Author's Note: Hello again! This one-shot uses the same basic idea as in chapter 1 (as though you didn't already know) but goes about it in a different way, ...and I included Alfons Heiderich from the first FMA movie. There's just something about his character, and I dunno why, but it made me want to squeeze him into one of my fanfics. As always, enjoy :)
An Alternate Explanation of Why Edward Elric Hates Milk
Sitting at the table like this, all four of them – Edward, Alphonse, Heiderich, and Winry – felt good. After having been gone for 2 years Edward was finally able to return home, and he brought a new friend along with him… or perhaps 'was forced to bring along' would be more accurate since Heiderich absolutely refused to be left behind. There they sat eating lunch sandwiches and drinking milk, that is, all except Edward. "You never drink your milk, Edward, but it's not as though it's poisoned," Alfons Heiderich chided. "I hate milk, it's disgusting!" Edward shot back. Winry giggled, "He won't drink milk, even for us." With a serious look on his face Alphonse asked, "Brother, why is it that you won't drink milk?" Without even thinking Edward started, "It reminds me of –" and broke off as he realized his error. "Brother, you've never told me. What does it remind you of?" Edward hesitated, his younger brother's face was innocent—far too innocent to know of life's harsh truths—and yet he had to learn sometime. He sighed, "It reminds me of something that happened when I was four." The three listened intently.
'Momma, can I play outside?' 'Of course, Edward. Don't stay outside too long or you'll miss lunch!' He smiled giddily and ran out the front door the same. 'He was in such a hurry he forgot to shut the door' Trisha sighed to herself, put down the potato she had been washing, walked to the front door, shut it, and returned to her station at the kitchen sink washing potatoes, a 3 year-old Alphonse clutching the hem of her dress all-the-while—never leaving her side.
Outside the other 4 year-olds waved to Ed signaling him to come play, but he found them to be dull. Near one of the neighbor's cow pastures he spotted a group of five older children—perhaps a year or two older than himself—playing a game of knee-ball*; to him this was far more interesting. He walked up to them standing slightly outside their circle then asked, 'That looks neat. Can I play?' They ignored him. The only girl among the group kicked the ball at him – he grabbed it easily (not that she had kicked very hard) and asked again, 'Can I play?' The five glanced at each other then one who seemed to be the leader said, 'Sure you can play. But you can't use your hands, you have to hit it with your legs.' Edward was so happy he was getting to play a new game that he didn't notice the grin their leader flashed or the other members' grins, snickers, and giggles.
They played hard; deliberately kicking the ball past him, making him go out of his way to kick it back, running him in circles. Before long he was worn ragged. Down on the spot he went. 'Ah…so…thirsty' he panted between breaths. 'Don't worry,' their leader said, 'we'll get you something real nice to drink. Just wait right here.' He hung on each word, savoring it, and when he had finished talking, he grinned at the girl and one of the boys who then walked with him across the cow pasture leaving the two other boys to watch Edward. After he caught his breath he looked up. 'Uh, they didn't look like they were heading to any house,' remarked Ed. One of the boys nervously laughed, glanced over his shoulder at the pasture and replied, 'They're just, uh, takin' a short-cut. Yeah.' 'Oh.'
By the time Edward's stomach started to rumble, they returned. The boy (that wasn't the leader) held a glass barely a quarter full with some of the contents dripping down the outside; there was grass on his overalls and dirt on his cheek that hadn't been there before. 'We got you some nice, warm, milk,' the girl said. 'Fresh from a cow? !' Ed asked, surprised, as he took the glass. 'Oh, it's fresh alright,' mumbled the boy who had handed him the glass, barely suppressing laughter. 'Wow! You guys didn't have to do that for me,' exclaimed Ed. 'Oh, but we did,' their leader said, 'Drink up.' And so he did. He took the first sip then drew back, 'Ew, this milk tastes weird.' But he was thirsty, and they were all staring at him waiting for him to finish. The rest of it he quickly gulped down. There was a moment of silence. Then: 'He drank it. He actually drank all of it.' Suddenly all five of the older children burst out into wild laughter. Edward just stood there perplexed. 'That wasn't cow milk, it was bull-milk! I can't believe you drank it, what an idiot!' their leader cackled. Their laughter, like hyenas, drowned out the world.
"Mein Gott im Himmel!" Heiderich exclaimed. Winry asked, "Did you throw up?" "Of course I threw-up. Ever since then milk tastes exactly the same as bull semen." Edward bitterly scoffed. Alphonse asked the most important question of all: "Why would they do that?" And then Edward spoke one of the harshest truths life has to offer: "Because children are evil."
* In case anyone is confused, knee-ball is a very basic version of children's soccer with no goals and no scoring system. Not that it's that important…