigh. “We forgot to give you money… of course. I’ll talk to Tsukauchi about it, we can get you a debit card or something in a few days. In the meantime, do you need me to take you to the market? I need more coffee anyways, and I can pay for it this time.” 

Edward nodded. “I’d appreciate that, thanks.”

“Alright,” Shouta threw back the rest of his coffee and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

It was a relatively short walk to the market plaza. Once they got there, the two of them split up, Edward heading to a store with produce and packaged meals while Shouta went to find some coffee and jelly packs. Shouta had finally found the jelly packs – they even had his favorite flavor, peach – when the sound of shouting had his head jerking up.

Abandoning his shopping, Aizawa sprinted towards the uproar, his quirk beginning to burn the back of his eyes. He got to market plaza in seconds and it took him a second more to find the altercation going on at another store. Three more seconds and he was at the site, his gaze sweeping over the situation, or more correctly, the remains of it. In the center of the gathered crowd, Edward was pinning a struggling figure to the ground who was spitting garbled curses up at him, the daggers that formed their nails clawing at the ground.

It was very similar to how Shouta had encountered Edward and Bakugou a day or two prior. Except, this time Edward’s gaze was focused, not the glassy eyed look from before that had sent Shouta’s heart leaping into his throat as he recognized the far-away look of a flashback.

“Elric,” Shouta said and the Amestrian glanced over at him. 

“Radierkopf,” Edward grunted. He was using the nickname he’d given Shouta in his native language, that was good, meant he was in the present. “Sorry, gimme a minute– Are you done yet?” He asked the still-struggling person.

“I’ll take care of this, Elric, stand back.” Edward glanced at Shouta. They locked eyes, then Edward gave the slightest of nods, jerking away. The instant that Edward was out of range, Aizawa sent out a strand of his capture weapon, wrapping the villain up tightly and gagging their mouth. “Now,” Shouta turned to Elric, giving him a flat look. “Explain.”

Edward shrugged. “I was minding my own business, getting my stuff when I saw this guy–” Edward poked the man trapped in Aizawa’s scarf, “–trying to rob the storekeeper. Things escalated and after waving his quirk around to attempt to threaten me, he tried taking the storekeeper hostage.” Edward gave a toothy grin and held up a fist, which the captured villain shied away from. “A few well placed punches sorted things pretty quickly.”

“It’s true sir,” Aizawa glanced over to see an older man coming up to him. “That’s my store, and this young man here saved my life from the villain!” 

“I saw it too!” A young woman spoke up, waving a hand. “That short guy just went pow, pow and next thing I know the villain was on the ground!”

Shouta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I leave you for five minutes, Elric,” he muttered. “Alright, let me call the police.” He looked over at the shopkeeper and bystander. “You two, don’t go anywhere. The police will want to take witness statements. Elric—”

“I know, I know, don’t move,” Edward said, meandering away to stare at an advertisement for mochi on a nearby storefront.

While they waited, Shouta eyed the villain entangled in his capture scarf, unsure whether to call them bold, stupid or desperate. You could see the towers of the main U.A. building from the market, and the area around the U.A. campus was often lauded for its safety thanks to the sheer number of Heroes in the area. A robbery this close to U.A.? It was… unsettling, and reminded him far too much of Shigaraki’s initial attack on U.A.’s gate.

Perhaps more evidence of the impact All Might’s retirement is having, Shouta thought to himself. 

After far too long in Aizawa’s opinion, the police arrived. They took Edward and Shouta’s statements, as well as those of the other bystanders, then took the villain into custody.

“Good job,” one of the officers said to Edward. “But don’t do this again, ya hear? We’ll let you off with a warning since you didn’t use your quirk and Eraserhead was able to finish things up, but we don’t want to have to arrest you for vigilantism. Stay outta trouble, got it?”

“Uh… sure?” Edward said, confusion etching his features. 

“What was that about?” the Amestrian asked as they headed back to U.A., now with grocery bags in hand. “Vigilantism?”

“Vigilantes are those who carry out duties usually done by Pro Heroes without a license and without regard for the law,” Shouta explained, waving a hand towards Edward. “Because of hero regulations and quirk laws, people can’t perform Heroic duties and acts of vigilantism are illegal.”

Edward gave him an incredulous look. “So what, self-defense is illegal now?”

“Yes and no. Self-defense itself is not illegal, the law recognizes that. What is illegal are actions usually attributed to Pro Heroes, like using your quirk in the pursuit and capture of villains, or using a quirk in public. Engaging villains if you are a bystander is usually considered illegal, which is why you were reprimanded.” 

“That’s still stupid though,” Edward muttered, squinting in displeasure. “What about good samaritan laws? If someone has the ability to help someone in need, why would the law punish them for helping?”

“You’re getting into the larger debate over vigilantism.” Shouta exhaled through his teeth, humming in thought. “Using a quirk in public is generally illegal, but it’s often handled on a case by case basis. Heteromorphic or mutant-type quirks are permitted by necessity, but if you have a quirk that requires intent, you aren’t allowed to use it, and those with passive area-of-effect quirks often have to wear a suppressor, at least if it's harmful. The fact is that because quirks are so diverse, the laws need to be broad and restrictive.”

“It’s still nonsensical,” Ed scowled, reminding Aizawa of the more persistent students in his Law and Ethics class. He fully expected Midoriya to be one of those when it came time. “I’m not about to stand by if someone’s getting hurt. What if the ‘Heroes’ don’t show up?”

“It’s far from perfect,” Shouta agreed, grimacing slightly. He knew that well, probably better than most Pro Heroes. Underground Heroics had always walked a fine line and Aizawa knew of a number of Limelight Heroes that called Underground Heroes: ‘vigilantes with a license’. “But, depending on the vigilante and their actions, some Heroes and members of law enforcement will allow them to remain active, like the Naruhata Vigilantes six years ago.” Hell, the Crawler had actually gone on to obtain a license and was operating as a Pro Hero in America, last Aizawa checked.

Edward huffed, muttering in his native language, which Shouta inferred to be further complaints to the Japanese legal system.

“You may not like it but you do have to follow it, you’re not in your home country,” Aizawa pointed out and Edward just let out more grumbles along the lines of, ‘I can take care of myself just fine’. Aizawa huffed. “Perhaps, but the vigilante law is also to keep people from hurting themselves or others. If civilians just started trying to take out villains they could get themselves killed because of inexperience, or they could use it as justification to attack innocents.”

“So basically it’s an instance of ‘there are no right answers?’” Edward asked. When Aizawa nodded, the Amestrian groaned, rubbing his face. “Great.”

Their conversation on Japanese law surrounding Pro Heroes and vigilantes was set aside as they reached the grounds of U.A. again. Shouta headed back to the teachers lounge and Edward followed, citing protection from Shouta’s students. Hizashi and Nemuri were both working in the lounge when Shouta and Edward arrived, looking up at the sound of the door. 

“Shouta!” Hizashi exclaimed, launching himself from his chair to sling an arm around Shouta’s shoulders, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Where have you been?”

“Working,” Shouta said wryly, ducking under Hizashi’s arm and handing a bag to his husband. “Here, some of those bagged snacks you enjoy.” 

“Shou~, you do love me!” Hizashi said dramatically, flinging his head back. 

“Of course I do,” Shouta stated, matter-of-fact. 

Hizashi grinned, swooning and professing his love. Meanwhile, Nemuri looked over at Edward who had shimmed around them to set his grocery bags on the counter of the lounge kitchen. “Hello Elric-san! Nice to see you again. Giving Shouta the runaround?”

Edward nodded. “Ed, please. And yeah, you too… Kayama?” Elric hedged, to which Nemuri nodded in affirmation. “Kayama. Yeah, Radierkopf helped me with a run to the market. His students keep hunting me around campus.”

“He also managed to get involved in a robbery in the five minutes I left him,” Shouta said flatly, giving Edward an exhausted look. “Five minutes and you get into trouble. You’re nearly as bad as Midoriya.” Edward shrugged unapologetically.

“Oh dear, are you alright?” Hizashi asked, sweeping his gaze over Edward in search of injuries. “Do you need to see Recovery Girl?”

“Oh for– I’m fine,” Edward said, grimacing. “I’m not fragile, you know. That thief was just that, a thief. I was never in any danger.”

“Perhaps, but we’re still concerned,” Nemuri consoled. “You’re our guest, you’re new to quirks, and we’re Heroes, not to mention teachers. It’s our job to protect you and others. Besides, can you imagine the political climate if the Amestrian delegate died in Japan?” 

Despite Nemuri’s logic, Edward still scowled, glaring holes into the floor. He was silent for a handful of seconds, drumming his fingers against his leg before he finally snapped his gaze back to the Heroes. “How about a fight?” Shouta’s shock and confusion must have been mirrored on Nemuri and Hizashi’s faces, because Elric pushed on. “Like, why not have one of you spar with me? It’d put your minds at ease that I am competent and can protect myself.”

Was this about that robber? Shouta couldn’t help but wonder. Or was there something else?

“I don’t doubt that—” Aizawa started but Edward waved him off.

“Yes, you do,” Edward argued. “I know you see me as a kid, see me as quirkless, military experience or not.” The Amestrian gave a huff, rubbing his face. “I’ve been wanting to practice anyway… Alphonse is usually my sparring partner but he’s not here and it’s been weeks since I had a proper fight. I’ve been exercising but nothing beats a spar, you know? I don’t want to get rusty.”

Hizashi frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re still the delegate of a foreign nation and our guest. I’d prefer to not be arrested.”

“Look, I’m giving you permission,” Edward said, waving a hand. “I’ll even write it down! Besides, if it makes you feel better, I’m a soldier and you have doctors on staff if something goes wrong.”  

“I think it would be fine.”

The entire room jumped at Nezu’s voice, heads jerking up to see him sticking out from a grate in the ceiling. The principal dropped to the ground and then looked up at them all. “If Edward wishes to have sparring practice, I say we let him. We have the necessary safety measures in place and if he is to fight anyone, who better than the teachers?”

Edward squinted down at Nezu. “You just want to see how good I am, don’t you?”

Nezu didn’t reply, just giving a smile, his whiskers twitching. 

Shouta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I still don’t like it, but fine. If you’re agreeable Edward, I’ll be your opponent.” 

Edward gave Shouta a toothy grin, fire swirling in his eyes. “Fantastic.”

“Wonderful!” Nezu said, clapping his paws together. “Let’s head to the training grounds then!”

U.A. Server Group: Faculty_a672
Encryption Key: tHlsW0ntG0w3ll
Chat: dont let the students see this
Members: Eraserhead [Aizawa], RatGod [Nezu], PresentationMichael [Yamada], …
Last Message Sent: 5 minutes ago

PresentationMichael [Yamada]
@everyone
Training ground alpha 15 minutes
Be there or be square

CountDracula [Kan]
Why??

QueenOfNight [Kayama]
Aizawa and the Atossan are about to fight.

CountDracula [Kan]
I reiterate… why???

PresentationMichael [Yamada]
Elric (Ed) is looking to spar with someone and Aizawa volunteered

Eraserhead [Aizawa]
1. Because he insisted on fighting someone.
2. Because I’m interested in finding out his skill level.
3. Because I don’t trust the rest of you to take him seriously.

Toshinori [Yagi]
Is Nezu okay with this?

RatGod [Nezu]
I encouraged it!

SniperAtTheReady [Sokeki]
Well
Guess Ive got no choice but to check it out

Eraserhead [Aizawa]
Do not encourage him.

CementHouse [Ishiyama]
Nezu or Elric?

Eraserhead [Aizawa]
Both.

…

Shouta sighed as he saw nearly all the faculty gathered at the training ground, several with their phones at the ready. Edward followed his gaze, raising an eyebrow as he saw the teachers gathered around. “What are they doing here?” 

“Peanut gallery,” Shouta sighed.

“Ah.”

Ignoring their audience, Shouta and Edward moved onto the training field where they would conduct their spar. While Shouta busied himself removing his capture weapon and the many knives hidden on his person, Edward shrugged off his button-up shirt and tossed it aside, leaving him in a sleeveless undershirt. The lack of sleeves meant that for the first time, Shouta could see the entirety of the Amestrian’s metal right arm and his eyes widened in surprise.

The metal extends all the way to his shoulder, Shouta realized as he saw the gleaming metal plating, before silencing the questions that swirled in his mind. It wasn’t his business. Shouta really had to hand it to the designer though, Winry, if he recalled correctly. It was fascinating to watch as Edward began working through a series of stretches. The range, dexterity and responsiveness of the prosthetic was incredible.

Low murmuring reached Shouta’s ears and he glanced over to see the faculty speaking quietly to each other as they stared at Edward, Ectoplasm in particular looking very interested. Oh right… they didn’t know Edward had metal limbs. Well, now they did.

“Rules of engagement?” Edward asked and Shouta glanced back over to the young man.

“No quirks, no additional weapons… and no alchemy,” Shouta tacked on, setting his capture scarf aside and beginning to do his own stretches. “No killing or maiming. If the other surrenders or taps out, stop immediately. Hizashi will be the referee.”

Edward grinned, showing his teeth. “Perfect.”

Once Shouta and Edward had finished their warm up, they took their positions on the field. Shouta kept his posture relaxed, while Edward fell into a loose fighting stance. They stayed that way for a number of seconds, watching and waiting for who would make the first move.  

Edward’s weight shifted slightly, wait for it… now! Shouta side-stepped as Edward lunged forward, using his forward momentum to flip the Amestrian onto his back. Ed moved with the fall, turning it into a roll while Shouta whirled around, sweeping his leg out and sending a cloud of dust into the air. He reached up, going for his— Right, it wasn’t there.

Metal gleamed and Shouta pivoted in place, punches sailing past him. He reached forward, grabbing Edward’s automail arm and twisting— The teenager went down as his arm locked in place, Shouta pinning him to the dirt. It was a short lived victory though, the world tipping as Shouta’s legs were kicked out from under him. He must not feel pain in the metal arm— His back hit the ground, the air rushing from his lungs.

It was enough to stun Shouta for a half-second before he could roll to his feet. He turned, looking for Edward and then stumbled back half a step as dust flew in his eyes, blinding him. Smart.

Gravel crunched and Shouta whirled around, deflecting the incoming hits in quick succession. He got his vision back in time to see Edward jump, executing a very impressive vertical leap. The Amestrian twisted midair, kicking out at Shouta’s face. He raised his arms to block and immediately regretted it as the impact rattled him down to the bone. He swore he heard something crack. Shit, Elric had a metal leg, didn’t he? Have to be careful, can’t get hit by that—

Shouta shifted, dropping his arms in time to see Edward flipping backwards. He used my arms as a springboard. Cheeky. Edward landed on his feet then rushed Shouta again. This time the Pro Hero angled away from the hits, whirling around to send a side kick into Edward’s torso. The teenager blocked it with his metal forearm and Shouta’s leg ached with the impact. Edward quickly hooked his arm around Shouta’s leg and then threw himself onto the ground, bringing Shouta with him. The rest of the air left Shouta’s lungs as he hit stomach first, winding him and giving Edward enough time to hold him in place with a leg lock.

Another second, then Shouta double-tapped the ground, indicating his surrender. The hold on him immediately eased and Aizawa took a breath before slowly getting to his feet. Across from him, Edward did the same, covered in dust and dirt and with a grin on his face. 

“Good,” Shouta said breathlessly, giving Edward a smile as he rubbed his forearm. The Amestrian was very skilled in physical combat, masterful even. It was said you could tell a lot about someone from how they fought, and Edward’s style balanced redirection, speed, and using his height to his advantage to get under his opponents. Clever, in a word. “You’re quite acrobatic, considering how much metal you have on you.”

Edward chuckled, lifting his automail hand to inspect it before giving a shrug. “It took awhile. But it is rather useful for blocking hits.”

“Bad habit, could damage your prosthetic,” the Pro Hero pointed out and Edward nodded, acknowledging the critique.

“Fair enough, but the metal can take it a lot better than bone. Winry made sure of that after the first few times I broke it. Want to try weapons?” 

Shouta raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you sure that won’t imbalance the odds?”

“In my favor you mean?” Ed taunted, baring his teeth in a smile. The Amestrian paused, looking thoughtful for a second, then glanced over at the sidelines where their audience was. “Uh, ref, can I ask a question about weapons?”

Shouta glanced over at Hizashi, who was opening and closing his mouth. In fact, now that Shouta looked, all the teachers looked rather impressed. Though it did make sense, Shouta was the best in hand-to-hand combat among them. He had to be. After a couple seconds, Hizashi got his wits about him and nodded, walking over to speak with Edward and hand Shouta his capture weapon.

As Shouta settled the familiar weight of the scarf around his shoulders, Hizashi and Edward exchanged a whispered conversation. ‘Zashi looked contemplative for a moment, then said: “And that’s all? I’ll allow it.”

Edward grinned, rolling his shoulders as he took his position opposite Shouta. 

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “What about your weapon?”

Ed lowered his stance, smirking. “Already have it.”

The two readied themselves, the world holding its breath for a brief second. One, two, three… Shouta whipped out a strand of his scarf and Edward dodged out of the way. This time, Shouta kept his distance, keeping Edward away with his capture weapon. Meanwhile, the Amestrian began twisting and backflipping away from the ribbons that filled the air like twisting snakes. Clap. Lightning crackled around Edward’s arm as he rushed forward, light gleaming off the sword that extended from his arm as it sliced through the binding cloth.

Glad this is my spare, Shouta thought to himself as he pulled back to inspect the damage. How’d he manage to get a sword that can cut through carbon-fiber and metal? Across from him, Edward bared his teeth in a smile, obviously aware he’d caught Shouta off guard. Well, two could play that game. 

Shouta moved, his capture weapon rising off his shoulders. He guided the ribbon through his fingers and the strands shot forward. They wrapped around a modestly sized rock and then Shouta took hold of the cloth-like strips and pulled— He twisted, whipping the rock around and sending it hurtling towards Edward. The Amestrain jumped aside, straight into the ribbons that wrapped around his metal forearm. He blinked in surprise, then yelped as Shouta hauled the capture weapon back towards himself.

The Amestrian managed to recover enough to pivot away from Aizawa’s punch, flipping over Shouta’s arm in a move that reminded Shouta of breakdancing in the second before Edward’s foot collided with his jaw. The side of his face blossomed with agony and Shouta gagged as his head was wrenched aside. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Edward hesitate, and that was all he needed. 

One deft flick of his hand later and Shouta’s capture weapon coiled around Edward, the Amestrian giving a cut-off yelp before he was cocooned in the binding cloth. Edward immediately began struggling, twisting and wriggling like a fish out of water, but he didn’t have the leverage to cut himself free.

“Can you get out?” Shouta asked. Edward kept trying for a few more moments but then slumped, shaking his head. Shouta eased his capture weapon and it shed itself off Edward’s body, the strands falling limp. Now free, the Amestrian stretched, giving Aizawa's scarf an appreciative look.

“That’s pretty neat,” Edward hummed, reaching down to rub the fabric-like material between his fingers. “How do you control it?”

“Practice,” Shouta said, his fingers hurting just thinking about it. “Lots and lots of practice.” As Edward chuckled, Shouta gestured to Edward’s right arm, where a blade extended from the metal. “How’d you make that? Alchemy?”

“Yep,” Ed held up his arm, blade glinting. “Transmuted an outer metal plate. Pretty useful and easy to carry around.” The Amestrian clapped, running his left hand over his right arm and causing the blade to ‘retract’ back into the metal casing. “Oh, let me fix your scarf thing.” 

Edward jogged over to the pieces of Shouta’s capture scarf that he’d sliced off, gesturing for Aizawa to give him the other side of the pieces. Shouta complied and Edward clapped again, lightning dancing over the ground as he fused the ends back together. In seconds, the weapon was whole again, though Shouta would still pull out his other one and send this for repairs. Just in case.

“How’d you manage to cut through it anyways?” Shouta asked as Edward stood. “It’s woven with metal.”

“Carbon fiber and a metal alloy so it instantly tightens around an object, right?” Edward said with a raised eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile. “Yeah, I analyzed the composition back when you captured that guy. When I transmuted my arm I made it so the blade could cut through it.” Edward shrugged. “Sue me, I was curious about what kinda fabric could do that.”

“Well, I’m gonna call it a draw,” Hizashi said as he walked over, reminding Shouta that they had an audience. 

His husband’s gaze flicked between the two of them, evidently impressed. “I obviously have bias for Shou, but you fight like a hurricane Ed,” Hizashi complimented and Edward preened slightly. “Without quirks, Shouta’s capture weapon gave him a ranged advantage but you’re probably more skilled in melee combat.”

“Yeah, it’s like you took a gymnast and taught them martial arts,” Nemuri commented, to which Edward laughed.

“You’re not far off! My teacher… well, if she saw us moving sloppy we'd get that trained out of us real fast.” Edward shuddered slightly, but before Shouta could ask about this ‘teacher’ figure, Edward was yawning, stretching his arms over his head. “Oh, that felt good. Thanks, Aizawa, we should do that again sometime.”

Shouta nodded. “I enjoyed sparring with you, Ed. I would like to try it again… perhaps with alchemy and the rest of our weapons, or in a different environment next time. It would be a novel challenge for me.”

“You’re on,” Edward said, eyes glinting as he gave a toothy smile. “Now, I’m off to get food because I still haven’t eaten thanks to the relentless pursuit of your students. Byeee~.” The Amestrian sauntered off in the direction of the apartments, leaving the faculty staring after him.

“He’s good,” Yagi said. “Very good.”

“I’ll admit,” Shouta hummed to himself. “I wasn’t expecting someone with 70 pounds of metal on him to be that bouncy.”

Chapter Text

Dear Alphonse,

I can’t tell you how much I wish you were here with me. Every day I spend here the more insane this place gets, and it’s mostly entirely because of quirks. I need you to be here so there’s someone sensible who appreciates how ridiculous all of this is. Writing will have to do I guess, I can’t suffer this alone.

For starters, I met a kid with a sapient quirk. Yep. Sapient. Oh, and get this, the sapient quirk (who’s called Dark Shadow) recognized me and called me by the name the gatekeepers gave me, and it looks approximately like what Tokoyami’s Truth would look like — a mirror image of black static. Are they two souls cohabitating the same body? Is Dark Shadow part of the Gate or Truth that got stuck to Tokoyami? Is Tokoyami’s Gate his quirk? I don’t fucking know. This is the insanity that awaits me Al. 

On a slightly more sensible note, I also met another student who’s got a quirk that’s basically alchemy, light show and all, but she only uses the lipids of her body as her transmuting material. Like alchemy she has to know the atomic structure of what she’s creating, but she doesn’t fully abide by conservation of matter — she’s apparently made objects larger than herself and didn’t dissolve into a pile of atoms. 

At this point I’m leaning more into your theory that quirks draw energy from the Gate or some other related channel. I mean we know that quirks are tied to the Gate, Dark Shadow’s connection just drives that home more, and I’m not sure how else to explain the gross violations of the Laws. Not to mention, with how diverse quirks are, there’s no consistent physical energy source like tectonics that could explain it.

Anyways, how are things in Xing? Visited Ling yet? I bet Lan Fan’s had her work cut out for her. 

Love,
Edward

…

Dear Edward,

I’ll admit a sapient quirk is… unexpected. And one that calls you by the name of the gatekeepers… is it like Homunculus? A firmament of the Gate? Certainly sounds like it, black static and all. Though something tells me Tokoyami didn’t perform human transmutation, so how did they end up with a Gate fragment? 

The alchemy-quirk sounds interesting! The manipulation of the body and its components sounds like alkahestry, but the yield sounds more like alchemy, since she’d have to perform atomic transmutations if making anything without the base elements found in lipids. 

Things are good in Xing! I did see Ling recently, I got permission from him to visit the palace archives to investigate some older alkahestry texts. Mei and him duelled, of course. Lan Fan’s quite tired of them both. Oh, I’ve also heard a rather interesting rumor floating around the palace… namely that you fed the Emperor a boot at one point? Mind explaining Brother?

Love,
Alphonse

…

Dear Alphonse,

I really ought to sit down with Yaoyorozu and see if I can experiment with her quirk, test her creation ability and ability to shape-change objects while they’re still connected to her skin. I wonder if she could manipulate the object after separation? Reabsorb it into her skin? Or is it ‘one use only’?

I might do that honestly, the bureaucracy takes forever on this case. I can’t even go to a library for half this stuff cause it’s all ‘classified cases’ and shit, and it takes days to hear back from Tsukauchi cause he’s got to put things together on his end and check with the government. There’s only so many times I can flip through the same information or contemplate the horrible things done in the smuggling trade. Hnngh, when all this is said and done, I’m gonna publish so many papers on quirk bullshit. Maybe on the Outside too. Give them some real quirk science for once.

All you need to know is that sometimes you gotta eat and sometimes all you’ve got to eat is boot stew. I mean what else were we gonna eat? The lake of blood? That’s a biohazard.

Say hi to the Idiot Emperor for me.

Love,
Edward

…

Dear Edward,

I’ll admit the lake of blood is a new one.

Have fun with your quirks and please try not to draw Truth’s attention on you again. Quirks are already breaking the Laws, we don’t need you breaking the universe too. 

Love,
Alphonse

Edward laughed as he read Alphonse’s response to his latest letter. With a smile, he set the papers aside and folded the transmutation circles up, tucking them underneath his bed. He slowly stood, stretching his arms above his head as he yawned and worked the ache from his shoulders. Research may have been a focal point of nearly the past decade of his life, but Ed couldn’t escape the aches in his joints from sitting for too long.

Shoving his lunch dishes in a corner to wash later, Ed grabbed his book bag. He walked back to the main U.A. building, craning his head back as he looked at the metal and glass towers. Seriously, why did a school need to be this big? It just felt excessive. And they didn’t even have the decency to put some gargoyles on it to spruce things up a little.

Inside, the halls were nearly empty of students as Ed headed back to his loaned office, a few late stragglers sprinting to their afternoon classes.

“Elric-san!”

The sound of his name had Edward’s head lifting, turning towards the source. When he saw who it was, he grinned, waving. “Kanahoshi! It’s been awhile!” Ed called back, abandoning his path to head towards the man.

Kanahoshi smiled down at Ed as he approached. “Didn’t I tell you to call me Toume, Elric-san?”

“And didn’t I tell you to call me Edward?” Ed countered. 

Kanahoshi, or Toume, chuckled. “That you did. It’s good to see you, how have you been?”

Ed shrugged. “Busy dealing with the case they called me over for, being frustrated by whatever the hell quirks are, and complaining about the slowness of bureaucracy to anyone who’ll listen.” 

Kanahoshi snorted. “Oh, I understand that.” The man paused, then nodded down the hall towards another set of offices. “Want to have some kōhī with me?”

“As long as ‘kōhī’ doesn’t mean alcohol, sure,” Ed shrugged.

“No, no,” Kanahoshi laughed and started walking, Ed in tow. “Though I know some folks who drink the stuff as if it were. Aizawa, for one.” After a minute, they emerged into a large common space where a few other employees of U.A. were mingling. Kanahoshi greeted the others, but they were quickly bypassed in favor of making a beeline for a kitchen on the far side of the room.

He stopped in front of an odd machine, a vaguely box shaped black thing with some buttons on it. “The U.A. kōhīmākā,” Kanahoshi said, gesturing grandly to the machine. “What would you like?”

Ed shrugged. “Surprise me. Just no milk.”

Kanahoshi put a mug in a hollow in the machine, then began pressing the machine’s buttons like a pianist. Immediately, the device began to make gasping noises, like a dying automobile. Ed backed away warily, just in case it exploded, but all that happened was dark liquid being squeezed into the mug. Once the mug was filled, Kanahoshi presented it to Edward. “Kōhī,” he said, giving a half bow.

Ed accepted the cup with only some trepidation. He warily sipped the liquid, his eyebrows shooting up as he recognized the rich smell and taste. He’d had the drink once, snitched from Mustang. “Kaffee,” Ed muttered the Amestrian name, smacking his lips.

“You know it?” Kanahoshi asked, raising an eyebrow. “You have it in Atossa?”

Nodding, Ed took another sip, savoring the taste. “Don’t ask me for trade details, but I’m pretty sure we import it from the Eastern Desert or from Creta, though I couldn’t tell you where they get it. It ain’t cheap though.” Ed had bought Mustang some as a present once and ended up paying a rather obscene amount, as the Kaffee was worth nearly its weight in gold. “Anyways, how have you been?”

“I’ve been well, but busy,” Kanahoshi said, letting out a breath. “There’s lots of paperwork for the students right now. The Hero course has licensing exams, the Support course has an invention exhibition conference next month, the General Education students need packets about speciality classes, et cetera.” He rubbed his face. “And, I need to talk to my counterpart who works in construction and security to make sure that the training fields are properly ‘off limits’ when they’re being rebuilt, so we don’t have any injuries to students or the workers.” 

Ouch, that was as bad as the end of year military report rush. Ed winced in sympathy. “Yikes, you’re busier than me.” 

Kanahoshi shrugged. “With paperwork, perhaps. But I’ve seen you’ve been busy too,” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Quite the demonstration you gave to the Foreign Ministry. The news and conspiracy theorists have been running wild.”

“Oh no,” Ed groaned, clutching his Kaffee mug tighter. “Do I want to know what they’re saying?”

“Well the most popular one is that alchemy is in fact a quirk,” Kanahoshi said, sipping his own Kaffee. “Let’s see, what else… there’s some that think you’re not actually from Atossa since you have a ‘quirk’ and that you and the government are lying. Oh, and there’s apparently a few that’re convinced you’re an extraterrestrial or from another dimension.”

Ed blinked. “But why…? Are they serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Kanahoshi laughed. “Most believe you are from Atossa though, they’re just in dispute about quirk or no quirk. One of my coworkers has been raging about what this might mean for history. Last I heard, they were questioning if quirks could come from alchemy.”

“I’ll let them know what I find out,” Edward rolled his eyes. “Though I don’t think quirks could ‘come from’ alchemy, they break too many of the fundamental laws of alchemy, to the point it’s giving me a migraine.”

“You poor soul,” Kanahoshi said, not sounding very sorry at all.

They fell into a companionable silence for a few minutes, listening to the soft bustle of people through the common area. However, internally Ed was wrestling with another issue. “You remember what we were talking about last time we met?” he asked, looking over at Kanahoshi, who turned to give Ed his full attention. “You’d asked about an alchemy class?” 

Kanahoshi nodded. “Yeah, did you come to a decision?”

Ed sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “While I can tell you some of the basic principles and show you some transmutations, I can’t teach you alchemy. I’m just not going to be in Japan long enough and alchemy’s the kind of thing that takes years to learn.” 

Even with Nezu, Ed wasn’t truly teaching him. He told Nezu about the principles of alchemy, explaining its laws and subfields and how it worked the way it worked, but he wasn’t teaching the stoat how to practice it. (Of course, Ed wouldn’t be surprised if Nezu could work backwards to understand that, despite lacking the ability to actually initiate any transmutations.)

“I figured as much,” Kanahoshi gave a wry smile. There was disappointment in the slump of his shoulders, but no anger, only acceptance. “It was a long shot to begin with.”

“That said…” Ed continued, a smirk stretching over his face. “Start studying up on your chemistry and work on drawing freehand circles in your spare time. Also look into renewing your passport.” Ed winked and raised his empty mug in salute. “When your next job opening comes around… maybe consider France, I hear the weather near the Atossan border is lovely this time of year.”

Kanahoshi stared, eyes wide in surprise, before he grinned. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

Ed’s smirk eased into a genuine smile and he laughed. “Plus I don’t know of any nearby deserted islands, I can’t teach alchemy without that.”

“What would you need a deserted island for?” Kanahoshi asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “Is alchemy that dangerous?”

“I mean, alchemy can be dangerous, which is why it takes a long time to study. But no, the island is for other alchemy reasons.” 

Kanahoshi raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Training!” Ed chirped.

Kanahoshi’s expression was of pure bafflement, and Ed thought it was hilarious. 

Over the next hour, Edward introduced Kanahoshi to some of the basic concepts in alchemy and in exchange, Kanahoshi gave Ed more instruction on how to use his cell phone. Ed ended up leaving with Kanahoshi’s contact information – which instead of a typical mailing address, was a number used to identify individual phones – and guidance on “texting” and “chats” – the instant mail delivery of the cell phone. Kanahoshi even set up a “chat” between himself and Ed…

…

U.A. Server – [Edward Elric, Affiliate]
Encryption Key: fr13nD5
Direct Message between [Toume Kanahoshi, 透明金星] and [Edward Elric]
Last Message Sent: 20 minutes ago

Kanahoshi
hello edward!
this is toume!
⭐️⭐️⭐️ 

Me
Kanahoshi,
I got an alarm on my “phone” with your name on it. This is the “chat” you were talking about? While the phone is incredible with all it can do, I have to admit, it is very hard to write with. Am I doing this correctly? Or is there something else I’m missing?
Sincerely,
Edward

Kanahoshi
no worries you’ve got it!
(＾▽＾)
tho with texting the rules are a bit more lax
no need to write like youre doing an email

Me
Kanahoshi,
So “texting” is meant to be different from “email?” In what way? Does it have to do with why your words and sentences are so abbreviated? And that odd… is that supposed to be a math equation? That’s a new one to me. Actually… it kind of resembles a face… Am I seeing things?
Sincerely,
Edward

Kanahoshi
yep! texting is basically short-form email
don’t need for sign offs or addresses
I already know Im talking to you because this is our chat
plus you can look at usernames
and the face is a kaomoji!
theyre used to convey emotions since thats hard through text
for example this
ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ
might express happiness!

Me
Got it! That makes sense, I’ll take those out.
So texting uses the less formal form of Japanese then?
And you fragment your speech more? 
Also, would this count as one of your so-called kaomoji? See below:
(9-9) = 0

Kanahoshi
the formality of texting depends on the person and situation
and kaomoji arent usually math equations but yes
(9-9) looks like someone stressed to me

Me
So the kaomoji are used to express emotions and what you are “doing”? 
Or can they be used for any purpose?

Kanahoshi
anything!

Me
Well, if that’s the case:
(o･ω･o)
I found a button for them on my cell phone! I really enjoy this one:
(ノಠ益ಠ)ノ彡┻━┻

Kanahoshi
something tells me Ive unleashed something.

Me
(ｏ￣∀￣)ノ
You are a wise man, Kanahoshi.
My brother Alphonse is going to love these. 
And since they’re made with typeface symbols, 
I can include them on my typed and written reports…
( •̀ω’• )

Kanahoshi
if anyone asks you discovered them yourself

…

Edward chuckled at Kanahoshi’s response, sending a half dozen more of the ‘kaomoji’. There were so many of them and in so many forms that his fingers started to cramp as he scrolled through the list. He was definitely going to figure out how to make some of these and put them in his typed reports. Mustang might have escaped Ed’s handwriting and frequent doodles, but now he had a new weapon…

Ed’s cackles followed him all the way to his office.

For several hours, Edward buried his head in history books, old criminal case files from Japan and beyond, and half sensical urban legends about All for One and Wanyūdo. By the time he dragged himself up for air, he was squinting at the digital numerals displaying “16:00” with a mixture of confusion and irritation.

“Ugh,” Ed grunted, shoving back from his desk and rubbing his eyes. “Already?”

He blinked a few times, focusing his vision past his papers and swallowed, trying to relieve the scratchy ache in his throat. A little voice in the back of his head that sounded like Al told him to go drink water and take a walk. 

“Good idea Al,” Ed muttered.

A few minutes later he was wandering the campus grounds, hands shoved in his pockets. The U.A. grounds were hardly the forests and fields around Resembool, but they did remind Ed of the public parklands that could be found in Central and East City. 

Ed didn’t have a destination in mind as he walked, content to enjoy being outside and away from his paperwork and research. He skirted past numerous large buildings and a few large fields, on one of which some students appeared to be testing a full sized trebuchet. On another, two students were duelling each other with their quirks, one waving their sword-like arms while vines tried to drag them into the earth.

Yep, a lot like East City. Except it was a trebuchet instead of a cannon and the alchemy battle was two students with non-alchemic powers.

Edward was looping back towards the main building, passing some smaller training fields when one particular figure caught his eye. They were doing gymnastic acrobatics in the dirt-covered clearing, acrobatics rather similar to those Ed himself often engaged in, except with one key difference. This kid was using a tail to do it.

Pausing, Ed watched the teenager curiously. His eyes widened, impressed, as the kid used his tail to push off from the ground and various surfaces, twisting into acrobatic attacks. Ed guessed the kid must have had martial arts training; his movements were experienced in a way that spoke of frequent practice.

The kid was good, there was no doubt about that. Ed couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to fight with a tail, but this teenager had made it the basis of his whole technique. 

…Almost too much, if Ed was being honest. The kid used his arms and legs, sure, but he was focusing almost all of his movements and attacks around his tail. Ed wasn’t experienced in tail martial arts but he knew enough about physics to say that even with a tail the teenager should be able to punch and kick. Hell, he’d be more effective at it with a tail.

“He could end up getting himself in deep shit if he doesn’t fix that,” Ed muttered quietly. 

Maybe he should… ? No. It wasn’t any of his business. He shouldn’t go around criticizing people’s fighting styles just cause it was inefficient or Ed thought he could do better. But… U.A. was a ‘Hero’ school and if this kid could be one of them… it wouldn’t be right to let such a skilled martial artist miss out on a whole other realm of fighting tactics… 

“Alphonse would roast you alive for this,” Ed told himself even as he walked a few steps closer. He could even hear Al’s voice now, his conscience. Big Brother, it’s very rude and inconsiderate to criticize people. If they ask for critique, you can give it. How would you like it if someone told you your fighting style was bad and to fix it?

Head-Al was right, of course. But unfortunately, blunt and rude was kind of Ed’s brand.

“Nice moves!” Ed called out to the student, who jerked and whipped around to face him. “Consider using your arms and legs more! If someone grabs your tail, you’re gonna want to use your legs to kick them off.” The student blinked at him, looking more than a little offended. Fair, Ed was already blunt by Amestrian standards and Japan had a lot more respect in its culture, and that was before Ed critiqued someone’s fighting style

“Plus, the tail would give good momentum and balance for kicks.” Ed demonstrated, or attempted to, twisting and swinging his leg up to deliver a slowed down high kick to the air. “Kinda like that. Your center of gravity is different so you’d need to modify it, probably turn 360 so you have enough momentum with your tail.”

The student continued staring at him, then slowly shifted his weight, mimicking Ed’s stance and then doing his own version of the kick. “Like that?”

Ed nodded, taking the question as an invitation to come closer, stopping a few meters away from the kid. “Yeah! Your tail’s an excellent counterbalance, so you should be able to perform kicks a lot better than most people. The biggest issue with a kick is how off balance it puts you and how extended you are, it’s easy for your opponent to take advantage of that.”

The student nodded slightly, though his brow was furrowed in confusion. “But, my arms and legs aren’t part of my quirk…”

Truth, everything was about quirks wasn’t it?

“The quirk is part of you,” Ed said, rolling his eyes. He jabbed a finger in the kid’s direction. “You are the one fighting, not your quirk.”

The kid stared at him, and Ed sighed. “Look, what’s your name?”

“Ojiro.”

“Look Ojiro, you fight good, I can tell that much. Your tail should be part of your fighting style, but it’s not your whole body and can’t be the only way you fight. Hell, you could probably do a kick with both feet by balancing on your tail! I can’t demonstrate exactly but just—” Ed bent his knees then jumped vertically, kicking both feet out before landing again. It was very awkward, but hey, Ed wasn’t the one with a tail here. “Like that, but use your tail to brace.”

“Like a kangaroo?” Ojiro asked, now looking intrigued.

“I have no idea what that is, but if that helps, sure,” Ed said with a shrug, mentally making a note to look up what a ‘kangaroo’ was. Ojiro slowly nodded, warming to the ideas, and Ed turned to leave. Advice, given. Mission, success. “Well, I’ve probably disturbed you enough–”

“Wait,” Ojiro called and Ed turned back, raising an eyebrow. “You have some good points,” Ojiro hummed, tail coming up to hook over his shoulder. As he spoke, the student played with the hair that tipped his tail. “…Would you be able to explain and show me more later?”

“Uh, sure.” 

He could show the kid a few moves, why not? 

“Thank you! Tomorrow’s the start of our weekend… how’s eight in the morning?” Ed, a bit blindsided by the sudden enthusiasm, nodded. Ojiro grinned. “How about the spot near Gym Alpha? Oh, and can I bring some friends? I think they’d appreciate learning more about hand-to-hand combat. If you’re willing, that is!”

Ed blinked at the questions, eventually shrugging and giving a nod. “Eh, why not?”

“Cool!” Ojiro’s grin stretched wider. “Thanks, uh… what was your name?”

“Edward,” Ed said, giving a shallow bow as he turned back towards the main path. “And no problem, see you later I guess?”

Ojiro waved, turning back to his training field. “Yeah. Thanks Edward, see you later!” Ojiro restarted his acrobatics, and this time Ed could see him brainstorming ways to add his arms and legs to the equation. Good.

Edward turned back to the path and continued on his walk for all of three minutes before he stopped, blinked, and realized the implications of what he’d just agreed to. Shit, was this legal? Ed wasn’t particularly worried about the Amestrian legal code, he’d stopped caring about that moral quandary when he was eleven. But, getting thrown in jail here in Japan would be a bit of an issue. Plus, he had a murder and kidnapping case he needed to solve… 

“… It’ll be a better use of my time than sifting through the same documents for the third time?” Ed offered. He needed a break anyway, he’d been getting frustrated with the case and his lack of progress. This would be a good way to focus on something else for a little while, and make a good martial artist even better. 

…Except, he didn’t know where Gym Alpha was. Or what a kangaroo was.

…

Direct Message between [Toume Kanahoshi, 透明金星] and [Edward Elric]
Last Message Sent: 6 hours ago

Me
Kanahoshi, where is “Gym Alpha?” It is allegedly located on U.A.’s main campus.
Also, what is a kangaroo? I am unfamiliar with the term.

Kanahoshi
[Map of U.A.png]
its the first gym in the complex used for melee combat.
[kangaroo.png]
and this is a kangaroo
theyre an animal from australia.
why?

Me
Once again, isn’t U.A. supposed to be a high school? Is this a campus or a small country? 
I’m certain this place is bigger than the whole of Amestrian Central Command. 
And that’s the seat of government for the entire country.
On the kangaroo: I see the similarities. 
As for your question, I am teaching your students to fight better. 
My own teacher would be sorely disappointed in them.

Kanahoshi
Nezu help us

RatGod [Nezu]
No can do, Kanahoshi! I do believe this will be very useful to young Ojiro

Me
Kanahoshi, I thought this was meant to be a two-person exchange? 
Did saying Nezu’s name summon him and include him in our “chat”?

Kanahoshi
Nezu dont make me pull out the forms on breaches of employee privacy

RatGod [Nezu]
Of course not, I was never here.
I appreciate you giving some guidance to Ojiro, Edward!
Bye~

Me
Kanahoshi, I have concerns.

Kanahoshi
yeah he does that

…

That night, Edward stared out of his window, spinning a pen between his fingers. His encounter with Ojiro, and Yaoyorozu’s words from their conversation a couple days before, continued to bounce in his head.

My class, 1A, we’ve been targeted by villains before… several times. I know the school is doing its best to protect us but it is difficult to not be worried. All we can do is prepare and work to become the best Heroes we can be, so that we can meet any threat we are faced with.

Ed let out a slow breath, spinning the pen around one final time. Right. He couldn’t do anything to improve these kids' situations with their “villains,” but he could at least make sure that they would win the fight, or survive long enough to get out of it. There was one problem though…

“How am I supposed to teach kids?” Ed asked, leaning back in his chair. 

Hmm… Well, what would his Teacher do? Izumi Curtis had taught him nearly everything he knew, and her teachings had saved his life too many times to count. He couldn’t teach the kids everything they needed, but hell, they were at a school. Ed would just be giving them some… intensive extra credit life training. 

Ed rocked back upright, clicking his pen. He only had a few days until he had to go back to work on the case, so he’d better make sure every minute counted. He was scribbling notes into his journal, when a lightbulb flicked into place. Shinsou could use this training too, same with some of the other kids at the school. Edward tapped the pen against his teeth. He needed to find Shinsou, but how? 

… Hold on. Ed pulled out his phone, navigating to the U.A. server that Kanahoshi had made their “chat” in and following the steps that Kanahoshi had, typed in the correct address to open a new exchange.

…

U.A. Server – [Edward Elric, Affiliate]
Encryption Key: w3lk0m32hend
Direct Message between Edward Elric [Elric] and RatGod [Nezu]

Edward Elric [Elric]
Nezu, 
Can you tell a purple haired kid named Shinsou to meet me for training at Gym Alpha tomorrow at 8 in the morning? I don’t know the phone address to contact him at.
Sincerely,
Edward

RatGod [Nezu] changed Edward Elric [Elric] ’s name to AtossanAlchemist [Elric]

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
You can change names in these “chats”? 
Doesn’t that make knowing who you’re writing confusing?
Also, that alias is a bit on the nose.

RatGod [Nezu]
Certainly!
Any other students you wish to join?

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Maybe? I’m not sure who needs it most. Hero students probably? 
But any of the kids would do well to learn. 
Do you know who Ojiro is inviting?
I’ll be doing this over the coming weekend.

RatGod [Nezu]
I know for certain he, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu will be there.
It’s highly probable that other students will wish to join after they see what you’re up to.

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Oh good, Yaoyorozu is coming, I was hoping she would.
And other students joining is fine, I’ll plan ahead. 
It’ll make it harder to teach but on the other hand, it’s that many more kids I can keep from getting killed.

RatGod [Nezu]
I’m sure the faculty would love to be involved. 
They are our students after all.
Sugaku (Ectoplasm) would likely be a great help.

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Ectoplasm… he’s the one with duplication right?
That would be great, actually. It would make sure we can work with all the students and they all can have a chance to go up against an experienced opponent, or, see how I fight. 
Except… How do his clones respond to harm?
Do we need to worry about him accumulating injuries through them?

RatGod [Nezu]
No worries, Sugaku can spread his consciousness over his duplicates
And if one is harmed or dissolved, he is not physically harmed as well

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Thanks, good to know. 
I’ll assume you can contact Sugaku, since I don’t know his phone address.
Alright, time to give these kids an Edward Elric bootcamp.
It’s time to channel what Teacher taught me.

The next morning Edward found himself facing a gaggle of students, who spun to face him as he pushed open the doors to Gym Alpha.

“Morning!”

“You!”

“Elric-san!”

The three teenagers – Ojiro, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu – paused for a second, then exchanged glances, all clearly thinking: Wait, you know him too?!  

“Morning, it is I, and hey again,” Ed said, nodding to each of the three. “Good to see you’re on time. Welcome to combat training, maybe you’ll survive.” Ed strode past the students, heading over to the padded floor mats, where he dumped his bag and coat. Behind him, he heard some rather heated whispers, presumably the teenagers determining where they all knew him from. 

Ed wasn’t that loud when he was fifteen… okay. He was. But he intended to be! Dismissing the memories, Ed walked back to the teenagers who promptly turned to face him. 

“Is there anyone else coming?” Yaoyorozu asked. “Other 1A students?”

“1A… your class, right?” 

When Yaoyorozu nodded, Ed shrugged. “We’re just waiting on one more I think…” On cue, the doors creaked open again and Ed craned his neck around to look. “Ah, Shinsou!” Ed waved the purple haired student over. “Good to see you made it!”

“Yeah, Nezu was rather… nonspecific…” Shinsou muttered, side eyeing the other students, who were eyeing him closely in turn. Ugh, of course, teenage drama.

“What is he doing here?” Ojiro snapped, surprisingly defensive as he glared at Shinsou. 

Ed raised an eyebrow, glancing between the 1A students and Shinsou. “I figured this would be more productive than trying to find a kappa, so I invited him.” Shinsou groaned at the reminder while Edward narrowed his eyes. “Play nice kids. I’m not expecting you to solve your drama, but I am asking you to put it aside while I teach you to punch each other’s lights out.”

He strode to the center of the mats, forcing the students to follow. Once the floor had turned cushioned beneath his feet, Ed turned to look over his little ducklings.

“Alright, who has prior training?”

As it turned out, all four had some basic experience, though it mostly amounted to ‘when you punch, keep your arm straight and your thumb on the outside of the fist.’ Of the four, Ojiro and one of the girls, Uraraka, if Ed was remembering right, had actually taken a class. “I’ve done some training in Gunhead martial arts!” Uraraka explained, giving a toothy smile. “He’s a Hero that focuses on close quarters combat.”

“All right,” Ed quirked his lips in a smile. “Uraraka, Ojiro, I want the two of you to spar. Yeah, Uraraka?” he said when the girl raised her hand.

“Are we using our quirks?” Uraraka asked. She splayed the fingers of her hands, turning her palms to face Ed. “I have a five-point touch quirk.” Five-point touch quirk… so all her fingers needed to contact the surface for it to work?  

“In this instance, I want to see you fight without using your quirk, and for Ojiro, use your tail but try using your entire body, not just your tail, okay?” Uraraka nodded and briefly excused herself, returning with some fabric-like sticky tape she used to wrap the tips of her fingers. Ed nodded in approval and then Uraraka and Ojiro squared off on the mats. 

The two students started circling each other and then, by some unspoken signal, charged. Ed watched the two teenagers fight, eyes flicking with their movements. Ojiro was the more experienced of the two in hand-to-hand combat and it seemed he’d taken Ed’s words to heart, using his tail to increase his mobility while attacking with his arms and legs. On the other hand, Uraraka was less experienced but used what she knew creatively and had a great deal of persistence to boot.

However, both of them had room for improvement. Ojiro’s formal training echoed in his behavior, slight hesitations where he expected his opponent to stay down once pinned or follow certain ‘guidelines’. Uraraka was crafty and had less ingrained ‘rules’ in her style of fighting, but Ed could see moments where she anticipated using her quirk, slapping Ojiro with the flat of her hand and hesitating as she waited for him to start floating.

“That’s enough!” Ed called once Ojiro had pinned Uraraka down. The two broke apart, Ojiro helping his classmate to her feet. “That was good,” Ed complimented as they rejoined him, Shinsou and Yaoyorozu. “One thing though—”

Edward dropped, whirling around and sweeping Ojiro’s legs out from under him. The boy fell, catching himself with his tail and sending Ed a betrayed look. “Hey!”

“You know how to fight to capture, I’m teaching you how to fight to survive. To use every advantage you have,” Ed said as he stood back up, looking between his students. “When you’re fighting for your life, there is no fighting dirty. Yeah, you guys were in a mock battle, your lives weren’t actually in danger, but you had expectations, of rules and of quirks. That builds bad habits.”

The students nodded and Ed grinned. “Alright, next up! Time to show you the importance for balance and your center of gravity.”

The next half hour saw the students attempting to remain standing on one leg – save Ojiro, who was doing a modified exercise balancing on the tip of his tail – while Ed demonstrated defying gravity. “Balance means form and form dictates how you fight,” Ed explained as he stood on one foot, arching his other leg above his head like a ballerina. “In being balanced, you are aware of every part of your body and where it is, which means that when you fight, you’re moving with intention and can respond quicker, instead of flailing around, wasting energy.

“Alright,” Ed ordered, once they’d all found a balance point. “Switch legs, can't let you get too comfortable.“

“Ow, ow,” Shinsou muttered as he shifted. “Goddamn, your muscles must be made of steel. What planet do you come from?”

“Atossa, though as for my Teacher… who knows,” Ed said dryly as he cartwheeled to stand on both feet. When he glanced back, Ojiro and Shinsou were gaping at him. “Why are you so shocked? They knew.” He gestured to Yaoyorozu and Uraraka, to whom Ojiro and Shinsou turned their staring for a brief second before snapping their gazes back to him.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Ojiro asked incredulously.

“Yeah?” Ed shrugged. “There’s a reason I’m an expert in fighting quirkless… it’s literally what everyone does over there.” He surveyed his students with a critical eye. “Also means I’m better at seeing that quirks are giving you all a major blindspot. Now, you balance and try to stay that way while I throw things at you.”

Several bruises and falls later and Ed let them take a short break to hydrate, snickering at their groans of aching muscles. “Consider yourselves lucky,” Ed laughed as he helped Shinsou to his feet. “My Teacher used knives when she was teaching me and my brother this.”

“Remind me never to meet your Teacher,” Shinsou mumbled as he took Ed’s hand. The teenager groaned as he stood on both feet, immediately doubling over to rub his calves. “Oof, I wish I could brainwash someone to do this for me.”

“Whadda mean?” Ed asked and Shinsou stiffened slightly. 

“Oh uh… just my quirk, Brainwashing,” the boy said, his eyes flitting to the ground. “It lets me uh… basically hypnotize someone if they respond to me?”

Mind control? Ed blinked incredulously. Was Shinsou being serious or… Ah, what the shit, he probably was. Goddamned quirks.

“That’s cool,” Ed hummed, curious despite his minor internal crisis. “How does that even work? What counts as a response? Can you like… remotely puppet someone from a distance or do they need verbal orders? Does the person retain their skills when under the influence?”

“Uh…” 

Shinsou looked a little blindsided by the questions, so Edward huffed an apology. “Ah, sorry, nevermind. Go get some water before you keel over from dehydration.” 

After the students returned from their rest break, Ed paired them off. Uraraka and Yaoyorozu on one side, and Shinsou and Ojiro went to the other. Shinsou smirked at Ojiro, one eyebrow raised in challenge as he approached the other teenager. “Any chance of us talking it out?”

Ojiro snorted, his eyes narrowed. “No using your quirk, Shinsou. Besides, you definitely need training if you seriously need your quirk to hit me.”

“It is a good point, though,” Ed interrupted, looking between his students. “Shinsou’s skill set means he could stop the fight without there being a fight. People won’t get injured. Yeah, he definitely needs to work on his physical strength because if he does get into a fight someone is going to snap him like a twig, but…”

Ed scratched his cheek, ignoring Shinsou’s mildly offended look. “The fact is, most of the time you can resolve a situation without it ever coming down to a fight. That, and there are some problems that you simply can’t punch.” Ed turned to Shinsou. “Take some classes in psychology and situation de-escalation. That plus your quirk… congrats, you’ve handled 95% of any conflicts you might find yourself in.”

Shinsou blinked, then gave a slow nod. “I’ll… I’ll do that.”

“That goes double for the rest of you too,” Ed looked back over his other students. “Shinsou’s quirk gives him a trump card, but that just means it’s even more important for you to know how to deescalate a situation with your words. Got it?”

“Yes sir!” The students chorused.

“I like the enthusiasm, now…” Ed rolled back on his heels, then lunged forward, grinning as Yaoyorozu dodged aside. “For your next task, we’re going to be trying a game of ‘tag’. I’ll be hunting all of you, and you must try to avoid my attacks, and keep your partner ‘alive’ as well.”

There was a brief pause and then, showing they were learning, Ed’s students sprinted away from him. He cackled and gave chase.

After several hours, Edward let his students take an hour-long lunch break. They wandered off to get food and Ed did the same, taking a brief break to scream into his pillow about ‘how the hell do I teach teenagers’ and ‘Teacher’s even more astounding than I thought how did she do this’. Upon his return to the gym, Ed’s eyebrows raised as he saw his student population had more than tripled. 

“What’s all this then?” Ed asked as he looked over the new assembled students in addition to the old.

“We were hoping we could join as well, sir,” one of the new students said from where she stood next to Shinsou. “Shinsou was telling me about what you’re doing and… we’d like to learn too, if you’ll have us.”

“Sure,” Ed nodded, mentally revising some of his lesson plans to accommodate more students. “Go get changed into some exercise clothes and meet back here, yeah?”

The students nodded, hurrying off and Ed busied himself with preparations. It was only when some startled shouts came that he jerked up, striding over to see what the fuss was about. He spotted Yaoyorozu and another student fending off a small, grape-like kid, who was practically hanging off them, hands pawing at their legs.

“What’s going on here?” Edward snapped, his attention focused on Grape. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Grape-Kid stuttered out an answer as Ed bodily picked him up by the back of his uniform, twisting around to put himself between Grape and Yaoyorozu. “Are you alright?” Ed asked quietly, glancing between her and her other friend.

“I’m fine,” Yaoyorozu said, letting out a breath. “It’s not the first time.”

“It’s not?” Edward snapped his gaze back to Grape, eyes narrowing. He caught himself, taking a deep breath. “Alright, you two, take a break. Get some chocolate from the vending machine– kick the bottom, that’ll make it come out faster. I’ll be back in fifteen or so minutes.”

He stepped several paces away then put Grape on the ground, away from the other students. “With me,” Ed ordered and then led the Grape out of the gym, heading for some benches across the way. “Sit,” Ed said, gesturing to the benches. The kid pulled himself onto one of the benches and sat, relaxing as he leaned back while Ed took a seat opposite.

“What’s your name, kid?” Ed asked, looking the kid in the eyes.

“Mineta,” he said and Ed nodded. 

“Alright, Mineta,” Edward leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Why do you think I brought you out here?”

“Because I did something that you have to scold me for, yadda, yadda, yadda,” Mineta rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Probably gonna tell me to ‘tone it down’ and ‘don’t be so obvious,’ all that.”

Ed eyed the child levelly. “You said that you did something that I had to scold you for. But, not that you did anything wrong?”

Mineta huffed, but despite the nonchalance, Ed noticed his fingers start twisting together. Interesting… now he was getting nervous? “No? The girls are there looking all hot and stuff, it’d be wrong to not go for it.”

Keep calm, Fullmetal. Ed exhaled, long and slow. “Why did you think that was okay?”

“Uh, cause it is?” Mineta crossed his arms, giving Ed an odd look.

Again. Inhale, exhale. Ed purposefully eased the tension in his muscles. Right, new approach. “Mineta, what do you think of a Hero, as?”

“Hmph,” Mineta shifted in his seat, drumming his fingers on his arm. “Someone who is popular, famous and gets all the girls, yeah?” 

Dear Truth, sometimes Ed hated cultural differences. 

“Alright, what would you define a ‘villain’ as?”

Mineta instantly snapped his gaze to Ed, incensed. “I’m not a villain! Who the fuck do you think you are, trying to lecture me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ed said flatly. “Now, humor me. What would you define a ‘villain’ as?”

Mineta scowled, sitting stiffly as he wrinkled his nose and glared into the middle distance. “Someone who opposes Heroes?” Oh sweet merciful manipulative Alphonse, give him strength. Ed raised an eyebrow, beckoning the kid to continue. “Uh… someone who does bad things?”

“What would you classify as ‘bad’?”

“Uh, breaking the law?” Mineta asked, screwing up his face. “Killing people? Stealing stuff? Slavery?”

Ed nodded. “And what do those have in common?”

“Is there a point to this?” Mineta hissed, shifting in place and evidently wanting to be anywhere but here. “I don’t care about this philosophy crap.”

“Alright, alright,” Edward waved a hand to calm the kid. “From my point of view, here’s what several of those elements have in common, why they are considered ‘bad’. Stealing is wrong, because you are taking something that isn’t yours, correct?” Mineta narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but gave an affirmative shrug. “Alright, and, killing, slavery… in essence, you are robbing someone of their bodily freedom and autonomy, objectifying and dehumanizing them. That is ‘villainous’ behavior. Would you agree?”

Mineta squirmed, eyes flicking away from Ed, before eventually he slumped and nodded, ducking his head.

Edward took a breath, leaning down to Mineta’s eye level, even though the kid was still staring at his shoes. “Mineta, what you did was very disrespectful. You were violating your classmates’ autonomy, objectifying them, acting as if they were yours.”

Mineta’s hands were shaking.

“Mineta, by your own definition, that is the behavior of a ‘villain’.”

“But I’m not!” Mineta screamed, voice cracking. “I’m not a villain! I’m not! I’m a Hero!”

Mineta dissolved into sobbing, shrieking and wailing about everything and nothing in particular. It continued for several minutes but Ed just looked on, impassive. As the hiccuping coughs faded, Edward finally spoke up. “Mineta, your actions have not been ‘heroic’. You have harmed others, inexcusably.”

“Who the fuck are you to say that?” Mineta snarled around snot and tears.

Ed huffed. “It shouldn’t matter who I am but… Edward Elric, emissary from Amestris and the continent of Atossa.” Mineta gaped and Ed quirked a tired, half smile. “If you’d tried that back in Amestris… Hell, General Armstrong would have gutted you with her sword and then put you in front of a firing squad for good measure.”

The two sat in silence for several more minutes, Ed letting Mineta ruminate. The kid had his arms wrapped around himself as he gave wet sniffles. Ed could only guess at what was going through the boy’s mind but if he had to guess… Mineta hadn’t had anyone explicitly tell this to him before and was having his worldview torn to pieces. After a time, Ed sighed, leaning his head back. He’d done what he could. At this point, the ball was in Mineta’s court. 

Edward looked over at Mineta. “You will not be attending any of my sparring lessons.”

“What?!” Mineta jerked his gaze back to Ed. “But, you can’t—”

“No,” Ed cut the child off. “I am teaching this class and therefore get to decide what is best for all my students.”

“But… I’ll apologize! I’ll tell Nezu and Aizawa-sensei!”

“You will do that, regardless. But your actions are not without consequences. Just as what you have said and done to Yaoyorozu and the others has severely hurt them, your actions mean you will not be participating. This is both to teach you a lesson, and for their wellbeing.” 

Mineta scowled, lips quivering as he folded into himself again.

“I need to head back, but I am sending you to the principal's office,” Ed said as he stood up, dusting his pants off. “I will be telling Nezu to expect you. Got it?”

Mineta nodded as he slid off the bench. Ed waved him onward and with a few glances back, the student headed back towards the main U.A. building. Edward watched him go, exhaustion settling in his bones. Some problems you can’t punch. With a sigh, Ed pulled out his phone, finding his text exchange with Nezu.

…

Direct Message between AtossanAlchemist [Elric] and RatGod [Nezu]
Last Message Sent: 18 hours ago

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Nezu, I’ve sent Mineta to your office. 
He should arrive soon, and explain what’s going on.
If he doesn’t, I’m sure you have your ways.
I expect you to handle this properly.

…

Edward shoved the phone back in his pocket and strode back to the gym, ducking through the doors. Inside, Yaoyorozu and the other students rose to their feet, shifting uncertainty as he approached.

“What happened?” Uraraka asked, clearly noticing Mineta’s absence, eyes flicking to the empty space at his side. “What were you doing?”

Ed huffed. “Diplomacy.”

“Come on, Sparkles!” Ashido groaned, pulling Yuga along behind her. “It’s combat training! I know you’re focusing on ranged combat, but you really need to improve your footwork and your noodle arms aren’t going to do much.”

“Mademoiselle, I cannot,” Yuga insisted, trying to weasel out of Ashido’s hold without dragging his heels in the dirt. Behind him, Kirishima and Kaminari snickered at his predicament, sadly making no move to release Yuga. Even Tokoyami didn’t make a move to aid him, just looking on with amusement. (Though of course, why would they want to?)

“Why not, Aoyama?” Kaminari asked once he’d stopped laughing. “You know Mina’s right about your noodle arms.”

Yuga sniffed. “It simply wouldn’t align with my style!” he crowed, flipping his hair back. “Physical combat could damage my gorgeous complexion!” 

(I don’t want to learn to fight, I don’t want to be here, it just makes me more of a weapon for him to use.)

“Couldn’t you torment Bakugou or Sero instead?” Yuga asked instead, clutching his chest and giving Ashido an injured look.

Ashido stuck her lip out in a pout, sighing dramatically. “I wish! From what I could make out around the shouting, Bakugou has to attend a remedial class with Hound Dog part of this weekend.” She huffed. “He’s been blowing up the group chat since he found out we’re doing a training course, he’s so pissed.”

“Probably blowing up his phone too,” Kaminari snorted. “As for Hanta, he’s off visiting his moms this weekend.” He sighed longingly. “I hope he brings back some of their cookies, I haven’t had sweets in so long…”

Ashido rolled her eyes. “You get Sato’s cooking, stop complaining!” She glanced back at Yuga, giving a dazzling grin on par with Yuga’s own. “Trust me, this is gonna be great! Uraraka said it’s being taught by a guest instructor, how cool is that?”

Ashido continued chatting until they reached the entrance to Gym Alpha. Inside, there were a few dozen students, some from 1A and some that Yuga vaguely recognized from 1B, along with other students he didn’t know. As the minutes passed, the room slowly filled with a few more students, all looking around curiously.

“Alright, listen up!” 

Yuga swiveled his head towards the voice, the mass of students shifting as they all did the same, looking towards the main part of the gym. Yuga spotted Ectoplasm-sensei walking over, tailing a young man. Yuga blinked, eyes wide with recognition. Wasn’t that the Amestrian ambassador? The same guy that had found Yuga and Tokoyami training in the woods the other night? What was he doing here?

“I’m Edward Elric, and I’m gonna be teaching you kids,” the Amestrian barked, stopping in front of them, his golden gaze sweeping over the crowd. 

“Kids?” a voice called out, thick with disbelief. “You’re no older than us!”

“If you’ve got a problem, I’m not forcing you to be here,” Elric said, raising an eyebrow. “Stay or go, makes no difference to me, but if you’re here, I’m gonna teach you how to fight and how to not die.” He strode in front of them and though he was short, his presence radiated outwards. “I did this yesterday so if you’re new, you’re already late to the party, but that just means you’re gonna have to train harder.”

“What about those of us who don’t have training?” somebody, presumably from the General Education department, asked.

“Lucky you,” Elric grinned, eyes bright. “You won’t have to unlearn bad habits!”

“What about quirks?” another student asked.

The Amestrian raised an eyebrow. “What about them?” 

The student huffed. “Well, when are we gonna get to fight with them?” 

“You’re not,” Elric said flatly. “You’ve got a whole school here that teaches you how to do that. I’m here to teach you how to fight without quirks, because from what I can see you’re focusing on them too much at the expense of the rest of your abilities. You need to learn to fight with all of yourself, not just with a quirk.”

“We’re fighting quirkless?!”

“Is every one of you going to question me?” Elric asked, throwing his hands in the air. He spun around, looking back at Ectoplasm. “Oi, Sugaku, let’s move that spar demonstration up.” Elric looked back at his audience. “Door’s right over there if you want out, but here, since I’m apparently speaking Amestrisch, let me show you what I mean in a language you understand: Heroes and Villains.”

Elric and Ectoplasm-sensei strode to the center of the mats, and after a slight hesitation, the crowd followed, skirting around the edges of the gym to watch. 

“This should prove interesting,” Yuga flinched in surprise as Tokoyami spoke up next to him, quickly schooling his expression into a lazy smirk. He sent the dark bird a questioning look, one glittering eyebrow raised. “I fought against Ectoplasm-sensei for our finals, he excels at close-combat. I’m curious to see what Elric’s plan is.”

“Hmph, whatever. Truth seeker or not, he was rude,” Dark Shadow grumbled, curling around Tokoyami’s shoulder. “‘What about quirks.' What am I, old meat?”

Truth seeker. Yuga suppressed a shiver at the strange nickname. While Tokoyami spoke a few quiet words to his quirk, Yuga looked back to the mats, where Elric was squaring off against Ectoplasm. “Watch closely,” Elric called, his voice projecting across the massive room. “In this fight, I will take the role of the ‘villain’, and Ectoplasm will be the ‘hero’.”

The two stood nearly a dozen meters apart, then bowed to each other, hands absent of weapons or quirks. For a brief second they were motionless… and then Elric flew forward, a brief crackle of light following in his wake. As Elric moved, Ectoplasm opened his mouth, vomiting up the ectoplasm for which he was named. The viscous fluid pooled on the floor and duplicates of Ectoplasm rose out of the thick substance, darting towards Elric.

Yuga lost track of the real Ectoplasm as several dozen clones swarmed the Amestrian, practically dogpiling him. But then Elric became a blur of flickering metal. It looked like Ashido’s breakdancing given combat form. By the time Yuga had processed that Elric had punched through one clone, the Amestrian was already spinning around and sweeping his leg through another, the strange sword he’d pulled from nowhere drawing a glittering arc through the air.

“The clones are relatively weak,” Tokoyami murmured as they watched the carnage, images of their teacher dissolving into goop. “They go down with one strong blow.” 

Yuga shivered as he watched Elric tear his way through the clones like paper. If there was ever a time for the term cannon fodder, this was it. The clones threw themselves at Elric and though he tore them apart, several at a time, they just kept coming. Normally the numbers would have been enough, but the clones fell apart so easily that it barely made a difference.

Then something changed… There were only five Ectoplasms’ left on the field and Yuga blinked as he watched one take the Amestrian’s hits. Suddenly, the battle shifted. Elric began trading blows with the clones, twisting out of their reach and blocking their kicks before retaliating with his own. One clone tried to grapple Elric and then Elric was whirling around, a glittering metal arc following him. Yuga got a brief glimpse of head separating from body before the clone collapsed into viscous fluid. 

Something twisted in Yuga’s gut. Elric was using lethal blows. He was playing the Villain… but he wasn’t playing.

Ectoplasm seemed to be aware of this too. The clones started advancing again, working together in uncanny synchrony as they fought to restrain and disarm him. But where the clones were trying to restrain Elric without injuring him too badly, Elric had no such qualms. Ectoplasm managed to pin the Amestrian to the ground, which lasted all of a second before Elric was stabbing the offending clone in the shoulder and kicking them off.

The battle shifted again, the clones falling back as Elric stood upright, baring his teeth in a silent snarl. But Ectoplasm wasn’t done yet. 

The two remaining clones squared their shoulders, standing between Elric and a third duplicate that stepped from the sidelines… the real Ectoplasm. The thick sludge that covered the floor shifted, flowing backwards toward Yuga’s teacher. Elric shot forwards towards Ectoplasm, but was caught by the clones, the three descending into a whirl of blades and limbs.

“Is he doing that giant clone again?” Dark Shadow whispered, watching Ectoplasm. “Wait… you’re kidding me is that a mecha?!”

Yuga’s gaze darted back to the teacher, where the ectoplasmic fluid was covering his teacher from head to toe, burying him inside a mass of viscous fluid. As Yuga watched, the mass shifted and changed form, coalescing into a giant clone version of Ectoplasm… with his teacher in the center. 

Elric finished cutting down the last of Ectoplasm’s other clones, his head jerking up to see the giant organic “mecha”, three times the size of the usual Ectoplasm. Elric’s lips moved, and while Yuga couldn’t hear what the Amestrian said, he guessed it was something along the lines of: “What the hell.”

Mecha-Ectoplasm lurched forward, reaching for Elric, who darted backwards and out of range. Elric started weaving around Ectoplasm, blade slicing at the mecha’s legs, but it was like taking a butter knife to a cow hide. As Yuga watched, he realized the two were at a standstill. It was apparent that while the Amestrian couldn’t meaningfully harm Ectoplasm, Ectoplasm couldn’t hit Elric either.

The two combatants must have realized this too, as both suddenly stopped. Elric drew back and the Mecha-Ectoplasm sloughed away, sludge dissolving and revealing the true Ectoplasm at its center. The pair stood opposite, both breathing heavily, then bowed to each other and turned back to their audience.

“Alright,” Elric’s voice echoed in the gym, which had gone as quiet as a graveyard. “What did you notice about that fight?”

The hall was still. Elric huffed, then pointed at someone. “Come on, I’m not grading you on this.”

“Uh… numbers were working in Ectoplasm-sensei’s favor?” the student offered, one of the 1B kids if Yuga was remembering right. “Especially when he had those five clones that didn’t break apart, he had a few of them keep you busy so the others could attack.”

“Good,” Elric nodded. “What else?”

“Ectoplasm fought like he was aiming to capture you,” a more familiar student, Ojiro, said. “But you… you were…”

You were using lethal force, Yuga thought, but he did not speak up. (Why would he? He was the Sparkling Hero, extravagant, who embraced the popularity of being a Hero, whose only experience with villains were the attacks on his class.)

“You fought like a Villain,” someone said quietly.

“I fought like someone who doesn’t care if their opponent dies,” Elric corrected. “But yes, I was attacking with lethal force.” The gym broke into whispers and Elric continued. “In this case, the only reason I did so is because I knew Ectoplasm wouldn’t be harmed, however there is another point to this.”

The Amestrian swept his gaze around the gym, golden eyes steely. “When you get into a fight, treat it as a matter of survival for both yourself and the other person. I am not saying that all the people you fight are out to kill you, in fact, most of them won’t want to kill you. What I am saying is that when you get into a fight, the longer it goes on, the more likely you or other people around you will get hurt. 

“Do not waste time with theatrics. If you are in a fight, take it seriously and aim to end it quickly. If you do not, it could cost you your life, the life of your opponent, and the life of the people around you.”

Elric spread his arms widely. “That is what I am teaching you: how to end a fight in seconds, how to not die, how to use your whole body instead of being restricted to what a quirk can or can’t do.”

“D-didn’t you use a quirk?” a voice asked, the question floating above the hall.

Elric raised an eyebrow. “No, I didn’t.” He waved a hand behind him to where he and Ectoplasm had fought. “If you are skilled enough, you don’t need a quirk to go toe to toe with someone.”

“What about your arm though?”

“This?” Elric raised his right hand, the light catching on the half meter long sword that extended from his forearm. The Amestrian laughed, pulling up his torn sleeve to reveal that the metal continued up his arm. Wait… no, it was his arm— “This isn’t a quirk, it’s a prosthetic. Good ol’ technology.” Elric grinned, wide and sharp, his next sentence sending a wave of silent shock through the room.

“I’m quirkless.”

Yuga struggled to swallow around the imaginary hands that were suddenly enclosing his throat, choking him. Quirkless. It echoed in his mind like a gong. To be quirkless was a life sentence, to be imprisoned in a world that wasn’t made for you. It was one Yuga had traded at his parent’s behest for a different kind of sentence, imprisonment to the demon that walked in his shadow and held his life in puppet strings.

And yet here was Elric, a quirkless Atossan, who couldn’t care less.

It was a slap in the face, antithetical to what Yuga knew, what he’d been told. Where Yuga hid that he’d been quirkless for half his life in a box of shame and fear, here was Elric, reveling in it. He was proud to be quirkless and though Yuga knew Elric possessed power, a power he called ‘alchemy’, he hadn’t even used it.

No… Elric had shown you didn’t need a quirk to win. That you didn’t need a quirk.

(If he was more like Elric… could he have avoided all this? He wouldn’t have met his classmates, but what was he to them anyways? A liar. A traitor. He was the one who’d brought them trouble and villains. It was his fault. All of it.)

Elric was speaking again, the crowd moving and shifting, but Yuga couldn’t hear. The world was drowned out by the high pitched whine in his ears, the lump of lead and acid eating him apart from the inside.

his fault his fault his fault

Yuga desperately wanted to leave, wanted to escape, get away from the could-have-been that stalked the floor of the gym. (Away from his class, away from All for One and his puppet strings.) But he couldn’t. Tokoyami had quietly partnered with him and Ashido was right, Yuga’s hand to hand combat was pitiful. He couldn’t leave, it’d just bring up questions, which left him with no choice but to stay.

(The thought of leaving tantalized him. All for One had been defeated by All Might, Yuga must be free, right? But no… the Wanyūdo’s threads stretched deep, a passerby’s whisper telling him he couldn’t leave, there was work yet to be done.)

Together, Yuga and Tokoyami worked through the exercises that Elric and Ectoplasm gave. Yuga was given some consolation in that Tokoyami was just as bad as him when it came to close quarters combat. They had both been focusing on ranged fighting since it suited their quirks, however it was very clear that by the end of this weekend, Elric was going to make sure they could throw and take a punch.

He was very strange, Elric. The Amestrian couldn’t care less about their quirks. Well… that wasn’t entirely correct. He cared about them in his own way, observing them with curiosity and bafflement. But when he’d come to correct their forms or direct them to spar, he’d only ask their names. Not their quirks. 

“I care about you, not your quirks,” Shoji had quoted to Yuga and Ojiro when they stopped to rest. Yuga figured he was working too hard, his stomach kept squeezing with nausea. “I don’t really get it, though. Like, I am my quirk.” Shoji waved the arm that his mouth was on demonstratively.

“I think I get it,” Ojiro hummed. “It’s like… he pointed out how I was focusing too much on fighting with my tail. Which was weird, because that’s my quirk and that’s what I fight with, but like, I think he means fighting ‘holistically.’ Your quirk or aspects of your quirk, like my tail or your arms, are just one of the tools you can use.”

Shoji hummed, nodding and Yuga let the two be, wandering back to Tokoyami with the words buzzing in his brain. He didn’t need the rest anymore… the nausea wasn’t from fighting.

Eventually, what Yuga didn’t realize he was dreading came to fruition. 

Elric appeared next to him and Tokoyami, inspecting their stances with a critical eye. “Try this,” the Amestrian said, mimicking Yuga’s stance and then adjusting it slightly. “Spread your feet a bit more, lower your weight, that’ll keep you grounded better. And when you punch—” Elric did so, punching the air in front of them. “Don’t just punch out, that’s only got the strength of your arm behind it, it’s a love tap. If you’re hitting, you need to put your weight into it, move with it.”

Elric punched again, but this time Yuga could see the force behind it, Elric shuffling forward slightly as he shifted his weight. “Like that. Here, try hitting me.” Yuga’s gaze flicked to Elric’s but he nodded. He took the stance and this time tried to put his body weight into it, sending his fist toward Elric’s chest. Elric caught the punch with the flat of his palm, nodding. 

“Good. You put momentum into it. Do it again.” Yuga did so but this time Elric shifted out of the way of the hit and Yuga stumbled forwards when nothing caught it. Elric smiled slightly as Yuga turned back around. “You’ve got the force down, but don’t move too far out from your center of gravity, or else your opponent can use your momentum against you. It’s a tricky thing to get, putting weight into the strike but not unbalancing yourself, but keep at it, you’ll get it.”

On the outside, Yuga nodded. On the inside, he was using those punches to batter against a wall. 

(Don’t tell me how to fight, don’t tell me how to be better. I can’t, I’m not.)

“Thank you, sir,” he said in French, sweeping into a dramatic half bow. He stood straight, giving a glittering smirk. “Soon, I shall be sweeping people off their feet in more ways than one!”

Elric huffed a laugh, but he didn’t leave. (Why wasn’t he leaving, why wasn’t he leaving?) Instead Elric stared at Yuga, tilting his head. “By the way, I was wondering, that’s French right? You’re from France?”

(No, no, no! Don’t single him out!)

“Yes, sir,” Yuga flicked his hair back, giving a sparkling smile. “From France to bring glamour and charm!”

Elric huffed in amusement. “I thought I recognized the language.” The Amestrian rubbed his neck, chuckling wryly. “I haven’t met anyone else who’s even close to being from Atossa while I’ve been here. But, not gonna lie, you could be Armstrong's cousin or something, you’ve both got the sparkly flair.”

“My sparkles are all my own,” Yuga insisted, a bit sharply, and Elric paused.

(I’m not quirkless, I’m not quirkless, I’m not—)

“I’m sure they are,” the Amestrian said, some of the humor gone from his voice. 

(No, no, no, I made it worse, he knows, he knows, he knows—) 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Yuga said, ducking his head down. With his head cowed, he carefully fit the pieces of his mask into place. It was always so much easier to act when the emotions and expressions were big and showy. People lost the details amidst the glitter. He raised his head, shame loud on his face as he clutched his chest. “I am so used to my twinkling being unique, to know another could match up… it is simply shocking.”

Elric hummed and Yuga glanced through slitted eyes to see the Amestrian looking contemplative. “I do suppose Armstrong would be shocked if I told him he had an unrelated-relative on the Outside,” Elric chuckled. “He’d likely try to adopt you into the Armstrong family then and there, though the General would kick his ass about it.”

“Well, do send them my wishes and sparkles!” Yuga exclaimed, striking a pose to adequately distract and shower Elric with light.

Finally, finally, the Amestrian moved on, lips quirked upward in amusement. Yuga kept his head up, a charming smile in place as he dramatically bowed to Tokoyami and demonstrated his punches. “Not quite my style, but effective, no?” 

Yuga let the sparkles trail after him even as he excused himself to the bathroom a ten minutes later. (Not too soon to make them think it was connected, but not too late lest they see through the fraying threads.) It was only once Yuga locked himself in the stall that the smile dimmed. He didn’t cry but he did sit on the toilet seat, hunched over his knees, trying to reassemble the scattered fragments in his chest, trying to breathe while anxiety ran rampant through his veins.

...

If you’re binge reading the story, consider this a good place to stop! Go stretch, relax your eyes, get some water, get a bite to eat, and if it's past 1 AM and you have to wake up in a few hours (looking at you) turn off the computer and try to go to sleep. The story will be here later, and in the next chapter we start getting back into Plot™.

Chapter Text

Edward sunk into his seat, letting out a breath as he eased the weight off his left leg. His breath hitched as the nerves twinged. Swallowing back a grunt of pain, Ed reached over to snatch the newest files Mustang had given him and the freshly brewed cup of Kaffee.  

He was currently flopped on the couch in the common area of the U.A. residence hall where he was staying, entirely because he wanted ready access to the Kaffee machine. Even at risk of being bothered by passersby, Ed couldn’t find it in himself to care. Another typhoon had arrived in Japan and his automail ports were giving him hell. He was keeping necessary movement to an absolute minimum.

Ed flipped open Mustang’s latest folder, filled with intel on Atossan watercraft in the Mediterranean that Mustang had somehow managed to get from Aerugo, which Ed was hoping to cross reference with the Outside’s. He sighed as he skimmed the contents, idly wishing that he could still be teaching the kids. It certainly felt more productive than combing through legal documents. Then again, while teaching the kids hadn’t exactly been a workout, it still meant he had to move, and that was the last thing he wanted right now.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Ed settled into work. It had quickly become apparent that despite various countries on both sides of the Atossan border claiming to have authority, it was alleged at best. Most of the various countries claimed there was no immigration to or from Atossa, but Ed figured it was because they had little ability to track it and anyone from Atossa had their ‘Place of Origin’ filed as ‘Unknown’. 

Honestly, regulation and management of the Atossan border was essentially non-existent. The “border” wasn’t a defined border so much as a band a hundred kilometers across, within which no country had much of any claim. Even when focused on the Aerugan part of the border, trying to find the route Talfon might have gone through was like trying to catch water in a net. Ed spat a number of curses detailing his thoughts on the matter.

“Alright, Elric-san?”

The question pulled Ed out of his frustrated spiral, and he glanced up to see another person had claimed a spot in the common space, seated in a wheelchair at one of the tables, papers spread across the surface. Ed squinted at the figure, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out who they were supposed to be.

“Uh, yeah?” Ed blinked. “Sorry, but who are you?”

“Oh, that’s right you haven’t seen me in civilian clothing,” they said and Ed frowned harder. Their voice was familiar… “It’s Ectoplasm, Sugaku.”

Edward’s eyebrows shot up as his gaze flicked over the man. Sugaku looked bafflingly different in regular clothes as opposed to his Hero costume. The sweater vest he had on was strangely casual compared to the trenchcoat he’d previously worn, not to mention… “I didn’t realize you had hair,” Ed muttered. “I thought that was just your head.”

Sugaku laughed. “The teachers have a running bet on who is least likely to be recognized out of costume. Aizawa always loses, but Yuka, Yagi and I have yet to be recognized as Heroes in our casual clothes by anyone who didn’t already know… well, Yagi used to not be recognized, that’s not so true now.”

Ed snorted. “Reminds me of Al getting mistaken for me, I think Falman kept track of every time it happened at headquarters.” Sugaku raised an eyebrow inquiringly, but Ed waved it off. “Nevermind. Anyways, thanks again for your help with training the kids the past few days.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ectoplasm said, nodding. “It was a good opportunity for myself as well. You did well with the students, and made an excellent sparring partner.”

“You too,” Ed grinned and Sugaku returned it. After that, the two fell into an easy silence, busying themselves with their respective work. Ed eventually had to get up again to refill his Kaffee, which he did, scooping several generous helpings of sugar into the dark bitter liquid. Between that and the caffeine, he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while yet.

He shuffled back over to the couch, easing himself down and unable to hide a grimace as a deep burning pulsed from around his automail ports. He managed to stop his knee from giving out, but it was a near thing. Edward muttered some choice Xingese and Amestrian swears, twisting to prop his leg up along the couch. 

“Everything alright?” Sugaku asked. Evidently, Ed hadn’t hid his discomfort as well as he’d hoped. 

“Just the storm,” Ed made to shrug and winced as he pulled at his shoulder. Biting back a grimace, he nodded to the rain pouring down outside.

Sugaku gave him a contemplative stare for several seconds, before saying, “Your prosthetics?”

Ed blinked. “How’d you know?”

“I was at the spar you did with Aizawa,” Sugaku reminded him. Ah, right, Ed had given them an eyeful of his automail. “And…” Sugaku gestured to the wheelchair he sat in. “On days like this, I prefer to remove my feet.”

Ed blinked, staring at Ectoplasm before it clicked. “You’ve got prosthetics too?”

“Both my legs, below the knee.”

Ed nodded, tapping his automail arm with his left hand and then pointing to his leg that rested on the couch. “Right arm, left leg.”

“You’ve got quite a bit of precision with them,” Sugaku observed. “Are they wired to your muscles?”

“Nerves,” Ed replied. “The automail links directly to my nervous system.” He tapped the shoulder port, grimacing as the vibration sent tongues of fire burning through his bones. “I’ve got near total mobility, but when it hurts, it hurts like hell.”

“I’ve got some ibuprofen?” Ectoplasm offered. “It’s a pain medicine, anti-inflammatory. Or a heating pad?”

Ed shook his head. “It’s partly nerve pain, that won’t do much good.” Even still, the heating pad did sound nice… could help with his leg. “Actually, I might take that heating pad.”

Sugaku passed it over and the two made small talk while the rain lashed against the windows. Ectoplasm apparently taught mathematics in addition to working as a Hero. In return, Ed shared a few stories of what Amestris was like, and some of his many proud excuses as to how he’d lost his limbs. As much as Edward hated storms, it was a nice break and he could almost forget why he was there.

Ed should have known better. Nothing good came from storms.

The day after the storm ended and several days after concluding his weekend training session with the U.A. students, Edward was working from his apartment. The silence of his room was abruptly broken and he startled as a discordant ringing came from his pocket. Ed fumbled through his pockets, pulling out the source of the disturbance: his phone.

Ed stared at the screen in confusion. Why was it— wait, right, this thing had a telephone function. He tapped the green receiver button and held the device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Elric? This is Hawks, I’m one of the Heroes involved in your… investigation,” the voice rang in his ear and Edward raised an eyebrow. He remembered Hawks… younger guy with wings, if he recalled correctly.

“Really?”

The voice on the other end of the line huffed. “If you need proof, I know your arm is metal.”

“That’s not what I… nevermind,” Ed pinched his nose. “What are you calling for? Usually Tsukauchi contacts me about everything.”

Hawks paused. “I think I might have found another one of yours, another casualty to All for One.” Ed froze, tightening his grip on the phone. Another murder? “I have some evidence and files, but I need your verification on something. I want to share with Tsukauchi too. How soon can you meet at the police headquarters in Chiyoda?”

“That’s in Tokyo, right? I’ll take the shinkansen up, I can be there in an hour or two.”

“Works for me,” Hawks said. “I’ll let Tsukauchi know, I’m calling him next.”

A couple hours later, Edward was standing in one of the conference rooms at the police station, drumming his fingers against his crossed arms. A rustle of feathers had him turning to see Tsukauchi and Hawks, along with a couple of Tsukauchi’s detective colleagues, step into the room.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Hawks said, wings flaring slightly before settling to rest against his back. 

Ed nodded. “You said there was another murder? Of an Amestrian?”

Hawks hummed but otherwise didn’t reply, instead circling around to the other side of the conference table. He laid out a number of filing folders on the table, looking around at the assembled investigators. “After All Might took down All for One, I went on several missions targeting other locations that were suspected bases of operation of All for One based on intel we gathered from Kamino and the League’s former hideout. I was keeping an eye out for anything pertaining to this case, as requested, and I think I might have found something.”

Hawks opened one of the files and started laying out a number of large photographs on the table. Ed leaned over, tilting his head to get a better look at the pictures. He grimaced. They were photos of corpses twisted in death, some sporting a similar degradation to what Talfon’d had, parts of their flesh blackened and stretched over their bones. 

“Aside from our Amestrian soldier, there were a number of other bodies in All for One’s bases we raided,” Hawks said, tapping the photos. “All dead.”

“I’m aware,” Tsukauchi frowned. “We’ve been over them several times trying to identify victims. Talfon was the only Amestrian we identified… only one we could identify, thanks to his uniform.” 

“Well this might change that,” Hawks pulled out another of the folders and held up a picture. It was of a man who looked like he was in his early forties, black-brown hair and ultimately unremarkable. “Meet nanashi-no-gonbe. ”

Ed frowned as he tried to translate the phrase. “Nameless…?”

“Oh, it’s a place-holder name,” Tsukauchi said. He nodded to the picture. “A stand in, if we don’t know a victim’s identity.”

“Right. The short of it is, there’s nothing on this victim,” Hawks said, waving a hand over the photos. “No identification, no fingerprint matches, no paper or digital trail, nothing. The only thing they could figure out is that he was probably quirkless, since he had the second toe joint. On its own, all of that’s not enough to raise any eyebrows, there are plenty of nameless victims found in All for One’s base, but usually we can find something, especially if we can narrow down aspects of their quirk and compare it to the Quirk Registry. This guy? Zero.”

“But I’m guessing you found something?” Ed asked, glancing at Hawks.

“Right,” Hawks nodded to Edward. “Because another way they could be totally unknown is if they weren’t from Japan in the first place. Your officer was recognized thanks to his uniform, but if Nameless here didn’t have that?” Hawks leaned forward, sweeping his gaze over them. “If he was from Amestris… It’d explain things.”

“True, but Amestris isn’t a small country. We’ve got a population of over fifty million,” Ed pointed out. “If they’re not in the military, it’s going to be nigh impossible to verify their identity. How do you propose finding out if they are Amestrian?”

Hawks shuffled through the papers, picking one up and handing it to Ed. It was another photograph, presumably of the victim, showing his upper arm. Despite the degraded flesh, what it depicted was clear. Ed’s eyes widened. Staring at him from the man’s bicep was a tattoo of a dragon rampant, identical to the Amestrian crest.

“This,” Hawks said, pointing to the photograph. “I recognized the insignia; you wore a pin with a similar one on it when we first met.”

Ed’s eyebrows climbed his face. “You remembered that? But that was weeks ago!”

Hawks shrugged, standing straight. “I have a good memory.”

Good memory and attention to detail, damn. Edward gave Hawks an appreciative once over before he sobered, the grim reality of the situation setting in. “Well, this good as confirms Nameless here is Amestrian,” Ed muttered, eyeing the photograph. “It’s possible it could be design coincidence, but I know a number of soldiers like getting the crest as a tattoo, especially the really nationalistic types.”

Tsukauchi let out a breath, a scowl etched onto his face. “So, now we’ve got two Amestrians dead on Japanese soil and most likely more.”

“Shit,” one of Tsukauchi’s detectives muttered. 

That sums it up pretty well, Ed thought darkly.

Following Hawks’ revelation, Tsukauchi called up the rest of the people on the investigation and alerted them to the new development. Meanwhile, Edward and the other detectives on Tsukauchi’s team sat down to go through case files with a fine tooth comb to see if Ed could spot anything that could tie back to Amestris or Atossa at large.

“We’d thought All Might had taken All for One down for good about eight years ago. At the time, we conducted raids on All for One’s many bases, or at least those we could find,” Tsukauchi said as he spread out a map on the table, peppered with red dots. The lead detective pointed to one. “These are his old operating locations. We cleaned them out after his first defeat but we stopped monitoring them for activity after three to five years.”

“The raid team I was on went to two of these,” Hawks said, pointing to a couple. “They were both underground facilities, and despite all entrances being blocked off, All for One had reestablished some operations inside, likely thanks to his warper.”

“Kurogiri,” Tsukauchi filled in.

Hawks nodded. “We got someone with a tracking quirk to find a couple more sites beyond the Nomu Factory that were more actively used by All for One and his cronies, which is where we found most of the victims… still human victims, that is.”

“Right,” Detective Ikibara, one of Tsukauchi’s colleagues, set a couple boxes on the table. “These are all the case files from Kamino and the most recent raids.” She looked over at Ed, an apologetic grimace on her face. “I’m afraid you’re the only one who really has any idea of what might mark someone as Amestrian or Atossan… the rest of us don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

Edward looked over the boxes, exhaling slowly. He pulled out the topmost file, then glanced at the other investigators. “Well, any person listed as quirkless is automatically in the running… so I guess start by looking into any unidentified quirkless deaths and go from there.”

The others nodded. “I can pull those files from other Hero agencies,” Hawks offered. “I’ll go make some calls to the regular Heroes in the Yokohama and Tokyo area, see what I can turn up. What we have from All for One’s known operations is a good start, but that’s still only what we’ve connected to the Wanyūdo.”

“Good thinking,” Tsukauchi nodded, turning to another of his colleagues. “Sakamura, pull our unsolved quirkless missing persons from the past few years… maybe we can at least solve a few cold cases.”

The team scattered to their respective duties. Ed and a few of Tsukauchi’s unit – Detectives Akira and Ikibara – began the laborious process of sorting through the files, marking the unidentified victims that were quirkless. It was far too many.

Ed had the additional task of trying to spot anything that could relate to Amestris or Atossa in the victim files and crime scene photos. It was frustrating work, like searching for a needle in a haystack, except in this case Ed didn’t even know if there was a needle to find at all. By the second day, Tsukauchi and Sakamura had managed to identify a number of Japanese quirkless who’d gone missing over the past several years, but Ed wasn’t having much luck identifying Atossans. That is, until he spotted something familiar.

Edward jerked in his seat, doing a double take as he spotted the crudely drawn shape. It was hard to see against the stained concrete, the lines having faded to flaking brown by the time the image was taken. Despite that, Ed recognized the substance all too well: dried blood. The artist had evidently tried to wipe it away but only succeeded in smearing the design. To another, it might have appeared to be nonsensical half-erased scribbles, but Ed had devoted over half his life to this field.

“Do we have a better picture of this?” Ed asked, waving the photograph at the detectives.

Akira pulled her laptop over, typing something and then spinning it around to show Ed and Ikibara. “Here we go. You can zoom and move the image like this—” Ed thanked her, carefully manipulating the image so he could zoom in on the anomaly he’d spotted.

“What is that?” Akira wondered, her ears pricked forward in interest. She pointed to the same thing Ed had noticed. 

Ikibara tugged over the crime scene file Ed had been looking through, flipping through the papers. “Hmm… the report says they weren’t sure of its origin or purpose. They ended up listing it as some kind of graffiti.”

This… this was no graffiti. 

“It’s a transmutation circle,” Ed muttered, squinting at the image on the computer. He grabbed a spare piece of paper from the table and started sketching it out, a generic array for earth transmutation taking shape. The alchemist must have been trying to transmute the concrete…

But the alchemist hadn’t used an array specialized for concrete. Instead it was the generic array used by earth alchemists who weren’t certain of the composition of their transmuting substance. People only dared to use it when transforming the physical shape of something, anything more complex and there would have been a rebound, and even still there was high risk of one. To use this kind of array…

Ed’s gaze flicked back to the transmutation circle painted in blood. Whoever had drawn it was desperate. It was misshapen, which could have been due to inexperience with alchemy, anxiety at the situation, or restraints. The alchemist knew enough earth alchemy to transmute and account for variance in the material composition, but not enough to know the specific transmutation circles by heart. So not a state alchemist, more likely the resident alchemist of one of the outlying towns. Rural alchemists mostly practiced earth alchemy and aided with local earth-moving projects.

Well, an alchemist as good as confirmed there was an Amestrian. Scowling, Ed flicked his gaze up to Akira and Ikibara. “Get everything you can on this crime scene, I found another.” 

Half an hour later, Ed and the other detectives were sifting through the files specific to this particular base. Now that he was looking for it, Ed had an easier time spotting the traces of alchemy hidden in the photo margins. The geometric scarring of a transmutation was visible in the concrete in several places, near invisible to a non-alchemist. Traces of blood ringed the edges of the scarring, indicative of what the alchemist had used to paint their circles.

While he couldn’t be certain, Edward was betting that the alchemist had experienced a rebound in their transmutations. Using blood as a transmutation medium was already finicky, and considering the alchemist had been working exhausted and with a transmutation circle prone to rebounds… it was an accident waiting to happen. And a rebound would leave signs, not just on the transmuted material, but the alchemist themselves.

Ed flicked through the victim profiles for those found at this site, searching for any clues to the alchemist among them. There were nearly two dozen just at this crime scene, quirked and not. Ed paused on one file, eyes catching the ‘Additional Notes’ section that listed injuries suffered prior to death. 

SUBJECT ID #39706364 - CASE FILE ID #76542845

Name : Unknown
Age : 30-50s
Sex : Female
Quirk : Unknown [Presumed Quirkless, based on toe joint]
Date of Birth : Unknown
Date of Death : August, 21XX [Suspected to be date of the Battle of Kamino Ward, August 12th]
Height : 154 cm (5 ft)
Weight : 48 kg (105 lbs) [Signs of starvation prior to death. Estimated healthy weight: 55 kg (120 lbs)]
Hair Color : Brown
Eye Color : Blue
Nationality : Unknown
Identifying Features :

• Mole on upper back, between shoulder blades
• Burn scar on left leg, lower shin

Cause of Death : Unknown

• [Potential causes of death: quirk, untraceable poison, other]
• There was no physical trauma severe enough to cause death. Victim showed signs of starvation prior to becoming deceased, but it does not appear significant enough to lead to death.
• Due to proximity of Date of Death to the Battle of Kamino Ward [August 12th], it's possible All for One established a quirk failsafe to remotely kill his prisoners, or some allies of All for One killed the prisoners after his capture. 

Additional Notes :

• Victim showed signs of more recent injury: (a) a gash on the inner right forearm [See image #9] caused by an unknown object, likely a piece of broken glass or metal; (b) skin on the hands and arms was ‘flaking,’ [see image #10] in a strangely geometric pattern, potentially caused by a quirk from captors. Possible evidence of torture, but no similar marks found on any other prisoners; (c) abrasions to wrists [see image #11] due to being tied up; (d) …

Flipping to the attached images, Ed examined the injuries, eyes scanning the ‘flaking’ on the victim’s arms. As he’d suspected, it matched the scarring caused by alchemy in transmuted substances and from minor to moderate rebounds. Bingo.

“I’ve got our alchemist,” Ed said, catching the attention of the others. 

Akira nodded grimly. Ed passed her the file, and Akira took the alchemist’s picture and pinned her alongside the other two individuals: Talfon and the unnamed man with the tattoo of the Amestrian crest. Three Atossans. Three Amestrians.

What the hell was All for One getting at?

In the following hours, Ed managed to identify another Atossan by their tattoo, 1901-6-23, the date that marked the beginning of the Ishvalan Civil War. Ed wasn’t sure if they were Ishvalan or not, but the date was strong evidence they were a resident of the Hidden Continent. There were no records for anything of importance happening on that date on the Outside, so Ed was inclined to take it as proof.

The remaining victims, unlike the three they’d found who were almost certainly Atossan and/or Amestrian, didn’t have identifying features like tattoos or transmutation scars to confirm their status. Ed managed to pick out what looked like Aerugan writing scratched into the floor, but had no idea which prisoner it was from. The rest of their ‘identification’ ended up being grim speculation, since the Atossan with the tattoo of the date of the civil war, the alchemist, and the Aerugan writing were all found in the same ‘group,’ it was highly likely that the other quirkless individuals there were also from Atossa.

As the number ticked up, Ed’s stomach twisted tighter.

…

Fullmetal,

Investigations cross-referenced the files you sent with missing persons cases from the past several years. From the photos, we were able to identify two soldiers, the alchemist and a couple civilians, all from regions near the border.

Thanks to your note on the alchemist, we were able to trace it to Erika Lasker. She was a town alchemist from Fennberg, not far from Fawcett in Southern Amestris. You were correct, her alchemy was focused on general earth based transmutations and material synthesis. There are several outstanding missing persons cases in Fennberg, all previously attributed to the Aerugan border conflict, but we’re reopening them. Just in case. 

Another thing, we identified one of the two soldiers as being from Briggs. We contacted General Armstrong, and I’ve relayed her response below:

“Captain Markus Steiner. He went missing four to five months ago with his partner Astrid. There was no way Drachma got their hands on them but every lead the investigation had was a dead end. On paper, the reason for their disappearance was that they went missing in a blizzard. I know that’s impossible, my soldiers know how to handle the snow. I suppose this explains how we couldn’t find any trace of them.

There’s no question, that’s Steiner. I don’t know how the hell he got halfway across the globe, but tell that little red runt this: “Elric, find out who did this, how they did it, and why my man was killed. Get me answers, and I’ll owe you a favor. Fail, and I’ll come over there and find out myself.”

I suppose I don’t need to tell you that having Olivier in Japan would be very bad — we’re barely keeping her off the warpath as is. The only thing stopping her from coming over there and overthrowing the entire country is that she thinks you're competent enough to find out what happened. Let’s not let her down. Amestris doesn’t need another war, and with the Outside no less.

Regardless, I don’t like the way this is turning. Be careful Edward.

Sincerely,
Fuhrer Roy Mustang

Talfon. Lasker. Steiner. 

Just three of the over half dozen Amestrians found dead in Japan. Ed rubbed a hand over his face. Truth, he wasn’t qualified for this. He wasn’t a diplomat or any kind of ambassador in the first place, let alone a detective. His experience in investigations amounted to the research he’d done to get Al’s body back and that had taken him several years, chasing legends and ghost stories back and forth across the country.

Edward sat back, staring listlessly at the ceiling. Mustang had sent him here in part to learn more about the Outside, which he had. But the investigation into Talfon’s death? Tsukauchi and the others had more or less figured out All for One’s motives… it wasn’t so much a question of ‘who’ but ‘how they did it and how we stop it’.  

Pushing back from his chair, Ed stood. The detectives sent him curious looks, but Ed waved them off. “I’ll be back in a bit, I’m going to the roof to clear my head.” 

They nodded in understanding. Akira pointed him towards the stairs.

Several flights of stairs later, Ed stepped out onto the roof of the police station. The sun was relatively low in the sky, sunset probably only an hour or two away. Ed swept his gaze across the roof, blinking as he realized he wasn’t alone up here. 

Across from him, strolling along the railing with wings outstretched, was Hawks. The Hero had his back to Ed, one hand holding a phone to his ear. Ed strolled across the roof, making no effort to mask his presence. Based on the wings and name, Ed was fairly confident the man could fly, so even if he lost his balance it wouldn’t be an issue. Still, it didn't hurt to be courteous.

As he got closer, Hawks’ eyes flitted over to him. The Hero gave a nod to acknowledge Edward, before his attention returned to his phone call.

Figuring Hawks would indicate if he protested Ed’s presence, Ed moved to the edge of the roof. He leaned onto the railing, looking out over the buildings and the people wandering below. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he breathed until the tightness in his chest eased. The wind buffeted Ed’s face, fighting to pull his hair free of its braid. 

“Still nothing concrete yet,” Hawks said and Ed glanced over, idly curious. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he also wasn’t going to not listen. “They’re being careful. Don’t want to startle them back into their hidey-holes. You know me, I’ll find something. Eyes like an eagle, right?” Hawks paused for a minute, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. When he spoke again his voice was almost deliberately casual. “Better uses for my– you know you’re saying this is a waste of resources right?” 

That had Ed’s gaze snapping over, focusing intently on Hawks. The young Hero had the ghost of a scowl on his face. It stayed in place for a few seconds, before the Hero glanced toward Ed, and his posture deliberately relaxed.

“And I still will,” Hawks said, lazily waving a hand. “But the League will be an even bigger problem if All for One can nullify our quirks at a distance. It doesn’t matter what Heroes you send, nothing they do will matter.” Hawks paused, then rolled his eyes. “And? We know his previous ‘project’ hasn’t stopped.”

Evidently they were talking about Ed’s current case… but why?

“It still is. I’m just taking a different angle. Getting an… outside perspective. There’s no reason I can’t do both,” Hawks hummed, shrugging his wings. There was a pause and Hawks smirked slightly. “Bye~” The young Hero took the phone away from his ear, tapping the screen and then shoving the phone in his pocket. Hawks glanced over at Ed and seeing he was looking, raised an eyebrow. “Enjoy listening?”

Edward shrugged. “You could have moved.” He tilted his head, watching Hawks closely. “What was that about?”

Hawks shrugged, stepping off the railing. “My bosses aren’t confident in my time management skills.”

“Really?” Ed’s other eyebrow joined its partner. “Sounds like it's a bit more than that. A ‘waste of resources’ I think you said?”

Humming, Hawks inclined his head marginally. “Fair. They wanted to know why I’m pulling case files and spending as much time as I am on this. As they see it, I’ve got ‘better things to do with my time’.” He rolled his eyes, clearly dissatisfied with their ruling. 

Ed’s eyes narrowed. Better things to do with his time… waste of resources… An uncomfortable feeling began to twist in his chest. “Is it that they doubt your time management, or they don’t think the case is worth working on?” Ed bit out, pinning Hawks with a stare. 

Hawks glanced at him, a brief flicker of… not surprise, but satisfaction(?) in his eyes. The Hero shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to speculate.”

“But you have a guess,” Ed pointed out.

“I’m one of the top Heroes in Japan, there's always things for me to do. I'm guessing they think there are other cases more important than understanding the how and why behind a case where people are already dead, and the man who killed them is already in prison,” Hawks drawled, keen eyes watching Ed. “They'd like me to focus on a case where I can help more people, help those still living.”

Edward bit the inside of his cheek to keep in a sharp retort. Hawks… Hawks was reminding him vaguely of Mustang. They had the same lazy intelligence, where cunning was hidden by disinterest and charm. They were both good at verbal redirection and as was becoming apparent, both incredibly frustrating.

Taking a breath, Ed flicked his gaze out over the city before returning to look at Hawks. “There’s a lot of maybes there,” he observed, to which Hawks didn’t reply. “Besides you just said All for One ‘nullifying’ quirks was a problem… You’re still working on this case, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” Hawks gestured expansively. “Unless, of course, my bosses say I’m not anymore. It’d be a shame, that.”

Hawks was definitely trying to up his status in the Bastard listing.

“Cut the bureaucratic shit. Fine, your bosses’ priority is Japanese citizens or whatever the hell they’re saying,” Ed snarled up at the Hero, his temper flaring. “But just because All for One is in prison, doesn’t mean people aren’t still in danger. Japanese, Amestrian, Quirkless. The dead may be beyond help but we can at least try to stop anyone else from being killed, and stop All for One from getting what he wants out of this whole scheming plot, which I think we can agree is probably a bad thing.”

Hawks inclined his head. The Hero was quiet for a moment, eying Ed curiously before he asked, “Is your priority not also ‘Amestrian citizens or whatever the hell?’ ”

“My priority is people,” Edward glared. “Yeah, the Outside and quirks are strange as hell. So’s Amestris. You aren’t special, just another more concentrated brand of weird. And I’d rather no one dies or gets captured by wannabe immortals with a god complex.”

“You speak your mind,” Hawks observed, huffing a laugh.

“And you evidently don’t,” Ed countered.

Hawks hummed noncommittally. 

They stood silently, Ed trying to cool his simmering anger and Hawks looking out over the city. “My bosses want me working another case on All for One,” Hawks said after a few minutes, causing Ed to glance over.

“There’s another case?”

“There’s lots of cases,” Hawks nodded. “On the structural and collateral damage to Kamino Ward, villains trying to fill the power vacuum, you name it, it’s there. Mine specifically is to gather more intel on All for One’s associates. We know very little of their current movements and plans.” Hawks gave Ed a lopsided smile. “If we knew more about them, we might know more about how and why your people got here.”

Information… the winner of wars, and the directive of seemingly everyone. Mustang had always had a deep respect for the Investigations branch, and not just because of Maes Hughes. The now-Führer valued information and he knew exactly how powerful it could be. It was partly why Ed was here after all. To gather intel.

While Ed was thinking, Hawks let out an audible yawn, stretching his arms and wings out. “Well, that’s enough outta me, I’d best be going.” Hawks flapped his wings, hopping onto the railing and spinning to face Ed. “See you later, Amestrian.”

Before Edward could get another word out, Hawks tipped backwards. He vanished over the edge of the building then a second later shot up into the air, his large red wings carrying him high over Ed’s head into the sky beyond. Ed stayed on the roof a handful of more minutes, watching until Hawks had shrunk to a distant pinprick, then he headed inside. 

Once back, Ed collapsed into his seat. Instead of clearing his head, his visit to the roof had left him feeling ill, the words spoken echoing in his mind. Waste of resources…  What, because the victims were Amestrian? Because they were quirkless? Because they were dead and not alive? The questions tasted like ash on his tongue. Unbidden, Ed’s thoughts turned to Amestris, to underground labs and a bloodsoaked history. On the desk, the victims’ portraits watched him with reproach.

Tearing his gaze away, Ed’s eyes fell on the maps of All for One’s bases, scattered across Japan. Idly, Ed traced the dots, and couldn’t help his relief at finding no pattern in their placement. No transmutation circle. At least that was one thing that differed between All for One and the Dwarf in the Flask. But there were so many other parallels… 

Ed paused, then sat upright, looking over to the detectives. “Who are Hawks’ and other Heroes bosses?” Ed asked, causing Ikibara to glance at him curiously.

“Well most Heroes work in agencies, including Hawks who has his own agency, which assigns Heroes missions and handles PR and that kind of stuff. The Hero Public Safety Commission is the body that oversees Heroics in Japan, hands out licenses, that kinda thing.”

Edward hummed a thank you. Later that night, as double digits turned to single ones on the clock, he pulled out his computer and started to research. 

Time to see how far down the rabbit hole goes…

Mustang,

How do I dismantle a government?

Signed,
Edward

…

Edward,

I’m going to need a bit more than that to work with.

Signed,
Mustang

…

Mustang,

The branch that oversees Japan’s remixed State Alchemist program seems pretty set on preserving the status quo and it seems like they’re willing to handwave the deaths of their own citizens to make it happen. They even told one of their Heroes on the case that there were “better uses for his time” and to drop it. Even odds they’re even more dismissive because we’re focusing on quirkless deaths.

I’m not sure if this is government specific or a broader issue. At the very least, not everyone seems to carry the same attitude. But I’m also not willing to dismiss the idea that the Japanese have an issue similar to ours… remember All for One? The guy who sounded a hell of a lot like Father and murdered our people? Well, they’re looking more similar all the time. I’d bet he’s got his sticky fingers in government too.

Signed, 

Edward

P.S. If you’re not considering helping, think of this: if the government’s dismissive of ‘quirkless’, which all of Atossa is registered as, then this could cause some significant hurdles for international relations.

…

Edward,

Do remember that corruption does not rhyme with revolution. I understand your frustration, but you should not discount the possibility that people are aware of the issues you’ve brought up and are seeking to reform the system, including from the inside. Have you already forgotten about me?

And I’ve already told you, you don’t have the resources to stage an insurrection. Plus, any attempt to overthrow the government would be tantamount to an invasion. You’re a foreign party and any revolutionary ideas won’t hold weight if they seem to come from the outside. 

If All for One is influencing the government as Father was…  well, the man is in prison. It’s a blow to his influence and thanks to it, cracks will start to show. Besides, even Father was hardly a puppet master. A looming shadow? Most certainly. But how many rebelled once they learned what his plan was?

If it is truly as you say, people there won’t be happy either. You don’t need to encourage unrest, it’s already there, you just need to know where to look. The fuel for the fire is set, it just needs a spark. And remember to be patient. The best kind of change will occur and persist long after you’re gone.

Signed,
Mustang

P.S. Yes, I realize. However, do be careful. Inciting ideas of rebellion in the populace is not known for being good international relation practice either.

…

Roy,

Thanks. 

Edward

Chapter Text

Keigo yawned as he touched down on the roof of the Hero Public Safety Commission’s headquarters, stretching his arms over his head. Once satisfied the ache in his shoulders had been wrung out, he folded his wings behind him, shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to the rooftop entrance.

“Morning,” he called to the guards, who gave him dry looks.

Shrugging, Keigo strode to the security checkpoint just inside the doors. He handed over his Hero ID and offloaded his support gear into a bin before a guard waved him through the scanners. After being cleared by the metal detector, Keigo stood in the center of a large freestanding metal frame, picking his talons. There was a soft hum as the machine powered on and then static was crawling over and under his skin.

Each one of his feathers, usually buzzing quietly on the edge of his awareness, went briefly silent. The yawning emptiness rippled over Keigo in a quiet cacophony, thundering in his ears. He could still feel the muscled limbs of his wings at his back but the feathers were dead— And then, just as suddenly, the quiet was gone. Like a numb limb awakening from sleep, awareness of his feathers returned, nerves prickling with pins and needles. 

As the seconds passed, Keigo could once more feel the whispered breath of the guards, shifting the barbs of his feathers and rippling up to the shaft. In the back of his mind, an image of the room, of the building, was built by sound, the space between filled by heartbeats and conservation— 

“Hawks,” one of the guards called, her voice echoing a hundred-fold across his wings. “Alright?”

Keigo took a breath, stepping out of the metal frame. The guards handed him his gear, giving sympathetic smiles as Keigo smacked his lips together, trying in vain to get rid of the static buzzing in his mouth. 

“Ugh, I hate that thing,” Keigo complained.

“We all hate the Box of Doom,” one of the guards agreed, making a disgusted face. She handed him back his ID, giving Keigo a nod and a smile. “You’re good to go Hawks, have a nice day.”

Keigo nodded, leaving the security checkpoint and heading for the elevators. The ‘Box of Doom’, officially called the Quirk Disruptor, was the Commission’s countermeasure against transformation quirks. It used the same technology as quirk suppressant cuffs to briefly nullify quirks — useful if someone was trying to infiltrate the headquarters disguised as someone else, and an initial countermeasure against tracking quirks.

It would have been easier for Keigo if his quirk was purely a mutation, if each feather was as lifeless as the hair on his head. But Keigo could control each individual feather, could sense his surroundings through them even. As a result, when he went through the Box of Doom, he briefly lost all connection with the operative side of his quirk, leaving a gaping hole in his sense of the world.

Yay.

Shaking off the lingering mental numbness, Keigo exited the elevator, relieved to be free of the cramped metal box. He strode through the hallways, eventually coming to an office space filled with scattered desks and computers. A few people looked up as he passed by, sending him assorted greetings that Keigo returned with a nod. He came to a stop by one desk in particular, waiting for its occupant to acknowledge him.

“Hawks,” Jinshi, his handler with the Hero Public Safety Commission, flashed him a smile as she looked up. Since Keigo worked much more closely with the HPSC from day to day than other Heroes, Jinshi was in charge of keeping him up to date and serving as the voice in his ear during Commission sanctioned missions.

“Jin,” Keigo greeted, flashing a two-fingered salute.

Jinshi sighed at the nickname, but Keigo could see the mild amusement in her gaze. She’d given him permission to call her by her given name, Yukina, but Keigo stuck to the nickname. ‘Swift’ suited her well thanks to her ability to multitask, courtesy of her quirk. 

“How was your patrol?” Jin asked as she pushed her chair back, stretching her arms out and looking at him curiously.

Keigo shrugged. “Stopped a couple robberies ‘round Tokyo, but pretty quiet all things considered.” He leaned against Jin’s desk, snagging one of the knickknacks she kept and fiddling with it. “I’m still chasing rumors about our lovely League, and I’ve been talking to contacts and Heroes local to the surrounding prefectures about anything they’ve heard regarding All for One’s movements prior to his capture.”

“The Amestris case?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Keigo hummed. “Even with his warper, old Wanyūdo had to have gotten the Atossans into the country somehow… you can’t transport this many people without help or someone noticing.” Keigo paused, sending Jinshi a mild glare. “Speaking of, I don’t appreciate you trying to get me to drop it.”

Jin pursed her lips. “There’s a reason you can only work so many cases at once, Hawks. You can’t help anyone if you run yourself ragged and stretch yourself too thin.”

“It’s not like I’m fighting anyone,” Keigo waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, chasing down leads on the All for One’s methods for trafficking Amestrians means getting rid of more places the League could hide and maybe even their sources of funding.” He paused, then pointed his knickknack at Jin accusingly. “And you’re the ones who drag me up to Tokyo from Kyushu every other week, I might as well do something productive up here.”

“Fine,” Jin huffed, swiping the knickknack back from Keigo. “You make good points. Though don’t get too distracted, the longer the League is out there, the more damage they can do and the more support they can build. The Board has good reason to be worried.” Keigo sniffed, sticking out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. He knew that. Jin rolled her eyes. “When you’re done sulking, there’s intel and manjū waiting for you.”

Keigo perked up. Steamed buns? “Is it the chicken filled ones?” he demanded, and Jin sent him a dry glare.

“What do you take me for Hawks? Of course it’s chicken.”

After being directed to the chicken manjū, Keigo quickly shoved one in his mouth and grabbed several more. He strolled back to an amused Jin with his arms full of steamed goodness. Giving her a smile, Keigo settled into a chair next to her desk and looked over at her computer. “So, what are we looking at?” he asked around a mouthful of manjū.

Jin’s fingers flicked over her keyboard, bringing up some maps and incident reports. “There’s been some sightings of the League, however it's not enough to pin down their exact locations and capture them.” Keigo grunted an affirmative. He’d been running into the same issue. “Another concern is that the yakuza have been growing restless.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow. “The yakuza? Really?”

He rarely dealt with the yakuza… Keigo hadn’t been alive during their heyday, but after All Might had become a Hero, the gangs’ influence had plummeted. Were they trying to take advantage of All Might’s retirement to regain old ground? Keigo pursed his lips. If the yakuza were trying to fill the power vacuum All for One left behind, they could start to see infighting among the yakuza… unless they tried to ally themselves to prop up their diminishing power structure.

“Yes,” Jin nodded, prying Keigo out of his thoughts. “The Commission has noted an increase in the number of drug related cases and incidents across urban areas, most tied to the yakuza. But what our bosses are really worried about is that several yakuza groups seem to be tracking some of the League sightings.”

“Tracking them?” Keigo echoed, leaning forward to look at a map on Jin’s screen. “What for… Turf war? Potential allies?”

Jin shrugged. “We’re not sure at this point, either option is a bad one. The yakuza’s relationship with the Wanyūdo has varied, with time and by clan. Sometimes they’re allies, sometimes they’re enemies. At the very least, the yakuza haven’t directly approached the League, so they may be trying to take advantage of the League’s presence to cover their own crimes.”

“You think I should use the yakuza to find League?” Keigo wondered, thinking aloud.

“Your call. You’re the one on the streets or in the air,” Jin hummed. “But they could be useful in other ways…” Jin sent Keigo a smirk, “Back in the day, the yakuza were known for commanding the smuggling networks of the Underworld. Might be useful, for a trafficking case.”

Keigo narrowed his eyes at Jin. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, then shoved another steamed bun in his mouth rather than respond. “Thanks,” he grumbled around the bun. “Though I could’ve figured that out.”

“It’s my job to keep you informed,” Jin teased, swiping one of the buns from him and taking a bite. He watched her savor the bun’s flavor, soft dough paired with spiced chicken, as she chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes. Once she’d finished the bun – Keigo’s bun – she turned to meet his gaze. “You’re a good Hero, Keigo… but you can’t do everything yourself. I know you’ve been ditching your sidekicks again.”

“I’m a free spirit,” Keigo shrugged. He did know he couldn’t do everything solo, he wasn’t a rookie, but it was just so much faster and efficient sometimes. “And I can handle myself.”

Jin shook her head, half exhausted and half exasperated. “Ungrateful chicken,” she muttered, sending him a dry look. “See if I bring you manjū next time.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Keigo raised his hands in surrender, one of the precious aforementioned buns clutched in his hands. “I’ll work on my teamwork skills, I promise, don’t take your anger out on my stomach. And I am doing better… I did the raids and am working this whole Amestris case! With other people!”

“Doing your own research and then dropping it on them isn’t exactly what I meant,” Jin rolled her eyes. “Collaborate, Keigo.”

Keigo huffed but nodded. The conversation then shifted to what amounted to workplace gossip. There were some Commission town hall meetings coming up and the President’s office had sent out notices from the National Public Security Review reminding Heroes to renew their licenses before the expiration date. Jin’s officemate Yamari had broken up with her girlfriend earlier that week and while the two remained good friends, Kiro, a guy from a lower floor, had apparently given Yamari an appreciated but unneeded feel-better gift. Jin was considering staging her own break up since Yamari had been seen eating from her gift, a full tub of green-tea ice cream, during lunch.

“If I had a relationship that broke down, would you buy me ice cream?” Keigo asked.

Jin snorted. “Certainly, once I’d confirmed you weren’t faking it… you’d do that to get more steamed chicken buns.” Keigo shrugged. Fair enough, he would do that.

They chatted for a few more minutes until Keigo was interrupted by the brrring of his cell phone. Pulling it out of his pocket, Keigo glanced at the caller ID and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Elric Edward - Atossa. 

Elric, the Amestrian? What on earth was he calling for? As far as Keigo knew, Elric usually talked to Tsukauchi or Nezu about anything case related. Sure, he and Keigo had chatted on the roof of the police station the other day when Keigo loosely told Elric of the contents of his call with Jin… was it about that? Keigo had figured the Commission would stop trying to cut him out of the case if the Atossan emissary got wind of it. He’d accomplished his goal pretty well, he thought, considering how incensed the young man had gotten.

“Gotta take this,” Keigo said and Jin waved him away, turning back to her computer. Keigo stepped away to a quiet corner and answered the phone, bringing it to his ear. “Morning, Elric. What’s up? What are you calling me for?”

“Hawks,” Elric greeted, voice crackling over the receiver. “Do you have a few minutes to meet up? I had some questions I wanted to ask…”

Still no confirmation if it was about Keigo himself… Keigo hummed, aiming for ‘confused’. “Uh, sure? Can’t say I know what I’d be able to help you with though. If you’ve got questions you’re probably better off talking to Nezu than me. That crafty rat knows things God doesn’t.”

“Probably not,” Elric chuckled, some inside joke Keigo wasn’t privy to. He’d heard Nezu and the Amestrian had become friends or something like it over the past few weeks. “And I normally would, but Nezu’s busy doing other stuff. Something about ‘provisional exams’. Your name did come up though, so I figured you’d be a good person to contact. So… you free?”

Pausing, Keigo mentally reviewed his schedule then shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Where do you wanna meet?”

“You think I know my way around?” Elric asked and Keigo could almost hear the eye roll. “I don’t know, somewhere we won’t get accosted? I’m at the police station with Tsukauchi which is…” The Amestrian began muttering under his breath, evidently trying to figure out his location.

“That’d be Chiyoda Ward,” Keigo offered. “It’s headquarters for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. I know of a good restaurant and tea shop we could head to in Ginza, if you like? Good place to chat. It’s the next ward over. I’m not far away, I can meet you on the station roof in an hour or so.”

“Sounds good, see you then.”

After he finished filing a report with Jin, Keigo headed over to the police department. It wasn’t far from the HPSC’s headquarters, they were both in Tokyo’s administrative district and Keigo had the added benefit of skipping traffic. A scant few minutes later he was soaring down to the department roof where the small figure of Elric was awaiting. 

Keigo ended up offering Elric a trip by air to the restaurant, an offer Elric was quick to take. Fifteen minutes of flying later and Keigo was setting them down outside a skyscraper in Ginza. The Amestrian’s hair was tangled and his cheeks were red from the wind, but his eyes were giddy. Keigo gave an internal smirk. Ah flying, nothing like it. 

They headed to a restaurant on the upper floors, one Keigo had been to before that was frequented by Heroes. The staff even had a few closed off, soundproofed rooms reserved just in case. After flashing his Hero License, he and Elric were guided to one.

“So,” Keigo asked once they’d been given their food, stretching back in his chair and eyeing the young man across the table. “What’s eating you, Elric?”

“Edward,” Elric said, drumming his fingers on the table. Right, that was his given name. 

“Edward then,” Keigo corrected, nibbling at one of the meat skewers he’d ordered. “So?”

The Amestrian stared into the distance for a number of seconds. Keigo let him collect his thoughts, wondering at what had him so… unsure. “I guess I don’t have a question exactly, but I’m trying to get a better understanding of,” Edward gestured uncertainly, “Hero society, I guess? How you all operate?”

Not quite what Keigo was expecting… He leaned back, considering Edward. “Okay, but why now? Why me and why not Eraserhead? I know you’ve been sticking tight to him. Besides, there’s Heroes everywhere. Everyone knows about us. You could pretty easily go to Googol or open the news or something.”

Edward’s expression twisted. “As good as I am at research, a lot of your stuff about Heroes and how you guys are viewed is ‘common knowledge,’ not the kind of stuff written down or well described, even on the internet. Plus, Nezu has cautioned me to the… unreliability of the internet in some capacities. As for Radierkopf, he’s busy with the same provisional whatsit.” 

“Fine,” Keigo rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. Taking a breath, he began reciting, “Heroes are those licensed to use their quirks, whether for combat or rescue, against people who misuse their quirks, what we call villains. Heroes are rated on a number of criteria, including experience, popularity, incidents and cases resolved, casualties, that kind of stuff. That affects our chart rankings, which impacts our influence, the kind of cases we can be selected for, et cetera.”

“Why have rankings in the first place?” Edward asked, wrinkling his nose. “It sounds… well, kinda stupid honestly. Why make it a contest?”

“I forget why the rankings got started in the first place,” Keigo hummed, “but the statistics on Heroes that are used to calculate the rankings are all public access. I think the rankings were meant to keep us honest and give us something to strive for. Being a higher ranked Hero means you’re a better Hero: helping more people, saving more lives, that kinda thing. Higher ranked Heroes are called upon to help with big disasters… more local Heroes, not so much.”

“Still…” Edward didn’t look satisfied. “I feel like it’d just turn everything into a popularity contest… Plus, it seems like Heroes are more incentivized to do ‘public’ or showy stuff. What about the quote unquote ‘small’ or ‘ugly’ stuff?”

Keigo titled his head. “Could you elaborate?”

“Like,” Edward sighed through his teeth, “what about taking the time to help someone recover from a panic attack? Or working on cases with murders or abuse or…” The Amestrian cut himself off, biting his lip, and then waved a hand. “It’s just… of course saving as many people as possible in a disaster is important, but if popularity is a focus, then acts of aid that wouldn’t ordinarily be noticed – like staying to help an individual person recover – might be thought of as a waste of time.”

Keigo paused, considering this. It was… not untrue, he realized. Keigo himself didn’t tend to stay after the immediate threat was resolved. He left the comforting of people to his sidekicks. Instead, Keigo tried to give a more extensive sense of comfort, giving the public an easygoing and sometimes blasé attitude. It wasn’t a universal stance, some Heroes paid more attention to individual victims. Keigo respected his colleagues that did so, of course he did, but for him, he resolved things quickly and efficiently. He wasn’t really… There were other Heroes, like his sidekicks, who were better at helping with the emotional side of things. 

Though Keigo couldn’t help the idle thoughts, picking at his mind like one might pick a scab before it bleeds: How many other Heroes think the same? That there is someone else to pick up the pieces? Swallowing back his ruminations, Keigo refocused on Edward.

“You’re partly right about the popularity contest thing,” Keigo agreed. “A lot of people and new Heroes think of the rankings as being based purely on the popular vote anyways… I honestly think we should just make the chart rankings be based purely on popularity, it could honestly fix a lot of misconceptions.” Of course he knew the statistics based on incidents resolved and casualty count was important, but when no one seemed to think of that anyways when they thought of the chart, it felt kind of… counterintuitive.

“What rank are you meant to be?” Edward asked, squinting. 

Keigo smirked, flashing his teeth. “I’m currently ranked the number three Hero in all of Japan. Made the top ten at eighteen, youngest ever to do so.”

“Heh,” Edward’s eyes sparked with interest and some other emotion Keigo couldn't name. “Kinda like me then, huh?”

Keigo tilted his head curiously. “You mean you being a Major General? Pretty impressive.”

The Amestrian’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. “Kind of. I’m the youngest State Alchemist in Amestris, and we start out with a rank equivalent to Major in the military.” Edward paused, staring at the table for a few seconds, before his eyes flicked back up to Keigo’s. “You’re in your early twenties, right? So you started as a Hero straight out of school?”

“Not really,” Keigo shrugged. “I got private training from the Commission instead of going to a traditional school for Heroics like U.A.”

Edward grunted, and it didn’t sound very approving. “You got scouted by your government?”

“Eh, I guess?” Keigo hummed noncommittally.

“Even more like me, then.”

Keigo paused. “You don’t seem too happy about that,” he observed, noting the scowl on Edward’s face.

The Amestrian snorted. “I checked out your Commission. It’s part of your Ministry of Defense… which basically makes Heroics part of the military.”

Keigo blinked slightly at the bitter tone in Edward’s voice. Curious… “The armed forces and Heroics both fall under the Ministry of Defense and are part of maintaining national public security,” Keigo agreed slowly, wondering where this was going. “But Heroes specifically respond to quirk-based incidents and have more of a… common presence, I guess you could say.”

“So, military but with a different name,” Edward surmised. 

Keigo made a face, still not quite agreeing but also unable to fully disagree. The Amestrian did have a point… the main difference was that soldiers in the military didn’t all have licenses to use their quirks and were meant to respond to foreign threats. But so many of those ended up being quirk based, Heroes frequently took point and were backed by the military and military resources. 

“Once again, you don’t seem to approve,” Keigo commented. It was odd that Edward, a member of his own military, seemed to have such disregard for what he viewed as another country’s military… Though if Keigo remembered correctly, the Amestrian had said his country had engaged in many wars and even implied he lost his arm to one of the conflicts.

Edward’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “I might work for the military, but I’ve got no love for them.”

And yet he was chosen to represent his government in a foreign country? Interesting decision… Keigo was further confused because he recalled seeing Edward with some Japanese soldiers at the reception the Foreign Ministry had hosted, and their interactions had hardly seemed so hostile. Why was he so opposed to the military, yet not the people in it? 

Keigo paused, considering Edward with a narrowed gaze, trying to pick apart the young man’s motivations. “Were you conscripted?”

“No,” Edward shook his head immediately. “My circumstances are unique… I was scouted, though they didn’t realize my age at the time. Anyways, I needed resources only the military could provide and got in on an oversight.” He chuckled sardonically. “You need to be older than eighteen to enlist, but the State Alchemist exam didn’t have an age limit because they thought any alchemist good enough to pass would have to be in their twenties or thirties, at least… They added a limit, thanks to me.”

Edward gave a wry smile. “I passed at age twelve. Youngest State Alchemist in history, beating out the prior record by about a decade.”

… Twelve?

Keigo blinked, processing and trying to fit the information he’d learned into something resembling sense. Questions and theories warred in his brain in an attempt to understand why and how a twelve year old would want to do such a thing. Was the test simply that easy or was Edward a prodigy? What could a twelve year old need that would require military resources of all things? And why hadn’t the military disqualified him based on his age anyways?

“Given your feelings for the military… I’m curious,” Keigo eventually murmured. “Seems an odd choice to stay, let alone the fact you were permitted to stay.”

“What, like you’re different?” Edward said, narrowing his eyes. “You said you became a Hero at eighteen, reached the ‘top ten’ the same year. Your Commission certainly didn’t cut corners, did they? Bet they started training you when you were young too.”

Keigo hummed. There was something he was missing here… why would Edward… Oh. “This isn’t about me, is it?” Keigo said slowly, watching the young man across the table. He leaned forward, meeting the other’s golden eyed gaze. “Not entirely, anyways. Tell me… what is your problem with my government?”

The Amestrian blinked, blindsided for a few seconds. Then he let out a hiss, waving a hand in the air. “Just… you all seem so shocked at me being so young and being in the military, but it's not like your ‘Heroics’ is any different!” Edward bared his teeth in a snarl. “You’re training teenagers for a career in combat, Heroics is barely different from the military… you’re training child soldiers yet none of you seem to think it’s a bad thing! Hell, you were personally scouted and trained!”

Keigo let Edward’s anger wash over him, eyeing the Amestrian as he considered the words. There was truth to it, Keigo reflected, letting himself be emotionless over the matter. But… it also wasn’t quite right. The Amestrian was making assumptions… and if Keigo had to guess, while his intentions were good, he was biased by his own experiences. Perhaps due to some lingering resentment towards the capacity of the military? Either way he had to nip this in the bud.

“What do you know of myself? What do you know of our issues?” Keigo asked bluntly. The faster he got Edward to realize this, the better. “You’ve been here for what… three weeks? How can you hope to judge us when you barely know our history, let alone our culture?”

“I know enough,” Edward growled, though his voice faltered, losing some of his initial anger.

Keigo sighed, pulling a feather from his wing and spinning it between his fingers as he considered what to say.

“In Japan, attending high school is optional,” Keigo began, watching Edward across the table. “Many high schools are vocational, you attend a certain high school depending on what job you want, and that high school provides focused training for that job. Schools have different departments with different programs… nursing, technology, music, Heroics.”

Keigo drew the tip of the feather through the air in a broad gesture. “Students in nursing tracks do internships with doctors, have classes focused on learning anatomy and how to treat a range of patients with a range of quirks. Heroics students have internships with Heroes, learn how to use their quirks, and how to handle various situations they could encounter, from a Villain taking hostages to a natural disaster.

“Hero students are students, Heroes in training. They’re headed into a career where we’re handling incidents of people misusing their quirks… it doesn’t always result in combat, but sometimes it does.” Keigo pointed out the window to the city below. “Thanks to the wide array of quirks out there, what was previously limited to a small fist fight can become something that can topple buildings and cause a lot of collateral damage. Individual people are capable of much more massive amounts of damage than you’re probably used to.”

“You’re treating it like everyone is a bomb threat,” Edward scowled.

“Anyone could be,” Keigo pointed out. “I’m not saying everyone is, but in the past you needed a certain level of experience to know how to construct a bomb or other kind of explosive. Nowadays, if you have the right quirk… well, there’s even more government agencies that focus on getting kids with certain quirks the training and resources to prevent a cataclysm.”

The Amestrian exhaled, eyes flicking back up to Keigo’s from where they’d fallen to inspect his hands. Molten metal churned in their depths. “What about you then? You didn’t go to a school… explain to me how you being scouted and then trained by your government as a kid isn’t the making of a soldier?”

“I’m not a child soldier,” Keigo snapped back immediately and Edward barked a laugh.

“Really?” Edward snorted, the sound scornful and mocking. “I’d be an idiot if I didn’t recognize my military’s all kinds of fucked up for accepting a kid. Du bist ein Heuchler!” ^[1] he spat between gritted teeth, eyes blazing. Keigo forced himself to let the anger wash over him, staring back at Edward cooly while the Amestrian glared at him, breathing heavily.

Eventually, Edward slumped, taking several deep breaths and visibly reeling back his anger.  He looked up at Keigo and this time, instead of being angry, he just looked… hollow. “You’re holding a double standard,” the young man said softly. “Why can’t you see that?”

Keigo paused, taking a breath. Anger served no end for him here… he could do Edward the courtesy of thinking over the question and evaluating his answer. He knew the Hero Public Safety Commission was far from perfect. There were districts where no Heroes patrolled, even when there were enough. There were rumors of bribery and of Heroes misusing their power, incidents covered up and inquiries dragged out years by unending paperwork as cases were confined to a filing cabinet. 

But honestly? Keigo was grateful to the Commission. His parents… they’d been neglectful if not outright abusive. Yet the Commission had given him safety, shown him that Heroes weren’t limited to fiction. The Commission had given him a choice, offering to train him to be a Hero to help those like himself.

“You said you chose to be in the military,” Keigo said softly. “I may have been offered the position of being a Hero and being trained by the Commission, but I was given a choice. Yes, it was when I was a kid but without the Commision, I wouldn’t be a Hero. Heroes saved me, and as a Hero, I’ve saved even more.”

“And did you realize what you were getting into?” Edward asked, one eyebrow raised. He clearly knew the answer. “Did you make the choice with full awareness of what the job meant? ”

“… No,” Keigo admitted. “In that, I know, the offer was flawed.”

In hindsight, Keigo could recognize how… misguided offering the choice was in the first place. He had been a kid, he hadn’t known what a Hero did aside from what he’d seen on the television. Looking back, Keigo knew that while he’d had the agency to choose, it had been almost the illusion of choice… If given a chance to be a Hero, it wasn’t a surprise a young child would gladly choose to do so. Still, Keigo didn’t regret his decision. Without the Commision, he likely never would have become a Hero and he’d never regret the lives he had saved.

“What about you?” Keigo asked, almost challengingly, to Edward. “Did you know what being in the military meant?”

“Absolutely not,” Edward said promptly, and Keigo couldn’t help but be surprised by the blunt honesty. “I knew what State Alchemists were called: Lakaien der Armee.^[2] I knew the soldiers killed people. But while I knew, I didn’t Know.” He gave a bitter smile. “When I decided to join, I didn’t think there was any hell worse than the one I’d already been through. I’d sold my soul once. What was one more time?”

The Amestrian scoffed, the sound bitter and filled with mourning. “It wasn’t for years until I realized that despite my prowess for combat, Mustang kept me from the worst of it. I was a State Alchemist, I could have been put at the front. Arguably should have… except Mustang painted it to seem that I was better off left as a researcher and some other parties wanted to make sure I stayed alive.”

Edward fell silent, gazing at some distant horizon. Quiet descended on them, long enough that Keigo turned his attention back to his long forgotten food. He took a few more bites, chewing morosely as he picked at his twisted emotions. He didn’t think of himself as a child soldier but… Keigo valued truth, and for all Edward’s words left a bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t deny the similarities between their stories.

“What do you think it’s like to be quirkless?” Edward asked, and Keigo blinked at the non sequitur. 

“Erm,” Keigo turned his words over, before eventually shaking his head, shoulders and wings lifting in a shrug. “I don’t know…?” Something snagged in Keigo’s chest, tight and uncomfortable. He… didn’t know. Really, didn’t know. He could think of a few people at the HPSC who were quirkless, but he’d never really stopped and considered what it would be like to be quirkless. Well, the quirkless were kind of baseline humans, right? Probably meant it was easier for them to find clothes or healthcare, considering how varied and broad the two had to be to accommodate for the vast array of quirks.

Keigo shook his head. “I don’t know honestly… I never thought about it before. Didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Relevant…” the Amestrian gave a dark chuckle. “Yeah, that about sums it up. I may have only been here a few weeks, but I’ve seen and heard how I’m regarded. Quirkless aren’t relevant. You were at the gala, you’re observant. I was made noteworthy by being Atossan and then made interesting by my alchemy, especially when it keeps getting mistaken for a quirk.”

Edward side-eyed Keigo. “Quirkless aren’t considered relevant, and you should know this. Your bosses or whoever tried to get you to drop the case… you saying Atossans being quirkless played no part in that?”

Keigo opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped. He wanted to say ‘no’. He knew Jin, he knew she wouldn’t do it intentionally, but… but in Tsukauchi’s list of cold cases, far too many were quirkless. (What were another dozen?) And when Keigo had begun asking around, trying to determine the movements of people in the vicinity of All for One’s bases, almost no one had spoken of the quirkless. (Not relevant, irrelevant, ignored.) And Keigo? He noticed because when he’d gone looking, when he actually wanted to know about the quirkless… he couldn’t find much of anything at all. (Focus on the living, on the information networks you have.)

“… not intentionally,” Keigo said quietly. 

The young man across from him barked a laugh. “Implicit bias is a dangerous, insidious thing. Even if you don’t intend for it… it can be there.”

“And you?” Keigo narrowed his eyes at Edward. “You seem to have a bias against my government for whatever reason.”

Edward blinked, opening his mouth to deny before he snapped it shut. “I’ve got good reason,” he muttered, an edge to his voice. “I’ve seen governments do terrible things.”

“Every government has problems, Japan’s not unique in that,” Keigo pointed out. “In Japan we’ve got high rates of quirk discrimination, because many deem someone’s worth based on their quirk. The U.S. is rife with examples of Heroes abusing their power. In China, there’s high rates of quirk trafficking. You telling me that back in Amestris, there’s no problems with the government?”

The Amestrian barked out a laugh, incredulous and pained. “That’s exactly why I’m saying this! I’ve seen how bad it was in Amestris!” Edward tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair, something wild at the edges of his expression. “You don’t get it… sometimes I don’t get it. For a while I didn’t care, didn’t want to care, and then I did, and I couldn’t unsee it. Nothing can justify what happened but still to learn that so much death resulted from one being’s twisted ambitions… and even then, Vater ^[3] wasn’t the one doing the killing.”

Keigo couldn’t make sense of Edward’s ramblings and he was almost afraid to ask… almost. “What do you mean?” he asked, tone more gentle than previously.

“What happens in war?” Edward asked instead. “I don’t think Amestris has had a single year of peace for at least a hundred and fifty years…” The Amestrian let his head sink to his hands, a long sigh being pulled from him.

“… You killed people?” Keigo asked, slowly.

“Nein!” ^[4] Edward snapped, head jerking up and eyes blazing. Then he slumped, the energy drained out of him. “No… but I know people who have.”

“And what do you think of them?” Keigo asked, tilting his head. “The people who have killed?”

Edward was slow to answer, staring at his bowl of soup that had long turned cold as if it held the answers he sought. “I don’t know,” he eventually said. “It’s easy to want to hate them for it, and some do. Or you could say they were just following orders, but it’s not an order that pulled the trigger. And… I’ve got… friends who killed in those wars. I know they haven’t forgiven themselves for it, they likely never will. The families of their victims certainly haven’t forgiven them either, even if they don’t all seek revenge.”

The Amestrian winced slightly then sighed, ducking his head. “They killed people. Mistkerl… he and the others, they’re not responsible for the wars starting, but they were the ones carrying it out.” He grimaced. “Roy is trying to make things better but…” Edward fell silent again. “It’s not redemption they’re seeking. It’s reparation, atonement.”

“Is there a difference?” Keigo asked, curious to what Edward would say.

Edward shrugged. “Roy and the rest seem to think so… they’re not looking to right their wrongs. They know their wrongs were wrong. They can’t be forgiven for those actions, can’t heal who died. There is no equivalent exchange.” Edward paused, looking past the window to the city that stretched below them. "Atonement… I think for them, it means it's a promise they’ll never let go of the past, never forget what they’ve done, never pretend that they’re innocent of it. They don’t seek forgiveness, they seek to ensure what happened never happens again.”

Keigo listened, noting the hole around which Edward orbited. There was a deeper meaning in Edward’s words he knew he wasn’t getting. The Amestrian had said his friends had killed people but… there almost seemed to be more to it than that, some deeper wrong that Keigo had no chance of teasing apart. Without knowing the history behind what had happened… Keigo could ask, but he sensed that Edward wouldn’t say.

It was curious. Edward had such distaste for the military as a whole, but not necessarily the people who made it up. He empathized with them, saw them as people. And in a way, it made sense. From what Keigo could glean of Edward’s non-explanation, his government had committed terrible acts in the past, and Edward knew people who had worked for it and aided in those acts, whatever they were. Despite this, Edward recognized how they sought to improve themselves and the country despite the blood on their hands, and considered them his friends for that.

Keigo sighed, partially opening one wing and arching it over his body. He began carding his fingers through the feathers in a repetitive, self-soothing motion. “The Commision is not your government,” Keigo said. “And while Heroes definitely have parallels to the military, we’re not it. It’s frowned upon for Heroes to kill Villains. I’m not saying the Commission doesn’t have problems. In fact, it’s got some pretty big ones… and it definitely needs an overhaul in areas, but it’s a false equivalency.”

“Could stage a coup, call it a day,” Edward said, attempting to inject levity into his tone, but falling short. The Amestrian looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon.

“Pretty sure conspiracy to commit or provoke war is a capital crime,” Keigo replied, sending Edward a sharp look. “Besides, even if you did overhaul the government by force… How many casualties would happen along the way?” He sunk his fingers into the feathers, the vibrations of his hand’s movements humming in his mind. “You’re right, the Commission’s not perfect… training me as a kid, the quirk discrimination… but it’s not the worst.” 

Down and out, down and out, Keigo’s fingers sifted across his wing.

“Something is needed, though,” Edward said softly. His anger had evaporated completely and now he just looked exhausted. “Quirks are bullshit and throw everything out of proportion… Ich will gar nicht daran denken was in Amestris los wäre, wenn jeder stinknormale Kampf das Potential hätte, eine Alchemieschlacht zu werden,” ^[5] the Amestrian shivered, muttering to himself in his native language. “But… everything here is just so quirk focused.”

“Of course, quirks are everywhere,” Keigo pointed out, but Edward just shook his head.

“Not everywhere…” Edward leaned back in his chair, eyeing Keigo across the table. “You’re right, I haven’t been here long and don’t know much of how things work but… quirks aren’t everywhere, but they have become everything.” When Keigo evidently still looked confused, Edward huffed and thought for a moment before continuing, “So, I got this example from a friend but… Who would be hired first: the person with a degree to practice medicine, who is quirkless? Or, the person with a healing quirk?”

“The healing quirk,” Keigo said immediately. 

Edward tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Why does having a quirk suited for the position make them more qualified? Who’s to say they know how the human body even works? What if they heal something wrong? Will they take into account patient concerns?” 

Keigo hadn’t… He thought over his answer, trying to figure out why he’d answered as he did. “The person with the healing quirk would be able to heal,” Keigo thought aloud, trying to pick himself apart. “A degree in medicine is great and all, but the quirk could handle more situations.”

“Could it?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow. “What if it could only be used once a day? What if it uses the energy of the person being healed, but they only have so much energy to give at once? What if they had to know the anatomy to fix things correctly?”

“Well, then the quirk user would learn,” Keigo said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Most people have to learn and train long and hard to be able to use their quirks to their fullest extent. Heroes, especially.”

“And those with more training over their quirks are looked upon more favorably? Those with more experience can better handle situations?” Keigo nodded. “Well, the person with the medical degree had to train too. They had to put in years of medical school, learning how to be a doctor, how to diagnose and treat diseases and injuries. They have years of experience, and your quirk user might have only used their quirk a handful of times.”

Keigo… Keigo couldn’t say anything to that.

Edward left him to stew in his thoughts, and it was several minutes before Keigo answered. “I… I think I see what you mean.” He exhaled, resettling his wings against his back. “Though I won’t deny it’s a bit… discomforting.”

“Die Wahrheit tut weh,” ^[6] Edward said with a wry, almost smile, rubbing at his shoulder. “Truth hurts…”

Keigo snorted. “I won’t argue with that. Guess we both have stuff to learn.”

“Yeah,” the Amestrian huffed, then paused, his gaze turning distant. He stayed that way for a minute before his eyes darted to Keigo’s, suddenly focused. “You don’t know what it’s like to be quirkless in this day and age, and I don’t know nearly enough about your system here to fix things and a coup would be useless–”

“Still a capital crime,” Keigo muttered, because a foreign ambassador should really not be talking about overthrowing the local government.

He was ignored as Edward dug around in his pockets and produced a pen, scribbling something on his napkin. “Here,” Edward said, passing the napkin to Keigo, who looked at it curiously. A phone number?

“What…?” Keigo began, looking up at the Amestrian curiously.

“It’s the address of a guy named Kanahoshi,” Edward explained, pointing to the slip of paper. “I think he’d be a good one for you to talk to. He’s quirkless, too.”

The walk back to the police station couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes, but to Edward, it simultaneously felt like a second and an eternity. The conversation, or perhaps debate, had left him feeling raw. His fingers tangled in the fabric of his coat, and he forced himself to take even breaths. The righteous fury Ed had felt prior to the meeting had dwindled. Now, he was just exhausted.

Hawks had been surprisingly adept at picking Ed apart, at hearing what he had not said. Once again Ed couldn’t help but be reminded of a certain Bastard back home. Hawks was like Mustang in a lot of ways, he had even echoed the Führer’s own words from Ed’s letters. But despite the similarities in personality, Hawks was barely three years Ed’s senior. And, they shared more than just age. 

The thought of it had Ed grimacing. Hawks hadn’t been wrong. The Amestrian government’s… everything had left Ed mistrustful and for good reason. Edward stood by the fact that the whole Heroics industry was just a reskinned version of the military but… but it wasn’t Amestris’ military. Because while the whole thing might stink of consumerism and systemic injustice, it still wasn’t as bad as Amestris. There wasn’t an Ishval here. There wasn’t a Dwarf in the Flask.

Of course, just because they hadn’t had an Ishval didn’t mean one couldn’t still happen but… but maybe Ed could help with preventing that.

Not for the first time, Edward wished Alphonse were here, instead of being limited to letters. His little brother kept him focused, kept Ed’s chaos counterbalanced. Al had his own brand of chaos, but… Al knew him better than anyone and was admittedly the calmer of the two of them. And was better at talking. And better at anything that even slightly involved human interaction.

Ed sighed. He hoped he was making the right decision by giving Kanahoshi’s phone address to Hawks. If he hadn’t… well, Ed would bring Kanahoshi back to Amestris himself. 

The police department was just as busy as when he’d left it. Bypassing the elevators, Ed climbed the stairs, backtracking to the conference room where the All for One–Atossan investigation had taken up residence. Ed entered the door code and slipped inside, spotting Detective Sakamura engrossed in some reading. The man’s eyes flicked up at the sound of the door, briefly nodding to Ed before returning to his work. 

Ed’s own corner of the room was as he’d left it, papers strewn across the surface of the conference table. He braced himself against the table, looking over his work. 

The map showing smuggling routes had entire swaths painted red, countless paths that could be taken. The map of All for One’s bases had pins scattered across Japan like stars, only the few they knew about. Witness accounts from the streets were scattered, their leads hitting dead ends. All for One? Not talking, All Might had tried. Aerugo? Had said all they cared to, further inquiries may be seen as undermining the navy. Victims? Too many. Too few identified. Mustang had Investigations looking, but it was a longshot already. 

Ed’s hands tightened into fists, his metal fingers creaking from the pressure.

Talfon. Lasker. Steiner.

Unknown. Unknown. Unknown.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Edward bared his teeth, soundlessly snarling his frustration. How many family members had each left behind? How many people wondered about them? Wondered if they were gone, or dead? How many more were there that hadn’t yet been found?

Unknown. Unknown. Unknown.

No name. Missing. Dead. Just like the prisoners of Lab Five in Central… How many had asked after them, their family hidden behind brick and stone? How many times had they been denied, rebuffed? How many people had lost their lives to make those Philosopher’s Stones? How many souls had been stolen?

How many people had been treated as expendable? As worthless?

His chest was tight, acid crawling up his throat. Why? Fuck, he couldn’t— 

something touched him–

Dropping, Edward swept his attacker’s legs out from under them with a swift kick. By the time the person holding him hit the ground, Ed already had a blade of sharpened steel held to their throat. For a second and an eternity, the world was still. Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump. Ed’s heartbeat echoed in his ears, the world beyond muffled. He was tense as a wire, already preparing to meet the next strike but… 

It never came.

Ed faltered. Something was wrong. His attacker had frozen, making no move to retaliate. Ed blinked, squinting as he tried to focus on his target. It was enough for thought and memory to catch up to what he had been sightlessly seeing. 

Dark hair. Wide brown eyes. A familiar face.

Tsukauchi.

The world snapped into focus. Ed reared back, blade vanishing from the neck of the prone detective. “I– sorry… I– shit,” Ed fumbled, backing away. Tsukauchi remained motionless for another few seconds before slowly getting to his feet, watching Ed carefully. Distantly Ed could hear himself fumbling over sounds, Amestrian mixing into his strangled syllables.

Shit. Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon—

Something moved and Ed’s head snapped to it. Akira froze as Ed’s eyes landed on her, halting her motion towards Tsukauchi. Ed swallowed roughly, his gaze flicking past to the other detectives. They were all watching him warily. Sansa’s ears were laid back, his fur standing on end. Sakamura’s appearance had grown distinctively more wolf-like. 

Edward’s insides were transmuting to lead, acid crawling up his throat.

He shifted backwards, farther from Tsukauchi. As he did so, there was a shine of metal and his eyes darted to the blade still protruding from his forearm. His chest tightened. In a crackle of blue lightning the sword was gone, but its absence only made the weight of the room’s eyes press harder into Ed’s shoulders, trying to push him into the floor. 

The room was collapsing, the air sucked from his lungs. 

He had to get out of here.

“I’m going for a walk,” Ed heard himself say, skirting around the detectives to reach the door. If they tried to stop him, he couldn’t hear it beyond the blood roaring in his ears. Ed walked as fast as he dared. He didn’t run, but it was a near thing. 

Once he hit the street, he picked a direction and went. He had no destination in mind, his only thought was away. He had to get away.

Edward tried to tell himself he wasn’t running away.

It wasn’t working.

“It’s not running away if I’m going back,” Ed muttered in Amestrian. Even if facing Tsukauchi after Ed had attacked him made his organs twist into knots, he would. Though going back could be a problem in itself…

Damn it, he was so lost.

Ed scanned the surrounding buildings, frustration mounting. While his aimless walk had brought him out of the fugue state, it had also gotten him utterly and hopelessly lost. So here Ed was, in a city of over ten million, surrounded by giant skyscrapers, with absolutely no idea where he was.

“First I was so lost in my own damn head that I pulled a knife on Tsukauchi, now I’m fucking lost in a foreign mega city,” Ed growled. “I can just see the headlines: ‘Atossan ambassador attacks! A sign of impending invasion?’ Mustang is going to kill me.”

Though for Mustang to kill him, first Ed had to find his way back to Amestris. On the upside, Japan was an island so Ed couldn’t wander too far. On the downside, Japan was an island and Ed couldn’t just walk back to Amestris. Sighing, he turned down several more random sidestreets, weaving around pedestrians. Who knows, maybe this was the right way?

It was not the right way.

“Someone call a Hero!” 

The exclamation had Ed turning, spotting a small crowd clustered a few buildings down. After a second of hesitation, Edward jogged over, shoving around the pedestrians to see what had attracted the commotion. Finally, after much pushing, he was able to catch a glimpse through the wall of bodies.

A man covered in spikes, one arm hooked around the neck of a teenager, the other hand clutching a duffel bag. 

Hostage situation.

Clamping down the urge to lunge forward, Ed kept himself still as his eyes swept across the scene. He couldn’t jump in needlessly… It was a dangerous position for the teenager, the spikes on the man’s arms scraping the soft skin of her throat. Her hands were grabbing her captor’s spiked arm, a few small threads of blood trailing off her fingers. 

Edward’s gaze shifted to the man. A forest of quill-like spines covered the man’s back and replaced his hair, reminding Ed of a porcupine. They were thickest on his head and the backs of his arms and legs, where hair was densest, yet from what Ed could see around the hostage, the man’s front was absent of any quills. 

A porcupine quirk, maybe, Ed considered. But Midoriya said not all animal-like quirks map one to one with the animal’s abilities…  So just because he shouldn’t be able to shoot those quills, doesn’t mean he can’t.

Ed shoved his way to the front of the crowd of people, only to jolt as a hand grabbed hold of his arm and hauled him backward. Whirling around, Ed glared at the police officer that had grabbed him. “What are you doing, kid?” the officer said, keeping her gun pointed at Porcupine. “That’s a Villain!”

“And why aren’t you doing anything?!” Ed snapped.

Another police officer — three of them total, Ed noted — glanced at him. “We’re trying, but we’re not Heroes, kid!” the man hissed in a whisper, eyes flicking between Ed and Porcupine. “We’re not equipped to handle quirks.”

Who cares?!

“I told you to stay back!” Porcupine shouted, arm tightening around the neck of his hostage. “Let me go or she gets it!”

Ed narrowed his eyes, watching Porcupine. The man’s eyes darted over the police, shifting on his feet. He was nervous, that much was clear. Well, if no one else was going to do anything, Ed would have to try. He stepped out in front of the crowd, dodging the arms reaching for him, and came to a stop in front of Porcupine and his hostage.

“Hey,” Ed said, giving a wave. He locked eyes with the girl trapped by Porcupine. She gave a rough swallow, mouthing the words, “Help me.” Ed nodded.

Behind him the police and pedestrians were shouting various renditions of: “Get back here!” 

Ed ignored them.

“Listen to ‘em, kid,” Porcupine said, tightening his grip on the teenager. She made a small sound of protest, her eyes pleading. “I don’t want to be forced to hurt you.”

Edward met Porcupine’s eyes, cocking his head to the side. “What’s forcing you?” Ed asked. 

Porcupine hesitated. 

He shifted on his feet before his eyes flicked behind Ed and something hardened. “Those idiots of course!” Porcupine hissed, the quills on his head flexing upwards. “They won’t let me go! I don’t want to hurt you, but they’re not giving me a choice!” 

“So, you want the police to let you go, but since they won’t, you are threatening her so that they will?” Ed asked and Porcupine nodded. 

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Why are the police after you?” Ed asked. Porcupine paused, his grip tightening around the straps of the duffle bag. He shuffled in place, putting the bag further behind him and the hostage in front of him, a living shield. The teenager looked half furious and half terrified, her eyes locked onto Ed. 

“I– I need the money,” Porcupine said. “I have to pay off Majima and if I don’t, he’ll kill me and everyone else! The shop’s barely making enough money to stay afloat as it is, we don’t have enough to keep up with his loan payments!”

Porcupine’s quills flexed higher with his anxiety. In his grip, the hostage whimpered, the spines inches from her face. 

“What kind of shop do you have?” Ed asked.

A ghost of a smile crossed Porcupine’s face. “It’s a small machine shop, my brother and I set it up. He wanted the shop to be underground bot fighting, but he’s always been good with building robots. I told him once we had enough income we could have the bot fights on the side…” Porcupine gave a rough swallow, shaking his head and then baring his teeth in a snarl. “He’s dead if I don’t get this to Majima and these bastards won’t let me go!” 

“Look, you clearly don’t want to hurt anyone,” Ed soothed, raising his hands. “Otherwise you’d be using those spikes of yours a lot more. But, maybe we can come to an agreement? You don’t want your brother to die, and need the money to pay off Majima. But that money you’re stealing belongs to other people, people who might have their own Majima.”

“I’m not going to leave my brother to die,” Porcupine snarled. “And those bastards are hardly going to agree to let me go. I’m just a Villain to them, doesn’t matter if I give up now, I’m always going to be a Villain.” 

Ed internally swore. This was devolving fast. “You don’t know that—”

“Of course I do!” Porcupine laughed, bitter and manic. “Even once I save my brother there’s only one path for me! Villain! And who cares for a thing such as me, in debt to loan sharks? They know my face, if the Heroes don’t get me, Majima will! And you–” Porcupine arm tightened around the teenager’s neck, glaring at her. “I don’t want to hurt you but I want to save my brother more.”

Porcupine started backing up down the alley. Ed advanced after, even as Porcupine spat at him, hunching over his hostage as his quills flared up. “I’m warning you kid, get the fuck away from me or—”

Porcupine was cut off as the teenager rammed her head upwards, skull colliding with his jaw. Porcupine’s head snapped back with a garbled choke, stumbling, and it was all the opportunity Ed needed.

Edward lunged forward, closing the gap between them and wrapping his metal fingers around the arm holding the girl. He jerked the arm back, spikes scraping uselessly at his automail, and the teenager scrambled away. Porcupine’s other arm had dropped the bag and was reaching for him in hopes of grappling Ed, but Ed didn’t give him the chance.

He kicked Porcupine’s legs out, swiftly pinning the man with his back and spines to the ground. Porcupine spat and writhed, trying to buck Ed off or get an angle to skewer him. With his metal limbs keeping the spiky bits away, Ed leaned over, putting his arm to the man’s throat to keep him down. 

“Where is Majima?” Ed hissed quietly. Porcupine snarled with rage and Ed pressed harder. “Tell me if you want your brother to live.”

Porcupine’s struggles hesitated, before a whispery: “Setagaya Ward, a bar thirty minutes south from Marakashi station.”

“Right,” Ed nodded, then, “Sorry about this.” 

Porcupine didn’t have time to ask “What for?” before Ed had already knocked him unconscious. Standing, Ed stepped back from where the man was sprawled limp on the pavement. A scuffing of shoes on pavement had Ed turning to see the hostage standing hesitantly behind him.

“I-is he…?” she glanced at Porcupine.

“Oh, just unconscious,” Edward reassured. “Didn’t want him trying… all that, again.” She nodded, swallowing again and Ed sent her a reassuring grin. “You did good.”

“Uh, thanks,” she gave him a shaky smile, eyes flicking to Porcupine’s unconscious form. “And thank you for… that.”

“No problem,” Ed shrugged. “I’m Ed, what’s your name?”

“Mika.”

“Great thinking, Mika, heatbutting his chin like that. It doesn’t take much to knock someone out. If you’d had a better angle, I bet you could have.”

Mika sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I wish… I wasn’t nearly tall enough. I am so much shorter that I’m lucky that I even hit instead of making myself look like an idiot.” She scowled, lip curling. “I would have bit him, but…” 

Ed winced, thinking of the spines scraping against his metal fingers. “Yeah probably better you didn’t.” 

The girl nodded sullenly, hugging herself. Ed, blanking on how exactly to comfort her, offered: “Next time, if hitting the chin doesn’t work, try punching him in the crotch,” Ed suggested, miming the movement. “You’re the perfect height for it.”

Mika squinted at him, before realization flashed across her expression, and she stared at him with a mixture of bafflement and admiration. “Perfect height, huh?” she giggled, something feral in her eyes. “Can I assume you’ve tried it too?”

Ed scowled at the implication he was short, but nodded. “Yeah, way too many bastards somehow take ‘being short’ as ‘being defenseless.’ It’s cathartic to knock their egos down to size.”

Mika gave a startled laugh, which abated as the police officers finally walked over. Two of the three went over to Porcupine, hefting up his limp body, while the last came over to Ed. Edward was expecting some form of rebuke, but he couldn’t deny he was surprised when the officer clamped a hand on Ed’s shoulder and slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

“Sorry, kid,” the man said, face twisting into something apologetic. “You did good taking that guy down. But I need to arrest you for vigilantism.”

“But he just saved me from the guy!” Mika protested.

“Vigilantism, and directly in front of police,” the officer, his name tag reading ‘Goro,’ said flatly. He looked down at Ed. “Look, kid, things might have worked out this time but being a vigilante is a good way to get yourself and others killed.”

Mika scowled. “Well you weren’t doing anything!”

“We’re not the ones who handle quirks, kid. We’re police, not Heroes,” Goro said and then huffed. He shook his head, glancing down at Ed. “Don’t worry, you’re hardly the first hero-happy teenager to try their hand at vigilantism. Plus, things worked out, so the consequences probably won’t be too bad. Come on.”

Goro hauled Ed forward and Ed let himself stumble after as he considered his options. On the one hand, getting arrested could get him unlost and back to Tsukauchi faster. On the other hand, Ed wasn’t about to let Porcupine’s brother die, and this Majima deserved a thorough beat down. Plus… Ed swallowed back the shame clogging his throat. He had no desire to see the Detective, not after his outburst. Seems he would just have to remain lost for a bit longer. 

But first, how to get out of this mess… he could punch the officers’ lights out but that would just give him more trouble, probably a villain accusation on top of being a vigilante… wait, hold on… 

“No, I’m not under arrest,” Ed retorted, wrenching himself from Goro’s grip. It was a bit awkward digging through his pockets while handcuffed, but he managed to pull out his wallet. After flipping through it, Ed shoved his travel visa in front of the man’s face. It cheerfully displayed Ed’s status as a resident of Atossa and his status in Japan for the trip. “I’m a foreign ambassador, I have diplomatic immunity.”

Ed didn’t actually know if he did.

Before Goro could grab his ID for closer inspection – and potentially question the validity of his diplomatic immunity – Ed shoved it back in pocket. He lifted his cuffed hands and gave Goro his best two fingered salute. “Well, you have a good day, I’m going to be leaving now.”

He spun and quickly started striding away. 

Behind him, he heard Goro cry, “W-wait! Hey, get back here!”

Edward walked faster.

Pushing through the surrounding crowd, Ed came out onto the street. Once he’d turned a corner, he ducked behind another group of people. Ed gave a quick clap and one transmutation later, the rusty brown of his coat was bleeding into blue and the black button-shirt shifting to white. He undid his braid, his hair unraveling to hang long and loose against his back. Then, tipping his chin up, Ed strode confidently forward, right past the wandering eyes of the police. 

Several minutes and several blocks away, Ed’s coat, shirt and hair had been restored to their original state and he was snickering at his successful getaway. 

Still, Ed could just hear Al’s judging voice, echoing through his head. You know, I imagine you’re breaking quite a few laws Brother, Head-Al said. Ed could even see the raised eyebrow. Using diplomatic immunity to evade crimes? Honestly, I can’t even count the number of people who claimed that and then were later introduced to your fists. Didn’t Yoki in Youswell say something similar?

“You break just as many laws as me, Alphonse,” Ed muttered.

Perhaps, but I’m more diplomatic about it.

“You don’t even know the laws here, so how would you know if I’m breaking them?”

I’m in your head, ergo, you don’t know the laws.

“Great, now I’m insulting myself,” Edward sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Regardless of the fact that Head-Al was right, it didn’t mean wasn’t going to use his immunity. He didn’t have time to be arrested, not if he was going to keep his promise to Porcupine and punch this Majima character. 

“Alright,” Ed hummed. “I’ve got to get to… what was it? … Right, Setagaya Ward, Marakashi station, bar, thirty minutes south.” 

Now he just needed directions.

Dabi ducked his head down, pulling the collar of his coat higher as he slunk through the alleyways. Few Heroes may have patrolled the back streets in this part of the metropolis, but he was still technically in Tokyo. It was risky, especially with his and the rest of the League’s faces being plastered on every news broadcast in the weeks since Kamino. But Shigaraki wanted to increase their ranks, to find more… like-minded individuals.

Hiding in the shadow of a dilapidated building, Dabi eyed the passerby, giving a scoff at the thought. The League would have better luck getting truly interested people if they let the interested come to them, like Dabi and Toga had. This, searching the backstreets and speaking in whispered tones, Dabi felt like a streetside preacher or salesman. It was demeaning.

But, with the League having to scatter and hide to avoid capture, it was also their best bet at finding people.

Of course, Dabi thought, being in more places means more people to see us. The neighborhood he was in was half abandoned, prior inhabitants having scattered after some villain attack or natural disaster, perhaps both. In the years since, members of the Underworld had taken up residence and it was they that Dabi was here for. It was unlikely anyone here would report him to the Heroes and police; aside from the fact that everyone else also had more than a few marks on their records, there was a certain camaraderie in crime. But, it also wasn’t impossible. Some idiot might get it into their head they could void their sentence if they turned in a higher priority target, or an Underground Hero could be lurking nearby, so it was best to keep a low profile. 

Though, since the Heroes hadn’t pounced on the residents yet, Dabi figured they either didn’t know the place existed or knew about it and ignored it. The latter either because there wasn’t anyone they cared about, or they’d decided that a rat’s nest they knew about was better than scattering vermin to places unknown. 

Dabi glanced eastward, in the direction of where he knew Tokyo’s more wealthy and populated wards to be, sneering. Just like Heroes… sitting up in their shiny gilded towers, running around where they could be captured on a starstruck fan’s camera, while the rest of them had to scramble to find a place to live. 

Turning his back on the city and its skyscrapers, Dabi headed down a narrow side alley, eyes catching on some people emerging from a nearby building. There were six, several with visible mutation quirks, a number of weapons… Rather unimpressive, if he was honest. Probably garden variety thugs, Dabi thought with a sigh. Low-lifes. Rats.

Indeed, the thugs at the other end of the alley just looked at him with ridicule and disgust. Like he was weak, a failure. Dabi hated it. He wanted to burn them alive, show them they were the weak ones. The ones deserving of burning.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the trash asked, as if he could order Dabi around.

Another scoffed. “Your face makes me sick. You a wannabe zombie?”

“Pity,” Dabi said, lifting a hand as flames flickering into being. He didn’t find it a pity at all. “You’re not what I need.”

Blue fire bloomed from his arm, roaring down the alleyway to incinerate the vermin. The air rippled from the heat but Dabi couldn’t feel a thing, having long burned away the nerves of his skin and with it, any sensation of pain.

That said, Dabi’s hearing was still decent and it was a surprise when instead of screams of agony, there was a shuddering rumble through the concrete. His flames whooshed upwards, climbing the sides of the buildings that bordered the alley. Dabi let the flames dissipate and blinked in surprise at the sudden wall that had formed between him and the vermin, static crackling over its surface.

What… ?

A barely there flicker of interest was snuffed as it collided with his towering inferno of rage.

How dare they! Those… those rats that believed him easy prey thought they could just run?! Fury rippled through his veins as liquid fire. He was going to immolate them, by the time he was done they would be nothing but ash.

Across the alley, the stone wall dropped down in a crackle of energy, exposing a lone figure on the other side. Dabi’s initial thought was that he looked like Toga, short with blond hair and gold eyes, but the stranger had replaced Toga’s perpetual toothed smile with a scowl and her school uniform with a rusty brown coat. The figure had one hand planted on the wall of the alley, static crackling over his fingertips.

Fire bloomed in Dabi’s fists. You. You’re the one who interfered…

“Well you remind me of someone,” the wannabe Hero said idly, watching Dabi with narrowed golden eyes. “Though you’ve got a lot less chill.”

Dabi scoffed, the sound tearing at his burned throat. “Who, Endeavor? Flameshot?” he snorted. “Check their casualty counts, those supposed Heroes have caused more damage than I ever have.”

Despite the fury rippling through him, Dabi stayed his flames from the blonde stranger for the moment. The stranger, whoever he was, had skill and power enough to stand against Dabi. He hadn’t been part of the vermin’s gang, so… a Hero or Hero wannabe? Quirk… something to do with stone or cement manipulation, most likely.

“I have no idea who those people are,” Blondie said, shrugging, not once taking his eyes off Dabi. At least he knew enough to acknowledge Dabi as a threat. “So…” Blondie tilted his head, eyes like molten metal. “Why the hell are you trying to burn people alive?”

“What’s it matter to you?” Dabi bared his teeth, the gesture pulling at the leathery burned skin of his lower jaw held together by staples and spite.

“Call me a good samaritan,” Blondie said dryly. “Besides, who are you to cast judgement on them? What gives you that right?”

“Like a Hero would understand,” Dabi sighed. Stain’s goal called for the elimination of the unworthy… by Dabi’s count, it included both the Heroes and Villains.

“Do I look like a Hero to you?” Blondie asked incredulously and Dabi considered him again. True, he looked far too plain to be a Hero, unless he was an Undergrounder. Either way, he clearly didn’t understand their goals… seems he would have to go too.

“No,” Dabi agreed, tilting his head. “But either way… can’t have witnesses.” Fire exploded out of him, roaring down the alleyway. Dabi caught a brief glimpse of wide golden eyes before they were obscured by a tornado of blue flame. 

The ground rumbled and to Dabi’s annoyance, another stone wall slammed upwards in a crackle of lightning. Dabi scowled and reached forwards, focusing his flames into a single blazing jet, intent on melting his way through the rock. As if expecting his intention, the rock wall started moving, advancing towards him through the alley. Shit, hotter, hotter!  

Even with his flames as hot as they were and the surface of the rock glowing orange, it wasn't melting the rock fast enough. Dabi stepped backwards. It stung his pride to retreat, but he didn’t have a chance of incinerating the little shrimp in an enclosed space, not when the shrimp could control the surrounding buildings. He turned to escape and promptly swore as he saw his exit barred by another wall of concrete over ten feet tall.

“Smart little shit,” Dabi growled, eyes flicking between the two rocky barriers. He had to get out of this death trap… Glancing to the uneven brick wall of the alley, Dabi narrowed his eyes as an idea sparked to life. Right. He’d only have one shot at this.

He lurched over to the alley wall, right next to the wall blocking his exit. Reaching up, he grabbed a small lip of stone jutting out, using it to haul himself upward. Once more, his inability to feel pain posed an advantage as he clawed his way up until he could scramble over the top of the exit, aided by a final push from the advancing rock wall. 

Dabi jumped down to the street, his bones aching with the impact, but he ignored it and backed away from the alley. The space between the buildings was much wider here, enough that it might have been a plaza or demolished lot before the place was near abandoned. Out here, Dabi had the advantage, instead of being stuck in a tight alley like a rat in a trap. At the mouth of the alley, the rock walls melted back into the pavement in a crackle of lightning. Blondie stepped out from between the buildings, watching Dabi with narrowed eyes. 

“Clever,” Dabi rasped, giving a smirk as Blondie followed him into the open. “But not clever enough.”

His hand shot forward, a torrent of blue fire following in its wake toward the now exposed wannabe Hero. But just as fast, Blondie was diving away from his flames and began sprinting to the side. Dabi snarled, sweeping his hand out to burn the pesky little son of a bitch. But the shrimp. Kept. Running. Every blast of fire Dabi sent kept missing, Blondie weaving away from the scorching heat.

Fury making the blue fire burn higher, Dabi threw out both hands, sending a massive wave of flames that enveloped the pipsqueak. He pushed his fire hotter, determined to incinerate the little pest until there was nothing but ash. 

Try escaping this, Dabi thought viciously. As if in response to his taunt, he heard the crackling hiss of static. Wait…  

Dabi paused, wary, before his eyes snapped wide. He threw himself aside, narrowly avoiding something erupting out of the ground. As the dust settled, Dabi pushed himself to his feet, peering through the haze. He paled. Where Dabi had previously stood, a large blunted spike of rock had grown from the pavement. His gaze shifted, following a chain of similar spikes that led to a large wall standing erect in the middle of the wide street.

That little shit—!  

Said little shit popped his head around the barrier he’d made, baring his teeth in something that was far too toothed to be a smile. “Well, that was rude!” the kid taunted. “Fire’s dangerous, you know!” 

Dabi had previously thought this kid was similar to Toga in appearance, but not much else. He took that back. Blondie was as crazy as her.

Snarling, Dabi whipped his arms forward. This time, he sent his fire to encircle the barrier, aiming to hit the pest from behind. Nowhere to run this time you brat. But again, the earth rose up to meet the inferno. Lightning arched over the pavement as it twisted, folded, flames left to lick uselessly at the solid earthen dome covering Blondie. Dabi’s lip curled and his fire surged, blasting the dome from all sides.

“Fine, if I can’t burn you, I’ll bake you,” Dabi hissed. He might have too, if he hadn’t had to scramble back from another wave of rocky pillars sprouting from the pavement. Dabi stumbled away, letting out a litany of swears as his damn knee locked. Fucking hell, he just loved the wonderful world of being one giant fucking burn scar.

Another firestorm, another wave of pillars. But this time, he noticed that instead of being targeted directly at him, it was a little off… directed at where he had been.

He’s targeting based on where he thinks I am… Dabi realized, eyes narrowing. 

Fuck, he’d have to keep moving.

To prove him right, the ground rumbled ominously. Dabi swore, eyes darting around him. Shit, what was Blondie doing now? 

He quickly got his answer as something crashed nearby and Dabi whirled to see Blondie crawling out of a hole in the ground before the insane stranger started running straight at Dabi. A lashing whip of blue fire sent Blondie veering off course, small flames licking his clothes. In return, Blondie sent Dabi a present of spikes.

This time, Dabi didn’t stay still and kept moving. He didn’t do so quietly of course. Dabi let out a litany of swears, cursing Blondie’s parenage, height and everything in between. Dabi also cursed the burns twisting around his legs and Endeavor’s everything.

“Would you just burn already!” Dabi growled, adrenaline making his veins burn hotter.

“I haven’t come this far just to die to the likes of you,” Blondie snarled back and Dabi caught a glimpse of the little rat before he vanished behind another earthen barrier, flames blasting the sides. “Besides,” Blondie called, cheerfully sing-song. “You’re not the only one I’ve fought who likes to play with fire!” 

Dabi hated this shrimp. He wanted to see him cremated into ash but no, Blondie was somehow still alive. He took some consolation from the fact that despite Blondie’s persistence, he couldn’t avoid the flames entirely. Still, Dabi could respect Blondie’s tenacity and refusal to die. It was admirable, in a very annoying sort of way. 

But Blondie had taken several firestorms to the face already, and agile or not, no one could face that much fire and come out unscathed.

Blondie was tiring… but of course, Dabi was too. 

A lull fell over the fight as the flames of Dabi’s last attack dissipated. He swept his eyes over the battlefield, spikes of rock and earthen barriers erected at irregular intervals. Blondie hadn’t appeared and Dabi had lost track of the shrimp after the dust thrown up in the last attack. Where are you…

The ground rumbled and Dabi tensed, ready to run from the next assault. But this time, he was left stumbling as the ground crumbled beneath his feet. His arms pinwheeled, trying and failing to regain his balance.

Something blurred in the corner of Dabi’s eye and then pain erupted in his skull. The next thing Dabi knew he was on the ground and then there was fire. Around the low whine in his ears, Dabi heard a surprised shout as the curtain of blue flames roared outward. 

In the brief reprieve he’d bought himself, Dabi coughed, struggling for breath as his fire sucked the air away and dust and smoke settled in his lungs. Blue flames licked at his skin, the acrid smell of his ever burning flesh drifting to his nose. Dabi hauled himself upright on shaky legs, unwilling to let go of his flames even as he knew they were eating more of him away.

The ground around him had been shattered and ground through a sieve, evidently Blondie’s work. About ten meters away, beyond Dabi’s dancing circle of fire, Blondie stood. He was as tense as a wire, but his head was tilted as he stared at Dabi.

“You’re burning yourself up…” Blondie murmured quietly, some emotion Dabi couldn’t place ringing in his voice. It took a long minute before he realized what it was… concern.

Dabi snarled, bristling at the pity. Blondie needed to get off his high horse. He lashed out another wave of fire, forcing Blondie to flee. Dabi was left panting, lungs and mouth scorched dry by the flames. He was probably burning himself inside out at this rate… Fuck, he had to end this, and soon. Dabi might not feel pain, but even he wasn’t immune to quirk exhaustion.

“There they are!” A commotion had Dabi’s eyes flicking to the side, where a large group was scattering onto the destroyed plaza. A few of the people looked vaguely familiar and it took Dabi a second to realize they were the vermin he’d tried to incinerate before Blondie had intervened. Now, they were back with friends.

Dabi snorted. How cute, the trash had gotten reinforcements. 

“You assholes?” Dabi heard Blondie say in the distance. “Don’t you know not to chase the guy who tried to burn you alive?”

Blondie may need killing, but he was sensible. 

The gang members, numbering a good twenty or so, fanned out around the edges of the destruction, sticking close to the buildings. Dabi squinted as he spotted glinting metal among them. What were… A sharp crack echoed through the air and Dabi, having lived on the streets for nearly a decade now, knew well what a gun firing sounded like.

Bullets and quirks filled the battlefield. Dabi snarled, ducking behind one of Blondie’s old barriers before something could take his head off. He swept one hand to the side, fire following in its wake as he sent an inferno towards the vermin and their fellows. This time, they didn’t have Blondie to block for them.

Screams echoed through the air and Dabi himself grunted as he had to throw his aching body aside, away from another of Blondie’s walls. The screams lost their fever pitch, but the shouting persisted. Still alive then, pity.

“Didn’t you get the message? You’re not killing anyone!” Blondie shouted, pavement crumbling under Dabi, trying to bury him whole. 

Dabi snarled back, the sound rasping in his throat like loose gravel. “And I’m not about to let that scum live after they thought I was easy prey!” Blue fire exploded next to Blondie, throwing him back and allowing Dabi to claw his way out of the ground turned quicksand.

By the time he had, Blondie was back up, coughing. “Who said they– Shit!” Blondie swore, clutching his bicep and diving for cover as the crack of gunfire echoed around them. 

Dabi limped away from Blondie’s position as he became engrossed with trying to avoid the hail of bullets. Blue flames licked the ground, roaring hotter and higher as Dabi passed. His eyes locked onto the skittering thugs, scattering like the vermin they were. His veins ran hot, flames slipping out with each breath. He was going to raze this entire district to the ground. 

He was going to show those vermin why he was to be feared, respected. They thought he was weak, powerless. Well he was going to kill them and show them exactly how powerless he was.

If Dabi had been paying close attention, he might have noticed the lone figure skirting around the edge of the battlefield, hiding against the buildings. Or, he might have heard the crack of another gun firing. He might even have distantly registered a vague flash of pain in his thigh, something tearing deep enough to claw attention from his damaged nerves. But Dabi didn’t notice it, and in the seconds after, he wasn’t paying attention to much of anything at all.

He was much too focused on the fact that his quirk was gone.

Between one second and the next, the inferno of blue fire evaporated. For a brief moment, Dabi could only stand there, confused as hell, before he was reaching for where his quirk should be. Only to find… It wasn’t there. The raging inferno that usually howled beneath his skin was silent, snuffed out like a candle in a typhoon. His quirk was

gone gone gone gone gone

It has to be Eraserhead, Dabi thought desperately, dragging his attention outward. But there was no black and scarf-clad Hero descending down to capture him, and surely the Hero would have, knowing who Dabi was. No Eraserhead, no Erasure, no quirk.

FAILURE, his mind screamed. WEAK.

POWERLESS.

The smell of caustic smoke and ozone filled his senses. He was choking on his own breath, his heart hammering so loud he wanted to tear it from his chest. His eyes caught on a bit of flickering light and his gaze snapped to a few small orange tongues of flame that had managed to find their own fuel. 

Dabi clawed his way over to the fire, sticking his hands into them, trying, pleading for them to catch, to become his. Maybe he just needed to light himself again? It didn’t matter if they burned him, consumed him. Dabi’s flames had done that long ago— it was how he knew they were his.  

The orange flames licked his hands but they did not come to Dabi’s call. As if he wasn’t worthy of their attention.

No…

A clatter against rock managed to pull Dabi from his stupor and he turned his head to see one of the gang members stalking towards him, a gun in one hand. The man took aim at Dabi, looking at him down the sight. Dabi jerked aside as the gun fired, a bullet clanging against the nearby rubble. Another crack. He was still alive. Even weak as he was, fireless and powerless, Dabi hadn’t come this far to die to these vermin.

The thug swore and stalked closer until he was mere meters away from Dabi. At this range, he wouldn’t miss. Dabi tried to pull his body up, but his legs just crumbled under him, refusing to obey his command, just like his fire.

Dabi snarled wordlessly, turning to stare down the thug. He refused to die, he would face it in the eye. The thug smirked, hand tightening on the trigger–

There was a crack and a clang in the same instant. 

Dabi stared, uncomprehending, at the figure in front of him. Blondie, one forearm up in a guarding position, between Dabi and the bullet. As the thug gaped, Blondie lunged forward, wrapping his hand around the gun. Something creaked, snapped, and then Blondie was delivering a roundhouse kick to the head that instantly knocked the man unconscious. As the man slumped limp to the ground, Blondie turned to look at Dabi.

And Dabi finally got a good look at Blondie that wasn’t hazed by dust and fire.

He was caked with blood and dirt, his coat burned black and parts of his hair singed off. Bruises and red burns marked the visible skin at his neck and exposed forearm, though strangely enough the other forearm, the one that had blocked the bullet, wasn’t bleeding. Out of the blood and dust covered visage, Blondie’s golden eyes were bright and flinty. Watching. Waiting.

Blondie seemed to take Dabi in in equal measure. The shrimp could probably see how weak Dabi was, how he’d failed. But instead of saying anything, Blondie just looked at Dabi and then… jogged off.

Emptiness echoed in Dabi’s ears.

Blondie had just… saved him? Why? 

He was weak, powerless! There was nothing he could offer Blondie. There was no reason to curry favor, no reason to help him. Blondie hadn’t done it out of fear or respect, Dabi hardly inspired that. He was crumpled in the rubble, mourning himself. And Blondie wasn’t like the League, he didn’t see Dabi as an ally. Dabi was an enemy, he’d been trying to murder Blondie a few minutes prior! He would still be trying to incinerate Blondie if he had his flames!

The thug had been of no threat to Blondie. Hell, he would have been doing Blondie a favor by removing Dabi as a threat. Blondie had no reason to be invested in Dabi’s well being… Most Heroes wouldn’t have bothered to intervene. Endeavor would have told the thug he was taking too long and done it himself, probably with fire just to drive home how weak Dabi was. 

…so why?

The sound of voices pulled Dabi’s attention back to the outer world. It was Blondie, dragging one of the thugs over, one hand fisted in their collar. Part of Dabi’s brain thought it comical, considering Blondie was a good head shorter than the thug in question, but the thug looked terrified. Not of Dabi, but of Blondie, never once taking his eyes off the young man. Blondie stopped short next to Dabi, hefting the thug so that they were face to face.

“Spill, what did you do to him?” Blondie asked, his head jerking towards Dabi. “He was having a merry time o’ murder and then you shot him with something and next thing I know all the fire is gone and this asshole is having a panic attack in the middle of an active battlefield.”

The thug waffled a bit until Blondie narrowed his eyes, which somehow managed to terrify the man. “I-it’s, it was th-he b-bullet!” the man stuttered.

Blondie raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Bullet?”

“Y-yeah!” the thug nodded desperately. “I didn’t make it, I swear! We got it off the yakuza! We meant to use it on a Hero b-but…” The thug squeaked as Blondie pulled him close to his face, putting them nearly nose to nose.

“What’s it do?” 

The thug’s eyes flicked between Dabi and Blondie, wide and terrified, and not necessarily of them. Blondie growled low, and the thug finally cracked. “It’s su-supposed to destroy your quirks!”

Dabi rarely felt cold, the flames burning beneath his skin prevented it. But now he felt like he was drowning in freezing water, tendrils from the deep reaching up to snuff him out and pull him under, into the deep watery darkness where no fire could survive.

Failure. Weak. Powerless.

Quirkless.

“Hmm… that explains him,” Blondie was saying beyond the ocean Dabi was drowning in. “Though you messed up with me. Can’t blame you, but you all need to learn that quirks aren’t everything.”

“W-what?” the thug asked.

Blondie bared his teeth, feral. “I’m quirkless, buddy. Can’t take what isn’t there.”

The thug looked as confused as Dabi was. Before the man could question it, Blondie’s smile turned to something that slightly more resembled a typical smile. “Thanks for the info!” Blondie said with mock cheer, then promptly knocked the thug out. Dropping the body on the pavement, Blondie turned to Dabi and knelt next to him, eyes scanning him, though for what reason Dabi couldn’t fathom. 

“Quirkless?” Dabi repeated incredulously.

Blondie paused his look over, smirking. “Yep.”

“So what the fuck do you call that?” Dabi waved to the utter destruction surrounding them, in no small part due to Blondie. The street was torn up, assorted walls and spikes pulled from the ground, some half-formed and blasted to rubble courtesy of Dabi. It looked like a warzone.

“Atossan magic,” Blondie shrugged, wiggling his fingers. Dabi’s brain stalled. Atossa? What the fuck? “Now,” Blondie squatted next to Dabi, gently putting a hand on his shoulder and nudging him back. “Lie down so I can make sure you don’t bleed out. You have a bullet in your leg.”

Dabi tensed, knocking away Blondie’s hand and baring his teeth, the expression pulling at the stables in his skin. “Why are you helping me?” Dabi hissed. “Wait lemme, guess, because it's the right thing or some other heroic bullshit.”

Blondie shrugged, then tried to push him to the ground again. “I mean that’s as good a reason as any, but you also remind me of someone…” Blondie shrugged off his coat, spinning so Dabi could only see part of his back. Cocky bastard. Energy crackled for a brief second, casting Blondie in eerie light before he spun back around, a smirk on his face. 

“Here we go,” Blondie muttered, unravelling the… bandages? What so he could make bandages now? Fucking perfect. Blondie made Dabi stretch out his legs and started prodding at them. “Right, I gotta dig the bullet out. Brace yourself, this is gonna hurt.”

Dabi snorted. “Can’t feel pain, shrimp.”

“Sure. Well then, try not to scream.”

Blondie forced him to lie flat and then went and made himself a pair of tweezers and started poking around Dabi’s leg to try and get the bullet out. Despite the burns covering the surface of his skin, Dabi could still feel the pain deeper inside his leg. He refused to give Blondie the satisfaction of seeing him in pain, another thing to call him weak for.

Dabi gritted his teeth, breathing pointedly through his nose as we watched Blondie. “You do this for the rest?”

“Yep,” Blondie said. “Checked to make sure no one was actively dying. I’m not a physician like my brother, but I was able to patch up the people you attempted to murder by fire. Now, it’s your turn.”

“So they’re not dead.”

Blondie eyed him coolly. Then leaned over and gently flicked his cheek. Not like Dabi could feel it. “Murder is wrong,” Blondie said, focusing on his work. After a minute, he spoke again, “You know, I’ve realized, you’re not much like Mustang except for the pyrotechnics,” Blondie said idly. “You’re a lot more like Narbe…^[7] you’ve both got a hatred for the world.”

“What would you know?” Dabi snarled.

“Not much,” the young man shrugged. “I don’t know why you decided attempted murder was a viable life choice, and I can’t say I agree.”

“Why the fuck did you save me, then?” Dabi snarled viciously. “If I’m so abhorrent to you.”

Blondie went silent for a minute, staring at him. Dabi bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile, victorious. But then, Blondie spoke again.

“Is it so hard to believe that I just… don’t want you dead?” Blondie asked quietly, looking Dabi in the eyes. “I helped you because, attempted murderer or not, I don’t think you should die. Kindness… it’s a gift given freely.”

“Nothing comes for free,” Dabi hissed. “There’s always a cost.”

Blondie snorted. “Trust me, I know about costs. Equivalent exchange, yeah?” He pulled off the glove on his right hand, wiggling metal fingers at Dabi. “Want to know a secret? When I was younger I made a fucking giant mistake, one that cost me my little brother. I gave an arm and the next half decade to trying to make up for it, and I’m still fixing that.”

He pulled the glove back on. “If kindness has a cost, it's one you accept and take onto yourself. And I can think of worse than trying to help another person.” 

“Depends on what you call help,” Dabi muttered quietly. A memory of fire sending a prickle of gone but not forgotten pain through burns that covered his body.

Blondie was silent, then: “Who hurt you?”

Dabi… stopped.

Blondie hadn’t asked with mocking, his tone wasn’t jeering. And while it could have been a trick, a ploy, Dabi couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him that. They looked at his burns, looked at his quirk, looked at what he was, and assumed he’d done it to himself.

“I… my father, my father did this to me,” Dabi snarled, his voice gaining strength with his building fury. The desire to make Endeavor pay that had burned through his veins from the moment he awoke to find his skin twisted, from the moment he learned he was nothing more than a memory, from the moment he became Dabi, burned higher.

“I tried everything to be his perfect son,” Dabi spat. “But I never had the perfect quirk, I wasn’t enough. And when I tried he told me to stop, because he finally had the perfect quirk, the perfect son, the perfect little heir to his throne of lies.” He laughed, loud and manic. “And then, when I achieved what he wanted, he wasn’t there to see it because I was just weak to him! A failure!”

“So he… burned you?” Blondie asked, quiet.

Dabi laughed, holding up his hands to show the deep burns that marred his skin. “Nope, I did! My quirk, my fire, burning me up from the inside out! And you know what I was going to do? I was going to cremate that old bastard with that fire! Take everything he taught me and use it to burn him and everything he cared about to ash.”

He scowled at his hands. “Or I would have. But now I’m weak, powerless, just like he thought I was. Well guess what!” Dabi shouted to the heavens, to Endeavor. “You might have forgotten me, but I disowned you! I’m no longer your son, I’ve never been yours. I’m Dabi!”

Dabi panted, fury making his veins burn hot in a mimicry of his fire. To the side, Blondie watched him, silent. 

“You say you are not his,” Blondie said softly, slowly. “But why do you let him rule you?”

In that moment, Dabi wished he still had his fire, if only so he could burn Blondie for that comment, burn him piece by piece and listen to him scream. “I will never let him rule me,” Dabi snarled, throat tearing. “I am going to beat him, I am going to burn everything he ever loved to ash and then stand over the remains. I will never let that unworthy scum win.”

“You’re already letting him win,” Blondie said again. “Like, he hurt you, it makes sense you should hate him.”

“And he’ll burn for it,” Dabi swore. 

He was Dabi. Cremation. Endeavor’s death, his legacy burned to ashes.

Blondie scowled. “You say that you’re not his… so why are you defining yourself as his destruction?”

“I-it’s what he deserves,” Dabi said.

“Yeah, of course. But he still…” Blondie sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. “Even when you stop fixating on something that happened, like your sperm donor, he’s still going to hurt you, because that’s trauma. Just because it’s years in the past doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. But he shouldn’t define you, not now, not then.”

Dabi scoffed. “So what, drop the murder and focus on living well to spite him?”

“That’s one way of doing it,” Blondie shrugged. “I would say don’t define yourself by him in any way, including living your own life just to spite him. But if you need to involve him somehow, sure go for it.”

Dabi snorted, falling into a furious silence. Blondie paused his work on Dabi’s leg, rocking back onto his heels with a sigh. “Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish ol’ Narbe was here. He’d understand a lot better than I would… and would give better advice.”

“Who’s he?” Dabi asked, giving a huff. “Gonna spout more shit like you?”

Blondie gave a wry smile. “Not quite. He’s a devout follower of Ishvala, though. His people were the subject of a genocide by the government of my country.” Blondie laughed at whatever he saw on Dabi’s face. “Yeah, pretty much.” He shrugged, looking at the rubble surrounding them. “I understand his hatred, who wouldn’t?”

“… What’d he do?” Dabi asked, cautious. He… the fury of this ‘Narbe’ must have levelled cities.

“Tried to kill me,” Blondie shrugged. “Definitely killed a few other people.”

Dabi wrinkled his nose. “Why you?” Blondie seemed diametrically opposed to killing. 

“Well I was working for the government that perpetuated the genocide on his people, even though I didn’t take part in it. The other people? People who took part in it.” Blondie hummed, rocking on his heels. “These days, he’s rebuilding his people and their culture. My country had a change in governance, so now we’re paying reparations to the Ishvalans and Narbe is healing the rift between our countries.”

Dabi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Like that’ll do anything.”

Those people should be baying for blood.

Blondie dipped his head. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. Are the reparations enough? Hell no, nothing can replace the lives lost. But… we’re all trying. We recognize the wrong, we’re trying to do better. Does that mean we need to be forgiven? Also fuck no. Should the genocide never have happened? Of course. But we can’t change the past… we’re stuck trying to fix it and doing our fucking best to make things better. Blood shed begets blood.”

Blondie paused, then pointedly nudged Dabi’s side. “In case you can’t get it through your thick skull, I’m talking about you, asshole.”

Dabi bared his teeth, sneering. “You’re not subtle yourself, Blondie. I don’t need your pity.”

“Why must pity be a bad thing?” Blondie asked. “True, it’s frustrating as hell when people are like ‘What a shame’ for something you’ve moved past. But it’s also ‘Sorry you had to go through hell. That shouldn’t have happened.’” Blondie turned back to Dabi’s leg and began wrapping bandages around it, slow and rhythmic. “Here’s something it took me too long to learn… It doesn't make you weak to accept the help of others. It makes you smart. Humans didn’t get as far as we did by being solitary.”

“I’m not weak!” Dabi snapped, jerking upright.

“Never said you were,” Blondie said, shoving him back down, and going back to his wrapping.

Dabi’s lips pressed together, acid burning the back of his throat. “I’m not weak,” he repeated. “I’m not.” His quirk wasn’t gone, it couldn’t be. If it was… no, it wasn’t gone. 

Blondie paused his wrapping, glancing over. “Is this about your quirk or something?” Dabi’s face twitched slightly and Blondie nodded. “Ah. Quirks aren’t everything you know.”

“What, like you being quirkless?” Dabi bit out. “Likely story.”

Blondie shrugged, tying off the bandage and tugging the knot down with a little more force than necessary. “Like I said, I’m from Atossa. No quirks. What I do isn’t a superpower, it’s a science.” Dabi glared, and Blondie sighed. “It’s not that big a deal if it doesn’t come back,” he shrugged. “Being quirkless isn’t so bad.”

Dabi couldn’t help it, he laughed. 

“Being quirkless is as good as being dead!” Dabi rasped. “They’ve got no power, nothing!” 

“Right,” Blondie cocked his head. “How about a quirkless person with a gun? I know a woman, with no quirk, no alchemy, and she could kill me at 100 meters. And she’s stealthy, she could be watching from any nearby building and I wouldn’t realize she was there because I would already be dead. Is that power?”

“You can take a gun away,” Dabi protested. 

“You can take a quirk away.”

The cold, dark hole in his chest echoed painfully.

Blondie rolled his eyes, standing and dusting his hands. “Well, I’ve stopped you from dying. Can’t do anything for your no quirk situation, but who knows, maybe it’ll come back. If not, eh, there’s other walks in life.” Blondie glanced over at the still unconscious thugs. “Hmm, I have to do something about them. Knowing my luck, they’ll wake up and you’ll try to kill each other.” 

Dabi watched silently as Blondie grabbed one of the unconscious men and began hauling him away. Despite how small he was, Blondie was surprisingly strong, grappling a limp, unconscious man a good foot taller. He left Dabi alone for five minutes before he returned for the second. 

And Dabi sat, unmoving, staring listlessly at the bandages wrapped around his thigh. 

Minutes or hours later, Blondie returned, looking Dabi over. He grunted, displeased. “Fuck, what am I going to do with you, Mister Attempted Murder?” He sighed, then leaned down and slung one of Dabi’s arms over his shoulder, pushing them both upright. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dabi rasped.

“Hauling your heavy ass to somewhere that isn’t the street,” Blondie grumbled. “Unfortunately, I can’t throw you in prison to keep you from murdering random people on the street. Lucky for you I have other priorities.”

“Bigger priorities than sending the guy who tried to cremate you to prison?”

Blondie raised an eyebrow. “I could find a phone to call the police and have them deal with you. But like I said, right now I’ve got other priorities. But, pull a stunt like that again and I’ll kick your ass.”

“You can try.”

Blondie gave him a look. “I might even feel bad about it, you looked like a drowned greasy raccoon. Of course, I shouldn’t feel bad, you did try to murder me and a number of other people. Should send you to prison, Mister Murderer.”

“So why don’t you?”

Blondie gave him a bright grin. “That’s for me to know and you to be confused over.”

Dabi made himself go a bit more limp in retaliation. Blondie swore, stumbling with the weight, and then Dabi’s shins knocked against several rocks. Hmph, petty son of a bitch.

Blondie hauled Dabi into one of the nearby abandoned buildings, dumping him in a room on one of the upper floors. “Right, this’ll probably work,” Blondie muttered to himself. He looked around the room, then down at his tattered coat. He sighed. “Welp, might as well say goodbye to the rest.”

Blondie hummed as he worked, then glanced over at Dabi. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know of a guy named Majima? No? Okay, how would I get to Marakashi Station in Setagaya, then?”

Dabi squinted. “… You have no idea where we are, do you? That’s why you won’t call the police.”

Blondie’s smile got a little tight before he sighed, slumping. “Ah what the hell, you’re smarter than you look. To answer: nope, not a clue. So, Setagaya? Directions?”

“What the fuck do you want there?” Dabi asked incredulously. 

“I’m hunting a loan shark trying to kill this other guy’s brother.”

Dabi stared. 

“Are you sure you aren’t a Hero or Vigilante or something?” 

Blondie gave him a toothy grin. “Nope, I’m an alchemist.”

“Sure, shrimp,” Dabi muttered, rolling his eyes. 

Apparently, Blondie was willing to forgive Dabi for trying to murder him, but ‘Shrimp’ was crossing the line. A few minutes later Dabi's wrists were bound by rope that Blondie had pulled from his ass. (Or, his coat anyways. The guy said he didn’t have a quirk but then he kept pulling bullshit like this.)

He raised an eyebrow at Blondie. “You know this won’t hold me, right?”

“Yeah, but with those sticks for arms I doubt you can break out of rock, and for some reason I don’t want you to die.” Blondie paused, meeting Dabi’s eyes in a steely glare. “I won’t regret my mercy, others have tried. But I can make you regret it. Verstehen?” ^[8]

“Sure, sure,” Dabi shrugged. Blondie stared at him for another minute, then spun and strode out of the room without another word. Leaving Dabi alone in the abandoned building. Dabi waited in silence for a few minutes, but jerked upright as the building rumbled. He stumbled to the window, looking out onto the street, half expecting to see Blondie bringing the roof down on top of him.

Outside, blue lightning covered the street, sweeping across the pavement and climbing the buildings. In its wake, things changed. The crumbled concrete smoothed, the cracks in the buildings sealed, the remaining fires were snuffed out and charred remains rebuilt themselves. A lamppost Dabi was sure hadn’t worked in decades flickered to life. And then came color, vibrant red and gold washing over the buildings. Gold traced where cracks had previously been, red marked fires and the scars of their battle.

And then Blondie, having just rebuilt the street from ash and rubble, strode off with nary a backwards glance.

Dabi looked at the space Blondie had vacated for a long time, then gave a huff of laughter.

Alchemist, huh? 

Chapter Text

“Honestly, I didn’t even have to use alchemy,” Edward muttered, idly shaking out the lingering ache in his flesh hand. His eyes slid across the nearly destroyed room, Majima and his cronies nervously skittering away from Ed’s gaze. “I think we’re done here. I trust you won’t be making the same mistakes again, yes?”

Frantic nods answered him. Ed gave a toothed grin. “Good to hear. You had best hope that you don’t see me later.”

Spinning on his heel, Ed strode out. A few blocks away, the Amestrian stopped and leaned against the side of a building. Craning his head back, Ed looked up at the heavens. The sun had set, the only remaining sign of it the ever-darkening purple of the sky.

“At least that’s Majima taken care of,” Ed said to himself, stifling a yawn. “Now I just need to find my way back.” He had a feeling Tsukauchi would be annoyed, considering Ed’s walk had turned into several fights and a hunt for a loan shark. Ed rubbed his nose. God, had his chat with Hawks only been this morning? It felt like an eternity ago.

Rolling his shoulders, Ed pushed off from the wall and started retracing his steps. He relaxed marginally once he was on a train headed back into central Tokyo, but even out of immediate danger, Ed’s skin itched. It seemed everybody was watching him, doing nothing to disguise their stares. It didn’t even seem to be from a sense of fear, since nobody reacted much even when Ed glared. They just… watched.

It was annoying and marginally unsettling. On the one hand, Ed wasn't surprised. He had just come out of several fights and, thanks to Mustang's young scarred angry cousin, he looked the part. His overcoat had been reduced to scraps between Mustang Junior’s fire and Ed repurposing it for bandages. The rest of his clothes fared better, but his black collar-shirt and heavy pants were still torn, burned and covered in rubble. And while Ed didn’t have a mirror, the glimpses he’d caught in windows said that his face was scratched and bleeding, parts of his hair singed black.

If anything, Ed would have expected to be regarded warily, as a potential threat. But instead, he felt more like he was being judged akin to a strange insect, his presence a morbid curiosity. It was something of a relief when Ed was able to leave the train, fleeing into the crowded city streets.

The return trip was much shorter this time and Ed soon made it back to the police department’s highrise. It was more of a hassle than usual to get through security, his disheveled appearance doing him no favors, but eventually he was through. Edward would have preferred heading straight to U.A. to get some sleep, but that plan was thwarted by the fact that Ed had forgotten his phone when he left. So, back to the police department it was.

Ed slipped inside, aiming to collect his stuff and leave. However, despite the late hour, the room was packed. Amongst the crowd, Ed recognized Tsukauchi, Sansa, most of the detectives on the Amestris case, Hawks, and even Snipe. At the sound of the door, the room turned and Ed caught a brief glimpse of surprised faces before the room exploded with noise. 

Edward? Elric-san! There you are! It’s been over 8 hours! Where have you been? You can’t just run off like that, you’re a foreign delegate! We’ve been looking for you everywhere, Elric. You left your phone behind! Wait, what happened to your coat? Are you alright? Shit, somebody get the medical kit, those are burns. Burns?! How the hell did you get burned?

And then Tsukauchi was pushing his way to the front, voice rising above the rest:

“What happened?!”

Edward shifted his weight onto his back foot and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said. “I just ran into trouble.”

“Trouble?!” somebody exclaimed. “Trouble isn’t coming in with your clothes melted!”

Tsukauchi held up a hand and the protests abated. The detective sighed, rubbing his nose before looking back at Ed. “I have to ask you to elaborate, Elric-san. You’ve been missing for over eight hours and prior to that, however accidental it might have been, you pulled a blade on me.” The detective’s eyes drilled into Ed’s, sympathetic but unforgiving. “The point stands, what happened?”  

Ed winced. “I didn’t…” He hesitated, then with a breath, steeled his nerves and bowed to Tsukauchi, the motion stiff and awkward. “Sorry.”

“I– thank you,” Tsukauchi said above him. Ed flicked his eyes up in time to see Tsukauchi give a shallow bow back. “I’m sorry for triggering such a response.”

“… Not your fault,” Ed said, straightening. The Amestrian’s hands curled into fists at his side, relaxing as he let out a slow exhale. “After I… did that, I figured a walk would calm me down. It’s what I do back home if I need to get out of my head. That, or I spar with my brother.” Ed shrugged. “It helps me unwind.”

“The walk worked, but by the end of it, I was very lost. This,” Ed gestured to himself and his soiled clothes, “happened when I ended up in a fight with some guy. He had fire alch– a fire quirk of some sort. I don’t know who he is or what he wanted, but he got pissed when I kept him from burning some people alive.” Ed shrugged. “I fought him about it.”

Tsukauchi jerked. “You encountered a villain?” The man exchanged a glance with the other detectives. “What did this villain look like?”

“Scarred to hell,” Ed said, wincing as he recalled the state of the man’s face. “Frankly, I’m not sure how he’s alive. Those scars looked like they came from third-degree burns, and from what he said, it sounds like it was his own quirk that did it.” Ed paused, wrinkling his nose. “Though he didn’t seem to care much about that.”

“Fire quirk, burn scars,” Sansa murmured, a worried edge to his voice. “Detective, that sounds like–”

“Yes,” Tsukauchi’s lips thinned. The man spun, grabbing a touchscreen tablet off a table and tapping on it for a minute. “Did the man you encounter look like this?” Tsukauchi turned the device around to show a police artist’s sketch of Mustang Junior in all his scarred glory.

Ed nodded. “Yeah, that’s the bastard.”

Tsukauchi swore and suddenly the attention of the entire room shifted, now fixated on Ed for an entirely different reason. “Where was this?” Tsukauchi demanded.

“I don’t know,” Ed shook his head. “I told you, I was lost as hell. Could barely tell one street from the next.” He looked between the detectives and Heroes, their faces drawn up in worried scowls. “Who is he?”

“One of the League of Villains,” said Hawks, his expression unusually grim. “The only one we don’t know the identity of.”

Edward squinted at the Hero. “The League of… wait, I remember that name, weren’t they on All for One’s payroll or something?”

Hawks nodded. “Pretty much.”

“They’re the ones that have been targeting U.A.,” Snipe said quietly, a hard edge to his voice. “First, it was to draw out All Might but now they’re targeting the students themselves.”

Ed frowned. “All for One and his lackeys are targeting U.A.?”

“That seems to be the case,” Tsukauchi said, giving a frustrated huff. “The League is certainly backed by All for One, but I don’t know if I’d call them his lackeys.” Ed quirked an eyebrow, prompting the detective to elaborate. “From the intel we have, the League is more of an ideological group. While All for One supported it, its members are not necessarily loyal to All for One himself.”

Ed nodded. “This ‘League’ is a side project to him, an investment.”

“Exactly,” Gran Torino nodded. “The League’s goal seems to be tearing down Hero society. Targeting U.A. – the most esteemed Hero school in the entire country – and attempting to kill its students was a statement.”

“No kidding.”

Yaoyorozu had mentioned her class had been attacked by villains before, which must be referring to this League. Ed shook his head, almost in disbelief. Targeting the students like that… It was tantamount to the League marching to the gates of Heroics and burning them down. They may as well have written in red paint on the wall: You’re not as safe as you think you are.

“Right, this is the best lead we’ve had on the League since Kamino, we need to get moving before he gets away,” Tsukauchi declared and turned to Ed. “Elric, are you sure you can’t figure out where you fought him? Is there something, anything, that you could identify as a landmark?”

The Amestrian pursed his lips. “I can try…” 

Tsukauchi nodded sharply. “Right. Akira, work with Elric. Ikibara, I need you to coordinate with the Heroes. Sakamura, contact everyone associated with the League case–”

The office turned into a flurry of activity. Ed took a quick trip to the in-station medic to treat the worst of his burns and then sat down to try to narrow down the location of his fight with Mustang Junior. He got it to within an area of about 5 square kilometers, and while vastly improved, it was still home to at least 15,000 people.

“Honestly,” Ed groaned, “we should probably figure out where that mugging with Porcupine was. I can’t have walked for more than 45 minutes after that.”

“…Porcupine?” Detective Akira repeated, giving him a slightly concerned look.

Ed shrugged. “I ran into a mugging on my way to Fire Guy. Man with a quirk that gave him spikes, ergo, porcupine. There were a couple police officers there. If they reported the thing, we can narrow down where I was then.”

Akira gave a frustrated huff. “Next time, start with that.” She turned, half standing as she raised her voice to her colleagues. “Got a lead! We need to find the location for a mugging today involving a suspect with–”

Once it was clear he wasn’t needed anymore, Edward took his leave, finding Tsukauchi amidst the throng. The detective was busy talking with other officers and after a couple minutes he was finally able to spare Ed a glance. “Elric. We need to talk more, but that can be later. Go home and get some rest.”

Edward nodded and wasted no time making his exit. Catching a ride with Snipe in the Hero’s personal car, the two headed back to U.A.. Stretched out in his seat, Ed watched the city lights slip by in the night. “So… Sokeki, right?” Ed asked, glancing over, and Snipe – Sokeki – nodded.

“You gave us quite the scare there, partner,” the Hero said. His mask was off to drive, letting Ed see the man’s eyes flick toward him.

Ed twisted back around to stare out the window, giving a huff. “I know, but I can handle myself.”

“I’m aware,” Snipe said dryly. “I saw you go toe to toe with Eraserhead.” The Hero was silent for a minute, then, “Even if you are not under our jurisdiction, you are our responsibility. Wandering off by yourself, being a vigilante and getting into fights with villains… it’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Ed gave a low laugh. When he saw Sokeki’s head shift toward him, he snorted. “Really, I do.” Ed sighed, slumping down in his seat. “I’m sorry for making you all worry. I get why you were, it’s just… this is the kind of thing I do back in Amestris. Hell, as a State Alchemist, I’m technically authorized to do it, even if it isn’t usually what I set out to do.”

“What do you mean?” Sokeki asked.

Ed shrugged. “Mustang rarely sent me out into combat encounters, but he knew I could hold my own. A lot of the time I just ended up in situations. I knew I could handle them and it’s not like anybody else was there to fix it, so I did. Stopped a train hijacking that way… among many other things.”

“There may have not been others there to ‘fix it’ but here, we have Heroes,” Snipe countered.

Ed made a face. “True, but I didn’t see any when I was there.” He gestured at the Hero. “Look, you’re trained just like me, you know how to handle situations. Say you were in Amestris and saw someone in trouble, and it was only you there. Would you wait and do nothing, or help?”

“… Fair point,” Snipe chuffed. “But try not to make a habit of it.”

Ed didn’t deign to give that a response, but he couldn’t hold back his smug grin. He twisted in his seat until he faced Sokeki, watching the Hero as he focused on the road. “So… speaking of Flame Face, what can you tell me about the guy? I feel like I deserve to know about the man who tried to have me flambéed.”

Snipe grimaced. “Not much that you haven’t already heard. We don’t know his identity or background, or what his motivation for joining the League of Villains is. We know he has a fire quirk and that he appeared during an attack on the U.A. Hero students’ summer camp, but we’ve struggled to make much headway beyond that.

“In truth,” Sokeki continued, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, “you might have the most intel on him of anyone we know.” The Hero glanced over. “Anything in particular you noticed? How did he seem?”

Edward hummed in thought. “…Angry. Spiteful. Hurting, though I don’t know if he knows.” He thought back to the scarred young man, so bitter at the world. So much like Scar, even Ed himself in ways. “He seems… I don’t know. The world hurt him, badly. Enough that he wants to burn it down.”

“That would line up with the League’s ideology,” Snipe mused, nodding.

“Yeah, Torino said it’s ‘start from scratch’ or something, right?” Ed asked.

“Essentially,” Snipe shrugged. “From what we’ve been able to put together, the League believes that Hero society is unjust and Heroes themselves corrupt. In order to fix it, they wish to raze it all to the ground.”

“Hmm. Doesn’t really fit with All for One’s goals, at least from what Yagi said,” Ed muttered, chewing on his lip. “At least, I can’t see it. All for One wants power, control.” 

Like Father, Ed thought. He wants to be immortal, to be king with the world is his dominion.

“But the League is more about ‘the world is unjust so we must have a blank slate,’” Ed continued. “Men like All for One… in my experience they don’t care about things being ‘just.’ Or if he does, it's in a way that helps him. The League wants to tear it all down so things can be ‘just.’ All for One wants to tear it down so he can build it up as he sees fit.”

“All for One is in jail,” Snipe pointed out.

Ed rolled his eyes. “Yes, but he’s not dead. His reach is limited, sure, but people far less powerful than him have managed much less from a jail cell. Case in point, the League,” Ed waved a hand. “One of his tools that’s still helping him along in his plans, even if he’s incapacitated.”

Next to him, Snipe went quiet, thinking over Ed’s words. Meanwhile, Ed internally groaned and buried his head in his hands. Damn it, that sounded like Mustang. Investigations, semi-legal vigilantism, knowledge of political power plays… Was he… turning into the Führer Bastard? Urgh, Truth, please no, Ed despaired. How could it be that Mustang was 10,000 kilometers away and the man still managed to rub off on him?!

Though, Ed thought, slightly begrudging, the point still stands. The League was little more than a tool to All for One. Whether they knew that or not… well, only the League knew.

Eventually, they reached U.A. and Edward and Sokeki went their separate ways. Treating himself to a hot bath, Ed threw his dirty clothes into a pile and scrubbed the dust and blood from his body. But even if the day’s events had been physically wiped away, they did not fade from Ed’s mind so easily. They continued to play through his head as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Hawks, pointing out Ed’s biases just as Ed had pointed out Hawks’ own, bitter memories and uncanny parallels to the point it was like looking in a mirror. Mustang Junior, blazing like a bonfire, so angry and bitter he saw the only path as burning himself alive in order to best destroy those who hurt him.

Ed gave a tired laugh. “I keep calling him Mustang Junior, but it should really be Scar Junior.” 

Though, to be fair to Scar, it was hardly a one-to-one parallel. Junior was like some unholy combination of Mustang’s flame alchemy, Scar’s murder, Ed’s parental issues, and Kimblee’s crazed bloodlust. Wonderful combination, truly.

“And now it’s that plus whatever shit is going on in his head thanks to that weird bullet,” Ed muttered, rubbing his face. Whatever that bullet had done, it had caused Junior’s quirk to stop working, at least for the moment. Some sort of quirk blocker maybe? Did they have those? Either way, Junior’s reaction had been pretty dramatic, considering the worth he placed on his quirk, and the daddy issues therein.

You might have forgotten me, but I disowned you! I’m no longer your son, I’ve never been yours. I’m Dabi!

“First you were used by this shitty father, and now it’s All for One,” Ed mused. Though… what did dabi mean? It wasn’t a word he was familiar with. Intrigued now, Ed pulled out his phone and found an online dictionary, eyebrows furrowing at what it said.

Dabi. Cremation.

“I am cremation,” Ed muttered. “Interesting way to put it… Not, ‘I will cremate’ but ‘I am cremation.’ It’s like…” Ed frowned then sat upright. “Cremation burns everything to ash, total destruction. I am cremation. I am destruction… Shit, it’s not just intent, it’s his name. He literally named himself as his father’s destruction.”

Ed turned this revelation over in his head, then, he couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Sure know how to pick ‘em, All for One,” Ed said, mouth twisting up in a mockery of a smile. “People already so angry they want to burn the world down around them, and don’t care if they burn with it.” 

Talfon. Lasker. Steiner.

Porcupine.

Dabi.

People judged to be expendable. Worthless. Tools. 

A map of Japan. Smuggling routes as swaths of red, bases scattered like stars, empty gaps in between. Dead ends and dead eyes.

Frustration, failure and shame curdled in Ed’s gut. “You can’t fix everything Edward,” he muttered, driving the heels of his palms into his eyes. The voice sounded like Truth. The words tasted like ash. The memory looked like a little girl and her dog.

Ed snarled, fingers curling into fists, his scalp prickling in protest as strands of hair pulled taut. No. Yes, he couldn’t fix everything, but like hell he wasn’t going to try. All for One wanted a fight? Ed would fight. He’d done research before, spent months in Amestris’ libraries as he and Al read everything they could in search of the Philosopher’s Stone. But at a certain point, you had to go out to the site, track down the alchemist in question, and see what you could turn up.

Rolling off the bed, Ed stood and stalked over to his abandoned pile of clothes. He inspected each article of clothing, taking note of what needed fixing and running potential arrays in his head. He picked up his tattered overcoat, fingers brushing charred and melted patches. It was a good coat, but he’d need more material to repair it.

“The police and Heroes have already scoped out all of All for One’s bases that they know about,” Ed muttered in Amestrian, running his thumb over edges that flaked in geometric patterns. His grip tightened, hands fisting the fabric. “But they didn’t have me there.”

Ed went to the drawers, pulling out the spare stack of linens. Sorry Nezu, he thought as he clapped his hands together. Bill me for it later.

He touched his hands to the fabrics and blue lightning seared into Ed’s retinas. When his vision cleared, Ed grinned down at the repaired coat in his hands. He’d made it red, similar to the one he’d had during his younger days chasing the Philosopher’s Stone. But this time it was darker, thicker, heavier.

And, it was fireproof.

Edward forced himself to sleep that night, and the next day he threw himself into his work. He went back over all the data they had – maps, witness statements, autopsy reports – and memorized as much as he could. If Ed was going to do this, he was going in prepared. Even if anyone noticed he was a bit more focused than usual, they were too busy working on the League of Villains case to bring it up.

They needed more. Ed needed more. On All for One, on the hostages, on the methods, on the motive. They’d pieced together some, but it wasn’t enough. Ed was running out of patience and running out of options. It was about time he employed some more… unorthodox methods. Dabi was part of the League, the League was funded by All for One. It wasn’t a direct connection to the Atossans, but it was a place to start.

For a few minutes Ed had weighed telling someone about what he was doing, but in the end decided against it. It would be best if Tsukauchi and Aizawa and the rest remained unaware of Ed’s little excursion. Diplomatic immunity or not, Ed could only imagine purposefully doing what amounted to vigilantism would strain relations a bit. So, he was on his own for this one.

When evening came, Ed was ready. He slipped onto the streets and into narrow alleys, stalking the shadows. Ed’s plan? Work his way up the food chain. And soon, he had his first bite.

He was in the dark alleys between the neon of night restaurants when he heard a clatter and a bitten off yelp. Ed immediately went on alert, scanning his surroundings and quietly hoisting himself up onto the nearest rooftops via the plentiful, overhanging balconies. The buildings were relatively small, only a couple stories, and the perfect vantage point to get closer.

Peeking over the edge of the roof, Ed did a quick survey of the situation. Two people. One backed against the wall and kept in place by the knife pricking the underside of their neck. The knife’s owner hissing demands. Mugging.

Ed bent down, picking up a broken piece of roof tiling and throwing it at one end of the alley. The people below startled, whipping toward the source of the noise, and Ed vaulted off the roof. He couldn’t mask the sound of his landing, but the distraction had still given him enough time.

Surging forward, Ed swiftly disarmed the mugger and pinned him to the alley wall with a forearm to the neck. The man gave a choked wheeze at the pressure, hands scrabbling for his throat. He had the good sense to try and kick Ed, until one foot impacted against automail and he gave a hitching whine of pain.

“You alright?” Ed asked, eyeing the person that had been accosted in his peripheral vision. He received a jerky nod. “Great, get out of here. I’ll keep this guy busy.”

“T-thank you!” 

Once the would-be victim had fled, Ed looked back towards the would-be mugger. The man glared hatefully at Ed, hands still clawing at the automail blocking his airway. Interestingly, Ed could see a sort of shiny plating, like insect carapace, on the backs of the man’s hands. A quirk no doubt. Not wanting his impromptu prisoner to pass out, Ed lessened up on the throat pressure and the man took a heaving gasp before beginning to spit insults.

“Evening,” Ed said pleasantly around the litany of swearing. He stepped away, letting the man drop to the pavement, and clapped. A massive hand of concrete unfurled from the street and the would-be mugger squeaked as it wrapped around him. In seconds, the man was suspended in air, feet dangling above a newly formed crater. The hand shifted, moving until the man was face-to-face with Ed’s toothy grin.

“Alright, I’ll make this quick,” Ed said. “I’m looking for Dabi. Where can I find him?” 

The would-be mugger immediately began cursing anew. He got in some particularly colorful ones – Oh, that was a good one, I’ll have to add that to my list – before Ed slapped a hand on the nearby wall. Sparks crackled along the concrete and Ed forced the transmuted hand to start to squeeze. He was careful, the pressure wasn’t enough to injure – especially if the man had insect-like armor – but it hit like a punch to the gut, forcing the breath from his lungs. Ed raised an eyebrow in challenge, daring the man to call the bluff.

“I can do this all night,” Edward drawled, sparks dancing under his hand. “But I don’t think you’ve got enough oxygen for that. So how’s this, you give me what I’m asking for, and I won’t hand you over to the Heroes. Or turn you to paste.”

Take it, take it, take it–

The would-be mugger, who Ed mentally nicknamed Mug, continued trying to murder Ed with his eyes, but was clearly picking through the offer. After a minute, Mug jerked his chin up in a nod. While his face stayed neutral, Ed internally breathed a sigh of relief when the man didn’t call his bluff. Thank Truth. The concrete’s hold relaxed and Mug gulped down air before the man managed a strangled, “Who?”

“Dabi. About my age, scarred face, wears black and likes blue fire. Ring any bells?” When Mug’s confused expression didn’t change, Ed huffed. “No? Alright, how about the League of Villains?”

That clearly rang a bell. Mug balked. “Hell no, I don’t associate with those crazies.”

“Crazies?”

“Yeah, a bunch of lunatics,” Mug grumbled. “I had a mate join on when they were recruiting a few months back and what did he get? His ass beat by a bunch of Hero kids.” Mug snorted. “Marv always was an idiot. I told him those League bastards wouldn’t care about him and sure enough they left him behind to rot in Tartarus.”

Wow, what a surprise, Ed thought sarcastically. I feel so bad for the guy who got employed to attempt to kill children.

“I told him we didn’t have the quirks or muscle for that kinda work,” Mug continued, “but Marv thought he could weasel his way into the money and cred.”

“I’m sure,” Ed drawled. “So, League of Crazies? Any ideas where I can find them?”

Mug curled his lip. “What you want with ‘em?”

“What are you asking questions for?” Ed asked, looking pointedly towards the giant stone hand currently imprisoning Mug.

“Well if the League kills you that’s good news for me,” Mug huffed. “Nah, I don’t know where they’re hiding out. Though the guys in the Seven Circles might.” When Ed tilted his head in question, Mug barked a laugh. “Oh, you’re a green vigilante, aren’t you? Forget the League, the Circles’d fix you up real good.”

Ed dug his fingers into the wall and the cement hand squeezed a bit tighter in response.

“Shit, fine,” Mug hissed. “The Circles are how Marv heard about the League. If anybody knows about the League, it’s them.” Mug’s expression twisted into a snarl and he bared his teeth at Ed. “Though you wouldn’t leave them alive.”

Ed shrugged. “Eh, I’ve dealt with worse. Thanks.”

With a thought, the transmutation unraveled, the hand melting back into the street pavement. Mug dropped to the ground and gave a pained wheeze. However, despite the would-be mugger’s lack of oxygen, the man still managed to throw a handful more curses toward Ed. Ed just rolled his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining.”

“Shut up,” Mug growled, spitting a globule of phlegm at Ed’s feet and struggling to stand. Once upright, Mug jerked as he looked Ed over. “Fuck, you’re a kid? What the hell does a shrimp like you want with the League?”

“Oh, like you care,” Ed sneered.

Mug snorted. “You know the League has no problem trying to kill kids, right? You sure a kid like you wants to tangle with that?”

“Quite sure.” Ed clapped, giving Mug a demonic grin as lightning wreathed his hands. He relished how Mug’s eyes widened, the man’s expression flipping from smug to shitting-his-pants-in-fear in less than a second. “Now, hold still.”

“Y-you said you wouldn’t turn me over to the Heroes!” Mug yelped as he scrambled back.

“Correct,” Ed agreed, slapping a hand on the building wall next to him. “But I never said I would let you go.”

Edward spent several more hours trawling the streets in hopes of gathering more information on this “Seven Circles.” A few more muggings and reverse shakedowns later, Ed had learned that they operated somewhere in the northwest Tokyo area and their reputation was as bad as Mug the Original had detailed.

According to the street gossip, the Seven Circles was a gang that had done just about everything short of murdering a Hero. And that line was probably only because the Circles preferred to be more subtle in their work. Killing a Hero was the sort of thing that got you branded across daytime television. Beyond that, nothing was consistent. The ringleader was either seven people, one person, or a squad of raccoons in a trenchcoat. (And considering quirks, Ed couldn’t even rule out that last one as a possibility.)

By 2 AM, Ed was forced to concede that he wouldn’t be getting anything more tonight. Since he had work tomorrow and he still wanted to present the illusion of being a good citizen, Ed headed back to U.A.. But all too soon, he was waking up to the sound of the alarm on his bedside clock. A bit later, as he was getting dressed, he was startled by the deafening sound of the “text” alerts on his phone. Tugging the device over, he squinted at the screen and what greeted him nearly made Ed jump out of his skin.

Oh no.

Direct Message between RatGod [Nezu] and AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Last Message Sent: 1 minute ago

RatGod [Nezu]
Greetings Edward! Would you mind paying a visit to my office?

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
… Can I ask why you want me to come? 
Also, it is currently 7 in the morning.

RatGod [Nezu]
I imagine that it should be no problem at all, considering you are already awake?

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Yes, it is.

RatGod [Nezu]
Excellent! See you in five minutes, then?

AtossanAlchemist [Elric]
Wait, no. I meant to say no.
Damn it, how do you respond to a negative question in Japanese again?
… Fine, but you better have some Kaffee waiting for me.

…

When Edward arrived, Nezu was sitting at his desk sipping a cup of tea. The stoat eyed Ed silently as he slipped inside the office, glancing around the room. 

“It’s the weekend. Do you like… live here, or?” Ed hedged.

“Many of my students have asked me the same,” Nezu said. “Please, sit.”

Ed shifted in place, half tempted to keep standing. After several seconds too long, he acquiesced, sitting heavily in the chair across from Nezu. The chimera slid a cup of Kaffee across the table and Ed clutched it in a white knuckled grip. Nezu didn’t speak for several minutes, instead choosing to sip his tea. It was definitely a ploy to make Ed marinate in his misery.

Nezu knew that Ed had been out. It would be an insult to Nezu’s intelligence to pretend otherwise. And Nezu knew that Ed knew that Nezu knew, the stoat was probably just waiting until Ed admitted it. Ed resisted the urge to groan. The whole situation was feeling uncomfortably like when Ed had been ordered to report to Mustang’s office in the past, typically following when Ed had gone and caused a few (necessary) explosions in his latest mission.

They sat in silence, each sizing up the other.

Edward was smart, but the kind of social maneuvering that Mustang and Nezu were capable of wasn’t where he excelled. They could make you spill your deepest secrets and shame without you even realizing you’d done so. His best bet was probably staying silent…

“You know, you were correct in assuming you had diplomatic immunity,” Nezu hummed, breaking the silence. Ed blinked at the non sequitur and then he couldn’t help it, he gaped. Mind racing, Ed tried to figure out how Nezu had known about this particular train of thought Ed’d had, and quickly concluded he had no damn idea.

Nezu continued, unheeding. “As a diplomat, immunity is a privilege that allows you protection from local prosecution, unless your home country chooses to waive it. Though it is a privilege, and historically has not held up in the case of capital crimes,” the stoat started counting off on his paws. “Espionage, murder, insurrection, to name a few.”

Shiiiit… Wrestling his facial expression under control, Ed stared at Nezu. “…What are you saying?”

“I’m quite aware of your outing last night,” Nezu hummed. Damn, okay, he was skipping the subterfuge and going straight for the throat. “Mind telling me what you were up to?”

Ed weighed lying for a moment, then discarded it. Nezu would know and getting called out in the lie would make things worse. “I’m looking for leads on All for One and the League,” Edward admitted. “We’re not getting anywhere with the information we currently have.”

Nezu sipped his tea. “I expected as much. Though, why vigilantism?” 

“A lot of my military career saw me take part in… impromptu investigation.”

The chimera eyed him over the lip of the teacup, considering. After several minutes, the stoat hummed. “I will not stop your outings,” Nezu said, claws clicking against his teacup. “However, if you encounter any villains or anything else of note, you must report it to one of the Heroes staffing the case.”

It was a fair request, but Ed couldn’t help raising an eyebrow curiously. “What makes you think you could stop me?”

“Between your alchemy and martial skills, our ability to keep you in place may be limited, but I imagine there are some things I could do to hinder you,” Nezu flashed his fangs in a clear threat. Despite the mild delivery, Ed would be a fool to ignore it.

“Fine,” Ed growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who do you want me to report to? You?”

Nezu gave a sly grin. “I was thinking of Hawks.” 

Ed groaned. Wonderful. He could just imagine the Winged Hero’s reaction when Ed called requesting he pick up a gang of hogtied would-be muggers. Shaking his head, Ed glanced up at the chimera. “Anything else?”

“Do not think I am unaware of your encounter with the League’s fire user, Elric-san. I will allow you to do what you wish, for now, but do not bring trouble into my school or endanger my students,” Nezu said shortly, his sharp words contrasted by how delicately the stoat placed his teacup on its saucer. “I enjoy your company and would hate to lose it, for one reason or another.”

… Okay. That’s mildly terrifying.

“And I enjoy yours,” Ed agreed slowly. “However, I need to see that this… operation, whatever it is, is dismantled. If that requires playing with fire, so be it. At least if it’s me doing it, I’m the one who’ll get burnt, not anyone else.”

“A dropped match can set a whole house ablaze,” Nezu warned. 

Ed winced. “Fair point.”

The silence stretched to the point of snapping. Nezu watched Edward with unblinking eyes and Ed endured the stare, trying to keep from shattering the cup in his grip. At last, Nezu hummed quietly, breaking the stiff silence. “Drink some coffee,” Nezu advised, picking up his own tea cup again. “It’ll help you wake up. If I had to guess, I’d think you were up half the night.”

Ed glanced down at his Kaffee. He was half tempted to be petty and not drink any, but damn it, it smelled so good. Nezu had expensive tastes and Ed shouldn’t waste it. Ed sipped his drink, letting himself relax a little now that Nezu had banished the elephant in the room. 

“Well,” Nezu’s whiskers twitched as he eyed Ed. “You came all this way, so early in the morning too. It’d be a shame to put such a meeting to waste. Anything else I can help you with, Edward-san? Information perhaps?”

Ed narrowed his eyes at the chimera, weighed the odds of Nezu not knowing, and came up with snake eyes. Groaning, Ed slumped down in his chair. “What do you know about the Seven Circles?”

As it turned out, Nezu knew quite a bit. 

When night fell, Edward ghosted back out into the streets. Nezu had given him intel on an information broker thought to work with the Seven Circles, as well as an address. It was this that guided Ed’s path, leading him to a narrow street blazing with neon. The alley hummed with low activity, people eating and drinking at the many street bars and food stalls. After a bit of walking, Ed found what he was after, slipping under the entry curtains.

A handful of patrons at the bar looked up at his arrival, eyes following Ed as stood at the counter. One of the patrons had a crown of horns on his head, but none of the others had such visible quirks. Ed nodded to them, giving a polite, “Good evening.” It wasn’t his usual, but if things went well, he wouldn’t even need to hit anything. It didn’t hurt to start off strong.

“Aren’t you a little young to drink?” asked the woman behind the bar, who looked relatively normal (at least, to Ed) with no visible quirk. Though, considering the strange butterflies that Ed could see resting in her hair and in the rafters above, he’d bet she wasn’t quirkless.

Ed bared his teeth in something resembling a smile. “Are you going to pretend you care about legality?”

The patrons stiffened slightly, but the bartender just looked at Ed. “What do you want, foreigner?” she asked. It could have been a question of what sake Ed wanted, but in this case…

“How about some sagu,” Ed hummed, leaning on the countertop. The bartender’s eyes narrowed. Sagu. It could have been a slip of the tongue, if not for how close sagu was to the Japanese term for ‘search’. “I hear it’s good quality here.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps, but it’s quite expensive.” When Ed shrugged, the woman hummed appreciatively. “What’s your order, then?”

“Seven Circles,” Ed said and this time, the bartender did stiffen. 

“What do you want?” she repeated sharply, steel in her voice. 

“You heard me,” Ed shrugged. “Choune, isn’t it? I just want my order, then I’ll go.”

“You seem to think yourself quite smart,” Choune hummed, not taking her eyes off Ed. “Well then, you should know that you don’t give expensive, fine wine to a customer that cannot pay for it. It is hardly profitable.”

Ed raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure they’re going to remain profitable?”

The patrons, who had thus far stayed out of Edward and Choune’s standoff, finally lost their patience. “Get out, foreigner,” snarled a man in a suit, his grip tightening around the chopsticks in his hand. “You are an insult to this business.”

For a brief second, Ed pretended to think it over, then shook his head. “No, thanks. I still haven’t gotten my order.” 

Choune’s ever-present smile tightened. “Well then, I suppose I’ll have to ask you to be removed.” She nodded to the bar’s four patrons. “Kazuma.” 

The one presumably named Kazuma gave a grin, standing and then advancing on Ed, the other patrons following behind him. “Get up,” the man hissed at Edward. “You’re not welcome.” 

Ed looked on with a bored expression. He didn’t move. 

“I said, get up,” Kazuma reached down, grabbing Ed’s arm and hauling him up. Or, the man tried anyway. He stumbled slightly, surprised by Ed’s weight, and Ed took advantage. Almost lazily, Ed stepped around Kazuma, seizing hold of the man’s arm and twisting it until it was pinned behind Kazuma’s back.

“I don’t appreciate being manhandled,” Ed retorted mildly. 

“Bastard!” screeched one of the other patrons, the man with horns. Abandoning all pretense, Horns lunged forward, readying a fist. Still keeping hold of Kazuma, Ed swayed back, dodging the punch, and then booted Kazuma into his friend. The two went down in a tangle of limbs and the remaining two patrons took that as their cue.

They jumped Ed at the same time, but there was no coordination to it. Ed sidestepped the first, neatly tripping him and knocking him out with a swift strike to the back of the head. The second was downed with a solid punch to the gut. As the pair hit the street, a shout behind Ed had him turning, his eyes spotting the glint of metal. Ed’s automail hand whipped out, catching the knife a furious Kazuma had been about to drive into Ed’s ribs. 

“Don’t play with knives, you could get hurt,” Ed chided, wrenching the knife out of Kazuma’s hand. With the screeching sound of metal on metal, Ed’s automail tightened into a fist. A second later the knife, now bent out of shape, clattered onto the floor.

Kazuma let out an enraged shriek which quickly turned to a grunt, his eyes rolling back in his head. Ed lowered his hand, watching the man he’d just knocked unconscious slump to the ground to join his friends. Stepping around the bodies, Ed returned to the bar, with Choune behind it. 

“So,” Ed hummed, propping his elbows on the counter. “Seven Circles? Fine wine? A lack of profits?” 

Ten minutes later, Ed had gotten a base of operations for the Circles and the name of their leading member. 

“Pleasure doing business with you!” Ed chirped as he exited the bar, sending a grin to Choune and her hogtied former patrons. That had gone rather well, all things considered! Aside from the rowdy clientele, Choune had only tried to stick her ornamental butterfly hairpins in his eyeballs twice.

Outside the bar, a small crowd had gathered, all of them staring at Edward as he stepped onto the street. Much like the crowd on the train, no one said anything. They just watched. Like the entire event had been little more than a dramatic play. Ed’s eyes flicked across the crowd before landing on a young man, not much older than himself, who had a short prehensile trunk in place of his nose.

“You,” Ed pointed. The young man squeaked, being singled out suddenly making him a whole lot more nervous. Ignoring that, Ed jerked a thumb back toward Choune’s street bar and the people tied up inside. “Mind calling the police? I’ve got a number you can use.”

The young man gaped, his trunk curling in on itself. “Who the hell are you? ”

“Alchemist,” Ed shrugged. “So, mind calling?”

…

Direct Message between FlyBoy [Hawks] and Edward Elric [Elric]
Last Message Sent: 6 hours ago

FlyBoy [Hawks]
You’re not going to escape by having civilians call me to report your crimes
I know it was you
You are not subtle

Edward Elric [Elric]
They’re not crimes.

FlyBoy [Hawks]
Yes it is it literally is
Look, see here? Section 32 Article 222
[Screenshot.png]

Edward Elric [Elric]

Wait, what are you doing up at this hour? Do you know what time it is?
My alerts are so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Also, I’ll have you know, I can’t read kanji. I’m a foreigner, remember?
(◕д◕✿)
And to be fair, those muggers hit me first.
It was all in self defense, I can’t help the law.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯

FlyBoy [Hawks]
That wouldn’t hold up a MINUTE in court and you know it
No judge or jury would buy it
…But still I want it on camera when you try

Edward Elric [Elric]
(´ ∀ ` *)
Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got diplomatic immunity in Japan isn’t it? 
And, that Amestris’ courts would buy it.

FlyBoy [Hawks]
You know what? 
You’re right
Your country has a corruption problem and it has it BAD

A day later, Edward craned his head back as he looked up at the nondescript five story building that Choune’s information had led him to. It looked like it could be any old apartment or small office complex, but the lack of personal items or signs of life along the balconies dissuaded that notion. Well, that and the pair of burly bodyguards slouched under the entrance.

Perfect.

“Hey,” Ed nodded, the two guards stiffening as he approached. He stopped a few paces away, giving a two-fingered salute. “Here to talk to your boss, Joryu. Got something he might want to know.”

The guard on the left, who had roughly the same musculature as Major Armstrong, snorted. “Check it out, Kuji,” the man said to his partner, examining Ed with a curled lip. “A little rat got itself lost.” The man snorted, making a shoo-ing gesture towards Ed. “Run along home, little rat.”

The second guard, Kuji, rolled her eyes. “Better do what Iwa says,” she said, patting the handle of the spiked bat next to her. “I’m not interested in killing a kid today.”

Ed didn’t move. Instead, he shifted forwards half a step, freezing when Kuji’s bat swung up to point at his face. “Easy there,” Ed said, raising his hands. “I just want to talk,”

Kuji snorted. “No one’s talking about anything.” She gestured with the spiked bat. “Consider it an incentive, kid. Scram and forget you were here. Last chance, shrimp.”

Ed shook his head.

The first guard, Iwa, sighed. “Well, we warned you.” One large hand came down on Ed’s shoulder, squeezing until it bordered on painful. “Sorry, kid,” Iwa said, not sounding very sorry at all. “Can’t have anyone spilling our location, you know how it is. Kuji?”

Kuji nodded in response, adjusting her grip on her bat. “Nothing personal kid.”

Ed watched as Kuji shifted her weight, bringing the club back to swing… Clap. The woman lurched, staggering. She blinked in confusion for a second, then looked back at Ed. She paled. Her eyes flicked back to her club, shorn in half, and then to where Ed held a gleaming metal blade to Iwa’s throat. 

“Easy there, we can talk this out,” Iwa muttered and Ed smiled, all teeth.

“I’m just providing some incentive,” Ed parroted back. “Take me to see your boss.” 

Iwa swallowed, throat bobbing against the razored edge pressed to his jugular. His eyes flicked to Kuji then back to Ed. Ed grinned, his smile as sharp as his blade. “If you don’t want to let me in, then I might have to let myself in. You know how it is.”

“… We’ll let you in,” Iwa said.

At swordpoint, the pair unlocked the door and led Ed up the stairs. They encountered another set of guards after a brief walk, the new guards straightening when they spotted Ed and his guides. Ed smiled, slipping his bladed forearm behind him and returning the automail to its usual state.

“This… this kid says he’s here to talk to Joryu, has something the boss needs to know,” Iwa muttered, glancing back at Ed.

There was a weighted pause as the other guards on duty exchanged glances and looked between Ed, Iwa and Kuji. After a short whispered conversation, one guard gave a nod. Kuji and Iwa were dismissed, leaving Ed with a squad of several more guards, who all sneered at him.

“You try anything,” one snarled, exposing a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth, “and I’ll kill you where you stand.” 

“Oh, no need to worry about me,” Ed hummed. “I just want to talk to Joryu.”

That’s all he wanted. Whether Ed did more than that depended on Joryu.

Still eyeing him, the guards led Edward higher into the building. Eventually they came to a large room, big enough for several train cars to fit inside. Over a dozen people hung at the edges of the room, watching as Ed and the guards walked by. Ed grunted. So much for there just being seven circles.

Ed and his escort stopped near the center of the room, before a man seated at a large table. After a minute, the man glanced up with narrowed eyes, looking over the party. Ed smiled. Bingo. Joryu, head of the Seven Circles according to Choune, and who Ed had come to see. Joryu dismissed Ed’s escort with a wave of the hand, the guards retreating to the door. Ed was left to face Joryu. They sized each other up for a minute and Joryu looked soundly unimpressed.

“You are aware you came to your death, correct?” Joryu asked, eyeing Ed disdainfully. The man shook his head, giving a huff. “Seems I’ll have to send someone to crush that butterfly… Choune’s been useful, but if this is all it takes to make her turn, she’s not worth the effort.”

So he knew about Choune helping Ed… shit. Well, that made things a bit more interesting.

“I’m looking for information on the Wanyūdo,” Ed replied. Immediately, laughter ran through the room.

Joryu snorted. “Oh, I know. That’s quite the ask, little vigilante.” 

“Not a vigilante,” Ed corrected. “Alchemist.”

“I’ve heard,” Joryu drawled. “But that just makes things easier. Heroes and vigilantes always make everything so messy. ”

Ed bared his teeth in a smile. “I think you’ll find I can make quite the mess.”

Joryu’s eyes narrowed, the man letting out a low hiss. “You arrogant little child, you don’t even know who’s territory you’re on. You think you hold any power here?” Joryu laughed, loud and mocking. “I know everything that happens in my domain. I know your arm is metal and I know the little trick you pulled with it on your way in, but I am not so easily frightened.”

Joryu gave a smile that was all teeth. “You’re in my territory now. I know everything that goes on here.” Joryu snapped his fingers and the dozen people lurking at the edges of the room advanced, encircling Ed, their quirks and weapons brought to bear. “You and your little quest for the League will die here, Edward Elric.”

… Ah, perhaps that “I know everything in my domain” wasn’t an exaggeration. Fucking quirks.

Ed stared at Joryu. Joryu stared at Ed.

But if he knew I was coming, if he knew all my skills… he would have brought more people.

“Kill him.”

With that soft command, two of the dozen opponents surrounding Ed lunged forward. Edward evaded the pincer attack with a backward handspring, eyes glimpsing oncoming tongues of flame and blades before he twisted over himself. Contain those two. Limit the damage.

He clapped a breathless second before his hands hit the floor. 

Lightning ripped outward in a shockwave. A wave of wood, cement and steel surged up after the crackling energy, throwing Joryu’s unlucky mooks into walls that reached forward to embrace them. The lucky ones were able to dodge the wave or break out of their impromptu prisons, tearing themselves free in a burst of quirk, plaster and stone.

Four down. A dozen more to go.

Time to have a little fun. With a maniacal grin flashing across his face, Ed arched backward into another handspring, hair whipping across his face.

Transmutation.  

A second wave of energy. Thick columns erupting from the floor like battering rams. The now unlucky few who had dodged found themselves flying backwards.

Legs up and over. Push off. Airborne. Again.

Pipes tore themselves free from the ceiling, encircling their victims like constricting snakes.

Again.

Holes opened in the floor, victims plunging into a gaping abyss.

Again.

The air was charged with static when Edward finally fell into a crouch, hands planted on the ground. The room looked like a surrealist painting: massive gaping holes in the floor, twisting pipes hanging from the ceiling, bodies stuck through walls at all angles. Staring at the far end of the room, Ed smirked at the only other person left standing. At Joryu.

As Ed stood and began to advance, Joryu whipped out a gun and fired. Ed ducked into a roll, bullets peppering the floor behind him, and slapped his hands to the ground. Lightning rippled across the room and then Joryu’s desk came to life, a massive wooden hand pinning the Circles’ leader beneath it.

Lazily rolling his shoulders, Ed stalked forward to the pinned Joryu. As Ed picked up the gun from the floor, Joryu managed to wriggle out from under the hand and lurch to his feet. The Amestrian gave the man points for effort as he let out a wordless cry of rage and aimed a punch at Ed. It quickly turned to a yelp of pain as Edward twisted the man’s arm around and kneed him in the stomach. 

“You done?” Ed asked the gasping man on the floor.

“You… you’re like Overhaul,” Joryu groaned. “But you’re not him. Your power, it’s…”

Ed cocked his head. Overhaul? Filing the name away, Ed toed Joryu in the gut with his boot. “So, Wanyūdo?” Ed asked, giving Joryu another nudge. “What can you give me?”

Joryu spat a litany of curses. Ed sighed and held up the gun he’d acquired from Joryu, dangling in front of the man’s nose. “See this?” As Joryu watched, Ed held the gun in both hands – circle matrix snapping into place across his fingertips – and half the gun dissolved into dust. Ed grinned toothily at Joryu, now white as a sheet. “Stopped at deconstruction.”

Ed wasn’t a killer like Scar, but the man was an excellent source of intimidation tactics.

It took a bit more convincing of Joryu. The man was a villain and his quirk somehow involved knowing everything that happened on his territory, making him far more primed to call Ed’s bluff. But, thankfully for Ed, Joryu’s territory didn’t extend to Ed's thoughts, and “knowing everything” only included the “present” everything, not future. The man also seemed absolutely terrified of Ed’s alchemy, which was a bonus, and gave Ed leverage.

Soon, Ed had the information he wanted and he quickly tied off the loose ends. He trapped Joryu in his own personal prison and made sure the rest of the Seven Circles were similarly locked up by steel and cement. As he left, Ed waved at the terrified villains, giving a cheery, “Stay out of trouble!”

Out in the night air, Ed took his phone out of his pocket and dialed. He was greeted by a somewhat groggy and confused, “What?”

Ed grinned, though the Hero on the other end couldn’t see it. “Hey Hawks, I’ve currently got a couple dozen members of the Seven Circles tied up and unconscious. Want to pick them up?” The incredulous and incoherent noises he got on the other end of the line was a delight. As Hawks began to question how and why, Ed just smirked. “I don’t know, I found them like this. Better come get them while they’re still out of it, yeah?”

The Amestrian rattled off his current address, then hung up. 

With the clean up crew on the way, Edward quickly made himself scarce. Several hours later, once Ed was back at U.A. and awake again, he swiped through the saga of Hawks’ late night incredulity.

Direct Message between FlyBoy [Hawks] and Edward Elric [Elric]
Last Message Sent: 7 hours ago

FlyBoy [Hawks]
What the HELL Elric
No seriously, what the hell
you call me at 2 am and give me an address 
which isn’t sketchy at all
and when i arrive its to find the entire Seven Circles
who have a half dozen outstanding warrants each
for everything from robbery to murder
and they’re all unconscious and bound in metal
except for the two buried to their necks in concrete
then i get a missive from the great rat himself telling me its above board
and every single one of the Circles is saying it was done by a demon in red and gold
i’d be impressed but did you have to do it
AT 2 IN THE GODDAMN MORNING?!

Edward Elric [Elric]
Hawks, good morning to you too. I see you found my present.
As for the guys in concrete, one of them is the head honcho,
and the other had a metal manipulation quirk.
I had to get the second out of the game and I obviously couldn’t use metal like I did for the others.
And Joryu was a slimy piece of work. Had to make sure he wouldn’t escape.

FlyBoy [Hawks]
I should arrest you for vigilantism
Except the Rat has told me I can’t
Because you have immunity
I’m almost impressed by how you managed to find a way to legally break the law
But did you have to make it MY problem?

Edward Elric [Elric]
(o･ω･o)

FlyBoy [Hawks]
That is cursed
Who taught you that

Edward was loath to drag himself to the department over the next couple days, but he still had to keep up appearances. Though, if he was being honest, he wasn’t being very good at it. There was only so much drowning himself in Kaffee could do. Between Ed’s exhaustion from staying out half the night and his itch to continue his own investigative methods, it was clear to all that he was distracted. Apparently, his distraction was concerning enough that the detectives sicced Tsukauchi on him.

“We’re worried,” Tsukauchi said plainly. “You’ve been coming in tired and restless for the last week.” The detective rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re frustrated, I understand. But these investigations take time, it’s the best way to nail these bastards. Please don’t go doing any more impromptu vigilantism?”

“I won’t,” Ed promised. Tsukauchi gave a relieved exhale and nodded, leaving with a decidedly lighter set to his shoulders, as he considered one of his problems was cleared.

Ed felt a twinge of guilt for his subterfuge and causing the detective – who’d generally been nothing but accommodating – such stress. It was rather unfortunate (for Tsukauchi) that Ed had figured out how to circumvent the man’s quirk. For all that Ed had caused Tsukauchi an existential, Truth-based headache, the man’s quirk wasn’t truth detector, it was lie detector.

Ed hadn’t lied, exactly. He wasn’t doing impromptu vigilante work… No, he was doing very much planned work. And, since it was technically legal on grounds of diplomatic immunity and he wasn’t trying to do unauthorized law enforcement, it wasn’t vigilantism. More like an unsupervised investigation.

“Sorry,” Ed murmured as he turned back to the map of Tokyo he was examining. “I’m impatient.”

According to Joryu, after the Battle at Kamino, the League had gone dark for over a month, but they’d started sending out feelers again. Most of the sightings since Kamino, of which there were few, were all in the vicinity of Tokyo. Recruiting, Joryu claimed. And if the League was trying to recruit new members, that would explain why they remained in populated areas despite topping the most wanted list.

Of course, none of the League sightings were close to any of All for One’s currently known bases. The League was smarter than that. (Unfortunately.) 

But, Ed thought, eyeing the scribbles of red pen across the city. There are some commonalities.

The League sightings were almost all in districts with (1) below average income; (2) above average abandoned houses; (3) minimal regular Hero patrol routes; and (4) known territories of other villain and yakuza gangs. Considering the League was, at least in theory, mainly ideological and that they were looking to recruit, it made sense they were sticking to where their audience was.  

If I want to find the League, I go to where they’ll be, Ed thought, circling a section of his map. If he could find the League – hell, if he could find Dabi – he might be able to get intel on All for One. Though, it’s not like they’d be inclined to talk to him. Unless he pretended to be a recruit? No, he’d already met Dabi and they’d spot that a mile away.

Plus, Ed thought sourly, the League’s ideology isn’t All for One’s. All for One hadn’t looked to recruit, instead he wanted to increase his power and quirks. But no matter how many quirks he had, power only worked if you had someone to use it on. Even for all his quirks, All for One still had to follow the flow of people, whether to take their quirks or exercise his own. Ergo, his business had to focus on the metropolises.

Of which there were many, with even more people and places to hide.

Ed groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I can do this,” Ed growled in Amestrian. “I can do this. Think of it like an alchemy codex. Break it down into pieces. What do I know about All for One? He’s like Father – a narcissist who loves lording things over people, even if they don’t realize it.”

Tokyo was the capital and biggest metropolis in Japan. Correspondingly, it also had the highest density of Heroes anywhere in Japan. Even with the few data points they had, All for One had a lot of hideouts in and around Tokyo. One known base was literally five blocks from a busy thoroughfare and a Hero agency. It seemed risky to Ed, but it could also be the villain’s way of mocking the Heroes, by being right under their noses. Father had certainly enjoyed the same tactic.

(Though, it was more correct to say that Central Command had been built on top of Father, instead of the reverse.)

The Nomu Factory in Kamino had been in Yokohama, which had one of the biggest seaports in the country. So, going off the assumption that All for One’s work still had to have some connection to the larger Japanese infrastructure, he was probably bringing Atossans into the country through there, hiding his operations beneath the legal, commercial ones.

Ed glanced at his map, checking over the base locations and their proximity to industrial centers… Relatively close, if he was honest. One of the hideouts that held Atossans was minutes away from the seaport. But, even still, there were far too many buildings and businesses to ever hope to search.

There was a reason hiding in plain sight was so effective. 

Ed let out a moan, head thudding against the table. Why was Japan so dense? It was like Central City, but worse. So much worse. Because here there were literally millions more people crammed into the same area as Central. Ridiculous. Painful. No respect for impatient and sleep deprived alchemists whatsoever.

On the one hand, there were several former bases of All for One that Ed knew about. But, Hawks and the other Heroes had already sifted through all of those. Even if Ed did visit them, it was likely that most of the evidence would have already been destroyed. It’d still be worth a visit though, Ed thought. Main issue would be getting inside…

As for as-yet-undiscovered hideouts, Joryu hadn’t been able to give Ed any exact locations, instead naming a handful of districts that All for One had operated in prior to Kamino. One had a base that the Heroes had already uncovered, another was flagged by the Heroes as being an “active” area, and the last wasn't noted in any of the police or Hero databases.

The last also happened to match up with the League’s profile of “recruitment” locations. 

Well… Ed thought, eyeing the district and tracing the train route there. I suppose I can try and kill two birds with one stone. 

Chapter Text

Exhale.

Edward slowly flexed his fingers, the small motion easing his mind back into the confines of physicality. He savored the press of fingers against palm, the pull and ache of tendons, the soft clicks of turning gears and pistons. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Ed stretched, joints – flesh and metal – creaking as he did. The movement had his blood pulsing a little faster in his veins, taking any remnants of the mental haze with it.

“Good thing too, considering how much ground I have to cover,” Ed muttered around a yawn. Just because the search for the Philosopher’s Stone had taken three years didn’t mean he wanted to repeat the process with All for One.

Even though he’d been searching for only a few days, Ed had devised something of a system. Instead of wandering the district randomly, looking for signs of the Wanyūdo, Ed began doing it street by street. He’d also excluded some buildings from his search. Whether because the buildings were occupied apartments, too heavily visited, or a little too abandoned. (Ed got the feeling All for One didn’t like to share, and obviously abandoned buildings tended to attract more attention.)

“Still a lot to cover though,” Ed muttered. “I miss Alphonse. Repurposing alchemy just isn’t the same without him here.”

Speaking of… Edward walked a few buildings down, searching for a new spot to do his work. He ended up tucked into an alcove, on some steps in front of a doorway. Settling in, Ed let his eyes slip closed and began the process again. His breath slowed, evened out, in and out, in and out. On the exhale, he planted both hands on the concrete next to him and a circle snapped into place. 

The first step of alchemy was understanding the structure of matter.

Now, to use it.

In the space between the physical and metaphysical, Ed threw out a net, enveloping the earth beneath him and bringing it into his transmutation. The alchemic energy vibrated between atoms, a web of wires pulled taut into a sphere. He could taste the potential – unfurl the weave this way, drag the atoms that way, channeling the simmering power of the planet beneath – but did not.

Instead, he brushed over the strings and… tapped.

A pulse went out. A ripple expanding beneath the water. A swelling harmonic across atomic bonds. Below, a wave spread through the transmutation and he felt the web of wires hum with its passing.

Tap.

An echo of atoms whipping past, vibrating, faster, slower– Calcium, aluminum, carbon, iron—

Tap.

Hurtling through solid rock, only to stumble into a void, the wave scattering between air. 

Tap.

The echo of space, ringing across solid strings.

CLANG!

Ed yelped as something slammed against the back of his head, the pain snapping his concentration, and every string, in two. A hurried apology met his ears and Ed blinked, dazed, as someone bent down next to him. Vaguely, Ed was aware they were talking to him, but he couldn’t find it in him to parse the words. Static crackled over his tongue, lingering in his veins and on the edge of his skin. 

He was floating, untethered to gravity, the boundary between him and the ground below not quite as defined.

The voice was getting more pitched and Ed latched onto it, this thing unattached (yet not) to the vibrating strings and sea of electrons beneath. Taking deep, forceful breaths, Ed’s mind slowly figured out where he ended. After another minute, the noise became words again, and Ed managed to take in the person – an older woman, her hair fully silver-gray like Pinako’s – fussing over him. 

“I’m alright,” Ed reassured, but the look the elder gave him was skeptical. It took a bit to convince her that Ed wasn’t concussed until she let him go, but not before pointing towards the nearest local park and saying it was a much better place to meditate.

Slowly, Ed moved onto the next block, and thanks to his transmutation, he was distantly aware of all that was beneath him. Layers of clay, wood, ash, cement – the city’s history laid out flat. The underground arteries of utility systems: pipes, wires, drainage tunnels. Straight veins of air and rushing water, twisting capillaries of electric lines. Building bones of wood and steel, into which branched the city’s circulatory system. 

A mental map of the undercity, built one transmutation at a time.

“But nothing out of place,” Ed muttered quietly. Nothing to point toward All for One.

Shaking his head, Ed turned down the next alley and then… he stopped. Frowning, Ed slowly turned in a circle, unease coiling in his stomach. Skin prickling, Ed swept his gaze over the alley, utterly empty, except for him. Utterly empty, except for the dark clothed figure stepping out from the shadows, arm sweeping up as the air pressure shifted–

Ed dropped and blue fire roared over his head. He hit the pavement at a roll and with the slap of hands against concrete, a barrier slammed shut across the alleyway. After a couple seconds, the blue fire spilling over the top of his makeshift shield dissipated and the alley turned still once more. 

“I see your quirk came back,” Edward called out, warily standing upright.

A scratchy chuckle answered him. There was a gravelly quality to the voice, akin to Havoc’s, borne of too much smoking, or in this case, smoke inhalation. “I see you still like hiding behind stone walls,” the voice shot back with an audible smirk.

Ed growled. Oh, you want a fight? He clapped, slamming a hand to his barrier and rupturing it. A massive dust cloud filled the air, masking Ed as he dashed forward. Dabi had barely moved from where Ed’d spotted him – just like before, just like Mustang, not used to moving in a fight – and it was almost easy to duck under Dabi’s outstretched arm.

In a second, Edward swept the man’s legs out and grabbed the criminal’s arm, throwing him over one shoulder. Dabi wheezed as he hit the pavement, Ed pinning him stomach-down, arms twisted to immobility.

“How’s this for you?” Ed snapped at the criminal under him.

Dabi let out a wheezing laugh. “Your choice, Blondie.” Blue sparks crackled in the man’s hands, a threat of looming fire. “Wonder who’s faster… can you break my spine before I burn your face off?”

The air went quiet save for hissing sparks and heaving breath. After a minute, Ed slowly got off Dabi, watching cautiously as the scarred man got to his feet. Dabi huffed a laugh as he stood, rolling one shoulder with a groan. “Damn Blondie, I managed to feel that.”

Ed snorted. “Unless you’d like more… What do you want?”

“You’ve been looking for me,” Dabi said, baring his teeth. “Why?”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “How’d you even know about that?” Ed paused, then frowned at Dabi incredulously. “Wait, forget that, why did you even seek me out?”

“Curiosity,” Dabi shrugged. “Not many people have the balls to openly look for and talk to the guy trying to kill them.”

“Tried to kill me,” Ed clarified. Dabi twitched and then Ed threw himself to one side, a torrent of blue fire licking at his heels. Spitting a curse, Ed slapped his hands against the wall and whirled, pulling a spear from the side of the building as he went. The spear slashed through the flames and the fire petered out to reveal the spear tip resting under Dabi’s chin.

“Trying,” Dabi said, his smile all teeth.

Ed watched warily for a few more seconds then huffed, letting the spear fall. “You want to know why I’m looking for you?” Ed asked, planting the butt of the spear on the pavement and leaning some of his weight on it. “I’m looking for the Wanyūdo… No,” Ed corrected. “I’m not looking for him specifically, I’m looking for his hideouts, trying to get clues.” 

Instead of instantly going on the offensive, Dabi just hummed. The villain tilted his head, almost seeming to think over Ed’s logic. Then, the fire user chuckled, “Now this I’ve got to see.”

It threw Ed for a loop, and he barely resisted gaping. “Are you serious right now?”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “What, can’t a guy get some entertainment?”

“Why are you even considering this?” Ed asked, utterly incredulous. “You’re part of the League of Villains, aren’t you? Even if All for One isn’t your boss, shouldn’t you be… I dunno, be a little more worried about this?”

Dabi shrugged. “I might be part of the League, but don’t owe All for One anything. In fact, seeing a kid try to pull one over on the guy would be hilarious. ”

Ed opened his mouth to protest further but then paused, and quickly shut it. He had been looking for Dabi, hoping to get information on All for One, but admittedly he’d had zero plan for if he actually found the guy. At least this way, the man was doing it of his own free will, and even if Dabi wasn’t helping Ed, he might be able to get some information. Though…

“So what… you’re just going to watch me try to dig up stuff on your boss? How do I know you won’t kill me the moment my back is turned?” Ed challenged.

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Dabi smirked, the gesture pulling at the scarred skin of his face.

“Trust you?” Ed raised an eyebrow. “Not with my life.”

Dabi barked a laugh, staring down at Ed with an almost amused expression. “You’re smarter than most Heroes. No, I will try to kill you, but I don’t plan on killing you, capisce?”

Unfortunately, yes.

“What makes you think I’d let you follow me?” Ed asked. “For all I know, you’ll call your buddies to ambush me or lead me into a trap or something.”

Dabi snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s a good one, I should do that.” The villain paused, then snorted, rolling his eyes. “Please, you think I’d put a trap in something this obvious?”

“You could,” Ed shrugged. “Could be a case of, I know that it’d be a good trap, and you know that it’d be a good trap, and you know that I know and I know that you know, but exactly because you know that I know it’d be a good trap, and that it’d be an obvious trap, you think that I’d think ‘Oh that’s too obvious a place for a trap’ so then, of course, you trap it.”

Dabi stared at Ed for a long, long moment.

“… What the fuck?”

“It’s plausible,” Ed sniffed.

The scarred man rolled his eyes. “You think too much.”

“It’s kept me alive so far.” Ed crossed his arms, eyeing the villain with a raised eyebrow. “So? What makes you think you get to come along?”

“What makes you think you could stop me?” Dabi shot back. “Sneaking around like this… you don’t want to be found anymore than I do. Getting up to something illegal, Hero?” 

Ed bared his teeth. “I think I could handle the attention a lot easier than you.”

They stared each other down, daring the other to make the first move. They were both right – it would cost Dabi a hell of a lot more if they made a scene (or, more of a scene than they’d already done). But Ed didn’t want to be found either, and even if he could skirt consequences thanks to his immunity, the scrutiny would make things exponentially more difficult.

“Attempt to kill one person and I will make you a crater in the concrete,” Ed promised.

Dabi smirked. “Glad you see it my way.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Ed said. Without turning his back on Dabi, Ed crouched, setting his spear next to him. Gently tapping his fingertips together, Ed pressed his hands to the ground, blue lightning surging beneath his fingertips. The rubble from the prior transmutation was subsumed back into the walls until the only sign Ed had been there at all was the spear next to him.

Keeping one eye on Dabi, Ed expanded his transmutation underground, a space nearly the size of a small house resonating with alchemic power. Just as he’d done before, Ed sent a pulse into the ground. Again and again, until he could piece together an image of what lay below. Water main, electrical cable, more of the same.

Dabi shifted in his peripheral and Ed pulled out the transmutation, snapping the connection closed. He tried not to grimace. The alchemic “echolocation” was a lot fuzzier this time, and Ed only managed a fraction of the range his previous attempts had gotten him, all due to the presence Ed was hyper aware of standing mere meters away. But if Dabi was keen to stick around, Ed would have to get used to it.

Ed pretended to ignore Dabi as he got to his feet, picking up his spear. “Neat trick,” Dabi said, eyeing the healed scars of their brief altercation.

With a noncommittal grunt, Ed gestured down the alley. “After you, I insist.”

Dabi chuckled, but complied, walking ahead of Ed. “Got a name, Blondie? After you somehow managed to figure out what I’m going by, it’s only fair you share.”

“What, don’t think you can work it out yourself?” Ed challenged. 

“Lemme guess, Shrimp?” Dabi said and oh boy, don’t kill him Edward.

“It’s Ed,” the Amestrian said.

“Short, like you.”

Ed very calmly and maturely ignored Dabi. He was supposed to be solving a murder, not creating a new one. Still, after transmuting the spear in his hands into a simple staff, Ed poked Dabi with the end. “Keep walking, Matchstick Boy.” 

The affronted sound Dabi made was hilarious, and his attempted retaliation by fire even more so. When the glowing hot embers the scarred man flicked onto Ed’s coat failed to catch, the man looked downright offended.

Ed gave a private laugh, and before Dabi could try a more drastic arson attempt, he asked, “So how long did it take for your quirk to come back?”

“…Took a bit,” Dabi admitted after a minute. “Had to sleep it off.” The villain glanced at Ed, raising a hand to scratch at his twisting burns. “I see you replaced your coat.”

“Yeah, half of it got destroyed by a pyromaniac and the other half was used trying to help said pyromaniac,” Ed drawled, voice sickly sweet. “You know I didn’t even get thanked for my efforts? Rude.” He gave an exaggerated sigh, tugging at the collar of his dark red trench coat. “Though this one is fireproof, won’t be destroyed nearly so easily.”

Dabi sniffed. “Black hides blood better.”

“And oil,” Ed offered.

“… You’re a weird one, know that?”

When Dabi first heard that someone was looking for him, his first thought was that Shigaraki was fucking impatient. His second thought was that Shiggy may be insane, but he wasn’t stupid enough to let the streets know he’d misplaced one of the League. His third thought was no one in this run down, back alley had any business knowing the name, nor who Dabi was.

It took less than a minute to pinpoint who was throwing around his current alias – a couple of men sitting at one of the street bars. As Dabi stalked closer, it became clear the men were drunk, leaning heavily on the counter.

“How do you know that name?” Dabi asked, voice cold.

The drunkards swayed in place, flushed faces turning toward Dabi. “What ya want?” one slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol and expression twisted with disdain. Anger started to kindle in Dabi’s chest, but he smothered it. While Dabi hated to stoop to the level of getting information out of drunkards, street gossip – loathe as he was to admit it – could be very useful.

“That name, Dabi,” he growled. “Where did you hear it?” 

The drunkard scowled, snarling, “A vigilante.”

“That was no vigilante,” hissed another. “That was a demon.”

“Damn arrogant is what he was,” the third spat, hand slamming onto the countertop. “Had the gall to attack us and then he called fucking Hawks on us. A goddamn Hero.” 

Dabi raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You got taken in by a Hero and yet you’re here?”

“Couldn’t hold us,” slurred the last drunk, lip curling in a smirk. “Heroes couldn’t prove nothin’.” The smirk abruptly dropped, turning into a sullen scowl. “But now the old bar’s closed, and all we’ve got is this piss.”

“If you don’t want it, you’re welcome to go,” the barkeeper sniffed, gesturing to the street.

The drunkard snorted. “We’re payin’ customers.”

“Barely.”

“So a Hero kicked your asses, nothin’ special,” Dabi huffed, even as an inferno roared in his veins. Even if these drunkards were scum, this Hero sounded worse. Stain’s kind of target. “But what about the name? Dabi?”

What Hero could possibly know his alias?

The drunkards lurched in place, taking more shots of alcohol. “Demon was asking questions,” one of them growled. “He wanted to know about some guy named ‘Dabi’ and the Seven Circles. Next thing we hear, they’re saying the entire gang was taken out by some demon in red an’ gold!”

The inferno stilled, ever so slightly. “The Seven Circles?”

Dabi recognized the name. Living on the streets for a decade, he’d be hard pressed not to. Knowing the various villain organizations and what exactly their limits were, if any, was a must. Because if you weren’t in one, you’d just as easily end up running from them. 

“Yeah, Circles got wiped out in a night,” the drunk slurred. “But wasn’t the Heroes, it was the demon.”

“… Did the demon give a name?” Dabi asked, an idea sparking to life in the back of his mind. 

Another snorted. “Yeah, called himself ‘alchemist’ or somethin’. Weird name.”

Well, if “demon in red and gold” hadn’t made him think of Blondie, “alchemist” certainly would. Dabi left the men to drown themselves in alcohol, idly flicking a few burning embers behind him to catch on the spilled booze. Shouts started behind him, all talk of ‘Dabi’ vanishing as the man himself slunk back into the street crowds.

As Dabi walked, the tips of his fingers brushed his thigh and the bandages still wrapped around his leg.

Alchemist.

An echo of emptiness pulsed in his chest and Dabi flared the simmering fire in his veins higher, a flicker of flame curling overtop his skin. It had become something of a reflex since he’d been left weakened, powerless, quirkless. Almost the minute his fire had returned Dabi had become an inferno, savoring how his flames clawed over his body, the familiar acrid smell of his skin searing into his nostrils.

And then, no longer powerless, Dabi had been left bewildered. 

Because what Blondie had done was… baffling. Not only had the Hero not seized on Dabi’s weakness, he’d gone and saved Dabi from the very people the Villain had been relentlessly trying to kill. By rights, it would have been better to leave Dabi to bleed out or look the other way while Dabi’s would-be victims killed him while he was powerless. In Blondie’s eyes, Dabi should have been less than nothing. Quirkless. Villain. Instead, Blondie had patched Dabi up himself.

Yet even with the Hero breaking the rules of engagement, Blondie was still a Hero. The only reason he hadn’t brought the entire police force down on Dabi was because Blondie hadn’t seemed to recognize Dabi as one of the League, not to mention the Hero had somehow had gotten himself lost. If he was looking for Dabi now… well, it could only be a trap.

“Either Blondie’s dumber than I thought he was, or he thinks I’m that weak,” Dabi thought to himself. Which would make it all the more fun to spring the trap and then burn it all down while savoring the Heroes’ expressions. Low profile or not, they’d pay for underestimating him. 

It wasn’t too hard to find Blondie, but it wasn’t like the guy was trying to hide. Dabi walked into their encounter, expecting a trap and ready to spring it, but Blondie refused to play by the script. First the Hero admitted that he was looking for intel on All for fucking One – which was absolutely hilarious –  and then he accused Dabi of setting a trap. Nothing about Blondie made any sense.

But that made him interesting.

Except, Dabi had been following the-now-named Ed for an hour, and it was the most boring and confusing shit ever. Every few buildings, Blondie would stop and stick his hands on the wall and just… stand there for a minute. Then he’d huff, step back, and move onto the next. Forget answering Dabi’s questions, it just gave him more.

“You say you don’t have a quirk and then you pull this shit,” Dabi grumbled. If this wasn’t quirk behavior, Dabi sure as hell didn’t know what was. Atossan, his ass. Was the little shit trying to waste Dabi’s time? He scowled down at Blondie. “What are you even doing?”

“Looking for one of All for One’s hideouts,” the other answered blandly, stepping back from the wall. 

Dabi looked down at the Atossan. “You’re staring at the fucking wall.”

“And unless you feel like helping, it’s what I’m going to keep doing,” Blondie chirped. He then had the audacity to slap his hands on the next building and ignore Dabi entirely. Arrogant little shrimp.

Scowling, Dabi threw a jet of fire at Blondie. But apparently, the Hero wasn’t as inattentive as he seemed. Blondie was a bit slower at dodging, but he still avoided the worst of the firestorm, scrabbling backwards and taking cover in an alcove in the wall. Before Dabi could mock the Hero for cornering himself, he was falling, a massive yawning pit opening in the ground.

Dabi managed to break his fall, getting back to his feet with an inferno of blue fire swirling around him, ready to incinerate Blondie where he stood. But, something brought Dabi pause… namely the rippling concrete wall that rose above the crater he’d found himself in, a wave of stone about to break over his head. A glance at Blondie showed a thoroughly pissed off expression, one hand planted on the concrete.

“A word of advice,” the alchemist said, accent even more pronounced in his anger. “Don’t disturb me when I’m doing a transmutation that has me taking control of everything in a 10 meter radius. My reflexes are a lot more keyed to fight.” He let that sink in, then, “Stop trying to turn me to charcoal, capisce?”

Fire and pressure swirled in Dabi’s chest as he eyed the walls, weighing his options. He huffed. He’d give the alchemist this round. Even if Dabi took out Blondie, he wouldn’t be able to escape before all that falling rubble came down on his head.

“Fine,” Dabi said, his fire dying out in a blink. Abruptly the concrete buckled beneath him, the pavement twisted and flowed back into itself. In a couple seconds, Dabi was on level ground again, hissing as he got back to his feet. Blondie looked far too smug, so Dabi threw a (small) whip of flame at the alchemist’s boots.

Blondie yelped, then scowled back at Dabi. “I can and will bring a boulder down on you. My coat is fireproof. Is yours rockproof?”

Dabi sniffed. “What do you expect? I’m bored, Blondie.”

“I have a name you know, Matchstick. It's Ed. And how is that my problem?”

“It is if you don’t want to test out that coat of yours, Ed,” Dabi hummed, snapping the monosyllabic name.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I had a better way,” Ed said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But unless there’s something you want to share with the class to narrow down my search, this is how I will be doing it. And if you don’t like it, I’m not keeping you here.”

Dabi weighed the options, then shrugged. “I dunno about all of them, but the couple hideouts I’ve seen have a cover as an actual business. Exclusive, of course.” 

“Was that so hard?” Blondie – Ed – asked dryly. Shaking his head, Ed pulled out his phone, tapping on it for a minute before nodding and looking up. “Right, that does help. I’ve already checked a bunch of those in my search area, the next group is over thataway.”

For the next hour, Dabi continued to follow the Atossan, bored out of his mind. He was ready to set fire to a building just to have something more interesting to watch than Ed wandering around sticking his hands on walls. And then finally, finally, something changed.

“Yes!” Ed shouted, startling Dabi from where he leaned against a nearby wall. Dabi turned to glare at Blondie, but he didn’t even look sorry. The young man just looked back at Dabi while grinning like a loon. “I got something!”

“Got what?” Dabi asked dryly. “A migraine? A realization that this is stupid?”

Blondie just snorted and pointed at the wall. “A lead.”

“That is a wall,” Dabi repeated for the upteenth time.

Ed waved a hand dismissively, “Come on, let’s get inside.” After a bit of poking around, the alchemist found the door and they stepped into the so-called hideout. The interior was covered in a layer of dust, a few pieces of furniture and even some office cabinets scattered about as they walked through the rooms.

“Woooow,” Dabi drawled. “So amazing.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Oh ye of little faith.” 

The Atossan clapped, slapping his hands to the floor, that strange electricity crackling over his fingertips and surging over the room. Dabi stepped back warily, but the lightning didn’t target him. Instead, it peeled back wood, cement and steel, exposing a dark gaping hole in the floor. It was fascinating to watch, the best view Dabi’d had yet of the alleged not-quirk.

“Come on,” Ed said, as the lightning finished weaving what had been the floor into a ladder that vanished into the darkness below. The alchemist dusted off his hands and then started climbing down into the black. After a second of hesitation, Dabi followed. 

They descended a good twenty feet, the air cooling they went. Eventually, Dabi dropped to a concrete floor, his footsteps echoing around wherever they’d come out. Lifting a hand wreathed in blue flame, Dabi took in a simple room, blank white concrete walls and empty door frames leading to shadowed hallways. A sniff revealed stale air, but very little dust. Wherever they were, it didn’t have good airflow.

There was a click and the overhead lights turned on with a low hum. Squinting in the sudden brightness, Dabi caught sight of Ed retreating from an electrical panel, looking rather pleased.

“How did you know this was here?” Dabi asked, looking around the concrete bunker, which wasn’t much more interesting under artificial lights. Still, there’d been no sign of it at the surface.

“Alchemy.”

Dabi snorted. “That’s your answer for everything.” He turned back in time to catch Ed flinch before his expression smoothed over. Weird.

It took a few seconds before Blondie responded, saying, “When you do a transmutation, you’ve got an area that you control. The more you’re controlling the harder it gets, because you have to basically always be registering all of that matter at all times. But because I’m sort of aware of all that matter, I can ‘see’ what’s going on underground.” Ed waved a hand to the room they stood in. “This place was an anomaly, a massive void in solid space.”

The Atossan looked around, then nodded. “Right, let’s explore, see what we can find. There’s not many people an underground bunker in the middle of Tokyo could belong to, so hopefully there’s something on All for One here.”

“Have fun with that,” Dabi drawled.

Ed rolled his eyes, turning away from Dabi to wander down one of the now-lit hallways. Dabi followed behind, idly watching as Blondie mapped out the base, peering into rooms and wandering the hallways. Whoever had once operated out of this base, they were gone now, but for whatever reason they’d left their stuff behind.

And there was a lot of it.

Tables covered in papers and notes. An entire room packed to the brim with scientific-looking equipment. And, perhaps most unsettlingly, a holding cell with walls several feet thick, claw marks and long-dried blood scattered across the interior. Dabi didn’t know why the original owners – All for One or not – hadn’t destroyed this place and all the potential evidence, but maybe they’d been planning to come back.

Blondie, meanwhile, stared at the holding cell for a long time, fingers trailing over the claw marks. What had made them? Dabi wondered. Was it angry? Or desperate for escape? After several minutes, Ed backed away, returning to the room of papers and files and beginning to sift through them.

Shigaraki would be angry that Dabi wasn’t killing the Hero poking their nose into his Sensei’s business, but Dabi didn’t give a damn. All for One was a shady bastard, even for a villain. Most villains were pathetic, but at least they were honest about sticking a knife in your back. The Wanyūdo… he was the kingpin, the emperor of the underworld, and he acted like it. But from what Dabi had heard and seen, the man’s network was more like a spider’s web, and he was the puppeteer. So no, Dabi would not be losing a wink of sleep over seeing somebody else screw over All for One.

Besides, it wasn’t like Dabi was going to lead the Hero to the League. If anything it was good intel, seeing how a Hero tracked down their supposedly secret hideouts. And once Dabi figured Blondie out, he could always kill him, though if their scuffles were anything to go by, it would probably be a bit tougher than usual.

“You know,” Ed said, pulling Dabi’s attention to the Hero, who was glancing over at him. “Instead of standing around you could make yourself useful.” The Hero waved the sheaf of papers he’d been flipping through, using it to gesture to the table he stood at. “Come on, grab some… if you know how to read.”

Dabi bristled. “I know how to read.”

“Great,” Ed nodded, slapping the pages he held onto the table. The Hero proceeded to grab a nearby booklet, walk over to Dabi and shove the thing into his hands. “Get reading.” 

As Blondie spun and headed back to the table, Dabi stared at the notebook clutched in his hands, baffled. Was… was this guy insane? Did Ed even think of what Dabi could do with this? He could burn it to ash. Could take whatever intel was in these pages and use it himself. The Hero had just put his investigation into a Villain’s hands.

Baffling. Unexplainable. Interesting.

The hours ticked by slowly as Dabi and Ed worked their way through the many files. Well, mostly Ed. To Dabi’s dismay, the reading was about as interesting as watching paint dry, and half of it was scientific-adjacent jargon he couldn’t hope to parse. It’d been over a decade since he’d made eye contact with a school, and like it or not, while Blondie’s jab wasn’t true, it wasn’t entirely wrong.

Dabi settled for skimming. 

Meanwhile, Ed went through the files and papers with a ferocity and efficiency that was slightly terrifying. He’d pulled out a worn journal from his coat, scribbling his own notes inside. (When Dabi had glanced over, it was all in some weird, English-like language that Dabi couldn’t make heads or tails of.)

Eventually, a few hours in, the Atossan stopped, leaning over to poke Dabi in the shoulder. “What’s ‘trigger’?”

Dabi frowned. “What?”

“Look, see?” Ed leaned over, shoving a piece of paper into Dabi’s hands and pointing at one line. “As agreed, in exchange for ‘Trigger’, the Nagachikiba, Shie Hassaikai, Kinryū and– What’s Trigger? And those other things?”

“Ah, that Trigger. It's a nickname for quirk enhancers, there’s always a few versions of them floating around. The stuff can be pretty potent, but it burns hard and fast.” Dabi snorted. “Pathetic how many resort to using it. It’s not real power, just borrowed, artificial stuff.”

“And those other things? Nagachikiba? Hassaikai?”

“Yakuza, if I remember right,” Dabi waved a hand dismissively. “They mostly operate in smuggling and drug dealing, and if they’ve got a strength, it's numbers. Sounds like this base was making Trigger and had a deal with the yakuza to distribute it.” Dabi glanced around. “Weird they’d abandon it though, I’ve heard Trigger can be pretty profitable.”

“Yakuza… I’ve seen the yakuza mentioned a few times,” Ed shuffled through some of his papers, before holding up one victoriously. “Yeah! Here we go: ‘closing the Naruhata operation, the yakuza distribution will continue as planned.’ We’re near Naruhata, aren’t we?” he asked, glancing at Dabi, who nodded.

The Atossan hummed, dropping the paper. “So, whoever owned this place was responsible for making and dealing Trigger…” Ed paused, then pushed back from the table, heading for the door. 

“Where are you going?” Dabi called, quickly getting up and following the young man into the hallway.

“To find some of this Trigger stuff,” Ed called back. “If this place was making it, there’s probably still some here!” The tails of Blondie’s red coat flapped as he ducked into a room and Dabi followed him in. The villain leaned against the doorway as he watched the Hero start to root through various crates and boxes.

“What do you want Trigger for?” Dabi asked curiously.

“If we confirm it’s actually here,” Ed huffed, holding up a vial from one box. “Be easier to tie it back to whoever made it. Plus, I could figure out how it works.”

“What, you want to make it? Use it?”

“Hell no,” Blondie wrinkled his nose in distaste. He set down the vial, looking back at Dabi, expression serious. “I’ve run into alchemy ‘amplifiers’ before and they’re always bad news. In how they’re made, in what they can do. I’ve got no desire to stick anything remotely similar into myself.” He looked back toward the vial in his hands. “Still, hopefully this isn’t too similar.”

After a few minutes, the Hero found what he was looking for. A tube filled with red liquid, a label scrawled onto the side that read, “Quirk Enhancement, Solution #267.”

“Doesn’t look like much,” Dabi muttered, leaning over the Hero’s shoulder to take a look. Ed huffed, weaving around Dabi and returning to the main hallway. Oddly, the Hero pulled out white chalk from his coat and started drawing on the floor, sketching out an intricate circle. Then, he popped the lid on the vial and dribbled some of the liquid to the ground, in the circle’s center. 

“… Have you finally lost your mind, Blondie?” Dabi asked.

Ed ignored him, squatting outside the circle and then touching the edge of the chalk. Light shone from within the lines and static crackled over the concrete, similar to when the Hero did the hand-clappy alchemy thing. But instead of shaping the stone, it was the red fluid that started to twist. It followed the arcs of electricity, as it captured in zero gravity, until Ed pulled his hands away and it splashed harmlessly to the floor.

Dabi stared. “Mind explaining?”

“Just checking to make sure it didn’t contain any human souls,” Ed muttered, swiping away his chalk circle.

Dabi snorted, “Fine, don’t tell me.”

The Hero rolled his eyes, holding the vial of Trigger up to the light and twisting it in his gloved hands. “Well, considering it’s something that boosts quirks, I can’t say I’m surprised that All for One got into the drug trade.”

“They say the Wanyūdo runs the underworld, and drugs are included,” Dabi hummed. “But even still, you don’t actually know this place belongs to All for One. Even if he is prolific, he doesn’t own every underground concrete bunker.”

Ed huffed, pocketing the vial and starting to stride back down the hallway. “Who else could it belong to then?”

“Hell if I know,” Dabi shrugged. “People do all kinds of weird shit.” They returned to what Dabi unaffectionally called the ‘too many fucking papers’ room, and Ed slumped into one of the seats, picking up a file and beginning to page through it. 

“Back to it,” the Atossan grumbled.

Dabi rolled his eyes. “Why are you looking here anyways? I know the Heroes have found other bases of Wanyūdo.” The League’s old hideout and the Nomu Factory in Kamino, for one. “Couldn’t you just go looking for whatever clues you’re after in those? Probably faster than this.” Dabi waved to the piles of files pointedly.

Ed huffed. “I would, but they’re crawling with police.”

Dabi stared. Was… was he serious? “You’re a Hero, you work with the police. Couldn’t you just ask?”

The Atossan was conspicuously silent for several seconds. Then, “Shit.”

Dabi snorted and then, try as he might to resist it, he started laughing. “Are you serious?” Dabi howled, the sound tearing at his throat until he was bent double, coughing with each attempted breath. His arms clutched his stomach, shaking with croaking laughter. “How do you forget that? Shit, that’s the funniest thing ever. A Hero forgetting they can do things legally oh fuck–”

Ed sniffed. “I’m not a Hero.”

“Details,” Dabi wheezed, waving a hand.

“But I’m not,” Blondie protested. “Not a vigilante either, technically. I’m operating under diplomatic immunity.”

“You’re a diplomat. You.”

It was a struggle to keep from descending into hysterics once more. 

“I was surprised too,” Ed muttered. “But yeah. I said I’m from Atossa yeah? Specifically, Amestris. What I’ve got isn’t a quirk, it’s something different.”

“Looks like a quirk, acts like a quirk, it’s a quirk,” Dabi coughed, finally getting his breathing back under control. “Doesn’t matter if you’re allegedly from Atossa or not, it’s close enough they could get you on public quirk use.” Dabi tilted his head back, thinking. “The fine’s what… like 20 or 30 thousand yen, last I checked? It goes down every decade, though the level of enforcement varies pretty drastically.”

Dabi laughed, but this time without any humor. “Got a Villain quirk? They’ll probably add a ‘disruption to the peace’ charge to it. Hero quirk? Forget it, you’ll get a minimal fine and a pat on the head.”

Blondie gave a hum that managed to be equally curious and frustrated. “I… didn’t know about that,” he murmured.

“Lots of laws in place,” Dabi snorted. He gave Ed a toothed grin, wide and mocking. “Interesting how easy it can be for Heroes to forget or remember them at their convenience.”

The Hero’s expression did an interesting backflip, before his eyes narrowed on Dabi. “As opposed to your way? Which is what, morality and laws don’t apply to you, ever?”

Dabi shrugged. “At least I’m honest about it, Blondie. People know what to expect from me.” Threat. Insane. Murderer. It was the antithesis of Hero. It was expected from a Villain. It’s what would hurt him the most; his greatest goal brought to ruin, burnt to ash in front of his eyes.

And that’s what Dabi wanted

“Do they?” Ed asked, snapping Dabi’s train of thought. “Know what to expect, I mean. It’s just… people see what they want to see,” the Atossan’s golden eyes bored into Dabi. “Doesn’t mean they’re right.”

The silence between them stretched, and then Ed shrugged. “But what do I know?” he hummed, leaning back in his chair and side eyeing Dabi. “After all, I’m people.” 

“Hn, right,” Dabi huffed, snatching up a file and claiming a chair.

… Right.

Eventually, in the wee hours of morning, the Atossan left. Dabi stayed, which Ed looked mildly surprised at, before his expression turned amused.

“Try not to burn the base down, Matchstick,” the Atossan said, rolling his eyes. “There’s still stuff I want to do here.”

Dabi returned it in kind. “I do what I like, Shrimp.”

Ed vanished back to street level, and while Dabi wanted to continue following the curiosity that was the Atossan, he knew better. Approaching the Hero had already been a risk. No way in hell was Dabi stepping foot into an active crime scene crawling with police and Heroes. Dabi was a powerful fighter, but the likelihood of being captured or injured was way too high. Blondie was interesting. But he wasn’t that interesting.

Not long after Ed left, Dabi returned to the hole in the wall where he was staying, but something drew him back to the underground base over the following two days. It was unsettling, being there alone, with nothing but dust and old log notes for company. But there was also an itch in the back of Dabi’s mind as he flipped through the papers.

It might have been revulsion. It might have been déjà vu.

Dabi may have had a hard time parsing the texts’ jargon, but he could get the gist. Trigger. Human experimentation. Creating a formula that would make quirks exponentially more.

While Dabi didn’t know that All for One was responsible, Ed had been right: this situation had all the Wanyūdo’s calling cards. It was… hell, the entire thing was almost the same as the Nomu! But instead of living corpses with multiple quirks, it was living people with their quirks enhanced near-exponentially.

“Could be an early version,” Dabi muttered, tapping a paper idly. “Until ol’ All for One realized that it's easier to control monsters made almost from scratch… living people, especially those high on Trigger, tend to act unexpectedly.”

It made some sense. You didn’t start by reanimating corpses and shoving them full of quirks. But capitalizing on preexisting drugs and tweaking them until they were at max potency? That was a hell of a lot simpler. 

Shaking his head, Dabi pulled over another stack of papers. “Boring, boring, bo– what the fuck is this word?” Flipping through the pages until he came across something slightly comprehensible, Dabi paused, skimming the words. “Whoever wrote this is a little too excited about human experimentation,” Dabi muttered, grimacing and shoving the paper away. “Fucking hell.”

He was half-tempted to burn it, but that thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Intruder. Dabi stiffened, rising to his feet and calling flames to his fingertips. The footsteps got closer. When the intruder finally stepped into view, Dabi wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Him, or the Atossan.

“What are you doing here?” Ed asked as Dabi turned to tossing his flames from hand to hand. 

“Reading,” Dabi said, baring his teeth in a smile. He tossed the fire at Ed, who quickly threw up an arm to shield his face as the fire blazed over him. The flames quickly petered out and Ed sent Dabi a glare. 

“Really?” The young man asked.

Dabi shrugged. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Ed huffed, ducking around Dabi into the paper-filled room. The Atossan gave a surprised grunt as he saw Dabi’s reading stacks. “Huh, you weren’t joking.”

“I never joke,” Dabi deadpanned.

“Well at least your day was productive,” Ed muttered, flopping into a seat and scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I got nothing at the hideouts. I mean, I’m not surprised that’s the case, it’s been months since they were first uncovered and by this point there’s been too much engagement with the crime scenes for me to get anything of use. It just told me what I already know.

“Worst is, all the places feel the same,” Ed continued, gesturing angrily to the ceiling. “It’s way too easy to mix up the details of what is where. All for One really isn’t very creative. All the hideouts had the same basic layout, even architecture, including this one. Which–” Ed paused, pointing at Dabi, “–good as confirms that this base belongs to him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi shrugged. “I got that. This whole thing with ‘human experimentation’ and ‘quirk enhancement’ is very much his style, if the Nomu are anything to go by.”

“Oh now, you believe me,” the Atossan muttered. Dabi barely resisted rolling his eyes.

“What are you after, anyways?” Dabi asked. The past few days that left Dabi with his thoughts and without answers had made him curious. There were a lot of reasons a Hero might have a grudge against All for One, but he hadn’t gotten the sense that Blondie’s was… personal. Not enough anger for that. “All for One doesn’t give up his secrets easily.”

Ed was silent for a minute, watching Dabi from the corner of his eye, before sighing, slumping in his chair.

“All for One kidnapped over half a dozen Atossans, probably more, and at least a dozen Japanese quirkless,” Ed said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s been going on for years, but we only just found out. Diplomacy… isn’t really why I’m here. It’s this. Figuring out not just why All for One did it, but how, and making sure it’s stopped.”

“Kidnapping Atossans?” Dabi raised an eyebrow. “What the hell does he want you lot for? You’re quirkless… not much help to him. Unless he wants your so-called not-quirk.”

Ed sent Dabi a mild glare, then huffed, shaking his head. “Don’t know. Current theory is that he wanted to figure out why we’re all quirkless, and was trying to replicate the phenomenon that creates the quirk dead zone on the continent.” The Hero gave a sardonic laugh. “Then he could ensure he has all the quirks, while everyone else has none.”

An echo of cold emptiness pulsed in Dabi’s chest where his quirk (should be) was. 

Blondie gave a shout as fire rippled over Dabi’s skin, burning through the cold in his chest. Distantly aware of the Atossan scrambling about in the background, Dabi let his fire pulse with his breath, the familiar taste of ash on his tongue.

It was still here.

Still here.

Not weak, not powerless, not quirkless.

With a final breath, Dabi let his fire dissipate. His eyes flitted to Blondie, now standing and holding papers to his chest, expression twisted into something frustrated and… was that pity? Fucking– Dabi resisted a growl, fire flaring over his skin threateningly.

Ed’s expression flipped as he glared back, snapping, “Don’t destroy my evidence.”

Dabi rolled his eyes, but the biting remark on his tongue tasted sour. He swallowed it. “You think All for One was responsible for that bullet that erased my quirk?” he asked, gravel in his throat.

The Atossan’s ire cooled as he sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe?” Ed set the papers in his hands back on the table, now that they were no longer at risk of catching fire. He leaned over the table, fingers drumming against its surface. “Bullets that erase quirks, people kidnapped from the continent where everyone is quirkless… it would be quite the coincidence.”

“When All for One is involved? I doubt it,” Dabi growled.

Ed hummed. “He does seem to be everywhere.”

Dabi snorted, fury kindling inside his chest. All for One wanted to take the ultimate power play, huh? Destroying quirks… Dabi’s skin started to smoke again. All for One wanted to make sure that he was the only one with power, that everyone else was weak. Dabi snarled. The Wanyūdo wanted to play dirty? Fine, Dabi could do that too.

Taking a breath, Dabi forced his anger to cool to embers. Side-eying the Atossan, Dabi considered what to share. He shouldn’t do this… but if it inconvenienced All for One, he didn’t give a damn. Most likely, Blondie wouldn’t be able to get much out of it anyways. Let’s see… People being kidnapped? Quirk experiments?

“Not many people working with All for One could do this… wonder if that Doctor had anything to do with it?” Dabi thought aloud, and Ed’s gaze snapped to him.

“Doctor?”

Dabi shrugged. “Yeah, All for One had a doctor. Never met him, but Shigaraki wants to find the guy.” Scowling, Dabi thought of the man the League’s leader had never met, but that Shigaraki knew for the Doctor’s undying loyalty to his Sensei. But, perhaps most importantly: “He’s freaky, supposed to have created the Nomus alongside All for One.”

The Atossan’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Those corpse-like things?” He paused, eyebrows briefly furrowing. “…You said he was a doctor?”

Dabi nodded.

Ed’s lips pressed together, contemplative, then he gave a sharp nod. “Right, time to find this Doctor.”

Dabi’s cocked his head. “Not All for One?”

“The first Amestrian we found was in that Nomu Factory,” Ed growled, getting to his feet. “And while still recognizable, he’d been half turned into one of those things.” The alchemist locked eyes with Dabi, and there was the personal grudge, burning in the Atossan’s golden eyes. “Find this Doctor, find out how and why this happened.”

Well. If Shigaraki hadn’t been going to kill Dabi before, he sure would be now. 

Edward’s journal was thick with notes by the time he finished going through the files in the “Trigger” base. Despite the grim nature of his investigation, Ed felt like he was no longer stagnant. He’d gotten a lot of intel. Not only did All for One have a link with the yakuza via the distribution of Trigger, some of the notes implied All for One got to make use of their smuggling routes for other purposes. It was a huge step forward, but still, even after reading through every page, Ed couldn’t find anything mentioning Atossa. 

In that regard, his unexpected tagalong had been invaluable. 

Whether Dabi realized it or not, Ed had learned a lot from the scarred man. About Trigger. About the Yakuza. About All for One. About Dabi himself. But most excitingly, Dabi’s comment about this “Doctor” had given Ed a new lead. Now, he just had to find it.

Ed doubted he’d be able to figure out this mystery doctor’s identity, but he could probably figure out where the man operated, similar to uncovering the Trigger hideout. Considering the “Doctor” was partly responsible for the creation of the Nomus, he was most likely of the medical variety. That meant a hospital or clinic, a perfect place to scout potential Nomu victims. And if they were picking victims from the hospitals, there’d be above average rates of disappearances, especially in those connected to the medical facility in some way. A larger hospital would make it easier to stay concealed and bury any connections, as opposed to a small clinic, so they needed to focus on hospitals in cities and towns.

Criteria in hand, Ed turned to Nezu. 

Nezu did not ask why Ed needed it. Perhaps he already knew, perhaps he didn’t. Either way, a scant few hours later, the chimera had sent Ed a list. And thus, his search began again.

To Ed’s surprise, Dabi continued to tag along. Ed was still wary of the criminal and wasn’t about to drop his guard, but Dabi hadn’t yet put any real effort into trying to stop him. Yes, the fire user had tried to kill Ed a number of times, but he hadn’t burned evidence or alerted his allies or any number of other things that would have posed a threat to Ed’s investigation.

It was telling, how thin Dabi’s loyalty to the Wanyūdo was. Ed couldn’t say he understood, but he was thankful nonetheless.

With Dabi accompanying Ed, they visited each of the hospitals on the list. Even though Ed had fewer locations to search this time around, each hospital campus was massive. Luckily, between Ed and Dabi, they managed to come up with some underhanded tactics to wander around the hospital without drawing too much suspicion.

Even still, it took nearly another week to go through each one. Until finally, in Shizuoka Prefecture, something changed…

Edward jerked out of the transmutation, static buzzing on his tongue. He breathed, slowly reorienting himself, even as his thoughts raced, the empty space deep beneath the hospital echoing inside his mind. I found it, Ed thought, I found it.

Pushing off from the wall he’d been leaning on, Ed kept himself braced with one hand, using the other to grab the crutches next to him. Fitting the crutches under his arms, Ed started moving down the hallway, his single foot stepping in time with the clicking feet of the crutches. Out in one of the hospital’s courtyards, Ed made a beeline for his target, lounging on one of the benches.

“Dab– Daryll,” Ed hissed. ‘Daryll’ turned to look at him, fingers fiddling with the closed collar of his coat. Ed’s coat, specifically. “I found it.”

The medical mask they’d acquired did a decent job of covering the scarred lower half of Dabi’s face, but Ed could still see the fire user’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Ed nodded. “Yeah, follow me, we need to get down there.” 

Turning, Ed started walking as fast as his crutches would allow, and judging by the groan behind him, Dabi was following. Once they reached the stairwell, going to the lowest level they could, Ed handed Dabi one of his crutches and brushed a hand against the wall. After a minute, he gave a nod. “Here. Got the chickens?”

Dabi nodded, shifting the straps of one of the two bags on his shoulders. Slinging it off, he lifted out a handful of rubber chickens. “Does that mean I can get rid of these stupid things?”

“What, don’t you like them?” Ed smirked. “I thought you and Mister Crispy had bonded.” 

Dabi snorted, giving the rubber monstrosities a vicious squeeze. The things left out pitiful wheezing honks. “No,” Dabi said flatly. “And if you keep bringing that up, I will see that you’re the crispy one.”

“We’re in a hospital.”

“It won’t help,” Dabi promised.

“Just start the distraction,” Ed said with a tired sigh. 

Dabi rolled his eyes, but nodded, turning and heading up the stairwell with the single crutch and the rubber chickens. Ed pressed his palms together and then knelt on the floor – or as best as he could sans one leg – and laid his hands flat on the ground. Alchemic energy crackled beneath his fingertips, the circle matrix sliding into place.

Above, Ed could hear distant shouting and somewhere, an alarm started blaring. Thudding footsteps pounded down the stairs and Dabi skidded to a stop next to Ed, smelling of burnt rubber. “Okay, distraction done, now we gotta go already.”

A door banged somewhere higher up in the stairwell, the shouting getting louder, and Ed took a breath. “Hope you aren’t claustrophobic,” he said and then the lightning surged and the floor dropped out beneath them. When a security guard reached the bottom of the stairwell a minute later, there was not even a misplaced hair to suggest their presence.

Beneath the hospital, Ed and Dabi plummeted through the earth, their only source of light the arcs of blue energy that opened the solid rock and closed it behind them, slipping downward in their small capsule of air. Seconds felt like minutes as they tunneled downward, until– 

Ed twisted the matrix as they burst into open air, strands of rock pulled from the ceiling snapping into steel cables. The small platform Ed and Dabi crouched on jolted, suddenly suspended aloft. Without letting go of the transmutation, Ed’s eyes flicked around. Beyond the flickering lightning that danced across the ceiling, Ed caught the suggestion of a floor. Another adjustment to the matrix and their dangling platform descended until it thudded against the concrete. 

The instant they stopped moving, Dabi stumbled off, swearing. Ed ignored him, clapping his hands again and reaching out into the building around them. Compounds and chemicals whirled past his awareness, a network of wires and pipes, until–  there.  

Deep in the closed ventilation system, having followed a trail that shouldn’t be, small mechanisms and canisters twisted into immobile blobs of metal, lethal contents contained. Silently, Ed whispered a thanks to Nezu and the internet for crash course lessons in electrical engineering. And that All for One’s base layouts were almost identical. 

Trap dismantled, Ed let his muscles uncoil. He propped himself up by his arms and took several deep breaths, adrenaline seeping out of his blood.

“Let’s fucking never do that again,” Dabi growled once he’d gotten (most) of vitriol out of his system and stalked back over, a feeble fire snaking between his fingers.

After another breath, Edward shifted his weight back onto one hand and gave a mock salute with the other, drawling, “Sir yes sir.”

In the dim light, Ed could just make out the whites of Dabi’s eyes as he rolled them skyward. Before exhaustion could set its teeth in, Ed grabbed his remaining crutch and pushed himself upright. He beckoned Dabi over with his free hand. “Right, come on, gimme my leg back.”

Dabi slung the remaining duffle bag that hung on his shoulder off, letting it hit the floor with a loud metallic clang. Flicking his fire to burn on the concrete, leaving them with some source of light, Dabi bent down and reached into the bag. He grunted as he reached in and pulled out Ed’s automail leg, heaving it up. “Fucking hell, how do you wear this thing?”

“Time and pain killers,” Ed shot back. “Leg. Now.”

Dabi paused. “What if I say no?” he asked and pulled the leg closer to himself.

Ed gave the fire user a flat look, then lifted his remaining crutch and brained Dabi in the side of the head. The criminal yelped and then he yowled as the automail fell on his foot. While Dabi spat curses, Ed grabbed his leg. With deft hands, Ed fit the top of the prosthetic to the metal port at the end of his thigh and reattached the locks. He flinched, biting back a yelp as the automail reconnected and his nervous system turned into a live wire.

“Fuck,” Ed muttered, grinding his teeth together as he waited for his nerves to cool.

After a few minutes, Ed felt safe to push himself to his feet, gingerly taking a few steps. He shifted his weight and then, confident in his mobility, glanced over at Dabi, the scarred man still rubbing the side of his head with a sour look. 

“Shall we?” Ed asked, waving a hand forward. Dabi huffed with irritation, turning his back on Ed to stalk deeper into the base. Ed chuckled, and followed. Dabi led the way, one hand wreathed with blue fire, lighting the way like a torch. It turned the pitch black to shifting shades of gray, shadows snapping at their heels.

Eyeing Dabi’s coattails, Ed smirked. “By the way, can I have my coat back?” Dabi paused just long enough to throw the red coat in Ed’s face before spinning around. Ed laughed openly, shrugging the coat back on as they dipped into a doorway. 

His mirth evaporated in an instant. 

Dabi raised a hand, fire swelling above his palm as they stepped into a massive room. It was so large the edges blended back into shadow, their echoing footsteps the only thing to be heard in the tomb of silence. And what a tomb it was. The fire cast twisting shadows over half a dozen cylindrical tanks, inside of which were still, floating bodies.

Slowly, Ed approached the nearest one, tilting his head back to look up at the person inside. Their visage was warped, by cruel acts and flickering firelight. Hair billowed out around their still human face, skin covered in swaths of degrading corpse black, parts of their body mangled by the quirks that had been forced inside.

Ed didn’t dare breathe. 

He’d found what he was looking for.

Edward was a scientist at heart. He loved figuring out how things worked, why they worked. He loved understanding how everything linked together, never created or destroyed, only changed. How All is One and One is All. Gravity as mass, electricity as the flow of electrons, the arrangement of atoms and molecules as life.

His mistake had been thinking that alchemy, a shortcut in the system, would let him oppose the system. Nothing can be created or destroyed, only changed. Ed attempted creation, and got an equal amount of destruction. 

The more you know, the more you realize how much you don’t know. A slice of infinity is still infinity. When Ed committed the taboo, he thought he knew enough, while in Truth, he knew nothing. It was a mistake, born of pride, and he bore the consequences. But he learned. Ed learned to be aware of the bounds of his knowledge and how much lay outside of it. Ed learned that he will never know all that there is, but to pursue Truth regardless. The essence of science: to chase a horizon that can never be reached.

Edward was a good scientist.

All for One’s doctor was also good scientist. And like a good scientist, he kept notes on his work. Notes on what he knew and didn’t know. Notes on what worked and what didn’t. Notes that revealed that while he might be a “good” scientist, he was a despicable human being. 

As if the sight in front of Ed wasn’t evidence enough.

“I’m sorry,” Ed murmured to the figure floating in front of him. He bowed his head, fingertips trailing over the glass.

“‘S not gonna do shit,” Dabi growled somewhere behind him. Ed tore his eyes away, vitriol already burning on his tongue as he whirled to face the criminal. It died in his throat. 

Across from him, standing next to another of the tanks, was Dabi. The young man stared into the glass, one hand hovering over the thick barrier that imprisoned the people within. But he didn’t touch. He just stood, silent and motionless. Between his patchwork skin and the flickering shadows, Dabi could have been just another ghost in this graveyard.

Ed looked back at the corpse floating beside him. No, he supposed. An apology won’t do anything for these people… 

Taking a breath, Ed turned away from the tombs. “See what you can find,” Ed murmured as he passed Dabi and plunged into the bowels of the laboratory.

Compared to the base that had dealt with Trigger, there was both so much more and so much less. Though the corpse-filled tanks cast a long shadow, the actual amount of files Ed could find was far fewer. Because there was less? Ed wondered. Or… because fewer people had worked in this one.

Human experimentation tended to have a lower hire rate.

Still, the amount of intel wasn’t zero. Slowly, Ed sifted through research logs and notes, almost all penciled in the same hand. It was hell to read, complex terms Ed normally would have known now written in small complex characters in another language. A puzzle within a puzzle. But if it held answers… he had to find them.

If only every line didn’t transmute his stomach into lead. 

termination of all specimens in laboratory Tōken-4 necessary after several managed to escape restraints

A-13 died due to multiple organ failure resulting from negative response to quirk implantation

while specimen D-21 retains the primary constituent of the transplanted quirk, forced stimulation has failed to activate it

No names, no identities for the people who’d been imprisoned, murdered, experimented on. Just numbers. It all reminded him painfully of the Philosopher’s Stone. Of the secrets he and Alphonse had found buried in Marcoh’s notes. Of Shou Tucker.

Edward wrote down each number – each person – and everything he could find that happened to them. Dead, Altered, Unknown. Atossan, Japanese, Unknown. Quirk transplant, quirk rejection, Organ failure. Failure. Failure. Failure. And slowly, slowly, he pieced the scattered research logs together to tell an altogether sickening story.

head of the Shie Hassaikai reached out regarding an arrangement

leader aims to develop a formula that will cause degeneration of any quirk 

are requesting specimens from Atossa 

no physiological divergence observed between typical quirk deficient and Atossan specimens

anecdotes regarding the Atossan nation-state of “Amestris” possessing powers analogous to quirks have prompted specific request of new specimens

Yakuza failing to exchange a comprehensive report of experiments, with notable gaps in methodology and compound formula

following quirk implantation, specimen A-8 displayed exponentially higher rates of apoptosis than typical quirk deficient specimens and the body displayed a swift rejection of quirk

successful implantation of quirk in specimen T-234

all attempted implantations in Atossan specimens resulting in deterioration of implanted quirk

unsuccessful in efforts to acquire an Atossan specimen in possession of any quirk analogous abilities, suggesting such anecdotes are fictitious 

repeated invasive examinations have failed to disclose the methods by which implanted quirks in Atossans deteriorate

Hassaikai is insistent he is close to a breakthrough but results have yet to bear fruit

Atossans are poor starting subjects for Nomu

a waste of perfectly good quirks

time and money is better spent elsewhere …

“Fuck your money,” Edward hissed, barely resisting the urge to tear the paper to shreds. Forcing himself to lean back, Ed brought his hands up to massage his temples. The information crowded inside his skull, all vying for attention. Some of it was louder than the rest.

“Shie Hassaikai,” he muttered, looking back at the mess of his personal notes. “So you’re the start of it all…”

An agreement. A formula to destroy quirks. Experimentation.

Nausea twisted in Ed’s stomach. He pushed away from the table, standing. Stowing his journal in his coat, Ed turned his back on the incriminating notes and reports, and slipped into the silence of the hallways.

Edward found Dabi in the graveyard of tanks. The young man had pulled a chair up next to one, twisting the chair around so his arms rested on the back. Part of Ed wanted to snap, ask why the other had just been sitting here, but he couldn’t find the energy to do it. His bones were lead, fatigue and a deep, nauseating sadness filling his lungs.

He was tired.

Dabi shifted as Ed stopped behind him. For a minute they stood in silence, each committing the person behind the glass to memory. 

“Find what you’re looking for?” Dabi asked.

“… Yes,” Ed replied.

He had answers.

He hated it. But he still had answers.

“Shall we?” Ed asked softly, eyes not straying from the entombed.

Dabi did not move for a time, then he slowly got to his feet. When the scarred man looked back at Ed, the dark swaths under his eyes gave him the visage of a skull. Dabi jerked his head toward the exit and they headed out, leaving the crypt as silent as when they’d arrived. 

Ed guided them up to the surface. Even the quiet side street where they regrouped was a cacophony compared to the utter stillness of the laboratory. It took a few minutes for Ed to get his bearings, but as soon as he had, he moved to start walking back. He’d been gone far too long.

“Hold on,” Dabi spoke up, causing Ed to pause. He turned back, curious, but Dabi was strangely hesitant to continue, until, “…There’s one more place I want to check.”

Ed was tempted to refuse – he was tired, he finally had a solid lead – but held back. Whether Dabi admitted it or not – and Ed suspected he chose not to, considering what it would mean – the man had helped Ed immensely. 

Instead of saying any of that, Ed asked, “Why do you want me to come along?”

“… Not all of us can crack 3 meter concrete like an egg,” Dabi eventually replied.

Ed scowled. It was a shit excuse, but… but it was also the first time Dabi had, inexplicitly or not, asked for Ed’s help.

“We doing this now?” Edward asked, and when Dabi nodded, he gave a frustrated groan, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes. “Fine. Where are we going?” 

“It’s… a nursery?”

Or, it had once been. Though the paint had begun to peel, the walls still showed bright, cheerful depictions of trees and animals. Old, forgotten toys littered the floor, covered in a fine layer of dust. A rustle by his foot had Ed stopping, bending down to pick up a piece of paper. A crayon drawing, the small figures depicted holding hands.

Dabi didn’t answer, having been uncharacterisitcally silent. The young man moved like a ghost through the halls, occasionally pausing to look at something Ed couldn’t see. The building Dabi had taken Ed to was outside Tokyo, and from what he could tell, it had been an orphanage or children’s home of some kind.

It wasn’t hard to take a guess at Dabi’s connection to this place.

Ed was beginning to wonder again just what Dabi wanted him here for when the criminal spoke.

“Do your thing,” the scarred young man growled, gesturing expansively. When Ed gave him a confused look, Dabi huffed. “That… alchemy whatever that you used to find the underground places. Do that.”

Dread tickling the back of his neck, Ed slowly nodded. (Why would he need to look here?) He knelt on the floor, bringing his hands together and placing his palms flat on the ground. With a breath, Ed reached out, and looked.

(If he needs to look here…)

Down, down, down… and out.

(… he doesn’t want to look here.)

Edward cut the transmutation and opened his eyes to static on his skin and acid in his throat. Despite his even breathing, his heart pounded in his ears. When Ed looked up at Dabi, the other was practically hovering over him. 

“Well?” Dabi snapped. His hands flexed, in and out, in and out.

“… I found something,” Ed admitted.

It was the same layout as all the others. Files, papers, and operating tables. The noxious smell of old antiseptic and nameless chemicals. The stillness of being long abandoned. But, unlike the others, this one had a few additions. A single cylindrical tank. Surgical implements Ed had no name for. Child-sized chains.

“What were they doing down here…?” Ed whispered, staring horrified at the last. 

(He knew he knew he knew– What else could it have been?)

“Nomu.”

Dabi’s voice was empty of inflection, almost artificially so. Ed looked over at the other young man, standing motionless nearby. Dabi stared at the chains and then through them, to something far removed. Abruptly, the calm facade shattered as Dabi began to laugh. At first it was loud, tinged with bitterness, but it quickly turned hysteric.

“I can’t escape being someone else’s tool, huh?” Dabi laughed and Ed shuffled back as fire rippled over the man’s skin. “Can’t escape being made for someone else’s purpose. Selected, groomed, and then picked when ripe for the taking, that’s what you wanted, right, All for One?” 

Dabi snarled at the air.

“You’re just like him, but worse somehow!” the man laughed, gravel in his throat. “I can’t believe I said that! He made me, I exist to desecrate him, yet you’re worse!

Dabi howled with laughter, until Ed feared he’d make his own throat bleed. “Bet you didn’t plan on this, All for One!” the man mocked, fire licking his skin. “I burned myself to ash in the name of him, and you healed me just to use me… but I survived, without you, and better yet, you didn’t get me. And now you’re never going to!” 

Dabi bared his teeth, heat rippling over his body. “You made the mistake of thinking fire is something you control. You’re going to burn,” Dabi snarled, promised. “Even if I have to drag you to hell myself.”

Dabi continued to laugh and laugh, something wild in his expression, in his soul. And Ed watched on, confusion and foreboding entangling in his stomach. Edward didn’t know what happened, not truly. Ed didn’t know who ‘he’ was, nor did he know what All for One had done… but he could make a guess at the latter.

Children. All for One. Nomu.

Dabi. Made for a purpose. Made to be a tool.

Rejection. Escape. Rebellion.  

Just when I think All for One can’t do any worse… 

Dabi’s cackles slowed, and he gave an almost joyful sounding bark. Ed glanced over, only to see Dabi looking down at Ed from the corner of his eye, blue fire raging in the depths of his irises. When he spoke, it was a growl, tinged with mania, and above all, fury.

“Let’s burn this place to the ground .”

He wanted to say yes. How Ed wanted to say yes. To see this… desecration wiped off the face of the planet. But… it wouldn’t do any good. 

It would make everything worse.

“No,” Ed shook his head. Dabi rounded on him in an instant, a wall of heat and fire sucking the oxygen out of Ed’s lungs.

“What do you mean, no?” Dabi hissed. “Do you know what All for One’s done to me? No,” Dabi broke into a laugh. “I suppose not. I burned alive and he brought me back, a walking corpse. Probably wanted me to be one of his Nomu, a good little puppet, a good little soldier. No… I’m done being a tool,” Dabi snarled, fire blooming around his fists. “All for One is going to pay right alongside him.”

Edward steeled himself. “No,” he repeated. The fire flared higher, but Ed ignored it, staring straight into Dabi’s eyes, swirling with blue flame. “You want to destroy All for One? Good. But destroying this place? Working alone?” Ed gestured around. “If you really want to fight All for One, you’re missing a pretty big piece.”

“What?” Dabi growled.

“You’re not the only one after All for One,” Ed said plainly.

“You… you’re not fucking serious,” Dabi snarled. “You mean work with Heroes? Like hell I will! They’re part of the fucking problem!”

“You worked with me.”

The flames dimmed for a second, ever so slightly.

“Look, I’m not saying work with the Heroes, or even help them,” Ed said, splaying both hands in front of him. “But they are the largest force trying to take All for One down. You want to take him down too? More the merrier, but actively fighting each other will just benefit the Wanyūdo.”

Dabi scoffed, curling his lip in a sneer. “Even if I don’t start a fight, the Heroes certainly will.”

“So be better,” Ed shot back. When Dabi didn’t immediately follow up with a retort, Ed sighed. He looked Dabi over, eyes tracing the patchwork scarring over the young man’s skin. “Just… don’t burn it down. Not yet.”

They stared at each other, the only sound that of Dabi’s fire, crackling over his body. Then, like a sudden intake of breath, the fire winked out, leaving Ed blinking away bright spots in his vision.

“Fine,” the scarred man growled.

“… thank you,” Ed murmured. 

Dabi bared his teeth. “Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, another manic laugh escaping his lips. “I’m still going to burn All for One’s empire to the fucking ground. Every last piece. ”

Dabi whirled, stalking back toward the surface. In his absence, the air abruptly cooled twenty degrees, and Edward was left alone in the dim underground, save for the scattered evidence of atrocities and not-so-old ghosts.

Exhaustion settled in his lungs like ash. 

…

Another reminder for break time! Put aside the screen and relax your eyes, get a drink of water, and do a quick stretch. And if you're binge reading and you didn't listen to the first break enforcement, set this aside and sleep. Story will be here later :)

Chapter Text

“Alright, so what’s this about Nezu?” Shouta asked as he pushed open the principal’s door, downing another swig of coffee. 

Nezu’s summons had been unexpected and rather lacking. While Shouta knew that U.A.’s principal enjoyed making mischief – and wasn’t shy about creating challenges in order to push his students and employees alike – he usually had the courtesy to schedule meetings ahead of time. Requesting an impromptu drop-in was a bit odd, to say the least.

“Ah, Aizawa!” Nezu chirped, drawing Shouta’s attention to where the small mammal sat in one of the office’s plush chairs, a cup of tea in paw. “Thank you for coming! Now we can get started.”

Brows furrowed in confusion, Shouta stepped further into the office, scanning the vicinity. It wasn’t until he’d reached the side of one of the office’s couches that his gaze landed on Edward, slumped so far down on the couch he was nearly lying on it. A faint spark of concern uncurled in Shouta’s chest as he took in the Amestrian, who was clutching a cup of coffee in a white-knuckled grip, his gaze unfocused and one of his legs bouncing erratically in place.

“Elric?” Shouta turned back to Nezu, unimpressed. “What’s going on?”

“There have been some startling developments in the Atossa case, courtesy of Edward here,” Nezu said, waving a paw at the aforementioned Amestrian. Shouta glanced at the latter, who gave a grunt of confirmation as he pushed himself into a slightly more upright position, his golden eyes finally focusing on Shouta.

“I found a bunch of hideouts belonging to All for One, picked up evidence for the smuggling network and accomplices he was using, and I got confirmation that he was running the experiments to figure out how to erase or destroy quirks.”

It was rare that Shouta found himself speechless. A brief silence overtook his mind as he processed the words, the calm rapidly being overtaken by incredulity.

“… What.”

Edward’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “I got tired of sitting around in the office. Took a couple weeks but… yeah.”

Eyes narrowing, Shouta swept his gaze over Edward’s haggard appearance with new light. He looked… tired. Shouta hadn't seen Edward at all for over a week, nearly two. He hadn’t thought much of it; Shouta had been busy handling his class’ work studies, not to mention the Shie Hassaikai case. He’d assumed that the young man was simply busy with Nezu or Tsukauchi.

But now, Shouta wondered if he’d been a little too quick on that assumption. The Amestrian looked as tired as Shouta usually felt. The skin beneath Edward’s eyes was bruised and despite the exhaustion evident in how he was slumped onto the couch, there was a hint of mania clinging to his mannerisms as his fingers twitched against his mug. All things Shouta was intimately familiar with thanks to his own non-encounters with sleep. 

Aside from the exhaustion, there were several more pieces, just a little out of place. Dirt clung to pale gloves, a bit of golden hair blackened at the ends, and nearly unnoticeable, the distinct smell of something burnt clung to the red coat Edward wore. A coat which Aizawa hadn’t seen him in before.

And, beneath the exhaustion and dusty clothes, Elric’s expression was gravely serious.

Shouta took a deep breath and turned to Nezu. “If we're talking about the Atossa case, shouldn’t Tsukauchi be here for all this?”

The principal waved a paw dismissively. “He’s currently following a lead on the whereabouts of the League’s warper… while it’s ill-timing, it’s not a path I wish to distract him from.”

Right. Shouta looked back at Edward. “What did you find?”

The Amestrian sat up, coffee abandoned, visibly collecting himself despite his exhaustion. Edward leaned forward as he withdrew files from his bag and laid them out on the low table in front of the couch. Shouta moved to take a seat, inspecting the first item, which at a glance showed a map of the South Kantō region surrounding Tokyo. There were half a dozen red circles scratched into the paper, which Edward pointed to one by one.

“The first and biggest thing I found is more hideouts. In addition to those already known to belong to All for One, these are the bases I uncovered during my investigation. All have a similar layout, though they were used for a…” Edward’s voice became stilted, words sharp and bitter. “… variety of different purposes.”

The young man’s mouth twisted, his jaw locking in place as he pointed to one of the circles on the map. After a moment Shouta realized it was unnervingly close to U.A., in the same prefecture even. It almost felt mocking.

“This is… likely the most noteworthy. I got a lead on a nameless doctor that works with All for One, and alongside All for One, he’s the head of the human experimentation that led to the Nomu. This base,” Edward tapped the circle, “is underneath one of the local hospitals.”

… Oh gods.

“I see,” Nezu hummed, mild, and oh so cold.

Shouta took several measured breaths, carefully keeping control of the fury that reared in his gut. Experimentation. Nomu. Hospital. In three words, Edward painted a picture that was as vivid as it was nauseating.

“I’ve got no idea who this ‘doctor’ is, but he’s an insult to the title,” Edward hissed softly, venomously. “Verdammter Kriegstreiber." ^[1] He spat the strange words with contempt. After a moment, the Amestrian took a breath and raised his head to lock eyes with Nezu. “The base is deep underground. I used alchemy to access it and disabled the initial traps. Should be clear.”

Nezu nodded. “Should I be concerned with any of the other hospitals?”

Dread pooled in Shouta’s stomach. Damn it, Nezu was right. How far did this reach? How much had All for One repeated it across Japan? It’s not like All for One would ever be content to stop at one.

“I don’t know,” Edward shook his head. “I don’t think so, though, at least not with the places I looked at. We checked, but this is the only one where we found something.” His expression twisted, glancing back down at the map. “You’re going to want to bring body bags.”

“… Very well.” 

Edward rubbed at his face, his other hand flicking through a sheaf of notes. “The files I found there said that All for One had been working with other organizations, who had reached out requesting collaboration. Together, they were trying to figure out why – and then recreate how – Atossans don’t have any quirks, but apparently the quirks deteriorated when All for One tried to transfer them into us.”

The quirks… deteriorated? Shouta furrowed his brow, tucking away the revulsion in his gut for later. So it’s not just that Atossans don’t have quirks, it’s that the quirks can’t handle them?

“In this base,” Edward pointed elsewhere on the map, to one of the circles in the Tokyo area. “All for One was producing quirk enhancers like Trigger, releasing it as a street drug to test its potency and in exchange for utilizing smuggling operations, particularly that of the yakuza.”

Shouta narrowed his eyes at the map, tracing the characters of the ward’s name, and glanced at Nezu. “That’s Naruhata.”

It’d been years since Shouta had dealt with Naruhata’s Villain Factory, but they’d distributed a particularly potent variant of “Trigger,” one which still circulated in the Underground. The group’s presence had faded after many of their prominent members had either died or been arrested, the distribution of Trigger also subsequently declining, but they’d never been able to pin down and catch the ringleader. 

If that ringleader was All for One…

“There were a number of affiliate organizations named in the papers, including ones called Nagachikiba and Kinryū–,” Shouta recognized those names, the Long Bloodied Tusk and Golden Dragon, “–but the group that seems to be the most involved in the Atossan operation are yakuza by the name of Shie Hassaikai–”

“Wait, Shie Hassaikai?”

Edward stopped, glancing at Shouta. “Yeah? You know them?”

For a second, Shouta nearly entertained the idea that somebody was playing a cruel prank. But no, Chisaki’s experiments ran close, too close, for it to not make sense. A continent of quirkless and a bullet that makes you quirkless. Damn it.

Damn it all.

“… We need to call Nighteye,” Shouta said, looking at Nezu. “Now.”

“Already done!” Nezu hummed. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

Shouta stared at Nezu for a long, long moment. The rat hadn’t even looked at a phone. “Nighteye’s Agency is an hour away.”

“Yes,” Nezu nodded, whiskers twitching into a smile. “Edward mentioned the name prior to our meeting, so I thought I’d expedite things a bit.”

Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted the urge to sigh. “… We should stop for the moment until Nighteye gets here. More efficient that way.” And it would give Shouta the opportunity to come to terms with this nightmare of a situation.

“Who’s Nighteye?” Edward asked, glancing between them.

“A Pro Hero,” Nezu answered, once Shouta’s silence made it clear he wouldn’t be responding. “Nighteye and the members of his agency have been investigating the Shie Hassaikai, and just this week have been organizing a raid of the Shie Hassaikai’s compound, of which Eraserhead here is taking part. Quite excellent timing, wouldn’t you say?”

Shouta grunted. ‘Excellent’ was one word for it. ‘Suspicious’ was another. He cast his eyes over the map Edward had laid out on the table, and the files he had stacked next to it. A wealth of information, but…

“How did you learn all this?” Shouta asked, glancing at the Amestrian. 

Edward stilled for a second, then shrugged, waving a hand carelessly. “All over… it’s what I’ve been investigating the past couple weeks. The hideouts had a lot of files and such. I just went through those. Not hard to put the pieces together after that.”

“I repeat, how?”

How did you find this, when we did not?

“It’s not the first time I’ve encountered… less than ethical research, nor the first time I’ve had to track down its source.” 

Shouta was very aware of how Edward was dancing around specifics, around truth and lies.

“Elric-san…” he began, warningly.

The Amestrian snorted. “Look, I’ve mentioned I’ve done investigations before, yeah? Well… very long story short, I ended up stumbling into people doing human experimentation. It was a whole conspiracy. Lab 5 was a nightmare, not to mention everything under Central.” Edward rubbed his face with a gloved hand. “Wonder if the Führer saw something I didn’t, when he put me up to this… Damn, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Anyways,” Edward shook his head, “I’ve got experience searching for what people don’t want to be found. And thanks to the hideouts you’d already turned up, I had some parameters to work off of. As for the literal ‘how?’” He gave a wry sort of smile. “Alchemy is a pretty versatile tool, if you know what you’re doing.”

“Getting another, outside, perspective on a situation can also be very helpful,” Nezu offered, giving Edward a pointed look. The young man scowled, not quite at Nezu, but near enough. The two stared at each other for several seconds, while Shouta flicked his eyes between them, abruptly aware that there was something critical here he was missing.

“Fine,” Edward eventually huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I also had… an inside source, of a sort.”

An inside source? Someone who worked with All for One?  

Shouta narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“Does it matter?” 

“Yes,” Shouta said dryly. “Quite a bit in fact. How do you know this source wasn’t lying to you? The Wanyūdo puts plans within plans. Your ‘inside source’ could very well have been a plant.”

Edward’s expression turned oddly flat. “Considering he realized that All for One experimented on him or something like that, and last I saw he was swearing to tear down All for One’s empire… probably not.” Nezu made an intrigued sound at that, which Edward ignored. “Plus, I didn’t get much information out of him to begin with. He clued me in to the existence of this ‘Doctor’ but it wasn’t like he was the one telling me where the bases were.” 

Edward let out a long sigh, rubbing his face. “Look, I get it. Don’t get me wrong, even if this source gave me intel, I don’t trust him. But, I’ve had dealings with a serial killer or three before, and while this guy is hardly a saint, he’s not Kimblee.” 

Before Shouta could think to ask about that concerning tidbit, Edward looked up, pinning them with eyes much older than his twenty years. “This guy, he fits the category, don’t get me wrong, but right now, well… he’s closer to the League than any of us, and he looked pretty intent on burning anything to do with All for One to the ground.”

“So he’s unpredictable,” Shouta observed. “That makes him more dangerous.”

“Sometimes, you gotta focus on the bigger threat. Shared enemies and all that. Besides, you don’t have to trust him, trust this,” Edward said as pulled out a slip of paper, passing it to Nezu. “Coordinates and addresses to all the hideouts I found. They’re not quite as they were, I did go through most of the files there, but nothing was removed, except…”

The Amestrian reached into a pocket and pulled out a vial, filled with dark liquid. Shouta hadn’t worked as many drug-related cases as some Heroes, like Fat Gum, but Naruhata had given him experience with the substance. 

“Trigger?” he asked, eyeing the glass cautiously.

“Trigger,” Edward confirmed. He twisted the vial in his gloved hands. “Bunch more of the stuff in that one hideout.”

Shouta massaged his forehead, trying to forestall the incoming headache. “Elric… that’s tampering with evidence. Both messing with the files and this.”

“But it wasn’t evidence yet,” the Amestrian protested. “Alles gut, mach dir keinen Kopf!" ^[2]

Before Shouta could start laying out the laws and regulations involving tampering with crime scenes and delayed reporting, there was a sharp knock on the door. Shouta and Edward startled, snapping toward it, but Nezu just sipped his tea and chirped: “Come in, Mirai!”

The door opened to admit Sir Nighteye, dressed in his usual grey suit and polka-dotted tie. His glasses glinted as he looked them over, pausing on Edward before he eventually turned to Nezu. “I was told you had information pertaining to my investigation?” the Hero asked, straight to the point.

“Yes, yes, come sit,” Nezu waved a paw over the table that he, Shouta and Edward were sitting around, before turning back to Edward. “Edward, this is Mirai Sasaki, also known as Sir Nighteye. He is the Hero investigating the Shie Hassaikai. Nighteye, this is Elric.”

“You’re the one from Atossa,” Nighteye said as he moved to sit down, leveling a piercing stare at the Amestrian. “Aren’t you here as a diplomat? What business do you have with yakuza?”

“Surprise,” Edward grinned, though it looked more like a grimace. “But yeah, I’m really here investigating All for One, have been for… over a month now. He’s kidnapped over half a dozen Atossans, the first identified being an Amestrian.” 

Over the next several minutes, Edward laid out the investigation to Nighteye, from the initial kidnappings to detailing what he’d gone over with Nezu and Shouta, and what he’d found regarding the Shie Hassaikai.

“They made a deal with All for One,” Edward explained as he flipped through his notes. “I don’t know all the details of it, but it seems like the idea to experiment on Atossans in order to figure out how to destroy quirks and the like was originally Shie Hassaikai’s. All for One got interested and gave them resources to work on it, while also getting a cut. But their partnership soured… seems like Hassaikai wasn’t being forthcoming on everything, and All for One and his Doctor got frustrated because they couldn’t make Nomu out of Atossans.” 

Edward’s lips curled into a snarl. “Called it a ‘waste of quirks and money.’”

Sir Nighteye nodded, fingers steepled in front of his face as he listened to Edward’s report. “The League of Villains emerged this year, and not long before that, I began investigating the Shie Hassaikai when they engaged in the distribution of Trigger. Perhaps they were seeking another method of funding, if their relationship with All for One ran dry.”

“Hassaikai did just reach out to the League of Villains, Wanyūdo’s pet project,” Shouta commented. “Maybe they’re trying to get back those old resources?”

“That assumes Chisaki knew he was working with All for One,” Nezu pointed out. “All for One’s been notoriously secretive for the past six or so years, to the point most of us thought him dead. It’s more likely he communed with Chisaki under an alias or anonymously.”

“Hold on,” Edward asked. “Who’s Chisaki?”

“The head of the Shie Hassaikai,” Shouta said, then glanced at Nighteye. “You’re the one who’s been handling this case. Care to explain?”

And Nighteye did.

He explained Chisaki Kai. Bullets that damage quirks. Bullets made from blood. Eri.

With every word, Edward grew more and more motionless, until he was akin to a statue, fury carved into every line of his body. 

“He’s experimenting on his daughter?” Edward hissed softly, his face eerily blank.

“Yes,” Nighteye nodded. “We suspect Chisaki is using his quirk, Overhaul, to do so. It allows him to disassemble and reassemble whatever he touches.”

Edward’s expression tightened. “And he’s making bullets that temporarily erase quirks?” When Nighteye nodded, the Amestrian clicked his tongue, staring into the distance. “I think I ran into one of those… got stuck in the middle of a fight and when one guy got shot, his quirk just up and stopped working and he freaked out about it.”

Shouta straightened. “When was this?”

“Eh… like a couple weeks ago? It was that time that Tsukauchi and everyone freaked out about me taking a walk.”

Ah. That day. When Edward had accidentally pulled a blade on Tsukauchi, disappeared for a solid eight hours, and encountered the League of Villains’ fire user.

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” Shouta asked.

“There was a lot going on,” Edward shrugged before falling silent again, expression stormy.

Nighteye glanced between them but when Edward failed to elaborate further, he dismissed the Amestrian, turning to Shouta. “Oh, Eraserhead, we’re in the midst of verifying, but just today we were able to pinpoint the Shie Hassaikai compound where they’re keeping Eri. We should have confirmation by tonight, and proceed with the raid in the next two days.”

Shouta raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised, you found it already?”

Nighteye nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I tailed one of the Shie Hassaikai’s members from their compound, and after further observation, I used my quirk on him and confirmed he would come into contact with Eri.”

“That he would come into contact with her?” Edward questioned, pinning Nighteye with a sharp stare.

“Yes,” Nighteye hummed. “For your benefit Elric, my quirk, Foresight, allows me to see into someone’s future. I used it on a yakuza member, and was able to see their base, and Eri, when the man went back to it after he encountered me.”

“See the future–” Edward sat up, shedding his anger in favor of staring at Nighteye incredulously. “Okay, no, you’re going to have to explain that one. Wahrheit, wie um alles in der Welt soll das denn funktionieren?!” ^[3]

“It is as it sounds,” Sir Nighteye said, mild irritation coloring his voice. “I hardly see how I can explain it further if you don’t accept the base premise.”

Edward pressed his palms together, inhaling deeply. “It has deep implications for philosophy, the concept of free will, and quantum field theory, among other things. Humor me.”

“If I may, Mirai?” Nezu asked. Nighteye inspected the stoat for a handful of seconds before he gave a sigh and nodded. Approval given, Nezu clapped his paws together and turned to Edward. “As Nighteye says, his quirk enables him to see the local future of a particular ‘target’. Typically, he only looks ahead an hour at a time, but he’s seen events years in the future.”

“Is it fixed?” Edward asked, glancing at Nighteye. “What if you were to tell me everything that happened in your… foresight, and I act contrary to it?”

Nighteye’s expression, already cold, turned glacial. Ah, sensitive subject then. “In the end, every future I’ve seen has come to pass. Now, setting aside my quirk, I do believe there was an actual point to this meeting?” The principal gave a slightly resigned sigh, but waved a paw for Nighteye to continue.

“Thank you,” the Hero muttered, turning to Shouta and Nezu. “Now, in addition to a particular hostage we are trying to rescue, I also saw another individual imprisoned in the base during my vision. I had a sketch artist make a drawing of the person in question,” Nighteye said as he slid a picture across the table to Nezu, tapping it with a slender finger. “I was hoping to get your insight while I am here, Nezu.”

Nezu hummed as he leaned closer, Shouta doing the same. The sketched picture showed a woman, perhaps in her thirties, her facial shape suggesting she or someone in her family tree hailed from the West.

“Hold on,” Edward muttered, joining Shouta in inspecting the picture. “… I think I recognize her.”

Shouta nearly gave himself whiplash as he snapped his head to Edward. “You what?” 

“Yeah,” the Amestrian nodded distractedly as he reached down to his bag. After rifling through it, the Amestrian pulled out a paper file, taking a couple seconds to flip through the papers before pulling out a printed photograph. He spun it around. “Yeah, see?”

Shouta took the photo from Edward, comparing it against the sketch provided by Nighteye. Edward was right, it was the same woman. 

“Her name is Astrid Vogel,” Edward explained. “She was… is a soldier from Fort Briggs, under General Armstrong. She was Captain Markus Steiner’s partner, one of the soldiers we identified from going back over the bodies from your raids. She went missing from Amestris at the same time as Steiner, but we never identified her among those we found, like we did Steiner.”

Astrid Vogel. 

Shouta studied the colored photograph, which showed the Amestrian in the blue uniform he’d come to recognize. It must have been an official photograph, perhaps for ID or record keeping, the woman’s face stern and steady as she stared into the camera.

“So,” Edward drawled. “What time’s this raid of yours?”

Nighteye stiffened, narrowing his eyes at the Amestrian present. “I never said you could attend. I don’t know you, or your skill set. For all I know, you would be a liability on the field,” the Hero pointed out. “Would you be so keen to join if your countryman was not imprisoned?”

“I would have done so without an Amestrian being there,” Edward snapped back.  “But now? I’ve got even more reason to do so, one that not even the Japanese government would be able to deny me.” The Amestrian’s lip curled back, baring his teeth. “Do not fight me on this, because you will lose. If you want me to pull rank or get the Führer’s written permission, I’ll do it.”

Edward pinned Nighteye with eyes of molten metal. “But, I don’t want to fight you. I want to get these two home, and you would be a fool to refuse my help.”

The silence stretched, the standoff between the two threatening to boil over. Shouta resisted a sigh, glancing between them. 

While Nighteye was the final authority on the Shie Hassaikai investigation, Shouta suspected that Edward was correct in claiming that he would be able to join the raid, whether Mirai wanted it or not. It was one thing to keep Edward off the case when it had just been Eri, but it could spark another international incident if they attempted to do so when the life of an Amestrian hung in the balance. Shouta knew his government would have to cave first, if they wanted to avoid the backlash.

Still, Nighteye’s concerns about having Edward in the field were not unreasonable, and that was one issue Shouta could put to rest. 

“I’ve sparred against Elric,” Shouta offered, causing the other Hero to turn to him. “He’s more experienced and qualified than my students, who have already been permitted to participate. He would be an asset, Nighteye.” 

“Seconded!” Nezu chirped, whiskers twitching as he smiled toothily up at them all. “I’m certain that the chance of success in the safe recovery of both Eri and our wayward Amestrian is far higher if he is present. I’ve found Edward to be quite the intelligent individual, rather like myself in fact!”

Well, wasn’t that the most terrifying compliment Shouta had heard.

Nighteye glanced between the other Heroes, then back at Edward, who was still leveling that golden eyed stare at him. “… Your name is Elric, yes?”

“Edward Elric, at your service,” he introduced, sweeping into a slightly mocking bow. “Der Vollmetallener Alchemist. A pleasure to be working with you, Nighteye. I’m sure you’ll find me a fantastic resource.”

“As long as I don’t regret this,” Nighteye huffed.

Edward rolled his eyes, lips twisting into a smirk. “Last I checked, Vogel doesn’t know Japanese and not one of you knows a lick of Amestrian. So unless Hamada learned how to fight overnight, I’m definitely your best option.”

There was a slight pause before Nighteye chuckled. It was barely more than a puff of air, his lips twitching into a ghost of a smile, but it was surprising nonetheless. “You got me there.”

“Great,” a feral grin split the Amestrian’s face, wolfish and simmering with restrained fury. “Now, tell me everything you can about this Chisaki bastard.”

“We also have a new arrival.”

Shouta watched idly as the room of Heroes – already informed that the Nighteye Agency had confirmed Eri’s whereabouts – stirred with interest at the latest announcement. Edward, who had been listening at the side of the room, stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against. The Amestrian drew the room’s eye as he walked over to Nighteye, red coat flaring behind him. Murmurs filtered through the room, Shouta even heard a few startled exclamations from the direction of his first-year students. 

“Why the hell do we have another kid joining us?” Rock Lock asked, narrowing his eyes at the Amestrian. The man was blunt, but Shouta appreciated his common sense. 

Edward didn’t seem offended, instead rolling his eyes and giving the room a two-fingered salute. “Major General Edward Elric, I’m here on behalf of Amestris, investigating the kidnapping and murder of Atossan citizens by All for One, the villain from Kamino.”

The room broke into muttering, whispers of Atossa and Kamino being passed around. Above the unease, one Hero voiced a shared thought: “What’s that have to do with the yakuza?”

Edward nodded, clearly expecting the question. “During my investigation into the murders, I found out that All for One and the Shie Hassaikai are working together, or at least, they were. It seems that, at least for a time, All for One was supplying resources to the Shie Hassaikai in exchange for getting a cut on Overhaul’s experiments, of which Atossans were a part.”

The temperature dropped several degrees, the cold realization descending upon the room’s occupants. Nighteye ignored it.

“We say this to give you context for my next announcement: When I confirmed Eri’s presence, my quirk also showed me another prisoner, who Elric here was able to identify.”

“This is Lieutenant Astrid Vogel,” Edward said as the colored photograph of Overhaul’s second captive appeared on the overhead screen. “She went missing from Fort Briggs in northern Amestris several months ago, alongside Captain Markus Steiner. Steiner was identified as one of All for One’s victims, and thanks to that, we already had her among our potential kidnappees.”

“Elric will be joining us in order to help free Vogel,” Nighteye explained. “There will be an additional team composed of Elric, the Pro Hero Snipe, and members of the police force which will focus on locating and releasing the imprisoned Amestrian.”

So they decided on Snipe as his second? Shouta hummed in approval. Good choice, Sokeki’s ranged fighting will complement Edward’s skill set. Bonus that Snipe’s already part of this Atossan investigation and familiar with Elric.

Heads bobbed around the room as Heroes noted the additional objective. One of Nighteye’s sidekicks, Bubble Girl, started explaining more information regarding the raid. “We’ve worked with the police to get a warrant to search the Shie Hassaikai’s stronghold, and while they shouldn’t know we’re coming, they’re likely to put up resistance once they know we’re there.”

“There will be a large number of Heroes and police present,” Centipeder continued. “Fall into teams if you can, with others whose quirk complements yours.”

“There’s one other thing,” Edward called, drawing the room’s attention to himself once more. “Based on the description Nighteye gave of Chisaki’s quirk, it bears startling resemblance to alchemy, a science from Amestris that operates on similar principles.” The young man paused, sweeping his golden eyes over the room. “I’m only going to say this once: you cannot take Chisaki’s quirk lightly.”

Fat Gum frowned. “Sure, it’s dangerous, but–”

“Reassembly doesn't just mean returning things to the state they were,” Edward cut in sharply. He glanced at Nighteye and gestured toward the floor. “May I?”

Nighteye eyed Edward before giving a soft, somewhat resigned sigh. “Very well.”

When he clapped, Shouta had a suspicion of what the Amestrian was about to do. He was proved right when Edward knelt and slapped a hand on the floor. In a blink and a crackle of energy, a spike over two meters high erupted from the floor, towering over Edward and carving a pit several feet in diameter. 

Edward stood straight, jerking a thumb at his construct while his audience stared in shock. “I did this with just disassembly and reassembly. While I don’t know the exact ins and outs of Chisaki’s quirk, if it behaves anything like alchemy, you need to be aware of what you might face. First off, don’t underestimate Chisaki, and don’t let him touch you,” Edward said gravely. “Second, I’ve been in alchemist battles before, and they tear up and reshape the entire landscape. Solid ground isn’t necessarily going to stay that way. Your surroundings can become an enemy in itself.” Edward gestured pointedly to the spike grown from carpet and steel.

“So, how do we combat that?” Ryukyu asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Unfortunately this is where my expertise fails,” Edward muttered, trailing a gloved hand through his hair. “If we were talking about alchemy, I could tell you, but quirks break the Laws too much for me to say for sure.” 

“So what, we should just give up?” Rock Lock scowled.

“No,” Edward shook his head. “I’ll say this much, even if Chisaki can throw his weight around, he’s only human. Get in close, hit him hard. He can’t transmute if he’s unconscious. The trick will be closing the distance.”

With the dual warning and advice hanging in the air, Edward returned the floor to Nighteye and his colleagues. They went over the known members of the Shie Hassaikai. Shouta scanned the list, a slight scowl hidden behind his capture weapon. Many of these were more Villains than Yakuza…

Soramitsu and his “Food” quirk would be a particular problem for Amijiki, Shouta mused, hopefully that’s not one he’ll have to encounter… Uraraka still gets queasy when using her quirk on herself, and Deidoro’s ability to induce nausea could worsen it to the point of incapacitation… And while Kendo’s speed and strength could be an issue, Midoriya would likely be able to meet him strike for strike if it came to it.

There were a few more pages about comparatively “minor” members of the clan, who lacked the presence or fervor of the more villainous ones. There were a few quirks among their number that could pose an issue, but none to the extent of Chisaki’s own quirk, or that of his most powerful members.

I’ll need to keep my eyes on Chisaki, Shouta muttered to himself, glancing over to where Edward had demonstrated his alchemy. If what Edward says is true… we can’t afford to let Chisaki use his quirk. Damn, Elric and I never did find time to spar while he used alchemy.

And speak of the devil…

“Radierkopf,” Edward greeted, striding over. 

Shouta grunted a reply. “Elric. You know the plan?”

“Yep,” the young man nodded. “Kick in the door, save Eri and Vogel, and go kick Chisaki’s ass.”

Why did he even try? Shouta sighed. “Elric…”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Nobody said I couldn’t help fight Chisaki.” Shouta raised an eyebrow and the young man huffed. “Look, I’ll focus on getting Vogel out. But once that’s done, I will be coming to find you and help Eri. I’m not about to let a little girl get hurt because of my inaction or stupidity.”

That… sounded a little too personal. Shouta narrowed his eyes. “I’m more worried about you being reckless than stupid. And you’re not to blame if things go wrong.” 

Edward frowned, but before he could get a word out, he was interrupted by Shouta’s students coming out of the crowd.

“Elric-san!” Uraraka called, waving. The other three, Midoriya, Asui and Kirishima, also waved at Edward. Hmm, quite the familiarity… Ah, right, the Amestrian had hosted that fight club a few weeks back. Had they all attended? Many of Shouta’s students had been working on quirkless hand-to-hand combat quite a bit lately. 

“Aizawa-sensei!” the students chorused, bowing as they stopped nearby.

“It’s Eraserhead outside of class,” Shouta reminded, then glanced at Edward. “We use Hero names while we’re working, Elric.” 

“Ah,” Edward nodded. “Same as State Alchemist titles. We mostly use those in the field too. Speaking of, if you use your aliases in the field, it’s probably best to use mine too. I’m pretty used to ol’ Führer Mistkerl calling me by it.”

“That’s right, yours was… Vorumeto, or something, right?” Shouta asked, to which Edward nodded.

“Vollmetall is the shortened form,” Edward clarified, sounding out the foreign vowels. “Or… what was Hamada’s translation… Fullmetal! That’s it.”

“That’s such a badass Hero name,” Kirishima muttered, not quiet enough, causing the Amestrian to send him a cocky grin.

“Thanks, I’ve always liked it myself.” Kirishima’s ears reddened at being caught out, but Edward was polite enough to ignore it. Instead, he looked the students over, scanning them from head to toe. “By the way, what are you kids doing here?”

“Internships,” Shouta answered in place of his students. “The agencies they’re working at ended up involved in the investigation. Internships are meant to give students real-world experience, so they’ve been allowed to stay and participate.”

Edward hummed in understanding. “I see… you were all in that fighting practice thing I did, right?” the Amestrian asked Shouta’s students, and the four of them nodded. “Good, do you remember what the most important thing I taught was?”

“Being able to improvise?” 

“Not underestimating your opponent?”

“Being persistent?”

“All of those are important!” Edward crowed in agreement, but then his smile dropped, expression turning serious. The young man only had a few years on Shouta’s students, including Mirio, but at the moment, he seemed decades older. His face was grim as golden eyes looked at each one of the students in turn. “What I want you to remember is: This fight is not a fair one. There is no fighting dirty, only to survive, because your life, that of your allies, and that of a little girl may depend on it.”

The students were quiet as they took in Edward’s words, and he let them process before he asked: “Understand?”

“Yes!” 

The declaration came four-fold, and while Shouta knew his students didn't quite get it, not like Shouta himself or Edward did, they understood much better than other classes he’d taught. As much as Shouta hated it, they had faced the League of Villains several times over, where they’d had to fight for their lives and that of their friends. (And all, far too young.)

“Good,” Edward bared his teeth in something approximating a smile. “Let’s go get that Amestrian and little girl home.”

Mustang,

Things are… kinda crazy over here right now.

So, you know all that ‘private’ investigating I was doing, right? With a guy who’s like you but angrier? Well… I found stuff. A lot of stuff. I’m not in the mood to rehash details, I sent you a folder with case notes, check those out. 

Short of it is: One of our kidnappees is alive.

It’s Astrid Vogel, the other soldier unaccounted for when Markus Steiner went missing. One of Armstrong’s. Thanks to quirk bullshit (check the report), she is, as far as we still know, alive . I got myself on a task force that’s raiding the Shie Hassaikai (check the report) compound tomorrow, and our objective is to get her and another hostage out.

The other hostage is a kid, Mustang. Her name’s Eri, she’s like… five, and that damned fucker Chisaki is experimenting on his daughter. It’s… fucking hell, it’s Shou Tucker all over again. Chisaki’s quirk even sounds like alchemy: Overhaul, disassembly and reassembly. And if he’s using it on Eri–

I have to do this Mustang. But I don’t know if… 

I won’t tell Alphonse about this… not until it’s over.

It can’t turn out like last time. It can’t.

Vogel, I don’t know how she’s doing aside from “alive.” This entire investigation… it’s twisted, Roy. Nighteye said she looked pretty intact, in the brief glimpse he had of her, but from what he said they basically tossed food and water inside, spat some curses, and not much else. I don’t know what she’s seen or had to deal with, out here, but… yeah.

Hope things are going better for you than for me.

Edward

…

The teleportation circle unfurls, the complex array stitched into fabric stretching over the floor. He puts his hands on the edge of the circle, reaching inward and opening the Gate that stands between him and the firmament of Truth and the Universe.

Static fizzles and burns on his tongue. Anti-Space clings to him as he holds the paper on the precipice of an empty-overflowing void.

Somewhere, thousands of miles away, Mustang opens the other side, and the infinite well gains an exit. 

…

Edward,

Excellent work. 

I… am sorry, for the extent of this. At the very least, the evidence you’ve collected should be enough to get Aerugo and other Atossan nations into a temporary alliance. We may not be on good terms, but none of us want Atossa to be made an experiment . They will act, lest they want all our peoples to continue dying.

Still, as things stand, my ability to aid is limited. Short of writing to the Japanese government to demand they send a battalion with you to aid in the rescue – which, from the sounds of these “Heroes,” they already have – I do not have the resources I wish I could offer. Anything sent overland will arrive far too late.

But… this is why I chose you, Fullmetal. 

I know I don’t have to tell you… consequences for failure are a child and soldier’s life, and Armstrong’s wrath befalling all of Japan. That said, considering the situation, you’ve got the best shot at getting both of them and yourself out safely.

Be careful, Fullmetal.

Roy

The day of the Shie Hassaikai raid came agonizingly slow. During the two day wait, Edward forced himself to rest, recovering from a few too many sleepless nights of vigilante activity and chasing leads on All for One’s hideouts.

Still, sleeping meant dreams. And dreams meant memories.

“Ed-ward… Big brother…”

Every minute that went by tasted like ash. Every minute that went by, meant another minute Eri was in the clutches of that monster of a man. Every minute that went by, Edward was dragged deeper into painful reminders.

The morning of the raid, Ed was up long before the sun, perched on the edge of his bed. Head propped on one hand, he focused on breathing. With every breath, he tried to untangle the knot of resignation in his chest.

“It won’t be like last time,” Ed whispered to himself. “I won’t let it.” 

The words were bitter acid in his throat. It doesn’t matter what you want, his memories taunted, with a visage of pain-filled eyes staring out of a face covered in white fur and brown hair. You are human, can fail all the same.

“I have to try,” Ed growled.

Like you tried to bring back the dead?

Edward let loose a guttural snarl, slamming his fist into the mattress. He tried to imagine it was Chisaki Kai or Shou Tucker’s face. It didn’t help.

“We’ll get you home, we’ll get you safe.”

He had made a similar promise to Alphonse, once. He had kept it, in the end. Ed could only hope he could keep this one, too.

For all the painful slowness of the days leading up to it, the morning of the raid was a flurry of activity. They assembled at the ward’s local police branch, though when Edward arrived, it initially felt like he’d stumbled into some strange theater play or fashion convention. 

The police officers themselves weren’t too odd – between the blue uniforms and firearms, it was like being back in Amestris – but the Heroes… Ed felt a bit bad for judging Aizawa’s plain, if slightly battered, clothing the first day they met. He was the only one dressed somewhat tactically. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason among the Heroes outfits, except to allow Ed to pick them out at 300 paces.

As the police commander ran over the plan once more, Ed drifted among the crowd, all doing last minute checks on their gear. Perhaps because of the familiarity, Ed found himself mingling among the police officers, watching them load their firearms and don what seemed to be impact-gear.

“What’s with the vest?” Ed asked one, eyeing the bulky black garment. It reminded him of the padded armor the military had used in hand-to-hand combat training. Odd choice. What did they think training equipment would do for them?

The man he’d spoken to glanced down. “This? It’s a bulletproof vest, sir.” 

“Bulletproof vest?” Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s useful. Can I get one of those?”

A few minutes later, Ed was tightening the straps on his new piece of gear. It was a little bulkier than he was used to, but didn’t impede his movements and fit easily beneath his coat. Though, he was still a bit doubtful that something this flimsy could stop bullets, as the quick alchemic analysis he’d done had only revealed the vest was composed of synthetic fiber sheets.

Still, I’ll have to remember this material, Ed thought idly, as he wandered to the Heroes’ side of things, searching for Aizawa.

It was easy to find the man, his relatively nondescript clothing ironically making him stand out. Aizawa was standing at the side and overseeing the operations with general disinterest. The man grunted a greeting as Ed approached, the Hero giving him a quick once-over.

“That’s it?” Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow. Ed glanced down. Like Aizawa, he didn’t look much different than normal. Usual black shirt and thick leather pants, heavy combat boots and a red coat reminiscent of the one he’d worn when he was younger.

“Don’t need much,” Ed replied with a shrug. Between his martial arts skills, automail, and alchemy, he was as prepared as he ever was. Honestly, it was strange to know he was going into a fight. While Ed did get into a lot of fights, most of the time, he had no forewarning. They just kind of happened. 

“And the bulletproof vest?”

“I’m quirkless, remember?” Ed rapped his chest with a fist. “They’ve got quirk-destroying bullets. All I’ve got to do is draw their fire, get them to waste those bullets on me and tada, that’s one problem solved.”

Aizawa stared at Ed, then raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I thought I told you to not be reckless. Quirkless or not, you’re still getting shot. And what if it erases your alchemy somehow? If something happens with Overhaul, I’d rather not have you lose that asset.”

“Eh, I already should have lost my alchemy,” Ed shrugged, the automail port in his shoulder flaring in the reminder. There was only one thing he knew of that could make you completely lose alchemy. Chisaki might have fancy bullets, but Ed doubted they could circumvent Truth and the Laws. And even if they did… Edward’s time with alchemy was a finite clock, waiting until Truth took Its Toll. 

“Anyways, I need to find Snipe,” Ed said, shaking off his melancholy. “See you on the other side, Aizawa.”

Aizawa was slow to answer, but eventually nodded. “Same to you. Be careful, Edward.”

Ed drifted back into the crowd of Heroes. It took a minute to find Snipe, as despite every Hero having a unique costume show, there were over two dozen in attendance. Eventually Ed found the man checking over his numerous guns and ammunition stock.

“Snipe,” Ed greeted. The Hero glanced over, holstering his weapons as Ed approached.

“Fullmetal,” Snipe returned. The pronunciation of the Amestrian was a bit butchered, but it was close enough to Ed’s title to be recognizable. 

Nezu had been the one to suggest Snipe as Edward’s partner for the raid. Because, as he had found out, the Hero’s weapon of choice was guns. Ed had actually needed to check if he’d misheard, because one of the acclaimed Heroes wielding a weapon solely intended to kill? But indeed, Snipe used guns. (And even if the Hero had specialized ammunition, including rubber bullets and tranquilizers, he still stocked regular bullets.)

However, Ed wouldn’t deny Nezu’s choice to be a logical one. Snipe’s weapon of choice was, unlike many things on the Outside, familiar.

Just like working with soldiers . I’ve certainly done that enough times. 

“Got everything?” Ed asked, jerking a thumb behind him. “We need to be at the assembly point soon.”

Snipe nodded. “All set. Let’s get moving.”

The two of them made their way to the Shie Hassaikai’s compound, a walled complex of low buildings styled after what Ed had come to recognize as “traditional Japanese architecture.” It felt distinctly odd to be standing outside their target’s base, but there wasn’t much choice, not with so large a crowd. Ed could only hope the speed at which the raid commenced would prevent the yakuza from being able to react as quickly. 

Heroes and police were soon swarming the area, a few coming up to Edward and Snipe to exchange a nod. Most knew better than to say “good luck.” Among the arrivals, Ed spotted Aizawa’s students, also dressed up in quirky Hero costumes. He was surprised however, when three more teenagers emerged from the crowd.

“Sokeki-sensei!” chirped a young woman trailed by two others. All of them were clearly Heroes. Ed was beginning to realize that – with a handful of exceptions – bright primary colors, capes, and bodysuits were a Hero’s calling card.

Next to Edward, Snipe clicked his tongue in disapproval. “We’re in the field, Nejire.”

“Snipe-sensei!”

Ed glanced over at Snipe, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a teacher?”

“I work at U.A., don’t I?” Snipe returned, then gestured to the three. “I take care of the third-year Heroics classes at U.A. These three are a few of my students: Lemillion, Suneater and Nejire,” the Hero explained, pointing to each of the students in turn. “As for you three, I presume you’re already familiar with Elric?”

They nodded, bowing to Ed. 

“Once things get started, follow me,” Lemillion said, looking between Ed and Snipe. “You’ll be joining me and Sir Nighteye as we head down into the stronghold, before you split off to find Vogel. Alright?”

Ed nodded. At least the bright red cape would make Lemillion easy to track. “You three ready?” The students nodded, only Suneater showing a bit of hesitation. Before Ed could say much more, there was a whistle, and a ripple went through the crowd. “That’s the signal, get in place. See you later.”

The young Heroes dispersed, while Ed and Snipe strode closer to the compound entrance. 

Right. Here goes.

The police commander said something about reading the warrant, approaching the gate to do so. Simple, in theory. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. Without warning, the doors buckled and blew off their hinges as a giant man plowed through them, sending an unlucky few flying. Edward’s head craned back as he took in the enormous figure, large enough to rival the size of Sloth.

“What do you want?” the giant rumbled as he stood. “It’s too early for visitors.” Ed tensed as the giant loomed over them, muscles rippling as he drew back an arm to strike.

Then, as if things weren’t crazy enough, one of the Heroes turned into a god damned dragon.

“Holy shit,” Ed gaped, displaced air whipping through his hair. Massive gray wings arched overhead, the woman-turned-dragon was as big if not bigger than Envy’s true form. With one taloned hand she easily pinned the Sloth-Guy to the ground. Okay. That was awesome.

“We’ll take care of this villain,” the Dragon-Woman declared, long neck arching up. “The rest of you, go!”

The squad of Heroes and police quickly obeyed, streaming through the destroyed gate into the compound. Yakuza emerged from the buildings to meet them and chaos spread like wildfire. While Ed chased after Nighteye, around him police and Heroes began wrestling with the gang members. 

“Well that didn't take long,” Ed muttered as he shoved his way through the crowd. “We’ve definitely lost the element of surprise, if we ever had it.”

“They’re trying to slow us down,” Snipe said, downing several yakuza with a few well-placed shots in their legs. 

The police commander seemed to think much the same. “All this commotion and Chisaki and the top brass haven’t shown themselves yet,” the man hissed loudly as they made it inside the first building, feet thudding against the hardwood floor. “Damn, they’re probably using the distraction to flee now. Nighteye, where’s that entrance of yours?”

“We’re close,” Nighteye called back from the front of the group. Identical halls flew past as Sir Nighteye led them on a twisting path, finally skidding to a stop next to a small alcove. Ed watched, confused, as the man removed a vase and began pressing the wooden panels beneath like piano keys. 

“What are you–”

“Hidden passage,” Nighteye explained, pressing a final piece of wood. “I saw it with my Foresight.” Something clicked and the Hero stepped back as part of the wall detached and rolled aside, revealing a darkened corridor. “Careful.”

The Universe was apparently listening, because the moment the word had been spoken, three yakuza surged out of the opening tunnel, quirks and blades brought to bear. Nighteye’s Hero coworkers, Centipede-Guy and Blue-Girl, met the attack, grappling with the yakuza and pinning them down.

“Keep going!” Blue-Girl ordered. “We got this!”

Nighteye obeyed, diving into the dimly lit stairwell as the rest of the group followed, leaving Centipede-Guy and Blue-Girl behind. The stairs didn’t go down more than a story or two, just below street-level, bringing them into the yakuza’s underground labyrinth. Nighteye took the lead, the path he’d seen in his vision guiding the group’s sprint. Except…

“It’s a dead end?!”

The group stumbled to a stop as they turned the corner and the hallway abruptly ended. The only thing ahead of them was a wall, same as all the rest, except… were those transmutation scars? 

“What the hell, Nighteye?” swore a Hero – Rock Lock, Ed was pretty the man had been called. “I thought you knew where we were going?”

“They know we’re here,” Nighteye said shortly, staring up at the wall with that perpetually stiff expression of his. “They’re trying to slow us down.”

“I’ll take a look,” Lemillion offered, taking off his helmet. Then, adding to the already high level of quirk bullshit Ed had seen today, Lemillion stepped through the wall. Okay. Turning intangible is a thing now. Why the hell not. A few seconds later the Hero withdrew, pulling his head back through the wall.

“The path continues, just like Nighteye said,” Lemillion reported. “It's just been blocked off.”

“Can Chisaki’s quirk even do this…?” Rock Lock muttered, squinting.

“I told you, don’t underestimate him,” Ed said as he strode up to the barrier, Lemillion stepping aside to give him room. “Stand back, I’ve got this.”

Taking a breath, Edward placed one hand on the wall. An alchemic matrix sparked to life as he mentally reached into the wall, through it, surveying its structure and picking it apart. It was… strange, in a word . The concrete hadn’t been touched on an atomic or molecular level, just a macroscopic one. It was similar enough to alchemy, but the aftermath of Chisaki’s “transmutation” had a strange flavor to it.

When Ed transmuted, he still had to take the molecular level into account even if he wasn’t affecting it. Alchemy left marks, pulling on the substance in certain ways. Something touched by alchemy could never be quite the same as it was, not when a transmutation tugged on all its atoms. But this, it didn’t feel drawn or pulled into place but… imposed, like a collection of blocks that had been shuffled into place.

Not so sure I want to cross transmutations with this guy, Ed thought grimly. With this kind of difference… things could get explosive, at best. Or a rebound, at worst. Well, Edward would douse that fire when he found it. Right now, he had people to save.

He spread the matrix into the rest of the wall and tore through the bonds holding molecules together. The deconstruction rippled outward beneath Ed’s hand, the entire barrier crumbling half a second.

“Let’s go,” Ed said, dusting off his gloves. 

Despite the surprise on many of the Heroes’ and officers’ faces, they were nothing if not professional, and shrugged it off. They began their race through the twisting corridors, only for the building to start literally twisting around them a short few minutes later. The entire hallway bucked and heaved like a boat caught in a storm.  Ed swore, stumbling into Aizawa as his feet were nearly swept out from under him. This is worse than that ferry!

“It's not Chisaki!” the police commander shouted. He was propped on the wall for balance, not that it did much good when the wall was trying to throw him off.  “This has to be Irinaka! He's in the concrete that makes up the underground, and it's turned into a living maze!”

Snipe looked around them incredulously. “Isn’t he supposed to be limited to things smaller than a fridge?!”

“It’s not impossible, if he gets a big enough boost,” the big guy, Fat Gum, shot back. “Trigger, remember?”

“Can’t you do something about this Elric?” Rock Lock shouted.

Ed glanced over at the police commander. “You said the guy causing this is in the walls?” When the man nodded, Ed grimaced and shook his head. “Not this time. If his quirk involves him becoming part of an object, anything I do could risk tearing him and his soul apart along with the wall. I’d rather not lose my other limbs today.”

“What the hell’s that got to do with anything?!”

Lemillion shook his head sharply. “Doesn’t matter, time is of the essence. We need to find Eri,” the young man exchanged a glance with Nighteye and started sprinting forward. “I’m going on ahead!”

“He’ll find her,” Nighteye said confidently, as Lemillion dove through the wall.

However, Irinaka clearly didn’t like that one of his prey had slipped through his fingers. A scant few seconds after Lemillion vanished, the hallway started shaking violently, Irinaka’s enraged roar echoing through the halls. Ed had just enough time to think: Uh oh, before the Man-In-the-Walls ripped the ground out from underneath them. Ed caught a brief glimpse of over half their party, mostly the police forces, staring with surprise. Then, he was falling.

Ed hit the ground at a roll, but the impact still jarred his bones. He gave a grunt of pain as he rose to his feet, eyes already scanning their surroundings. 

Our way in is gone, Ed grimaced, staring at the ceiling that had been warped back into place. Looks like Irinaka threw us down a level. Let’s see… Aizawa, Snipe, Nighteye, Fat Gum, Rock Lock, present… All the students save Lemillion… the police commander, a dozen more officers… Ed swore, quiet and fervent. Their raiding force kept getting whittled down further. This was definitely part of the yakuza’s plan, splitting them up and most of all, slowing them down.

“Hey, hey, what have we got here?” 

Ed tensed, turning as three yakuza sauntered in through a door. He recognized two from the briefing, the crazy looking one with a katana and the guy with a bag on his head. The last was a tall bald man, relatively normal, with a gun pointed at the group.

“Aw, look, we’ve got some little law enforcers trying to crash our party,” Crazy Katana crooned, giving a cackle as he whipped his katana around to point at them. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Just try it,” Fat Gum taunted, slamming his fists together, the impact rippling over his body. “Swords and bullets will just sink into my body!”

Everyone upholstered their weapons, gearing up for a fight, but one of the Hero students, Suneater, was already ahead of them. Tentacles whipped out of the young man’s fingers, twisting around the three yakuza and slamming them against the far wall in a shower of dust and rubble.

“It won't do any good for all of us to fight them,” Suneater growled, his other hand morphed into a crab-like claw, the yakuza’s weapons clutched in his grip. A shapeshifter? A lot like a true chimera, this one. “We’ve already split our forces enough. Fat Gum, I can handle these three. Go!”

The big Hero didn’t even hesitate. He just nodded and turned to the rest of the squad. “You heard him! Come on!”

Fat Gum ran for one of the doors, and after a second, the police and other Heroes followed him. Ed glanced back at the Hero student, something in his chest twisting at leaving the other alone, but they didn’t have much choice. 

Aizawa paused as well, glancing back at the student. “Suneater,” Aizawa said, and despite facing away from them, Suneater’s head tilted in question. “I used my quirk, tie them up before the shock wears off.”

“Give ‘em hell, kid,” Snipe said, and then, they were running.

The underground turned into a maze as they left the yakuza behind, but this time there was no twisting of the halls. Irinaka must have been busy elsewhere. Unfortunately, ‘busy’ likely meant with the squadron of officers they’d been separated from. Damn it, they’d already lost too much time. Every second delayed by the yakuza grunts was another second Chisaki could use to get away.

“Nighteye, we need to get Vogel,” Ed growled, jogging behind the Hero.

“Go,” Nighteye nodded, pointing to a doorway they were rapidly approaching, branching off the current hallway. “Vogel is another floor down, but the layout on this floor should be the same as above and below. Take the next left and go straight, we’re not far off from the path I showed you.”

“Be quick about it, while Irinaka’s occupied,” Aizawa warned. 

“You two, go with him,” the police commander barked, pointing at two officers, who nodded sharply.

Edward looked over at the rest of the group. “Go give Chisaki hell, I’ll see you on the other side. Snipe, come on.” And with that, Ed and his own team split off down the side hallway, diving into the bowels of the Shie Hassaikai’s stronghold, and shrinking their group yet again.

Not long after they left, the hallway rocked with distant rumbles, vibrations emanating from the direction they’d come. Initially, Edward thought they were under attack, but the vibrations only got fainter the further they ran until they were gone altogether.

It was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Irinaka had deemed their presence either unimportant, or thought they were getting themselves lost. On the other… Ed grimaced. It didn’t bode well for the main group if the entirety of Irinaka’s attention was focused on them. Worry clawed its way up Ed’s throat, but he forced himself to swallow it. He had to trust they could handle themselves… right now, he had a hostage to save.

It wasn’t an easy task, either. The size of the underground complex was staggering. Further confusing matters, the uniformity of their surroundings and the design made it difficult to tell where they were and where they had been.

And, Vogel was still another floor down. They had yet to find a set of stairs.

"The Heroes got into the East Wing!” The sound of raised voices had Ed slowing, motioning his teammates to do the same. He pressed himself against the wall, stepping quietly as he advanced toward an intersection. Out of sight, the voices – presumably yakuza – continued. “Shit, that’s where the girl’s room is.”

“The Boss should be there already,” a second voice growled. “We won’t need to worry about that.”

"Wait, what ‘bout this prisoner?” asked a third. “Shouldn't we check she's secure?"

“The Boss cares more about the other one," snorted the second. “Besides, what’s a quirkless freak gonna do?” 

Jackpot.  

“What’s this about quirkless freaks?” Edward stepped out from the wall, his eyes landing on three yakuza standing in the middle of the hallway. The men spun toward him, quirks and weapons leveled at Ed. “Tell me, which room is the Atossan in?”

“Who the hell are you?!” shouted one of the yakuza.

Ed’s answer was a ringing clap, and slapping a hand to the floor. The floor split into massive concrete hands that closed around the yakuza, hauling them into the air. Ed stalked forward until he was nose-to-nose with the gang members, now staring at him with terrified eyes.

“I don’t have time to play games with you,” Edward growled, baring his teeth. “So I’ll only ask this one more time: Where is the Atossan?”

“W-wha– his quirk!–”

“You… you’re like Overhaul!” shrieked the terrified yakuza with the misfortune to be closest to Ed. He leaned back as far as he could, an ultimately futile effort. “P-please don’t kill me!”

“Tell me what I want to know,” Ed ordered. He pressed a single hand to the outside of the concrete prison, and the yakuza went white. The man stuttered out directions so fast Ed barely had time to memorize them. Well, that was the quickest interrogation he had ever experienced. Leaving the yakuza trapped in the grip of the concrete, Edward sprinted.

He was vaguely aware of Snipe and the two police officers stumbling to catch up, but Ed couldn’t have cared less. Soon, he was skidding to a stop next to an otherwise featureless door. Featureless, except for the heavy metal bolt that locked the door from the outside. You don't put a lock on something you don't care about.

One quick deconstruction later and the lock disintegrated. Snipe and the police officers arrived as Ed was pulling open the heavy door, the overhead lights of the hallway illuminating some of the darkened room. One of the police officers, Morikawa, was the first to peer into the gloom, Ed quickly sliding next to him.

The prison was dark, the light of the hallway far brighter than the dim lights within. But in the corner of the room, half cloaked in shadow, Edward saw her.

Astrid Vogel was bent low to the ground, motionless. The loose sweatpants and T-shirt she wore did nothing to hide the bandages wrapped around the woman’s arms, nor the metal shackles locked around her wrists and the chain trailing to the wall. As they hovered at the door, stormy blue eyes tracked their every movement.

Fury roared in Edward’s chest, and he swallowed it down. He couldn’t be angry, not now.

“It’s alright,” Morikawa said softly, stowing his gun. The man lowered himself down, and slowly approached Vogel with his hands raised, while the soldier watched him warily. 

“Wait, Offic–” Ed started.

He didn’t get another word out before Vogel snapped forward in a lunge. She flicked out the chain connecting her to the wall, looping the metal around Morikawa’s neck and sweeping his legs out from under him. Then, Astrid tightened her grip, and pulled. Morikawa’s eyes bulged as the chain links tightened and he began to choke, clawing at the metal.

“Stand down!” Edward barked in Amestrian. “We're allies!”

Vogel may have been afraid and in a strange environment, but she was also a soldier, through and through. One of General Olivier Armstrong’s at that. And while Ed wasn’t Armstrong, the cadence of an order was the same. The chains immediately slackened, Morikawa gasping in a wheezing breath, hands scrabbling at the metal noose. 

Vogel didn’t fully release the chains – not when it was some manner of leverage against assumed enemies – but incapacitating Morikawa had taken a backseat in favor of staring at Ed. The Amestrian’s mouth was open, her eyes wide with disbelief. She looked like she’d seen a ghost. Realization hit Edward like a sledgehammer. Vogel had been here for… months, at least. How long had it been since she’d heard her native tongue? How long had she not been able to understand anyone?

“… Who… ?” she whispered in Amestrian, voice scratchy from disuse.

“It's alright,” Ed continued in the same language, locking eyes with the woman. “Lieutenant Astrid Vogel, right? We're here to get you out.”  

Vogel continued to stare at him, wary, but there was also a faint glint of… hope to her eyes. “Can I come closer?” Ed asked, and after a second, Vogel nodded. Ed slowly walked closer, crouching once he was within a couple meters of the soldier. Ed gestured toward Morikawa, staring at him from within the chain-link prison. “Can you let him go?” 

Vogel glanced down at the police officer, expression tightening slightly. The seconds ticked by, one, two, three, four– before she let out a soft breath, and wordlessly relaxed her grip the rest of the way.

“Thank you,” Ed whispered as Morikawa scrambled away from the two Amestrians. Once the man had gone, Ed turned back to Vogel. “I’m going to get these chains off you, okay?”

Vogel nodded again, a bit more eager this time. Edward brought his palms together, then laid his hands on the chain binding Vogel to the wall. The blue static of alchemic discharge rippled over the metal and this time, Ed didn’t even try to transmute the chain. He skipped straight to deconstruction, the metal rapidly flaking away to ash.

Vogel flinched back as the deconstruction spread, freezing as it neared her hands. 

For a moment, Edward felt like he was the one being deconstructed. Fuck, he didn’t think. Chisaki and his quirk–

Interrupting his downward spiral, Vogel spoke again. “That’s… you’re…” Ed’s gaze snapped to her, watching as the woman rubbed her wrists where the metal cuffs had dug into her skin. She stared at him, eyes flicking over his face and clothes, some sort of realization dawning on her face. She dropped her hands, slowly straightening up to face Ed, one arm raised in salute. “Fullmetal Alchemist, sir.”

Edward huffed, a wry smile pulling at his mouth. She knew him, huh? Well… that made things easier. “You don’t need to salute me. Come on, let’s get you out of here. Can you walk?”

Vogel took a few hesitant steps, grimacing slightly, but nodded in the end. “Well enough.” She paused, her jaw working open and closed before she asked, “Have you found anyone else?”

Ed grimaced, even as he said, “Yes.”

Vogel’s expression tightened. She understood. “At least they can be buried at home.”

Ed nodded, turning back to Snipe and the police officers, who were looking between him and Vogel with a mix of confusion, surprise, and a touch of wariness. Fair enough, she had been about ten more seconds from killing Morikawa. “Right,” Ed said, with all the authority he could muster. “We need to get top-side, now.”

Edward stepped back into the hall, the rest of the group joining him as he trailed a hand along the wall. The compound entrance was over that way, but here, they were under the street… Right, he could work with this.

“Alright, everybody, hold on,” Ed said as he knelt on the ground. He clapped and the sound rang through the air. Vogel immediately crouched next to him, while Snipe and the two police officers slowly mimicked them. Ed planted his hand on the concrete, took a breath, and locked the circle into place.

Alchemic energy spread beneath his hands, piercing through the stone and spreading with his transmutation. Ed’s teammates murmured uneasily as the blue lightning thrummed around them, murmurs which gave way to terrified shrieks as the ground they sat on suddenly rocketed upward toward the ceiling. The shrieks turned to screams as the stone above tore itself aside to let them pass, darkness briefly enveloping them as they punched a hole straight to the surface.

Ed eased his grip on the transmutation, energy dissipating as he swept his gaze around. As he’d intended, they had come up in the middle of the street, empty of cars thanks to the police barricading the surrounding blocks for the raid. Getting to his feet, Ed looked back at his teammates. They were all in one piece, though Snipe and the police officers seemed a touch rattled from their brief trip through solid rock. Meanwhile, Vogel turned her head toward the sun, a breathy gasp escaping her. It made Ed’s heart ache.

“The rendezvous was back this way, right Snipe?” Ed asked. 

The Hero made to answer, only to be interrupted by a rumbling crash. Ed snapped his head to the side, looking over to see a brief glimpse of… 

“… is that?” Vogel asked, hesitantly.

Ed resisted the urge to sigh. “Dragon. Yep.”

The Dragon-Woman was wrestling with the Sloth-Guy from earlier, farther up the road toward the compound entrance. The two giants slammed each other into the ground, in an awesome spectacle of strength.

“Why couldn’t the Outside be normal?” Vogel muttered, and Ed couldn’t agree more.

“Looks like Ryukyu’s still busy,” Snipe muttered, coming to stand next to Ed. “We should get going. I’d rather not get between them, and the medical tent is close.” The Hero paused, giving Vogel a once-over before he turned to the police officers. “Yoneda, Morikawa, can one of you help Vogel? It won’t be good for her to walk barefoot.”

The second officer, Yoneda, volunteered. (Perhaps unsurprisingly, Morikawa was hesitant to get close.) Yoneda looped one of Vogel’s arms over her shoulder, and together they shuffled toward the rendezvous. People came running as they got close. Among them were a couple paramedics and Hamada, the blue-haired translator now actually able to do their job with an Amestrian who couldn’t understand Japanese.

Vogel stiffened as the strangers drew closer, eyeing them warily. Edward waved the paramedics back for a second and looked over at Vogel. “You can trust these people, alright? They’ll get you looked after. That one–” he pointed to Hamada, “–can understand and speak Amestrian, so don’t be too surprised.”

Pushing away from Officer Yoneda, Vogel drew herself up, eyes narrowed. “Fullmetal, sir, I can still–”

“Stand down,” Ed barked. It was more aggressive than he’d like, but he’d learned long ago that sometimes soldiers listened best when he ‘talked military.’ “This is an alchemy battle,” he explained, in lieu of a better term to describe it, “and you’re already injured. We came to rescue you, so don’t go wasting that effort.”

Vogel hesitated, then conceded, shoulders easing a fraction. She gave him another salute. “Aye, sir.”

Ed nodded sharply, then locked eyes with Sokeki. “Snipe, watch her, got it?”

“Where are you going?” Snipe frowned, as Ed turned away from them.

“Nighteye’s team isn’t back yet,” Ed called over his shoulder, “which means Chisaki and Eri are still down there!”

Edward clapped, ignoring the protests called to his back. Alchemic lightning crackled around him as he reached for the concrete beneath him, and dived back into the bowels of the underground.

Chapter Text

Metal and stone gave way as Edward tore down into the underground. He was only half aware of the concrete blurring by as he half-ran, half transmuted his way through the compound.

Faster, faster, faster, his heart pounded in time with his feet, old waking nightmares driving him forward. Faster, faster, faster, you can’t let it happen this time. 

A little girl with a bright smile, asking him to “-play! Big Brother Edward!” 

Bandages. Disassembly. Reassembly. 

A talking chimera. A scientific marvel. A miracle.

A child.

“Big… brother…” He’d been too late, too late, too late– 

This time he knew there was a time limit.

The wall buckled inward and Ed stumbled into a massive cavern, his eyes snapping over his surroundings.

Lemillion, bloodied and barely conscious. Eri, small and terrified, clutching the former’s shoulder. Nighteye, shielding both of them. Midoriya, dancing around what must have been Chisaki, but since when did he have four arms–

“Get clear!” Edward roared and the ground erupted under his touch. Midoriya jumped backward, and half a second later the yakuza was buried under a tidal wave of transmuted stone. That should hold him a minute. Another clap, and the spikes between Nighteye and Ed disintegrated, leaving a clear path. Three heads snapped up in alarm, expressions turning to shock as they saw him. 

“Get over here!” Ed shouted, waving them closer. Nighteye was quick to obey, helping Lemillion up and supporting him with one shoulder while tugging Eri along behind. Ed met them halfway, Midoriya appearing next to them in a flash of green.

Edward scanned Lemillion, by far the worst off. He was bleeding heavily from his stomach, costume ripped and torn, exhaustion weighing down his every step. Eri clung to the young man’s legs, trembling like a leaf in a storm. She stared at Ed with eyes as wide as saucers. God, the similarities between his alchemy and Chisaki’s quirk probably didn’t help–

Pained eyes, so different, yet too much the same–

Taking a second to slow, Ed crouched until he was level with the little girl. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m Ed. Eri, right? We’re going to get you someplace safe.” The girl whimpered, looking up at Lemillion, who, tired though he may be, managed to give her a smile.

“Ed’s right, no matter what, we’ll all fight to keep you safe.”

A distant rumble had Ed’s head jerking toward the barrier between them and Chisaki, which was crumbling at the seams. Ed swore, slamming his hands to the ground and throwing up a wall of concrete, meeting the wave of rubble the yakuza sent back. Damn, that bastard recovered quick.

“Yeah, this is what I was afraid of,” Edward hissed, looking over at Nighteye and Midoriya. “Eraserhead?”

“Missing,” Nighteye said sharply. “Took a hit from Kurono.”

Kurono, which yakuza was… wait, that’s the one whose quirk could slow you down to a crawl–

“Shit,” Ed swore and another wave of spikes punched back at Chisaki. “Midoriya, you need to get out of here. Take Eri, get her and Lemillion and run,” Ed ordered. “Keep them safe. I’ll handle Chisaki.”

Midoriya nodded sharply. “Right!” 

“I’ll give you some cover, get them to the surface as fast as you can,” Ed said as Nighteye helped Midoriya secure Eri to his back, Lemillion cradled in the young Hero’s arms. Green lightning rippled around Midoriya’s body, the teenager’s legs bunching beneath him as he readied for Ed’s signal. “Nighteye, be careful. This is going to get messy.”

And Edward clapped.

He sent the transmutation out, a half-ring of large stone walls rising around where he calculated Chisaki was. Hidden from view for a handful of seconds, Ed barked a quick, “Now!” Midoriya, ferrying Lemillion and Eri, darted through the hole Ed had entered from, a blaze of green that vanished into the depths of the Shie Hassaikai compound. The electric pulse of the young Hero’s presence faded rapidly, and Ed pulled the wall closed, sealing Midoriya’s exit. 

“Just us now,” Ed said to Nighteye, keeping his eyes on the stone barriers beyond which lay Chisaki. “When you can, try to get in close and take him out. I’ll do the same, and work on countering his attacks.”

“Understood,” Nighteye nodded. “Careful, he fused himself with one of his underlings.”

Fused himself…?

Before he could get Nighteye to explain, the stone wall rumbled. Nighteye darted away, and Edward focused his attention on the stone buckling inward. As the wall crumbled, a figure emerged from the rubble, and Ed finally got his first good look at Chisaki Kai. It was definitely the man he’d been shown pictures of, the head of the Shie Hassaikai, but with one particular difference. The man in front of Ed had four arms.

Chimera.

Ah. So that’s what Nighteye meant, Ed thought, taking in the four distorted fleshy limbs. Well. Seems like Chisaki can perform human transmutation on himself and others just fine. Damn it, I knew it was wishful thinking to hope his quirk had the same restrictions as alchemy.

“You’re Chisaki Kai, I’m guessing? You’re much uglier in person,” Edward mocked, baring his teeth. Keep your eyes on me. “And it’s not your appearance, your personality is just that bad.”

“And you’re sick in the head,” Chisaki growled, his beak mask splitting open in a pseudo-mouth, “if you think you can stand against me.”

Ed smirked. “Really? You and your cheap tricks? I can do that too, Chisaki.”

His hands slapped against the ground, a giant fist of stone punching up from Chisaki’s feet, fingers unfurling to grab him. The yakuza twisted away, surprisingly agile, and Ed caught a brief flash of his clawed hands reaching for the transmuted fist– The ground erupted. A hundred spikes pierced the sky, rocketing toward Ed with deadly intent. Oh crap–! He threw himself backward, throwing a few small transmutations to meet the oncoming hail of stone skewers, which shattered against Ed’s barriers.

That quirk of his acts fast, but he’s so far been predictable in his attacks. He’s definitely not fought another alchemist before, Ed thought, gaze flicking across the spikes littering the battlefield. But he can cover a lot of ground with it… I need to get in close.

He shoved alchemy into the ground, throwing a wave of rippling rock at the yakuza. It wasn’t clean or precise, but that wasn’t what Ed needed. The two attacks collided in an explosion that rattled his teeth, sending up a massive cloud of dust and debris. Smokescreen in place, Ed ran, weaving around jagged spikes and keeping low to the ground. He ducked behind a particularly large slab of concrete, for once making himself as small as possible.

Slowly, the dust settled, and Ed could hear the crunch of broken stone underfoot.

“Pitiful,” came Chisaki’s voice, steeped in arrogance. Ed mentally plotted the direction and distance, as the yakuza shuffled about. “Such big words for such a small little copycat.” The yakuza snorted disdainfully, while Ed gritted his teeth so hard he was sure one of them cracked. “He was living in a fever dream.”

Ed let out a quiet breath and laid his hands against the concrete. Aim for a distance of 15 meters. Angle it at 22, no, 26 degrees to the left. Suppress the discharge as much as possible. The transmutation streaked beneath the ground and on the opposite side of Chisaki, the earth surged upward to engulf the yakuza. 

As soon as Ed heard the shudder and crack of his transmutation breaking the surface and Chisaki’s response, he vaulted over the barrier keeping him hidden. Chisaki, back to Ed, facing a mountain of rubble–

Edward lunged.

The yakuza was already turning in place, clawed hands reaching downward, but Ed was faster. His hands slammed against concrete and the concrete shoved back, a small spire shooting upward with Ed balanced atop it. The momentum carried Edward over Chisaki’s head, and then he was landing, rolling to his feet. Clap. Sharpened steel tore through his glove, and Ed plunged the automail blade through the back of Chisaki’s hand.

The yakuza made a guttural choking noise, all three remaining hands descending on Edward. Shit, move– Ed jerked away, suddenly and viscerally reminded of the last time he got into a game of tag like this. At least Scar didn’t have four arms–

Ed twisted and wove, scoring a few bloody slices with his blade and narrowly avoiding the chasing claws. He ducked the next swipe, sweeping low and pulling a spear from the ground. He twisted it and shoved up, straight through one of the yakuza’s arms. The man let out an unholy shriek, hands immediately going for the offending weapon, even as Ed tried to transmute the spear himself. 

Then, a half second where the alchemic energy and something else met–

Static exploded in Ed’s skull as reality tried to wrench itself in two, slamming the Gate closed and with it, the transmutation. He staggered backward, releasing his grip on the spear. As he did so the pain slicing through him, body and soul, vanished in an instant. Ed wavered, his dead swimming as–

–DOWN!

Every instinct in Ed’s body screamed and he flinched sideways. He felt the wind as Chisaki’s hands scraped past, mere inches from his face. For a second, Ed got a great look into the yakuza’s crazed bloodshot eyes. Which meant Ed saw when something small and dark – no bigger than a chess piece – hit Chisaki like a bullet, square in the jaw, snapping the man’s head backward.

Huh… where–

“Fullmetal!”

Edward jerked, startled as Nighteye appeared next to him and hauled him backward– The migraine flared and his vision went white, skull threatening to split in two. The taste of sour copper burned Ed’s tongue as he hacked up blood and bile. 

The world titled and his brain rattled in his skull. That probably wasn’t good, Ed idly thought, as sweet darkness sealed off the annoying sounds. It’ll make my brain soup worse… though if my brain was soup, I’d be dead. 

… I don’t feel dead… so Chisaki probably didn’t make me into soup. I like soup. I don’t want to be soup, though… That’d be a terrible way to go.

Go… where am I going… 

… I was doing… something? Ow…  

Distantly, he registered something hard digging into his right shin. Pain. A physical pain, piercing, grounding, not the too real not real that sank a thousand needle fangs into his gray matter. Pain. Pain means alive. You need to stay alive. Pull yourself together, Fullmetal.

What happened? Quirks, it was quirks… Chisaki’s quirk and Ed’s alchemy colliding, but… to get that kind of reaction…?

He and Alphonse had once experimented to see what happened when two alchemists tried to control the same material at the same time. The results… well, they’d at least come out with all their limbs intact, which was more than he could say for other experiments. But that had just been alchemy colliding with alchemy, where the same Laws applied. But alchemy and quirks together? 

On half a thought, Edward constructed a matrix, reaching out to dig metaphysical fingers into the world around him, feeling for the aftermath of the not-alchemy. It was easy to find in the earth, just like that wall that had been constructed. Too wrong to be alchemy, too shifted to be unchanged. Evidence in hand, Ed shredded it apart, reading the mess of molecules like a map.

There was no willpower in physics. You couldn’t will a chemical reaction into happening. And, save for the philosopher’s stones, alchemy was the same. Attempting to force a transmutation without the right matrix or measure of material meant a rebound. Even for those capable of clap alchemy, any ‘will’ was a matter of maintaining the internal matrix. 

But this quirk… it was like a tidal wave, shoving intent into the stone itself, but while its area of effect was massive, it lacked a certain… granularity.

There’s nothing atomic about it, Ed realized as he scanned the bonds in the broken stone. Chisaki’s not changing the component elements, not even the base ‘material.’ Stone stays stone, and flesh stays flesh, he just changes how the material is put together. Disassembly, but not to the molecular level.

“Damn cheater,” Edward muttered, then hummed. Huh, he had his voice back. Nice. 

The revelation that sound existed again had Ed groaning, physicality washing over him in a wave. He spat out a globule of blood, wiping away the rest with the back of his hand. “Nothing new missing…” he concluded after a quick scan of himself. “But… shit, Nighteye?!”

Ed bolted upright. He braced himself against the surrounding concrete, rising from behind a large concrete slab. His eyes quickly landed on Nighteye, the Hero locked in the same deadly dance with Chisaki that Edward had been. For a few precious seconds Ed watched with bated breath, but Nighteye avoided the yakuza’s claws with ease. Was it his Foresight? Or did the Hero just have good instincts? 

Hissing, Ed shoved aside the migraine gnawing at his mind. Foresight or not, Nighteye couldn’t keep that up forever. 

Edward jumped over the barrier he’d been behind – Nighteye’s doing? It had to be, otherwise Ed would be a bloody stain right now – and started running back toward the battlefield. Nighteye was the first to notice him, despite facing away from Ed. The Hero jerked slightly, half turning in his direction, and then a few seconds later, Chisaki’s gaze landed on Ed. The yakuza’s pseudo-mouth ripped open in a snarl, his attention shifting off Nighteye and solely onto Ed. Oh joy.

“Look out!” Nighteye cried, seconds before Chisaki lunged forward and planted all four hands against the ground.

Ed clapped, alchemic energy spilling through his hands and the matrix, as he braced for the oncoming attack. But Chisaki, in his distraction, had left himself open. Ed could almost taste Chisaki’s surprise as one of Nighteye’s projectiles slammed into him. The force of that–!

Nighteye danced away from Chisaki’s claws, but the yakuza didn’t continue the chase. Instead, his hands drew back to his sides. Ed’s skin prickled, alarm shooting through him. That was new– Chisaki’s four hands slapped the ground, a halo of sharpened stone shooting up around him in a thorny shield between him and the Hero, forcing Nighteye to retreat lest he be impaled. 

“I’ve gotten tired of you,” the yakuza hissed, his attention returning to the Hero. Nighteye was already leaping back as Chisaki tore the ground apart. Spikes shredded through concrete, racing toward the Hero.

“Nighteye!” Edward shouted, his own transmutation already moving to intercept, a wall of stone slamming into place between Chisaki and Nighteye. The barrier caught most of the spikes, but some of them went into the wall, not breaking Ed’s barrier, but molding into it and then pushing through– Red. “Nighteye!”

“No hiding behind your little shields anymore, Hero,” Chisaki growled, giving a low laugh as Ed sprinted forward, putting himself between the Hero and yakuza. “You may have a quirk similar to mine, but I will be the winner here.”

Ed gave a wordless snarl in return. He risked a glance back at Nighteye, his heart leaping because that was a lot of blood–

“Come on!” Chisaki crowed, hands going for the ground. “Don’t you want to try again?!” The spikes between them crumbled to dust, giving Ed an unimpeded view of the yakuza  

Damn it… Chisaki was toying with him.

Edward glanced between Chisaki and Nighteye. Chisaki was taking away Ed’s ability to be on the defensive… Ed had to fight but he couldn’t do that and keep an eye on Nighteye, who didn’t even have that kind of time– The ground around Chisaki shuddered, twisting into sharpened points. Ed swore, throwing up a barrier a meter thick and fully obscuring them from Chisaki’s sight, which had the man laughing outright.

“Not going to work this time!” the yakuza howled on the other side.

Shit, okay, think Edward. Chisaki pushed his attack into the wall instead of breaking it, made it part of the area he controlled. He can disassemble and reassemble, but not at the molecular level. I can work with that. I can’t overpower his quirk, but I can outmaneuver him–

Edward clapped, pressing his hands to the wall he’d constructed between himself and the yakuza. 

Focus, Fullmetal. It doesn’t need to be big. Only the space in front of you. One meter by one meter. Barely anything, right?

He felt more than saw the wave of spikes on the other side of his barrier, ominously approaching between heartbeats.

Chisaki’s quirk is like a blanket, it’s got holes. It’ll be just like passing a needle through a knit sweater… except it's 8.7 x 10^25 needles… what’s that… 87 septillion? No pressure…

Focus on the atoms. Not stone. Atoms–