He was enormous! How he even fit into his uniform, Ed would never know. Muscle covered every inch of him, and he was at least seven feet tall. He was also completely bald except for a lone blonde curl in the center of his forehead. If he thought the principal's mustache was meticulously kept, he was dead wrong. This mustache was the most epic of the mustaches he had ever seen.
The giant looked at them all, falling out of their bunks groggily, his beady blue eyes shining. "Good morning, recruits!" he called out joyfully, his voice an extreme baritone. "My name is Alex Louis Armstrong, your physical training instructor! Time to wake up and get your exercise clothes on!"
Not being able to fall asleep quickly the night before, Edward had investigated the dresser. There were three different outfits inside for each of them. One looked like a dressed-down version of the military uniform, without the medals and epaulettes, and was in a dark shade of grey. Another set of clothes was a pair of black workout pants and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. The other set was black as well, containing shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt. There were also seven pairs of white socks, probably one pair for each day of the week.
He was one of the first to go to the dresser, ready to change out of the clothes he had worn yesterday and the night before. He felt gross, like he needed a shower. But he paused when he opened the drawer.
His body... he didn't want to show it to anyone, not the way it was now.
Edward waited for Alphonse to finish changing and gestured for him to come over. Al held up a blanket, trying to look inconspicuous, while his brother changed behind it. He hadn't had to ask why Edward wanted this to be done-he already knew.
Unfortunately, the grinning green-haired boy noticed.
"Whatcha hiding there, chibi? Something small?"
Edward's eyes narrowed dangerously and his scowl deepened, but he finished changing and pulled on a pair of white gloves he had brought with him, then stepped out from behind his brother. The rest of the boys had put on the shorts and t-shirt, but he had put on the pants and long-sleeved one. He took off his dirty socks, his back to them, and pulled on a clean pair, then his black boots that he had worn here. 'I guess they don't supply new shoes, too,' he thought, but that was fine with him. He loved these boots. They also kind of made him taller.
Armstrong made no comment about his state of dress, instead he opened his pocket watch. "Ten minutes. Tomorrow, let's work on five, shall we?" He stuffed it back into his pocket and then made for the other door in the room, the one that held a mystery on the other side. He unlocked the door and shoved it open, and the boys followed, hesitant once more.
It was a hallway, small and cramped (at least for Armstrong, which meant it was pretty roomy for the boys), and made of the ever-present concrete. One fluorescent light shone in the middle of it. There seemed to be another door in front of Armstrong, because they heard another key in a lock, and then they were outside.
It was still dark out, but the sun was starting to rise, casting a greyish pallor across what looked to be a parade ground. It was completely dirt with one tall tree in the middle. If all eleven of the boys had spread their arms and linked hands, they might have been able to surround the trunk.
Armstrong arranged them into half a platoon and put them at ease. Shortly after the other boys came through another door, and the girls came through another. Five boys fell into rank in the first platoon, and the rest of the kids formed another. Martel stood by the door the girls had come from, Dolcetto by the other. Roa was standing where Edward's group had come out.
Armstrong took out a clipboard from the folds of his shirt. It was small in his meaty hand. He scribbled something down on it and then turned his attention back to them.
All of a sudden, he whipped off his military jacket and posed, twisting his body so that they got an eyeful of his back muscle. A few of the kids in the front jumped back in alarm, a few girls gasped. Edward's eyebrow quirked up. So he really was all muscle. Disgustingly so.
"Children," he said in his deep voice. "As your physical training instructor, I will do my utmost to sculpt you-" he changed poses, turning back around and touching his fists together, flexing his biceps and triceps, "-into masterpieces of art! By the end of your education, you will all be beautiful creatures, beautiful enough to even rival me!" Another flex, one arm curled, the other punching the sky. His eyes glittered manically.
Silence.
But silence did not affect Alex Louis Armstrong. As if he had heard a giant round of applause, he went back into a normal standing position, using one hand to flick his one lock of hair back, although it went straight to its original position immediately after.
"Now we will begin stretching exercises!" He stuck his arms straight out to his sides. "Mimic me, my pupils! Spread out, let only your fingertips touch your neighbors'."
They all did as they were told, spreading out until only their fingertips touched. The ranks were ruined, in Edward's opinion. They might have been in rows, but they were uneven now, some of the kids having longer arms than others. It didn't faze their teacher.
"Arms down!" He flopped his own arms down. "And now that we all have enough personal space, so that we do not hit each other, we will stretch!"
He led them through some stretches, not wavering in his confidence or joyfulness in the slightest. Feeling thoroughly stretched out after five minutes, Edward wondered what would happen next. And if his body could handle it.
"Now, children, we will do some jumping jacks! Thirty, on my count, ready... One!"
Everything was going fine for Edward until number ten. Suddenly, his left leg decided it wanted to stay where it was. He fell sideways, but he caught himself with both of his arms. He gritted his teeth, pulling himself up back into a standing position. He tested out his left leg experimentally. It was working fine now.
When he went back to his place, he noticed that they had all stopped.
"Are you alright...?" Armstrong started, then faltered.
"Edward. Elric." Edward said, scowling. "Everything's fine."
Armstrong's eyes widened slightly before nodding. "As you were, recruits! Fifteen!"
His leg held up for the rest of the jumping jacks. They move onto push-ups, where they teamed up with a partner. Fortunately he got his brother Alphonse. After thirty, they switched positions.
"And... thirty!" They all stood up, dust all over their black clothes. Some left it there, others brushed it off. "And now, you will run around this parade ground ten times. I suggest you keep a steady pace all the way through. Sprinting will tire you and you will not be able to keep it up. This is not a race. Some of you are more fit than others, I have noticed that. It doesn't matter how bad you are at the beginning, only that you will improve as the days go by. Do your best, because you can't do any better. Line up!"
The children mingled in mob-like formation behind Armstrong against the inner wall of the grounds. Edward bit his lip, repeating a mantra in his head, hoping the words would go to his leg so that it would cooperate with him.
"You have an hour. As you proceed through the months, you will get faster, stronger. When you can all do this in under a half hour, you will have even more exercises to complete to ensure you do not get used to this, get soft to it." He cleared his throat, took out his pocket watch, waited a few seconds and then snapped it shut. "Start!"
They all took off, some faster than others, the green-haired boy actually sprinting. Alphonse stayed with Edward, Fletcher with Alphonse.
His leg worked fine. Three laps. Then it buckled beneath him and he sprawled on the ground. He caught himself yet again, tearing the glove on his left hand. He growled low in his throat. He shrugged off Alphonse and stood up on his own. Edward took an experimental step, then started running again. Fifteen paces away, he fell. Somewhat ready for it, he balanced himself so he fell right, colliding with the wall. He supported his weight on his right leg, panting.
"'nii-san..."
"Go on, Al. Finish."
His brother didn't move.
"Go!"
Fletcher tugged on his lookalike's arm and they started to run again. Alphonse keep watching his older brother out of the corner of his eye.
"My brother is the same, stubborn. I think you should let him go on his own," Fletcher whispered. Alphonse furrowed his brows, knowing that's what he should do, but he didn't want to leave his brother on his own. Fletcher had no idea what was wrong with him.
Edward pushed himself off of the wall, grabbing his left pant leg and lefting his leg up with great effort. As if the motion jump-started it, it started to work again. He hesitantly took a few steps forward, then started to run again.
This time when he fell, it was against someone else. They grunted in pain as he fell on top of them. He used his right arm to lift himself up and he rolled off of them.
Their eyes met and he blinked. They were blue, sky blue. Blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, a black t-shirt that fit snugly across their chest-
"Are you alright?" she asked, curiously. "I've seen you fall a few times."
He furrowed his brows. She had beat him to the punch. Wasn't he the one who should be asking her if she was okay? He'd fallen on her, and she had broken his fall. But she stood up easily and brushed herself off. Edward sat back and tried to push himself up. A hand entered his vision and he looked up at her. She cocked her head to one side. Hesitantly, he took her hand and she pulled him up.
Suddenly, she gripped his hand, her eyes wide. "Your arm, it's..." And, as if something clicked into place in her mind, she looked down at his left leg. A hole in the knee, from his constant falling, showed her the glint of metal underneath. "Your leg, too?"
Edward hastily pulled his hand out of her grasp, leaned against the wall.
Armstrong popped up beside them, startling them both.
"What seems to be the problem?"
The blonde opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by Armstrong himself. "Limbs bothering you, Elric?"
Edward's eyes widened. "How did you-"
"Everyone knows your case, Elric. But it won't hinder you if you can master it." He gestured with his magnificently-muscled arms. "Go forth, young ward. You do not have to run, but you must at least walk, at your own pace."
"Sir, could I-"
"You may, Miss Rockbell. But go! Time is ticking away!"
And just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone again, sprinting up to the next group of kids in front of them, turning around and talking to them whilst running.
Edward ignored the girl and started to walk, slowly, feeling with his leg, trying to understand it, trying to figure out when it was going to collapse under him. The blonde walked beside him.
"Is that why you're wearing the winter clothes?" she asked.
He grunted in reply.
"Are you ashamed of them?"
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was watching him curiously. Then he looked forward again, scowling.
"Yes. And it's none of your business."
"Do your bunkmates know?"
"No, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Well, they're going to wonder why a perfectly healthy-looking boy is stumbling around while he exercises. They'll think something is seriously wrong with him. Like, rabies."
He turned to grumble something to her, but the words got lost in his mouth. "Rabies," he said instead, and then snorted, a smile flickering on his face. Then he grunted in pain, clutching his left leg mid-thigh.
"It wasn't connected right," she said, worriedly.
"Obviously."
She scoffed. "And what do *you* know about automail?"
"Absolutely nothing."
She pounced on the subject enthusiastically. Throughout the remainder of the ten laps, she stayed by him, talking his ear off.
'Figures. The first girl I meet is taller than me. And she's a grease monkey.'