Author's Note: When I wrote this, I tried to make it applicable to both mangaverse and animeverse, but after the publication of the manga Chapter 74, it became apparent that this can only be animeverse. I got the idea for this fic when I was thinking about Hohenheim meaning "Grand Administrator."
They call me Hohenheim.
Hohenheim, van Hohenheim, Hohenheim of Light. Whichever version they use, it's always Hohenheim, Hohenheim, Hohenheim.
Hohenheim means Grand Administrator. It's not a name, it's a title. An office. A status. Hohenheim is not my name, but everyone calls me that.
I've forgotten what my real name is. I suppose I must have had one at some point, but...it's just been so long. I can't remember my childhood. Did I once have loving parents? Was I truly a little boy once, like a normal child? Somehow, I find that hard to believe. Must just be an effect of my long life, this doubt, this forgetfulness.
What was my name, before I became Hohenheim? Was my name Edward or Alphonse? Was that why I thought of those names for my sons? Was my name Algernon, Oglethorpe, or Ambrose? Maybe my name was something extremely mundane, like Bob or Joe. Maybe I disliked my name so much I forced myself to forget it. It's been so long that it's pointless to try and remember.
Maybe that's why I have no name. I do not deserve one. Someone who has lived for centuries as I have is no longer quite human. There is one who would say we are more than human, but I tend to think we are less. How could we be greater than humans, if humans are allowed names and we are not?
There are days when I long to hear my name spoken to me. I just want people to stop calling me Hohenheim. Even if you have to call me Bob, at least don't call me Hohenheim!
Other days, I am not bothered a bit. People know me as Hohenheim, so to them that is my name. Maybe they just don't realize that Hohenheim is a pitiful excuse for a name.
Some days, on the other hand, I am at peace with my name. Trisha calls me Dear, Edward calls me Daddy, and Alphonse calls me Dada. There are some days, some blissful, bright days when it doesn't matter so much anymore. The days when no one calls me Hohenheim, and even if they did, I wouldn't care.
A name is more than just a label for the person. It is a part of their identity. If my name is Bob, that will make me a much different person than if my name is Ambrose. Hohenheim is my title, but in a way it is also my name. And it creates my identity – the identity of a man named Grand Administrator, the identity of a man who has forgotten his own name.
But whether my insides are defined by Bob, Ambrose, or Hohenheim, I know that there are people who can look past my name (or lack thereof) and see who I truly am. And really, when it comes down to it they're the only ones who matter.