Disclaimer: As always, I own none of what exists in the Naruto or FullMetal Alchemist worlds. I only semi-own the girls brought in (and totally own the general plot). The girls are loosely based, and by now "loosely" is definitely the key word, on friends of mine, though considering how much they have changed over the course of the story, they are hardly who they are now.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm alive. Two word: Graduate School. Actually, add three more: is a bitch. Now that I've got that on my chest, hi everyone! It's been a long time coming (and in the works), but things are finally getting moving again. I've been doing a lot of brainstorming (and plot bunny feeding) in between thesis research and wanted to make sure things looked good in my head before committing to them. Hopefully, if I can get it all done, it will be as epic as it seems in my head. Cross your fingers, eh?
Anyway, a guest recently commented on the Fangrlz II: Legends that "Sorry but Tobi is Obito. Why is he madara? Madara was the sensei from Obito Uchiha." Since this guest commented as a guest and thus I could not reply in a private message to this, I shall do so here and hope that this guest will continue to read to this point and see the answer. I will also try not to sound as offended as I was upon reading that comment. So, dear guest, if you look at the publish date at the top of the story, you will notice that the chapter and problem to which you are referring was written exactly a year ago. At that point in the story of Naruto, the fact that Tobi was in fact Obito and the student of Madara (since I assume the "from" was supposed to be "of") had not been revealed, since that is a very recent revelation. At that time, Tobi was rather openly calling himself Madara. Common sense might state that if Obito lied to everyone else about being Madara, he would probably continue to lie to everyone else about being Madara, including Katie. Thus, not knowing any different, everyone calls him Madara.
Also, to ANM, who commented as a guest and thus is out of reach with private message: Haha, yeah I see the irony. When I first started writing this fanfiction, the online manga translation I was using apparently had that Pein-Pain typo in it, so I went on for quite some time believing it was actually Pain. When I realized the truth, it was too late (Iwastoolazy) to go back and change everything, so I just rolled with it and continued to call him Pain. It sounds the same either way, so I guess I could take a short cut/cheat and say that since it's written in first person present the way it is, spellings get lost in the mental translation. But that's just the easy way out. If I ever get around to giving the first two books a "face lift" (i.e., cleaning them up/adding detail/etc.), I'll be fixing that. I just don't feel like hunting down and replacing all of those chapters with that error right now. Glad you're enjoying the story though!
Anyway, without making anyone reading this wait any longer, here's the next chapter! I hope it's worth the wait!
Chapter 3: No Lack of Sin
Politics and evil,
All one and the same.
Satan hides behind a different name.
-o-o-o-
By the swish of fabric and soft snick of metal gears, I know that Edward Elric's impatience has not decreased in the least. He continues to pace the hotel room, and I track him with my ears. For the past two hours, he has paced. I've taken the time to recline on the couch and rest my eyes. Alphonse sits in an armchair across from me, soundless save for the occasional click of metal when he shifts, restless in his own way.
Ed tried to interrogate me when we first arrived, but when faced with my stubborn silence, he gave up and resigned himself to wait for Mustang and Hawkeye to join us. I can almost feel him glare at me from time to time, but I ignore it. I have not gotten much rest lately, so it is nice to sit still for once, even if it means…
Rocks shift and I snap my head up and around. Through the mist, two shapes loom. The first to emerge is a man, tall and lanky, covered in ragged bandages. Yellow eyes, surrounded by black instead of white, peer down at me in a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Akatsuki? But I don't recognize your face. Ah, well. So sorry about your friend. I didn't know you were an ally."
I clutch Kaitlyn's body – corpse – closer to my chest with one hand, glaring up at him. He didn't sound sorry at all. My right hand drifted to the hilt of my blade. "Who are you?"
"Interesting question." He spreads his arms. "This body is Mū, Nidaime Tsuchikage of Iwagakure no Sato. I, however, am Yakushi—"
"Kabuto?" I stare up at him in shock and he blinked.
"You know me?"
I don't answer his question, thoughts reeling. Mū-Kabuto is somehow possessing (or maybe just controlling) the Second Tsuchikage, but that could only mean one of two things. Either this jump has gone into the past again or he is using – "Edo Tensei."
Now his expression is somewhere between amused and perplexed. "Right again." He twirls a kunai around one wrapped finger and I half-draw my sword. "But who are you to know these things?"
"I'm called Yaiba." I want to stand – to get out of my current, less defensible position – but a part of me can't let go of Kaitlyn.
His yellow eyes flick down and then up. "You wear Orochimaru's old ring. How did you get that?"
A new voice cuts in before I can answer. "We don't have time for this, Kabuto."
I shove down the more unpleasant memories and start to sort through the ones from my clone. They're rather uneventful and full of snow, save for the encounter upon arrival at Briggs, of course. No doubt Maes has had to field multiple questions about me and my evaporation – even though it was not exactly me. They won't see it that way, though, and even if Maes attempts to explain the concept of chakra, his explanation will likely go way over their heads. I don't think he even understood it completely.
An alchemist might find it interesting, but even then, they'd probably rather dissect me to figure out the truth behind my claims. Chakra is too close in appearance to "magic," after all. It is not likely an alchemist would swallow the explanation of physical and spiritual energy. I might just skip over that topic with the coming conversation and just play it off as being my ability as a homunculus. After all, that might just be the case.
But if that is the case, then my chakra is not chakra at all. Have I been using souls to create my clones? To change my appearance? To move faster? Jump higher? The thought is sickening.
A short rap sounds at the door. Alphonse creaks to his feet and moves to answer it. "Colonel Mustang, sir." He quickly shuffles out of Roy's way as the man sweeps into the room and fixes his black gaze on me.
"Alright. Here I am. Explain. Where is Hughes? Who are you? What are you?"
I sigh and push myself up right. "Which question do you want me to answer first, Colonel?"
"What, you'll answer his questions but not mine?"
I return Ed's glower with one of my own. "I told you, Fullmetal. I was waiting for him to get here so I didn't have to repeat myself over and over again. Now if you're quite done throwing your temper tantrum, have a seat and I'll be more than happy to answer your questions as well." My gaze then shifts back to Roy expectantly.
There is no humor in his expression as he crosses his arms. "Where is Hughes?"
"Briggs. Next?"
Ed, who has all but throws himself into an armchair, frowns in confusion. "Briggs? Isn't that up north on the border?"
I nod. "Yes."
"Why would he be there?"
I ignore the annoyed glance that Roy sends him and prop my feet up on the coffee table. "It's the safest place for him to disappear. He's a smart man, and he pieced together something that he really shouldn't have if he wanted to continue sucking down air. Luckily, I was there to stop his assassination at the hands of one of the Homunculi." Their eyes widen. "They were going to kill him and frame one of your own."
Roy drums his fingers on one arm. "I knew he was looking into something, but he never said what."
Guilt flickers across Ed's face, and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Well?"
He swallows. "What did he find out?"
I laugh. Of course that would be his question. "To put things simply, Amestris is a giant human transmutation circle." They stare at me. "Ever wonder why, since its founding, it has been almost perfectly circular and its borders have barely budged? The Father of the homunculi made it that way – rules it from the shadows. They're the ones that started the war in Ishbal. You have to paint the circle in blood, after all, and Ishbal sits on one of the primary points of the circle."
Alphonse makes a choking sound. "That's – that's impossible."
Roy paces the room. "But, why?"
"Power. Their so-called Father wants to sacrifice every single soul in Amestris to force the Gate open so that he can, as he says, eat God. Consume Truth would be more accurate, though."
Ed's face has gone pale and his hands curl into shaking fists against his knees. "How do you know all of this?"
I shrug one shoulder. "I guess you could say it's my job." I unfold my fingers and hold out my hand for them to see the strange ouroboros circling my palm. "Truth sent me." I smile thinly at Ed. "Oh, and the bastard sends It's regards."
The petite alchemist is immediately on his feet. "You came from the Gate?!"
Roy breathes, "Homunculus."
It is easier to agree to that assessment than try to explain otherwise, so I close my hand back and nod, shifting my gaze to Alphonse. I smile softly at him. "Your body is there with him, Al, sustained by your brother's life, you could say. There is a way to get it back, but it is one that you two must discover on your own. I am sorry, but I will not give you that secret."
Alphonse nods mutely, but his brother does not stay silent. "But you're telling us everything else?" His golden eyes abruptly turn suspicious. "Why? What's in it for you? Nothing's free."
I sigh. "Let's just say that I owe Truth more than I would care to admit. It sent me here as part of my own – equivalence, I suppose. It didn't tell me how I was to do things, just to get them done. I chose to tell you these things and not tell you others. In return…" I pause and rub my neck. "In return, I ask only that you stay out of my way and keep your heads down. Do you think you can do that?"
Roy's posture stiffens, if that is even possible. "You told us all of that and you expect us to do nothing about it?"
"I expect you not to act rashly. If they move on you, by all means, defend yourselves. Just do not go out of your way to get your heads taken off, because when I go down there, it is not going to be pretty. If you get in my way, you will die."
Roy snorts. "What happened to being a virtue? Humility, was it? Rather full of yourself for that."
I am not entirely sure where my next words come from, yet they flow smoothly but sharply from my lips. "Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less. It is the courage necessary to undertake those tasks that are difficult or unglamorous and to graciously accept the sacrifices you must make for them. It is being faithful to oaths made, no matter their size. It is refraining from despair. It is confronting fear and uncertainty. That is Humility."
By the end of my short tirade, my face is inches from Mustang's. Several heartbeats of silence follow, during which my palm slowly cools. I had not noticed it growing warm. Finally, when Alphonse shifts slightly, I draw a breath and turn away. "Now, I have work to do." Four long strides bring me to the window. I throw it open and mount the sill. "Excuse me."
With a pulse of chakra to my feet, I hurdle into the night. I'll keep calling it chakra. I don't want to think of what the alternative truly means. Nor do I want to sit still and think for too long about what I should do here. If I wait, there is no telling what might change. If things change, the knowledge I have will lose its effectiveness. I have to act now.
It's time to make a house call.
-o-o-o-
Violent upheaval,
Cities drenched in flame.
Wickedness we know we can contain.
-o-o-o-
The third laboratory is all too easy to infiltrate. I am almost frightened by the simplicity of sneaking in. The people here truly cannot combat the skills of a shinobi. After spending so long in the Naruto world, I had forgotten how powerful such skills could be. I had forgotten how weak mundane people are. All it takes is a simple illusion and I'm in.
I can't say how long it took me to find the door – to navigate the maze of underground tunnels until I came across the massive white room. I never put any thought into the fact that this room mimics Truth's realm so closely. Granted, there are pipes everywhere, and the recreated Gate has some color to it, but there is no denying the similarity. Is Father really that full of himself? Or is he just homesick?
After drawing a deep breath, I push the heavy doors open and enter the dark room beyond. It is just as unsettling as the previous room, but for the opposite reasons. This cavernous chamber is dark, damp, and cluttered with pipes and thick wires. There is no doubt that anyone choosing to live down here would not be human. There is no life here. No light. Only darkness and despair.
The fake Gate slams shut behind me, but I do not glance back to see what – if anything – closed it. Instead I continue forward, gaze fixed on the only point of light in the room: the small spotlight above Father's throne. It is a disgusting thing reminiscent of Nagato's chair thing.
I pause and blink. Nagato's chair thing? My eyebrows furrow as I try to hunt down the source of that thought. I've never seen anything like that. The only Nagato I know of is one of Jiraiya's long-ago pupils, and my memories of that healthy young man do not match up with the emaciated figure that now rises to my thoughts. Where does that memory come from?
"Who are you?"
The smooth female voice interrupts my mental search, and I snap my gaze up from the floor to Lust, who stands about a dozen feet in front of me. Gluttony peeks around her, chewing lightly on his sausage-shaped fingers. When did they get there? I mentally curse myself. I was distracted to the point that Lust, wearing heels, could sneak up on me. That could have been fatal.
"Call me Humility. I am here to speak with your Father."
She frowns. "How do you know about Father?"
"I know a great many things, Madame Lust, but I will only discuss that knowledge with your Father." I look past her to the throne, where I can make out a figure in white hunched over on it.
Lust shifts to block my line of sight. "Father is not seeing guests at the moment."
"He will see me."
"And what makes you think that?"
I raise my voice slightly so that it echoes more through the chamber. I want him to hear. "Truth sent me."
Lust opens her mouth to speak again, but Father's voice sounds, soft but strangely clear in the large space. "Let her through."
Before Lust can move, I continue past her and smile at the displeasure in her gaze. Father straightens slightly and lifts his head to watch me as I approach. I stop a respectable distance away, all too aware of the click of Lust's heels behind me.
Father's stern gaze slides from my face to my right hand and then locks on my eyes. "Who are you?"
I have no problem answering his questions plainly – at least not yet. "Humility."
One of his eyebrows lifts. "Humility, you say. And to what do I owe the pleasure of hosting one of God's virtues?"
I frown slightly. "Truth is no god, just as you are no saint."
"Come to judge me, have you?"
"I prefer the term enlighten."
"I'm sure you would." Thick silence falls between us as Father presses his lips into a thin line. The sound of water droplets impacting the wet floor seems almost deafening in comparison. Finally, he shifts and tilts his chin upward. "Well? Enlighten me."
As much as I want to simply lunge forward and tear out his exposed throat, I get the feeling that such an action would not succeed, even with my skills. This man – this thing – can use alchemy without so much as twitching a muscle. I am truly in his domain here. I have to play nice for the time being.
"You are not perfect and never will be, even if you succeed in consuming the one you call God. You are inherently flawed – steeped in blood, death, and sin. No such creature could be called perfect, if perfection even exists."
"I am free of sin."
"Incorrect."
Father rises with a scowl. "I removed every sin of man from my being to create my children. There is no sin left in me."
I shake my head. "And that is where you are sorely mistaken. Let us work through this assumption, shall we? Let us dissect who you are – what you are."
I start to slowly pace before him, a picture of ease and confidence. "You do nothing yourself, making your children act for you as you sit down here in the dark. This is Sloth. You wish to consume Truth. This is Gluttony. You wish Truth's power for your own. This is Envy and Lust. You want the entire world under your control. This is Greed. You think you are worthy and deserving of such power. This is Pride." I stop and look to him, unable to keep myself from laughing at the thunderous expression on his face. "And that fury in your heart that you feel now? That is Wrath. So, tell me, how is it that you lack sin?"
Father takes several deep breaths, looking just about ready to strangle me, before an expression of serenity overtakes his face. He sinks back down to his chair and folds his hands on his lap. "You are mistaken. You see what you wish to see, and those things simply are not there."
"Pride."
He drops his chin. "No. Truth."
"You know nothing of Truth."
"And you do?"
"We don't have time for this, Kabuto." The deeper, richer voice comes from the second shape that now shifts into my field of view. My eyes snap to him and widen in shock at the sight of the wild mane of black hair, the red armor, the pale and cracked skin, and the greyish, ringed eyes. Despite the Rinnegan, I know that face.
"It can't be . . . Madara?" The cracks in his skin tell me he's like Mū-Kabuto – another Edo Tensei – undead, in a way.
Madara arches an eyebrow at me. "Hm?"
I slowly rise, Kaitlyn slipping to the ground as my arms go slack in shock. "You're like him, but that's not possible. You have to be dead to be brought back as an Edo Tensei summons." My mind spins, head shaking slowly. "That's – that's not right. If you're dead, then he's – he's not . . . he lied to me."
Though I can't see his mouth for the bandages, Mū-Kabuto's eyes quirk slightly, as if he's smiling. "Talking about Tobi, I presume?"
Anger steadily replaces surprise as lightning shimmers in the air around me, power humming in my ears. I asked Tobi for the truth, and he promised it to me, but he lied. Every word he told me was a lie. I thought he was Madara and he confirmed it – used it to manipulate me – and it was all a lie. Was everything else he said to me equally false? Was everything else he did part of the charade? Was the kiss…?
I press my lips into a tight line. "No. I do not."
A faint smirk twists the corner of Father's lips upward. "Then who are you to question me, hm?"
I open my mouth but am interrupted by a loud shout from somewhere behind me. "Oy! What's she doing here?!" I sigh. Envy. "That's the one, Father. That's the bitch I was telling you about – the one that stopped me from killing Hughes. Made me look like an idiot."
With a soft sigh, I turn toward the approaching Homunculus and take in the snarl on his face. "Ah, Envy. Or perhaps you are feeling more like Wrath at the moment?"
He stomps toward me, rubbing his hands up one arm and then the other as if pushing up sleeves. "Oh, I'll show you wrath all right. Can I kill her, Father? Please?"
My stomach sinks. If Envy is that eager to fight me, then he'll no doubt be going into his massive, dragon-dog form. Though I'm sure that neither the other Homunculi nor Father would interfere with a battle requested in such a way, I get the feeling that the fight would be rather one-sided, and not in my favor at that.
On his throne, Father hums. "Yes. You may."
Shit.
-o-o-o-
Free my hands from bondage.
Take these chains away.
Running from destruction,
Avarice will kill you in time.
-Disturbed ("Avarice")
