author's note: This is an alternative universe, but I have tried to parallel the characters' situations in this like in the manga, if that makes sense. If you can't figure it out, then it's no problem because I probably didn't write it correctly. Either way I hope you enjoy this. I'll admit I received inspiration from reading Never Let Me Go, but I've tried to add my own input. Hopefully I've pulled it off –– just. If not please don't flame me.

Their ages in this are around thirteen.

Title: Ugly Duckling
Genre: General
Rating: K+

Skipping lessons was never a good idea, but the punishment failed to scare the young students whilst they filed out of their classroom, hurrying towards the playground. Benches were soon occupied, and four girls pointed towards a group of boys wearing smart school uniforms. Ties billowed in the breeze, untucked shirts flapping against their bodies.

One was jumping up and down. He pounced onto another boy, and they fell to the ground, wrestling each other, grinning and laughing. Several girls began to laugh as well, and some even cheered for their favourite. It was silly really. Nothing unusual. Boys would be boys.

'Oh! There he is!'

This caught everyone's attention. Eyes swerved to a tall, medium-sized boy. He pulled on his sleeve, feeling awkward and unwanted. His dark skin contrasted well against his bright, white hair which was beginning to grow lengthy. A girl proclaimed he needed it cut and fast otherwise they would all catch lice.

That was a stupid statement to make. All the girls had long hair. Why would a boy catch lice and not them?

Red eyes flashed their way, and several girls giggled. But there was no nicety to it. The audience continued to stare, mouths slightly ajar, waiting patiently for the show to begin. No one could hear the boys chatting to one another, and there was no chance they could try and distinguish their words what with the girls behind constantly nattering.

There was a sudden gust of wind. A book flew out of someone's arms, and laughs erupted from the crowd. It was comical how humans could be so easily amused. However despite the sudden disruption, the boys hadn't noticed, focussed on their heated discussion. One of them –– black haired and good-looking for his age –– stepped into the middle of the crowd and yelled at one of the boys.

'Wait until Roy talks to the Ishvalan. It's so funny!'

'Hardly.'

Some females stopped talking abruptly and looked at the blonde, hugging her knees and watching the male crowd. After a break, they turned to each other whispering, a sharp tone added to their speech, making it obvious their attention had diverted to the blonde, at least for the moment.

Olivier didn't notice though. She was engrossed with the situation before her, although she knew what the outcome would be. It was always the same, and it was sickening how they all came out to observe, as if these boys were animals in a circus. The temptation was too much though. She couldn't miss out.

Finally Roy turned away from his victim and faced the tanned boy. There was a long, horrifying pause until he rounded up on him, patting his chest proudly, and slamming his palms onto his knees, encouraging the Ishvalan to step up. Fight him. Why was violence the only form of entertainment for this gender?

The Ishvalan remained still. Olivier couldn't read his expression. He was too far away, but she knew he was struggling to decide. To be honest, the girl, herself, would happily have kicked Roy straight in the groin. There was more competition with men though: the Ishvalan could step down, but he would look like a coward. Yet if he were to challenge Roy, then the outcome might be even more humiliating.

Anyway the girls weren't waiting for a decision because there wasn't going to be one.

'Look at him. He has no idea.'

Olivier turned to the girl beside her. She, too, was blonde but her expression held uncertainty and worry. Large brown eyes stared ahead and Olivier wasn't sure if the girl was here willingly.

'Oh!'

She whipped her head around just in time to catch Roy throw a punch at the Ishvalan's jaw. He fell back clumsily, mud splattering over his nice, sparkling white shirt. Olivier almost jumped up in surprise. The blow was powerful.

Silence enveloped between them. They were now engrossed, in awe, possibly petrified. This was something extraordinary. Roy was taking this issue one step further because he could.

The Ishvalan was all alone. Roy had a whole tribe standing behind him, supporting him, cheering him on, cackling at the ugly duckling.

Olivier's heart squeezed, but not out of sympathy. This boy was weak, but he could be stronger if society allowed him. She was furious but had no intention to stand up and fight. She would watch the boy crumble in defeat and weep at how pathetic his life was. In due time she would help him stand.

Roy Mustang was not a threat.

'Come on, Miles!' Roy's scream shrilled the entire playground. He was desperate. He wanted Miles to fight back. He wanted to believe this boy did have some guts.

There was hesitance. The Ishvalan claimed hold of his injured arm, and jarred his teeth, glaring at his rival. Then, suddenly, he lunged at him, his fists finding Roy's cheeks and slamming him to the ground. This upset Roy greatly. He yelled and grabbed Miles' ankle, flipping the boy over.

He was winded. Miles wasn't able to stand in time. Roy hurried over and kicked him repeatedly in the stomach, blood staining the grass, until finally he stopped. Miles didn't move, arms wrapped around his form.

'... It's going to happen soon...' A girl whispered behind Olivier, who was currently trembling in anger.

Roy wiped his face with his hand, before turning to his men. They cheered, patting his back and walking away with their hero. The black-haired boy didn't turn around.

'Haha, he's going to do it!' Soon the girls were talking again, recovered from the disgusting shock witnessed several seconds ago. Olivier's heart dropped to the floor when Miles scrambled to his feet and watched the boys disappear.

'Five, four, three––' However the girl wasn't able to finish.

Miles screamed in the boys' direction, clenched hands shooting behind him, curses spitting out of his mouth until he kicked the ground, punched the air, shouted rude, offensive words, flailing his limbs.

Laughs broke out from the female gender. They chatted enthusiastically, pointing out every stupid move Miles was making in his temper. Olivier had to admit he did look ridiculous throwing a fit like this. He wouldn't achieve anything. She lowered her gaze, finally uninterested.

The girl beside her giggled. It was the first noise she made. Olivier failed to hear any truth in her giggle though. She was only giggling for the sake of being unnoticed. Her whole life had been crushed and the least she could do was go on in life without being trouble.

Miles stopped.

It was sudden. Almost disturbing how his energy was zapped out and he had to rest. The girls hushed into silence, as if expecting him to lash out again. They needed more entertainment from this pathetic excuse for a person. His mixed races weighed him down. His prominent Ishvalan features were unpleasant for the Amestrian eye.

Olivier stood and walked to him. Questions on the lines of 'what is she doing?' entered her ears, but she didn't allow them to bother her. The girl's eyes remained focussed on the white-haired boy who currently had his back to her.

Once she was at arm's reach, Olivier halted. Did he know she was there?

She could hear his heavy breathing from where she stood. She could feel his anger.

Olivier reached out a hand to him, 'Mi––' He swerved and hit her. It didn't hurt, but the shock made Olivier gasp and several girls behind gasp too. Miles stared, suddenly aware of what he had done, where he was, who she was. He widened his eyes in horror.

'I–– I'm sorry.'

'It's fine,' Olivier spoke, voice hard. She watched him for a few seconds, brows narrowed. 'You're covered in blood.'

He stumbled and looked down at his clothes. A tiny sob broke from his throat.

'It should wash right out, so don't make a fuss about it,' Olivier said, attempting to hinder the cry Miles was desperately holding back.

Red met blue, and for a second she saw a ferocious power which needed to be released but something was holding this energy back. Miles wasn't weak. Those who made him feel weak were.

If only others would notice.

'Don't give Mustang another thought. Confidence only comes from him when he's surrounded by allies.'

Miles looked down, watching the grass. 'It's none of your business.' At once he regretted what he said, but Olivier had already turned away, not wanting anymore to do with this silly situation.

The girls were still standing, as if waiting for the blonde to return. As soon as Olivier arrived, they departed together, chatting amongst each other, some peering over their shoulders to glance at the blue-eyed girl. Olivier turned to the blonde she had sat beside. Their gaze met and brown-eyed female asked: 'Is he all right?'

'It's nothing new to him,' Olivier replied, returning to the building, the girl a few steps behind.