Hagane no Renkinjutsushi - Volume 6 - Chapter SS

ALPHONSE’S TROUBLES

IF ANYONE WERE ASKED which organization that directly serves Central Command, the body that governs the great nation of Amestris, is of special note, no one would be at a loss for the answer.

It is the cluster of individuals who passed a certain demanding exam with their sharp wit. The ones who possess the strong sense of ethics and loyalty necessary to overcome strict psychological assessments. The ones who possess the exceptional ability to create complex transmutation arrays, then act with calm precision to transmute at a moment’s notice. They are the ones who must accomplish all of these things to achieve their rank.

With solemn miens, they conduct themselves with poise even while bearing a share of the country’s fate and are prepared to sacrifice their own lives in the line of duty. 

Carrying silver pocket watches engraved with a hexagram and the president’s crest, they bear a tremendous responsibility. They are our country’s pride—they are the solitary and elite state alchemists …

“Wow.”

The sun climbed over the eastern horizon, announcing the coming of dawn. At that early hour, sitting in the hotel where he and his brother were staying, Alphonse couldn’t help reacting out loud to a column about state alchemists that he had been reading. 

“Poised and elite? I guess some people actually think that,” he commented.

While many mocked state alchemists for being “dogs of the military” because of the extensive privileges that came with the title, the writer of this column was different. He seemed to genuinely respect them, though he also might have unrealistically idealized them.

“Alchemists aren’t all like that though,” Alphonse murmured, fully aware of the reality of things. He flipped to the next page.

“Hey, Al!” An obnoxiously loud voice shattered the quiet of the dining hall that had previously only been occupied by Alphonse and the cook preparing breakfast in the kitchen.

Night had barely come to an end, and the vast majority of the hotel guests were still asleep. Anyone awake at this hour who had common sense should have known to be considerate of the others around them. The willful violator of this common courtesy was none other than Edward Elric, a representative exception to the “poised and elite” state alchemists.

“Wait, Ed! Shh, shh!” Alphonse hastily pressed his finger to the mouth of his helmet while bobbing his head apologetically to the cook, who peered out from the kitchen, and the receptionist, who glanced over at them from the front desk.

Edward and Alphonse had been staying at this hotel, located in Central, for a while now. They’d been busy, between Edward visiting the Xerxes ruins and Alphonse having to deal with homunculi, among other things.

The night before had been a rare opportunity for both brothers to spend the evening in peace, so Alphonse had passed the entire night reading in the dining hall to allow his older brother to sleep. Winry, who had accompanied them to Central, was also likely fast asleep in her separate room.

Alphonse had planned on waking the two of them in about two more hours, but apparently Edward had awakened of his own accord and dashed over, making a racket as he came.

Without a care for the judgmental glares from those around them, Edward pulled out a chair, which issued a loud screech, and flopped down in front of Alphonse before thrusting a piece of paper in front of his younger brother.

“What do ya think of this?!”

Alphonse didn’t have a response on hand, considering his brother hadn’t given him any lead-up or warning. Alphonse accepted the document and sighed at his brother’s typical hastiness. Seemingly random characters were scrawled all over it, unheeding of the neat and orderly page lines. Whether the text spelled out real words was debatable.

“What language is this in?” Alphonse asked, turning the paper at an angle. Then he held it farther away from his face and tried his best to decipher it. Edward reached over, plucked the paper from his hands, and turned it upside down before returning it.

“My bad. It was flipped.”

That didn’t make the document much easier to read, but Alphonse was finally able to decipher the paper’s purpose from a single line buried in some crossed-out text.

“A plan to deal with Scar? You’ve already come up with something?” Alphonse confirmed.

“Yup! Jotted down a few ideas!” Edward smirked while crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair.

The two of them had decided the night before that their next course of action would be dealing with Scar. The plan was to expose themselves to Scar, who was targeting state alchemists, and to use the potential danger to themselves to lure out the homunculi, who wanted Edward alive. The flaw in their plan was figuring out how to actually find Scar, who could be anywhere. They’d left off last night without any good solutions to their dilemma.

“I woke up in the middle of the night and just kept brainstorming until morning.”

“Sounds like you. Still, don’t push yourself.”

Alphonse was relieved to hear that his brother had gotten some sleep at least. Edward had a bad habit of forgetting to both sleep and eat once his brain started going. Nevertheless, those bouts of concentration often led to amazing epiphanies, so Alphonse scanned Edward’s scribbles with anticipation.

“Huh, so you changed the premise of the plan itself. That’s something.”

After reading through the entire thing, Alphonse found himself impressed yet again. They’d agonized about how to find Scar wherever he might be hiding out in the city. The plan on the paper suggested the opposite tactic: instead of finding Scar themselves, they’d make the outlaw find them.

“Right?” Edward let out a pleased little laugh, stretching back in his chair.

“But,” Alphonse hesitated at that point. Flipping their original plan on its head was brilliant, but he was finding it difficult to simply agree to any of Edward’s plans as outlined on the paper: 

1. Hand out flyers to publicize our profiles and current location.

2. Decorate a pushcart, then parade it around town while waving a huge flag.

3. Spread rumors throughout town. Example: A tall, dashing state alchemist by the name of Edward is nearby.

“I’ll ask just for the sake of it, but which plan do you want to go with?” Alphonse asked, hesitantly looking up from the page. Edward grinned, clearly having been waiting for his cue.

“This one, obviously!” Edward jabbed a finger at the paper. He was pointing to option three.

“I’m not surprised.” Alphonse heaved a heavy sigh that contrasted with Edward’s gleeful grin, then briskly shook his head. “If we spread a rumor that’s as obviously fake as this, Scar will probably think it’s a different person and won’t even engage. We’ll have to rule out the flyers, too, since there’s no way to be sure that Scar will actually read them.”

“Wait a second! What was that about it being ‘obviously fake’?!” Edward’s ears pricked up and he snarled. “What’s wrong with it? By definition, rumors don’t need to be true! What’s wrong with letting me dream a little, even if it’s only through rumors?!”

Edward was incorrigible. He had latched on to the thought and was banging his fists on the table like a child. Alphonse found it ironic in a sad sort of way that the magazine and the phrase “With solemn miens, they conduct themselves with poise” was right below his brother’s fists.

“You can dream, but you’ll get better results by drinking milk.”

“Fine, what about the second option? We’ll attract the attention of everyone in town, and Scar’ll definitely notice!” Ever fond of dramatics, Edward threw his support behind the next plan, but Alphonse once again shook his head.

“I think the military police would put an end to that before we find Scar.”

Alphonse imagined the scene: a pushcart all aglow with neon signs, his brother perched on top while enthusiastically waving a flag, himself pulling it, and everyone on the streets giving them a wide berth. He sighed. The flag would no doubt proclaim Meet the Elric Brothers!

If they acted like a pair of suspicious persons drawing the curious stares of everyone around them, no way would the military police leave them alone.

“Personally, I don’t want everyone associating my name with being a weirdo,” Alphonse said, ignoring Edward’s pout. He tapped on option number three. “I’m for this plan. But how about instead of lying, we—”

“It’s not a lie so long as I grow tall someday!”

“Sure. Moving on … If we’re going to spread rumors, it might as well be about something positive, don’t you think?”

Edward frowned at Alphonse’s suggestion. “You mean, like, about us cleaning up litter? That’s so boring, it won’t even count as a rumor.”

“No, I was thinking more like helping people through alchemy. It’ll draw attention and add authenticity about us being state alchemists, which will probably convince Scar it’s actually us, and, most importantly, it’ll improve your reputation.”

“My reputation?”

“Yup, your reputation.”

Edward twitched, and Alphonse nodded gravely.

Edward Elric’s infamy was one of the many concerns that had been weighing on them recently. Throughout their travels, the older Elric brother had punched bad guys they encountered, fought chimeras, trespassed into forbidden areas, and caused collateral damage to objects and buildings alike within their vicinity. Word of these incidents had apparently been embellished and spread, resulting in Edward’s reputation crumbling further.

It was to the point that when Edward had given his name at the front desk of this very hotel, a traveler checking in beside them had paled and murmured, “Isn’t that the punk who destroys everything in his wake? The one who doesn’t leave even a single blade of grass behind? I hope not.”

They would have a lot of travel they’d need to do around the country in the future. It was a good idea to build trust now, before things got worse.

“Gotcha. If we gain attention through good deeds, Scar will show himself and my reputation’ll improve.” Edward smiled, satisfied. Sure, this plan would help their future selves out, but it was more likely that the pleasing mental image of himself being admired by the townspeople had convinced him. His sour mood vanished.

“Yup, that’s right.” Alphonse’s armored face couldn’t display emotions, but he was smiling inside.

The truth was, Alphonse wanted to find a solution to Edward’s reputation problem more than Edward did himself.

While Edward was the target of the biases his poor reputation caused, it always fell to Alphonse to clear up the misconceptions. To take the incident at the hotel as an example, Alphonse had been the one to hold Edward back as his brother had shouted, “Who’re you calling a punk?” Alphonse then had to patiently explain to the traveler that it was all a misunderstanding. The man had practically been in tears, desperate to flee to another hotel. Eventually, Alphonse had managed to get the situation under control.

Alphonse was happy to help his brother, but he still wanted to limit the number of migraine-inducing incidents. Improving his brother’s reputation was the best shortcut to that end.

“All right, then let’s dive right in!” Edward exclaimed.

“Yup!” Alphonse nodded along.

The brothers each had their own motives, but they were united in their goal to attract attention through acts of kindness. They unfurled a map of the town, chose their route, then enthusiastically set out from the hotel.

MORNINGS IN CENTRAL WERE BUSY—and rowdy. Shortly after sunrise, the streets would fill with commuters on their way to work, and cars would blare their horns as they cut through intersections.

Directly across the street from the city-center hotel was a bakery. The owner of the bakery opened the establishment’s creaking doors, preparing for business.

“Mister, got any croissants?”

“A bread roll, please!”

Several bike-riding children on their way to school swarmed the store from all directions. Unfortunately, they were more interested in seeing what kinds of bread were available than stopping their bikes. With a loud clatter, two of the inattentive children crashed into each other.

“Aah!”

“Ow!”

“Oh, hey there, you all right?” the baker said, leaping forward to help the fallen children. Luckily, the children got away with only minor scrapes, but their two bicycles had tangled together. The front wheels of both were bent out of shape. “Well, looks like you’ll have to get these sent to repair.”

The two children seemed distressed by the baker’s assessment and complained. 

“But we were on our way to school!”

“We won’t make it in time!”

That was when, out of nowhere …

“Not to worry!” a loud voice boomed from across the street. The baker and the children simultaneously turned toward the voice. Across the street from them, standing before the hotel’s front entrance, was a boy and a suit of patinaed armor.

“Edward Elric is on the scene!”

The petite boy, with his blond hair pulled back in a braid, dramatically winked at them before crossing the street. His red cloak billowed behind him.

“If you’re ever in need of help, I’m your—whoa, that was close!”

“Ed, look before you cross!”

A passing car honked at the boy skipping across the street, then gave the suit of armor chasing after him a scolding as though Alphonse were his guardian.

“I know that kid.” The baker remembered seeing the odd pair. They had been staying at the hotel for a while now and occasionally dropped in to buy baked goods.

The armored one had a gentle demeanor that didn’t match his appearance and always politely greeted the baker. The red-cloaked young man, on the other hand, looked rather handsome, but both looked and acted testy, so the baker didn’t have nearly as positive an impression of him.

The young man, as he now approached, was beaming as though he’d turned over a new leaf.

“’Scuse me,” he said, trying to sound gentlemanly while stepping in front of the children. He stood before the still-entangled pile of two bicycles on the ground and brought his hands together. He clapped, then brought his hands to the bikes. The moment his palms made contact with the metal, a brilliant light emitted from his hands.

The baker and the children closed their eyes against the light. When they reopened their eyes, the broken bikes were back to normal and lined up neatly in front of the bakery.

“Wow!”

“Was that alchemy?”

As the children cheered, the boy in the red coat passed by the dazed bakery owner and once again clapped his hands together, this time in front of the shop’s door. When the light faded, the broken hinge was fixed.

“Now you’ve got nothing to worry about!” the young man beamed.

“Uh, yeah, thank you.” Faced with such a wide smile, all the baker could do was offer his gratitude, apologizing inwardly to the boy he’d assumed was a brat. “Um, what can we give you in return? How much …”

“I could never! As a state alchemist, there’s no way I could accept payment. Well then, we’ll be off now. Be careful not to crash your bikes again, kiddos!”

With that, the young man suavely flashed a smile at the children, raised a hand in farewell, and ran off with the suit of armor at his side.

“Thanks, mister!” The children called and waved. “Thank you!”

“So that kid was a state alchemist. I had no idea he was so nice.” The bakery owner stood awed at the young man’s actions and smile. Sure, the young man’s cheerfulness had been a tad forced, and there’d been something theatrical about the whole thing, but despite that, both the bakery owner and the children were left with a solid impression that Edward Elric had done a good deed.

“ARGH, I TOLD THEM MY NAME too soon back there!” Edward grimaced as they ran, leaving the bakery behind them.

The moment they’d left the hotel with the resolution to help people, they’d witnessed the bicycle accident and Edward had panicked.

“You probably shouldn’t announce yourself from across the street because people might not hear you,” Alphonse agreed as he ran alongside his brother.

“All right, from now on I’ll tell them right before transmuting. I should probably also stick the ‘state alchemist’ title in front of my name, right?” Edward said.

“Good idea. That’ll make it easier for Scar to notice too,” Alphonse responded. 

“Also!” Edward continued. “While I’m introducing myself, you should help get everyone pumped! Maybe you could make little flags and wave them next to me or something.”

“Got it. Oh, how about this?”

The two brothers picked up some flyers littering the side of the road and used alchemy to transmute them into fans that could be waved around. They discussed how to improve on them as they continued running toward the crowded main street.

Right then, they heard someone scream “Aah!” from a bookstore a little way ahead of them.

A bookshelf that had been piled too high with books had collapsed. A female employee was wringing her hands while standing in front of the broken shelf, and books were scattered all the way to the front of the store.

“All right, there’s our next target!”

Edward shot toward the store with a burst of speed, sucked in a huge breath, and then—at point-blank range and loud enough that the employee had to plug her ears—bellowed, “State Alchemist Edward Elric is on the scene!”

Then he gave the lady a wink so exaggerated it was practically audible before clapping his hands together.

“You can do it, Ed!”

As Alphonse cheered his brother on, a flash of light engulfed the bookstore. The light was blinding, like looking directly into the sun, but when it faded, the cracked bookshelf was completely restored.

“Was that alchemy?”

“That’s awesome!”

The people who’d been drawn by the employee’s scream were astounded by the transmutation they’d witnessed.

One of them tentatively approached Edward. “Hey, I’m working on fixing the building right next door and we’re in a tight spot because our ladder broke. You wouldn’t be able to fix that too, would you?”

“Just leave it to me!”

Agreeing with a wide smile, Edward moved on to the building next to the bookstore and fixed a ladder that had snapped clean in two. While he was at it, he noticed that the handle on the dolly they were using to move cement was crooked and fixed that too. After that, he repaired a few shattered glass window panels and, by the time he was done, a crowd had gathered.

“He’s fixing stuff for free? Who is he?”

“He said he’s a state alchemist!”

“For real?”

The crowd blinked at the nonstop transmutations being conducted before their eyes while deliberating over the boy’s identity. They’d only ever heard of state alchemists conducting transmutations for the military, never for the common people. They found it hard to believe.

As though to reassure them, Edward climbed up onto the ladder he’d just fixed and announced, “State Alchemist Edward Elric! Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

While Edward stood above him with both arms raised in order to attract as much attention as possible, Alphonse echoed his brother’s name while waving his fans in encouragement. “Your city’s very own alchemist, Edward! His name’s Edward Elric!” 

“Whoa!”

“Wow, he’s the real deal!”

The whispers turned into cheers, and Edward’s name and fame slowly spread throughout the city.

MEANWHILE, AT A HOSPITAL near Central Command …

The spacious seven-story hospital building was home to over two hundred rooms, including reception areas, exam rooms, and sickrooms.

Roy Mustang stood in front of one such sickroom, pausing for almost a full ten seconds.

On the wall next to him were plates holding name cards listing the identities of the patients within, and this room had two names. For security reasons, both were aliases. Roy reached out to the name he had used as his own alias and slowly worked the card out of its slot.

The other name would remain there for a while yet. After gazing at the other name for a few more moments, Roy finally grasped the door handle and entered the room.

The modest hospital room contained two side-by-side beds. On the bed closer to the window, sitting upright while reading the paper, was Jean Havoc.

The two of them had confronted a homunculus and both had been gravely wounded. Roy himself had sustained heavy injuries but had managed to get himself discharged, though he’d done so against doctor’s orders. Havoc, on the other hand, had come out of the fight with two paralyzed legs and still couldn’t even get up from the bed.

Roy had decided to drop by after his checkup to grab his remaining belongings. As he stepped into the room, Havoc didn’t give any indication of noticing him.

He made his way over to Havoc’s bed, next to the bed he himself had occupied just two days prior, then silently stood between them. He slid open the drawer of the sideboard he’d used during his stay. The items inside—his favorite fountain pen and the clip he used to hold documents—clattered within the drawer as he pulled it open. He fitted the pen into his chest pocket and was doing the same with the clip when he heard a quiet voice say, “You’re more of a softie than I would’ve expected.”

Roy quietly closed the now-empty drawer before turning to face the bed’s occupant.

Havoc stared at the newspaper; his upper body rested against the inclined bed supporting his back. Roy couldn’t read his expression.

Two days before, when Havoc had confirmed he’d lost the ability to move his lower body, Roy had told him, “I’ll leave you behind, to make sure you have someone to catch up with.”

Roy had left the room immediately afterward and hadn’t heard Havoc’s response. He didn’t know whether Havoc had decided to keep following him or if the man had decided to retire from military life and leave it at that.

Whether it made him soft or not, Roy couldn’t simply discard someone who had gone with him through thick and thin. He wanted to believe that Havoc would follow him. But recalling Havoc’s anguished eyes and shaking hands as he begged to be left behind, Roy couldn’t be sure.

“Any interesting articles in there?” Roy asked quietly, suppressing the roiling emotions within him.

“Not really.” Havoc tossed the paper onto his lap blanket to let Roy read it.

The culprit of a countryside terrorist attack had been caught. A valuable vase had been stolen from an art museum. A new railway track had commenced operations, complete with photos from the opening ceremony. There was a report on the “Person of the Week,” and a detailed recruitment ad for the military police. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The conversation sputtered out there. The lighthearted camaraderie they’d shared in the past when they’d complained about the incompetent members of the top brass, held little bets, and even skipped out on work together was no longer there. During the unnaturally long stretch of awkward silence, Roy quietly watched Havoc’s expressionless face until Havoc shifted his gaze to the window.

“Oh yeah, actually, I did spot something interesting,” Havoc said, picking up a pair of binoculars from the side table. He pointed the lenses toward the outside. “I just happened to take a peek outside yesterday and saw a crowd in the distance. My mother came to visit yesterday and mentioned there was some kinda fuss going on in the city. I was bored, so I took a look.”

As he spoke, Havoc searched to the right and left with the binoculars before stopping, as though he’d found what he was looking for. He adjusted the magnification, then handed the binoculars to Roy. “Look, right by the eastern plaza.”

Roy played along, accepting the binoculars and pointing them where Havoc directed him.

“Wha—” Roy was at a loss for words.

He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, and, wondering if the binoculars were broken, he lowered them to try to see without them. It was no surprise that what he was looking at was too far away to see without assistance, so Roy raised the binoculars to peer through them again.

He beheld Edward Elric. The young alchemist stood at the center of a ring of people gathered in the plaza and was energetically bringing his hands together. Every time his palms met, there was a lightning-like flash, indicating that he was using alchemy. It looked like he was mending things.

Alchemy had the power to reconstruct objects, so naturally, transmutation could be used to fix broken items. That was easy enough to accept. The part that was hard to swallow was that Edward, who had never expressed interest in strangers, was proactively doing good deeds. Even less believable was the fact that his usual scowl was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced by a wide smile plastered across his whole face.

On top of that, Alphonse, who usually stepped in when his older brother got too reckless, was also in on it, waving things that looked like fans while dancing back and forth.

“Impossible!” The words slipped from Roy’s mouth as, for the first time in his life, he was confronted by the full blast of Edward’s sparkling smile.

At the heart of the crowd, Edward shimmied up a nearby streetlamp, and upon reaching the top, shouted something. Roy couldn’t hear him but managed to read his lips.

“Edward Elric! Your neighborhood state alchemist, Edward Elric!” were his words.

“He’s been at it since yesterday, using alchemy to fix buildings and random stuff. He was in the eighth, fourteenth, and fifteenth sectors, or at least that’s what I caught of it. If we include the places I couldn’t see because they were hidden behind buildings, he’s been doing this at over a dozen locations. All places with high traffic too.”

Roy cocked his head to the side at Havoc’s explanation. “So in other words, he’s intentionally putting on shows to draw attention.” If all Edward wanted was to do good deeds, he could be subtler about it. To shout it from the rooftops meant that his true goal was attracting attention.

Through the lens of the binoculars, Roy saw Edward, his crimson coat fluttering about him, send the gathered masses an exaggeratedly large wink.

Roy lowered the binoculars and handed them back to Havoc, cringing at what he’d seen.

“What even was that?”

“Who knows? Not like I can do anything but watch from here.”

Roy had been distracted by Edward’s eccentric behavior, but at those words, he stopped paying attention to what was going on outside and looked at Havoc.

Havoc pulled the newspaper on his lap closer toward himself. “Well, seeing as how I found Fullmetal before you, I guess I’m not completely useless. I don’t know why he’s trying to draw attention, but I suppose I could provide support indirectly, by say, calling this number.”

Havoc pointed at the “Person of the Week” article.

As Roy bent down to peer at the paper, Havoc slowly dragged his finger to the bottom of the segment. There, the article concluded by urging people to nominate upstanding citizens they spotted within the city and provided a phone number to contact. The article then stated that at the end of the year, the nominee introduced in the most popular article, along with their nominator, would receive a prize of one hundred thousand cens.

“We can split it fifty-fifty,” Havoc murmured into Roy’s ear.

Roy raised his head, meeting Havoc’s eyes. There was no trace of Havoc’s recent misery or pain in his pale blue eyes. There was that happy-go-lucky expression, and that hint of sass in his voice. It’d been too long since Roy had seen Havoc looking like himself.

“Fine. We’ll use it to pay for drinks when we celebrate your discharge from here,” Roy replied, giving a quiet smile and a firm nod.

Havoc hadn’t given him a clear answer about his future, and Roy didn’t intend to ask for one. But regardless of whether rehab worked out, Havoc would follow him. Roy believed in him.

Roy stood back up and looked out the front window at the wide blue sky.

“Still, I can’t make sense of whatever Fullmetal’s doing,” Roy said.

“Yeah, wonder why he’s doing all that?” Havoc asked.

“I’ll have some time off in a few days. Maybe I’ll go check in person.”

There was no doubt that the Elric brothers were trying to draw attention, so nominating them in the newspaper was unlikely to cause them trouble—even if Roy still hadn’t a clue what their true motives were. 

Havoc picked up the binoculars at his side and looked at the city again. He commented, “Man, they’re still going at it. Now they’re in the twelfth sector. He’s standing on a residential building’s roof.”

“Before that, he was climbing a streetlamp,” Roy said. 

“Yesterday, he was on top of a fence.”

Roy and Havoc shared a few moments of silence.

“He keeps climbing higher,” Roy said.

“Seems like it.”

As the saying goes, what goes up …

Neither of them needed to say more as the same thought crossed their minds.

A FEW HOURS LATER …

As though to validate the conversation between the two officers, Edward fixed a chimney, then used that as an excuse to climb to the top of it. Alphonse looked up at him and felt overflowing joy.

“You’re incredible, Ed!”

In any other situation, if Alphonse had seen Edward raising his hands high in the air and shouting his name like that, the little brother would have admonished him with a “What are you doing?!” But this time, it was different.

Even though they were doing this to find Scar, it still made Alphonse, gentle person that he was, incredibly happy to help those in need of assistance.

“Well, that’s one truly upstanding alchemist.” From among the overwhelming throng of people, Alphonse heard voices praising Edward.

“He fixed our broken roof, y’know.”

“I got my chair fixed.”

“He didn’t complain or anything, just smiled and did his transmutation.”

As the people happily chatted amongst themselves, some approached Alphonse, who was still devoted to being Edward’s cheerleader. “Hey, I heard you’re that alchemist’s younger brother. Your brother’s a good one.”

“I know!” Alphonse gave a big nod in response.

Short-tempered and violent, always wearing a scowl, foul-mouthed—Edward left terrible impressions on everyone they encountered during their travels, but the true Edward was a deeply compassionate and kind person. As his younger brother, Alphonse was both happy and proud to have people recognize that.

Hoping that they’d be able to remain in everyone’s good graces, Alphonse raised his fans to continue promoting his pride and joy, his older brother. “The alchemist up there is Edward! He’s Edward, the state alchemist!”

“Um, ’scuse me!”

As Alphonse cheered next to the crowd, a small hand grabbed at his loincloth to catch his attention. Meanwhile, Edward began his descent from the chimney toward the outstretched hands of the cheering masses.

“Can he fix my toy too?” A young girl looked up at Alphonse nervously, clutching a wooden horse. “I came because I heard that a nice little alchemist could fix it for me.”

“Of course.” Alphonse knelt on one knee, gently stroking the girl’s soft hair, which got him a smile in return. Alphonse couldn’t physically show it, but he smiled back.

Then he froze.

Little alchemist. That’s what the girl had said. Little. The forbidden word. The trigger that would lead Edward into a terrible rampage. Alphonse had a moment of panic before remembering there was some distance between himself and Edward. He allowed himself to relax.

“Hold on for just a second, he’ll be right …”

Alphonse looked back at the chimney, then jolted.

Edward was staring their way.

He had frozen, still on the ladder coming down from the chimney, hand raised toward the masses, but he was staring at Alphonse and the girl with a dark expression. There was no way he could have heard her from his current location, especially with the roar of endless cheering. Despite that, the gaze he was throwing them oozed with suspicion.

He couldn’t have heard, right? Alphonse swallowed his horror and hastily cheered, hands in the air, “Ed, you can do it!”

With Alphonse cheering and pretending nothing was amiss, Edward cocked his head once more, before once again smiling and waving while he descended the ladder.

“Whew, that was close.” Alphonse breathed out a sigh of relief before taking the girl’s hand and leading her through the press of people who had gathered below the chimney to get their items fixed.

“Ed, can you fix this girl’s toy next?”

“Yup, let me finish up over here, and I’ll be right there!” Edward raised a hand to acknowledge Alphonse before accepting a ceramic doll from an elderly woman in front of him.

“There’s a crack in this doll my husband gave me. Is it fixable?”

“Not to worry!”

Edward pirouetted on the spot before coming to a perfect stop in front of the elderly lady, flashing his sparkling white teeth and striking a pose.

At first, the pose had seemed too flashy but, curiously, now that it’d become part of the established routine, Alphonse found it comforting and suave. Alphonse watched as Edward placed the beautiful, elegant doll perpendicular to him on the ground and brought his hands together.

“All you need is the touch of State Alchemist Edward Elric and …”

The spectators let out an awed “Ooh!” at the dazzling flash from the transmutation. Countless eyes trained on the radiating light, eventually watching it fade.

What appeared in its place was a doll, its porcelain skin smooth and without a single crack. However, its previously diminutive face now seemed disproportionately large and, in place of a dress, it wore strange clothes with swirling patterns. It was honestly less like a doll and more like a bizarre, archaic artifact.

“Ed!” Alphonse buried his face in his palms before sprinting to his brother’s side to whisper in his ear, “I thought we agreed not to get creative!”

“But!”

“No buts! I’m so very sorry. We’ll return this back to the way it was immediately.”

After dipping his head apologetically at the elderly lady, who was frozen in shock, Alphonse snatched the doll out of Edward’s hands.

“Hey, what are you doing to my art?!”

“You mean your arts and crafts?! We’re here to earn a reputation as good people. Isn’t that what we agreed to do?”

“That’s why I remade it cooler.”

Edward seemed so sincere that Alphonse had to hold in a groan. There was nothing he could say. He forced himself to power through it and passed Edward the small wooden horse from the little girl waiting nearby.

“Anyway, Ed, fix this toy for her. You got that? That means returning it to the way it was.”

“Ugh, what’s with you?!”

Edward pouted childishly. Alphonse turned his back on his brother and placed the doll he had given a makeover to back on the ground to retransmute it.

Because their current goal was to make State Alchemist Edward Elric a household name (in a good way), Alphonse had planned to avoid using alchemy himself, sticking instead to a supporting role for his brother.

That said, even though all he needed to do was fix what he was presented with, Edward sometimes took it upon himself to transform the objects into strange novelties. Just a short while ago, he’d turned a cute, lacy baby carriage into a contraption sporting a drill-like growth, sinister eyes, and a mouth. That had forced Alphonse to apologize to the indignant woman who owned it before once again taking it upon himself to retransmute it back to its former state.

“Ugh, right when his reputation was getting better,” Alphonse sighed.

After returning the fixed doll to the elderly lady, Alphonse turned around and saw that Edward had placed the little girl’s toy in front of him. Edward brought his hands together. Alphonse waited with worry, and the girl waited with anticipation. Through Edward’s transmutation, the toy horse with its broken leg was restored—with its shape intact.

“Wow, thank you!” The toy was fixed in the blink of an eye, like a magic trick, and the girl clapped enthusiastically.

Suddenly, they heard clapping that rang out even louder than the girl’s.

“Bravo! That was truly incredible!”

Standing close by was a young man wearing a flat cap, suit, and glasses with thin frames. His eyes glittered with emotion. A camera hung from his neck, and he clutched a notebook and pen.

The young man removed his cap, then gave the brothers an enthusiastic bow. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m a journalist at the Central Times. Am I correct in assuming you’re State Alchemist Edward Elric and his younger brother, Mr. Alphonse?” The young journalist seemed like a very proper young man and introduced himself quickly while presenting his business card.

“In our paper, we have a section called ‘Person of the Week.’ While I unfortunately can’t disclose who because of confidentiality, someone nominated you, Mr. Edward, for your services to the people and to society! I’ve come to request your permission to write an article about you. I’d like to follow and observe you for half a day, and I promise to stay out of your way! Would that be all right?”

“You’re here to do a report on Ed?” Alphonse accepted the business card, shocked.

The Central Times was a big name that Alphonse was very familiar with, and the name on the young man’s business card looked familiar too.

“That column about state alchemists in that magazine … Could that have been … ?” Alphonse said, recalling the article on state alchemists he had read just the day before. The name of the journalist matched the credit on the article.

“You read that?! I’m honored, thank you very much! I’ve always wanted to be a state alchemist myself. I didn’t have any talent for alchemy and ended up going down the path of journalism, but I’m incredibly excited to have the opportunity to speak with you in person like this!” The journalist’s eyes sparkled as he put extra emphasis on the word “incredibly.”

“Oh ho! I guess someone grateful for my help must’ve nominated me.” Edward, the perpetual attention hog, smirked at the mention of getting coverage. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be in the paper, even just once.”

Despite having had more experiences than others his age and carrying a somewhat more adult worldview as a result, when it came down to it, Edward was still an immature fifteen-year-old. Completely unaware of Roy and Havoc’s machinations, Edward gave his assent with simple, childish glee.

“I’ll take you up on that! You can even have a front-row seat so you can see everything better,” Edward said. 

“Are you sure?! Well, that’s incredibly kind of you! Thank you very much!” Overwhelmed by the generosity coming from one of the state alchemists he revered so highly, the reporter’s hand shook as it gripped his pen.

Alphonse glanced at the grateful journalist, then quickly pulled Edward to the side. “Ed, I don’t think giving him such an up-close and personal view is a good idea.”

“Why?” Edward blinked, already holding a broken radio, ready to mend it with alchemy. “If we’re in the paper, there’s a better chance that Scar will notice us, so what’s the issue?”

“Uh,” Alphonse didn’t know what to say.

There was an issue. A pretty big one.

Yes, landing a huge interview in the paper was possibly the most efficient way of improving Edward’s reputation—if no problems came up.

“That journalist seems to have put state alchemists on a pedestal. If he spots something even slightly problematic, he might end up devastated and write something terrible about us,” Alphonse explained.

“Ha ha ha! Al, you’re such a worrywart! It’ll be fine!” Edward laughed off his concern.

“But!”

“No worries, no worries! You’ll see, I’ll play super nice the whole time he’s here!”

Giving a final, firm thumbs-up brimming with confidence, Edward placed the radio on the ground, then clapped his hands together to fix the broken antenna with a flash of transmutation.

In a split second, light enveloped the area, and the journalist and spectators exposed to the seemingly awe-inspiring glow released a wordless gasp. When the light faded, the radio was completely restored. 

“Here, this one’s done!” Ed declared.

“Wow, it’s completely back to normal!” The man who owned the radio stroked it happily. “This thing holds a lot of precious memories for me. I’m so glad it’s fixed.”

“No need for thanks! Nothing to worry about, see?” Edward glanced back at Alphonse with a charming smile as he extended a hand to grant the man a handshake.

But at the man’s next words, Edward’s smile froze.

“Thank you so much, little alchemist!”

“Agh!” Alphonse let out a cry of despair and turned his face skyward in prayer. This was exactly what he had been afraid of.

It was all too easy to imagine what would happen if Edward blew a fuse in the middle of an interview with a prominent journalist. The area surrounding them would fill with screams, and the journalist, upon witnessing the fleeing masses, would slam the reckless violence perpetrated by state alchemists in his writing. The article, published in a major newspaper, would be read by everyone in the city, and Edward’s infamy would spread throughout the entire country of Amestris.

From that point on, they’d be met with scorn everywhere they went. Alphonse felt the world go dark before his eyes as he imagined himself and his brother being chased out of every town. Avoided like the plague by everyone in the country, the two of them would have no choice but to wander the wastelands alone.

“Ugh, Ed, looks like everyone hates us now.”

“I’m sorry, Al. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

“You promised never to say that, Ed!”

“Oh, Al!”

In Alphonse’s mental image, the two brothers clung desperately to each other until they eventually faded into the dust clouds of the imaginary wasteland.

Now that Edward’s reputation had started to improve, there was also more to lose, and it had led Alphonse’s mind down that dark path. But this wasn’t the time to contemplate their bonds of brotherhood. Alphonse needed to overcome this if Edward was to become a beloved state alchemist.

“Who’re you calling a—”

“Ed!” Alphonse grabbed the tail of Edward’s coat before his brother could leap at the man. “Don’t! Hold it in! Didn’t you say you’d behave?”

“Ugh!” At the last moment, Edward gritted his teeth and held himself back from grabbing the man’s shirt and instead left his hand extended for a handshake as he’d originally intended to do before the grave insult. But he made no movement to actually shake the man’s hand. 

“Is something the matter?” the journalist asked. He’d been waiting for his cue to capture the handshake on camera, but paused upon noticing that Edward’s hand had frozen. The man who’d wanted the handshake looked down curiously when the hand extended toward him failed to grip his. Even the spectators, who had been chanting Edward’s name, fell into silence as they became aware of the tense atmosphere.

“C’mon, the handshake!” Alphonse urged quietly into Edward’s ear and, grinding his teeth, Edward slowly grasped the man’s hand.

“Thank you so much,” the man said. Wincing at the vice grip, the man once again tried to express his gratitude. “Um, regarding payment …” Edward shook his head and raised both hands, still moving awkwardly.

“I can’t accept anything like that. Please don’t worry about it.” Usually, the words were accompanied by a cheerful grin, but now Edward recited them stiffly, with no smile on his face.

“Um, did I offend you in some way?”

“No, nothing of the sort!” Alphonse stepped in, waving his hands to alleviate the man’s concern.

The reporter spoke up next, his voice faltering. “But he’s breaking out in a cold sweat. He’s not tired, is he?!”

“It’s nothing, you’re imagining it! My brother’s always full of energy and smiles, after all!” Alphonse said, subtly sliding himself between the reporter and Edward to hide his frozen brother behind his back. He glanced at Edward over his shoulder. “Ed, you look too serious!”

“Uh.”

“Smile! Smile, Ed!”

“Ugh!”

Heaving in a massive breath, Edward gathered his resolve and finally managed to force the corners of his mouth to twitch upward.

“There’s absolutely no need to offer anything in thanks. Please leave everything to me, your city’s very own dependable State Alchemist Edward Elric!” Twirling once so his coat flared out around him, Edward gave the crowd his most exaggerated wink yet. Even if his eyes were a bit empty, neither the journalist nor the gathered masses noticed. They all gazed at Edward with absolute trust and adoration.

“State Alchemist Edward Elric. What a truly wonderful person!” the journalist murmured breathlessly, and as though mirroring his awe, the people surrounding them also spoke his name.

“Edward Elric!”

“What an amazing state alchemist. He uses alchemy for the people!” The voices extolling Edward swelled in number as more and more people started to participate.

Edward overcame his earlier impulse to lash out and waved his hand in response to the cheers. Watching him, Alphonse imagined all the terrible scenarios no doubt lying in wait in their future and felt a headache coming on.

It was as though Alphonse had predicted the future, because the hurdle they’d just overcome was only the start.

“’Scuse me, Mr. Shorty, please fix my toy!”

“Oh what a cute little state alchemist! Please fix the roof on my house.”

“I wanted to ask if you could fix some stuff for my kid’s playground, but … Hey, alchemist, where’d you go? Oh! You were so short I couldn’t see you.”

“Astounding, you’re so popular! I’m so incredibly honored to do a report on such an amazing person!” The journalist boxed Edward in from behind, trembling with wonder and joy as his pen sped across the page. Meanwhile, crowds of people lined up in front of Edward with ever-rising expectations, all while unwittingly repeating the forbidden word. Edward had no escape.

Every time he heard the taboo word, Edward’s eyes twitched along with his fingers, moments away from attacking. Alphonse desperately tried to cover for him.

“What? My brother looks mad? No, sir, you must have imagined it!”

“He seems sorta unfriendly? That’s not possible! He’s just focused on transmuting!”

“Ah, you’re concerned whether he’ll fix that? Please don’t worry, he’s got it—aah! Not another artistic rendition!”

They needed Scar to notice them and to improve Edward’s reputation. Alphonse was now painfully aware that achieving both of their goals was no easy task. All he could do was continue running around putting out fires.

“I’M BEAT.”

That night, Alphonse flopped face-first onto a table in the dining hall back at their hotel. Edward was sleeping in their room, and Winry was staying over at Gracia’s.

There were only two other guests in the dining hall, perhaps because it was after dinner hours. Alphonse watched the pair chat amicably while enjoying their evening meal, then let out a long sigh.

His armored body couldn’t feel physical fatigue, but he felt drained mentally. The entire day had been filled with nothing but stress. He’d had to pacify Edward, whose ire was triggered every time the word little was uttered. Whenever the journalist or crowd seemed like they might grow suspicious, he’d had to cover for Ed. And more than once, he’d had to personally restore items transformed into unrecognizable oddities by Edward’s whimsical transmutations.

Still, the effort had been worth it. 

Though Edward had come close to snapping, he had refrained from rampaging and had somehow managed to maintain his mild-mannered, charming persona.

Sitting up from the table, Alphonse reflected back on the journalist’s behavior. After jotting down every one of Edward’s words and actions into his notebook, the journalist had been so moved that when they finally parted ways, he’d actually shed tears.

“I’m the happiest man in the world to have gotten the opportunity to report on such a miracle worker! I promise to write an amazing article. I’ll send you a draft of the piece immediately, maybe even as soon as tomorrow!” he gushed.

They stood there on the street as the sun set, the journalist gripping Edward’s hand firmly before the man veritably skipped back to the newspaper headquarters. Alphonse watched him go, and felt all-encompassing relief.

Edward, on the other hand, had spent all day acting out of character, which had apparently exhausted him. Upon returning to the hotel, he ate dinner, then promptly collapsed into bed.

It had been a tough day, but now that they’d survived it, all they needed to do was wait for the article to be published. After that, everyone across the nation would know about Edward’s good deeds. From here on out, the two of them were sure to be welcomed wherever they went, even if they visited every corner of the country. Just imagining that was enough to make Alphonse’s exhaustion dissipate.

All they needed to do now was continue helping people while they waited for Scar to show up. There was still a chance Edward would snap, but Alphonse felt more confident in his ability to cover for him now that there was no journalist watching and recording their every move.

“I’m so glad we didn’t parade around town in a pushcart.” Alphonse suppressed a mental grin as he felt another wave of happiness, and opened the magazine he’d taken from their room, which he’d once again left to let his brother sleep in peace.

Perhaps what made him happiest was remembering how incredibly cool his brother had looked, smiling kindly while conducting swift transmutations, all while surrounded by a crowd of people who looked on with hope and awe.

“It would be so great if he could just keep being an amazing brother like this. Oh! I should let Granny Pinako know that we’ll be in the paper! She’ll be so surprised.” Even though no one else was around, Alphonse chuckled to himself, until someone interrupted him.

“Mr. Alphonse!”

Alphonse jolted and almost ripped the magazine page he had been in the process of flipping at the sudden shout that echoed through the dining hall. Turning around, he saw the journalist, who should have already been back at the newspaper office, standing at the entrance to the dining hall.

“Something terrible’s happened!”

The journalist was completely drenched in sweat, as though he’d sprinted the whole way to the hotel. Alphonse began to stand, sensing that whatever matter was at hand, it was serious.

“What happened?!” Alphonse asked while pouring water from the pitcher on the table into a glass to hand to the journalist.

The journalist gulped down the entire glass of water, then began to speak while leaning against the table to catch his breath. “Some info came in, and I wanted to let you know as soon as possible! I’d just finished writing the draft of the article and was leaving the office when we got a tip. Are you aware that an art museum was robbed yesterday?”

“Oh, well, yes?” Alphonse nodded, unsure why this information was relevant. He’d heard on the morning radio news broadcast that a valuable vase had been stolen from an art museum located in Central sometime late the night before. “If I’m remembering correctly, the stolen object was made by some renowned artist and is worth eighty million cens. Apparently the thieves haven’t been caught yet.”

“That’s correct. Now, this is confidential information that hasn’t been made public yet, but it appears that the thieves damaged the vase while stealing it.”

“It was broken?”

Alphonse came to a sudden realization. 

Stolen works of art were often sold on the black market, but if they were damaged in the slightest, they would fetch an entirely different price. The thieves would no doubt be desperate to fix the stolen work of art, and alchemy would be their best bet.

“So you think the culprits would try to get my brother to fix it?!” Alphonse surmised.

“Exactly! According to our source, there’ll be a black-market auction in a town nearby tonight. We believe that Mr. Edward has either already repaired it or that they’ll be coming by soon to ask him to so they can enter it in the auction.”

“Oh no!”

Alphonse had no interest in being made an accomplice to a crime. He quickly sorted through his memories of the past day. According to what he had heard on the news, the vase was made of white porcelain, had indigo patterns, and was quite large. He couldn’t remember seeing anything that fit that description.

“My brother hasn’t fixed it yet. That means the culprits might come here!” Alphonse said, leaping to his feet and causing his chair to screech against the floor. He dashed out of the dining hall.

It wasn’t as though they’d announced where they were staying, or their room number, but it wasn’t hard to figure out either of those things. Rather than risk causing a scene during the day, it seemed more likely that the thieves would elect to sneak in to make contact with Edward at night.

“We’ll be in trouble if Ed fixes the vase without realizing anything! We gotta tell him as soon as possible!”

“Let’s hurry!”

Alphonse and the journalist cut through the lobby and raced up the stairs toward the brothers’ room on the fifth floor, where Edward was sleeping.

“Mr. Edward is a wonderful person who uses alchemy to help people out of the kindness of his heart! I won’t forgive anyone who tries to take advantage of him!” The journalist’s face was flushed, and his fists clenched in righteous rage. “You don’t find people like him often! He’s so animated, yet there’s something subdued about his eyes and the way he holds himself. His gaze is intense, but he’s also capable of offering kind and thoughtful words to others. He even strikes that pose when he’s doing alchemy. He’s so generous, he gives his spectators a show,” the man rambled on with praise.

The journalist had interpreted Edward’s fidgeting as him being “animated.” His blank expression after being forced to restrain himself was “subdued.” Those moments where he had come close to snapping were him being “intense.” The words he’d barely managed to squeeze out were “thoughtful.” Apparently his over-the-top performances were “generous.”

The wording really does make a difference, Alphonse thought.

“I didn’t leave out anything while writing the article! I brought the draft with me, so please take a look at it later!” the journalist said, happily patting his jacket pocket, where the manuscript apparently was being stored. Alphonse was truly grateful that they’d managed to avoid ruining the journalist’s misguided ideations.

But right now wasn’t the time to revel in relief. Alphonse and the journalist charged up to the fifth floor side by side. Upon reaching the correct floor, they saw two men standing in the long, door-lined hallway. They were holding something large wrapped in cloth and standing in front of the door to the room where Edward slept.

“Edward, sir, we came because we have a request,” one man said as he knocked on the door. His voice sounded normal—so much so that it was difficult to imagine that he was a thief. But white porcelain decorated with indigo was peeking out from behind a knot in the bundle carried by his companion.

“There! That must be them!” the journalist cried.

In most cases, criminals would avoid involving themselves with state alchemists. But as a result of his actions over the past few days, rumors had spread that Edward was an extremely friendly and kind alchemist. The thieves had probably decided that as long as they told a sob story about their precious vase, Edward wouldn’t suspect a thing and would even offer his services free of charge. On top of that, Edward was also only fifteen, and it was possible that the thieves were underestimating him.

Alphonse quickly strode down the hall toward the men. There was no need to rush; the stairs were their only escape route. However, Alphonse didn’t want to bother the other guests and had determined that the best course of action was to keep this quiet and efficient.

The conversation between the two men became more audible as he approached.

“Is he out? That’d suck, heard he’ll fix anything.”

“If we sell damaged goods, it won’t go for much. What do we do?”

“Not much else we can do. We’ll just have to get it fixed before the next auction. Let’s head back for tonight.”

“Damn, after we came all this way!”

Edward had apparently been so tired that he’d slept through the knocking. The men tsked in annoyance before stepping back from the door. 

Alphonse imagined the following scenario: the men would turn back the way they’d come, and Alphonse would stand in their way. He and the journalist would catch the culprits, then hand them off to the military police. By doing so, they would avoid waking Edward and bothering the other guests, and everything would be wrapped up within minutes. That’s how Alphonse was sure it would go down—until he heard one of the men speak his next words.

“Damn that tiny little state alchemist.”

The man’s voice was barely more than a mutter. However, immediately following his words, an ominous creak echoed through the hall.

The pair of men turned questioningly, and they, along with Alphonse and the journalist, all stared at the door. Four pairs of eyes locked on to the door to Edward’s room, which seemed to slowly bulge outward into the hall.

In the next instant, the door exploded with a violent crick, crack, crack. The figure that emerged from the wooden wreckage was not Edward the gentlemanly state alchemist, but rather Edward the violent punk.

“Who … are … you …” the low, menacing growl was accompanied by hands curved into claws that he swung up, “… calling … tiny … ?!”

Roaring, Edward sprang forward with impressive force, landing in front of the man not holding the vase. Edward lifted him by the collar.

“Aaaaaaah!” the man screamed, more terrified of Edward’s visceral rage than the fact that he was being strangled.

“Aaaaaaah!” his companion also shrieked, horrified by his point-blank view of Edward’s unbridled ferocity. In his fear, he tossed the vase away.

“Aaaaaaah!” Alphonse and the journalist wailed, as the vase, worth eighty million cens, flew up into the air.

Edward’s roar seemed to swallow all their screams as he bellowed, “I’M NOT TINY!!!!!”

Alphonse and the journalist managed to catch the vase, but when they saw Edward standing before them, his eyes were wide and wild.

“Everyone keeps on calling me tiny—tiny! Why do I have to put up with people calling me ‘little’ twenty-eight times today alone?!”

He’d apparently been keeping track.

“Twenty-eight times! Twenty-eight times? Twenty-eight times?! No more!!” Edward repeated his count while spinning the man in his hands around and around, and at the words “no more,” he hurled the guy down the hall.

“Uargh!” screamed the unfortunate man, his eyes still spinning, as he collided with the wall. He spun a few more times before crumpling to the floor.

“Ah … ah-aah …” The remaining man warbled. He fell on his rear upon seeing his companion get knocked out, and began scooting backward. Edward stepped right in front of him and stared him down.

“You think I’m short?”

“Huh?” The man had no idea what the question meant, but all he wanted was to get away from Edward, so he shook his head frantically. “N-no, sir.”

“Then am I tall?”

“Y-yes, you are! So tall, you reach the sky!”

“Then why’d you call me tiny?!”

Edward grabbed the fleeing man by the legs and heaved him up. The incensed alchemist twisted his upper body backward to gain momentum, then slung the man forward with all his might.

“It burns! It burns!” The man yelled and writhed, feeling the carpet scratch against his back as he slid several meters along it. The inglorious slide ended when the man crashed into the wall and lost consciousness. The journalist and Alphonse watched everything in stunned silence from the end of the hall.

“M-Mr. Edward,” the journalist murmured, still holding the vase and at a loss for how to act when faced with an Edward who was behaving nothing like the young man he’d seen during the day. At the sound of his voice, Edward spun around.

“You with these guys too?” Edward said, eyes wild. 

“What, no, it’s me! The journalist who was with you during the day!”

“So you are with these guys!”

Apparently his ears were no longer functioning. Mumbling gibberish, Edward grabbed a box for storing bedsheets that was lying in the hall and lifted it above his head, then began chasing the fleeing journalist with the intent of stuffing the man in it.

“Don’t judge me, all right?! I’m growing! I’m still growing, I tell you!” Edward shouted.

Upon hearing the racket, an employee arrived, having dashed up the stairs to the scene. “Excuse me, mister, are you having a little trouble?!”

“Who’re you calling Mister Little?! Adding ‘mister’ doesn’t make it any better!” Edward turned sharply toward the new voice and tossed aside the box to shove a room service cart that had been parked in front of another guest’s room. The cart rattled down the hall before crashing into the employee, and both the cart and employee went down.

He’s not fully awake, Alphonse realized. Edward had roused upon hearing the word tiny, but he still wasn’t fully alert. Barely conscious, logic meant nothing to him, and all the stress that had piled up during the day had exploded.

“Ed, we need you to calm down!”

“We? Wee … you’re callin’ me wee?!”

“No, how’d you even get that?! What’s wrong with your ears, Ed?!”

There wasn’t much they could do when Edward was like this.

“Mr. Alphonse, what’s going on with Mr. Edward?! Why is he so mad?! He seemed like such a wonderful person during the day!” the journalist cried out, while Edward once again chased him with the box.

It wasn’t just the journalist; Edward was now going after another guest who had come out of their room at the commotion. The whole ruckus headed down the stairs.

Alphonse heard screams in the distance.

“Mr. Alphonse, please answer! What happened to the calm, kind gentleman Mr. Edward used to be?!” the journalist asked.

“I don’t feel so good,” Alphonse said, clutching his nonexistent stomach as the hotel turned to pandemonium around him. 

APPROXIMATELY ONE HOUR had passed since the start of Edward’s rampage.

The police had come to drag away the thieves and were taking a statement from Edward, who blinked innocently at them after having finally woken up. Meanwhile, Alphonse sat across from the journalist in the dining hall.

The journalist had unrolled the draft from his pocket and, despite having proclaimed it was complete, was now scratching away at it again, sometimes writing additions and at other times scratching things out.

The hotel had gradually settled back down after its trip into chaos. Alphonse had fixed the broken walls and doors scattered all around the hotel, as well as any shattered dishes. Edward had agreed to clean up the wrecked room after the military police left.

As he continued editing his manuscript, the journalist rubbed distractedly at the bump that had formed on his forehead from when he had tripped. When Alphonse saw the journalist erasing the words “kind and thoughtful,” “gentle demeanor,” and “well-mannered,” he slumped. He wondered if instead of “Person of the Week,” they’d get a “Monster of the Week” article.

The revisions were inevitable now that the journalist had learned the true form of his beloved state alchemist. Edward, in his half-asleep and stressed state, had chased down completely innocent bystanders. Apprehending the criminals hadn’t come anywhere close to making up for the rest of the violence, and there was no point in even trying to make excuses.

“You should write the truth, exactly as you saw it,” Alphonse said, resigned.

“I’ll be doing exactly that,” the journalist responded without lifting his head, his pen still moving.

Alphonse solemnly reflected on the past day. They’d planned on continuing their good deeds until Scar appeared, but it wouldn’t mean anything anymore, because as soon as the paper with the article was out, Edward’s good reputation would be gone.

What a fleeting dream, Alphonse thought wistfully, sighing. At the same time, the journalist stood up, apparently finished with his revisions.

“Here, this is the draft. Please take a look at it when you have the time.” The journalist pulled out a carbon copy from under the manuscript. He folded it carefully into fourths before offering it to Alphonse.

“Thank you.” Alphonse accepted the paper, but also had a hunch he knew what it contained. He couldn’t get himself to unfold it right then and there. Without reading the draft, he walked the journalist to the exit before turning to head back to their rooms, exhausted. A voice calling out from behind him made him pause.

“Mr. Alphonse!”

When he turned back toward the entrance to the hotel, Alphonse saw the journalist standing out in the street, his hat in his hand and illuminated by the streetlamps.

“I wrote the truth as I saw it, just as you said. Mr. Edward wasn’t quite what I’d call a poised and elite state alchemist, and he even showed a side to himself that was foul-mouthed and violent. Yet despite that”—here, the man paused, before smiling brightly—“despite that, he was true to his own emotions and seemed more like a real, living person than any of us. Even while half-asleep, he brought the hammer of justice down on those evildoers and proved himself worthy of being the pride of our country, a state alchemist.”

Having said his part, the journalist bowed, then replaced his hat while carefully avoiding the bump on his head. He hurried off down the empty cobblestone roads.

“Mr. Journalist,” Alphonse said warmly, standing alone in the lobby, “thank you, truly.” 

Alphonse voiced his gratitude for the man who had disappeared into the night of the city. He climbed the stairs to his room, his footsteps the only sound in the tranquil hotel now that the police had left. 

Keeping his steps light so as to not wake any sleeping guests, Alphonse quietly opened the folded paper in his hand.

Edward was someone who was a little—no, extremely—reckless, and at times he could be wild. When he snapped, it was beyond all control. Despite that, and much to Alphonse’s happy relief, here was an example of a time where others still managed to notice the kindness buried deep beneath Edward’s prickly exterior. 

Alphonse came to a stop in front of their room and started turning the recently fixed doorknob while unfolding the draft.

“Ed, I got the draft of the article. Do you want to read it togeth—” Alphonse abruptly snapped the door shut again.

Standing there in the empty hallway with his hand still on the doorknob, Alphonse stared at the words at the top of the page.

The journalist had done as promised. He had written the truth—exactly as it was.

He wrote about how Edward had done good deeds through alchemy, and included all the wonderful things people had said. He wrote about how Edward had managed to catch the bad guys, even while half-asleep. It was excellent writing—honest and without embellishment.

But it was too honest.

The headline, written in large text at the top of the article, read “Little Alchemist, Big Deeds.”

Alphonse stared at the paper for a full thirty seconds before quietly folding it. He didn’t want to think about how Edward would react upon reading it.

The journalist hadn’t meant it maliciously. There was no reason to think that anyone else would have been aware of the reason behind Edward’s rampage. Most people didn’t have such severe reactions to being called short, after all. The journalist had probably figured that Edward’s foul mood had been caused by being woken up when exhausted. Even if Alphonse did tell the journalist the truth after everything that had happened, he imagined the response: “He flipped over something that trivial?” It’d only prove that Edward was petty.

Alphonse didn’t have a clue how he was supposed to even begin handling this.

All he could say for certain was that when the time came that Edward would try to break into the newspaper company’s office on a rampage, Alphonse would be the only person who could hold his brother back.

That, and the fact that once the paper was distributed throughout the country, the forbidden word would likely establish itself as an epithet for Edward. When that happened, it would once again be Alphonse’s responsibility to pacify his brother.

Well, Alphonse thought, it’s not like Ed had a good reputation to begin with. This was nothing new.

At least, that’s what Alphonse tried to tell himself.

In the end, it was Alphonse’s fate to run around covering for Edward. At this point, he might as well give up and accept that.

Feeling strangely enlightened, Alphonse opened the door once again, this time to help Edward, who was no doubt working on cleaning up their room. Instead, Alphonse found Edward sleeping, oblivious to his little brother’s concerns and snoring away without a care in the world.

Alphonse was met with a cracked pitcher, an open trunk, and crumpled clothes strewn all over. The room, trashed in the wake of Edward’s rampage, remained a mess. It was clear at a glance that Edward had exhausted all his energy flailing about earlier and had fallen right back asleep.

Alphonse didn’t have any words.

He draped a blanket over his brother’s exposed belly and silently cleaned up the room.

Reflecting on how everything that could have gone wrong had indeed gone wrong throughout the day, Alphonse prayed from the bottom of his heart that, if nothing else, their original goal from the first day—to draw out Scar—would meet with some success.

Maybe if he wished hard enough, his prayers would be heard.

As if in answer, Scar appeared the very next day. On top of that, part of the newspaper building was destroyed in the ensuing battle, and the “Person of the Week” section was gone for good. It might have been a gift from above to the jaded Alphonse, who needed someone to cut him a break.

Sometime later, Roy and Havoc learned of the demise of the “Person of the Week” and sulked over losing their free drinks. Likewise, Edward threw a tantrum when he realized he would not be in the paper.

No one needed to know that Alphonse, and he alone, felt relieved.