A/N: Hi there! Please review and favorite, they make my day! Uh, sorry about the fake-out yesterday, I swear I uploaded the chapter but it just did not want to work.

This damn brat…

Despite himself, Shota couldn't help but smile at the boy in the interrogation room as he continued to be an unrelenting jackass teenager. He seemed to understand what was going on, and yet proved to be as unhelpful as possible.

He was distracted from the immensely amusing scene of Tsukauchi getting stared down by a petulant child by his phone buzzing, and he carefully maneuvered his bandaged hands to grab it. When he saw the message, he felt like laughing and crying all at the same time.

King Rat: He's the one. Ran it through our application database, 99.9% positive match.

Oh, it felt so good to be right. Imagine if they had really… yeah, that would have been a disaster.

It wasn't that he wasn't thankful to the kid, the boy- Edward Elric, was it?- had saved his life back there. It wasn't even really the illegality of it, and although that was a pretty big sticking point, at least he could relate a little bit. Shota was borderline illegal anyway. No, it was the whole thing about how, you know, this was a child.

It didn't matter how skilled, how good his quirk was. How good of a fighter he was, how used to situations he was. None of that mattered, because last he checked, training child soldiers went against so many war codes it wasn't even funny. Some of the reactions and answers Elric was giving were like he was used to giving mission reports and spoke with the same flatness Shouta sometimes saw in police officers. The whole thing screamed of military. Which military, he wasn't sure, but it was still very much a war crime.

The country thing was bothering him too. How did a foreigner get into the country without leaving any record of it? They hadn't run the name or the face yet, but he assumed there wouldn't be any record of those either. Whoever trained this kid really wanted him off the grid. His quirk seemed immensely powerful, and well controlled. They could be dealing with a human weapon situation, meaning the government could not, under no circumstances, find out, or it would be anarchy as they try to find answers. Or worse, use the kid for themselves.

No, that wasn't a solution.

He tuned back into the conversation absentmindedly, bandages itching. Tsukauchi was asking a question, and Elric seemed really serious. From the answer and the pause afterwards, he could guess that the detective had asked something about the name.

Oh, no.

Fullmetal.

That was what they had called him, that man and the others. The only people who had those types of names underground were either villains, assassins, or legends. Normal vigilantes tended to have less outwardly aggressive names, especially those as young as this. Tsukauchi's expression said it all, and Shota resisted the urge to sigh.

Child soldiers, human weapons.

This was bigger than they thought.

"There once was a boy who flew too close to the sun, on wings of wax."

The listener looked up sharply, the storyteller giving him a side-eye grin as he continued.

"He tried to reach the sun, tried to reach for what wasn't his, and paid the price for his insolence, for daring to disobey his father's warnings and doing what he thought was best. His wings melted from the heat of the sun, and he fell into the water and drowned. The story is meant to be symbolic, you know."

It was quiet, peaceful even, and so bright. He couldn't help but glance up in time with the words, imagining the boy falling from the heavens he put his innocence on the line to reach.

"... but in my personal opinion, the symbolism is a little misplaced here. Is it the boy's fault, his naivety and curiosity that killed him? After all, the sun did nothing wrong by existing. The boy paid his price for the trespass he made, and he will feel the consequences of his actions for the rest of his life. It was, in the end, his own foolishness that allowed him to even be high enough to receive punishment for the transgression."

9 months earlier...

The alley was dark and foreboding, perfect atmosphere for his debut. The mugger had absolutely no clue that he was there, and there was no one else around except for a camera on the corner.

Absolutely flawless.

Problem was, he needed to be closer to catch the guy correctly. He didn't think he was faster than the cheetah legs this guy had, and he was trying not to use his alchemy (Ugh, quirks were such bullshit. The first time Ed had finally found a bookstore, he must have spent over 48 hours in there reading up on the world and the language, and some of the stuff had made him double check that people weren't just creating chimeras out of half the people they met) on camera or in front of anyone, so that left a surprise attack.

Now, the famed Fullmetal Alchemist may be the perfect man for almost any situation, but there was a definite almost there. He was great at explosions, weapons, researching, threatening people, etc., but stealth was not on that list.

Seriously, Colonel Bastard, how in hell was he supposed to be quiet with two automail limbs and a penchant for frontal assault? And Al was even less stealthy, bless his armored heart, meaning he had very little practice with this.

To be fair, he had never expected he would be in this situation.

He carefully stepped around a small crinkly wrapper partially hidden by shadows as he was, and took a moment to assess the absurdity of it all. Here he was, in a different country in a different world, speaking a different language and becoming a 'vigilante' in order to beat information out of villains about the criminal equivalent of the bogeyman.

Yay for him.

On the outside, he was silent as he could be, but on the inside he had just finished up cursing out the Truth in Aerugonian and was moving on to what little Xerxsian he understood. Every now and then his leg or arm would make a little clanking noise, and he would freeze up for a tense moment before he noticed that the figure counting bills hadn't heard a thing.

He slipped behind a dumpster, directly behind the man now, and felt almost giddy that he had managed it. He carefully tensed up his lower body, gathering up the pure explosive power needed to catch this guy unawares, bringing himself low to the ground in order to spring at him and catch the dumbass.

And then his leg squeaked. Loudly. Like it was screaming.

Karma's a bitch. He knew he shouldn't have chased those pigeons earlier.

The guy- gosh, this guy was old, must be in his sixties or something, Ed was actually kind of impressed- snapped his head up fast enough to look like it hurt, whipping himself back and forth from the sheer urgency in his movements. He obviously didn't see anything, since Ed was hiding behind the dumpster (no, he wasn't short, he was quite the perfect size, stop thinking he was short, Mustang you absolute insufferable bastard).

Ed's target bent down to pick up the few bills he had dropped, probably intending to get the hell out of there before some upstanding citizens came to investigate. Honestly, Ed should do the same, because any sane person walking into a dark alley would certainly call for whatever passed for the cops here, if they saw him in a mask standing above another guy down for the count.

Yeah, going to jail is a big inconvenience. Honestly, he just needed to beat up the right people to get the right info, drag this world's equivalent of Father back to Truth, and reap the benefits of having his brother back, helping Teacher, keeping their alchemy, etc.

No way some low-life mugger was going to take that away from him.

Ed exploded into motion, going straight over the dumpster and tackling the criminal to the ground, where they tussled for a moment. Unfortunately, for all of his experience fighting, this dude had about a hundred pounds and two feet on Ed,and managed to get free and figure out how to stand.

Those damn legs-

Another mad leap to try and slow him down, but he was already in motion and the only thing Ed could do was try and chase after him before he got to a crowded street. This was the first lead he'd had since coming here (perks of working in a bar, and one for villains at that) and he was not going to lose it. But again, quirks were absolute bullshit, and this dude was seriously fast.

Ha! They were turning into a dead end, and Ed could see the exact moment the guy realized it. He was going way too fast to slow down, and he was about to hit the wall… before claws dug into the brick mortar and hauled him straight up it, just a complete spit in the face to gravity.

Quirks. They sucked. They made no sense.

Cheetah-man managed to stop himself on top of the wall, where he sat for a moment, assuming Ed couldn't reach him. Which he totally could, but the missed tackle had reopened one of the wounds from the Promised Day and he was really starting to feel it, something the criminal noticed if the taunting was any indication.

Or maybe he had just noticed that Ed was below his height level, which was stupidly freaking tall and in no way implied that Ed was anything more than average tall-ness for his age. There.

Right as Ed had finally pinpointed the array he wanted to use, the quirk-user decided that he shouldn't make himself an easy target for more than the two seconds he had already spent and turned around to jump off the other side.

No, no no, no. Ugh. Argh. Why was everything in his life such a mess?

A thump sounded from the other side just as Ed had finally gotten around to the few curse words he knew in this new Japanese, which startled him enough that he used the array he had gotten ready and shot himself up to wall height.

"Good thing I was helping you, huh? 'Thank you Dabi, you're the best!' Oh, it's no problem at all, my good friend."

Of course.

This world's resident pyro stood holding the unconscious mugger on the other side of the wall, looking way too casual and pleased with himself, even if it was a little hard to tell behind the vaguely apathetic air he kept up. Ed rolled his eyes at the drama and focused on his slightly shaky Japanese, for all of its weird sounds and unnatural pronunciations that he wasn't used to.

"Dabi, you are an idiot. I thought you did not want to help me, or were you just being an asshole and making it hard on purpose?"

The flame-boy coughed, a little sheepish now. "Actually, I was just walking by and saw him, and remembered that he was the guy you were looking for. Why do you need him?"

"I need him to talk."

Ed focused on the carved array on his mask, molding it with a little blue flash of light so it only covered his nose and mouth. He stepped forward and Dabi backed up, obviously a little unnerved by this literal child looking so eager to threaten someone into giving information.

The guy talked.

"Or was it the sun's fault, for being oh-so tempting, for seeming to a lost child to be within reach? Can any person really be blamed for instinct? People are drawn to the unknown, just as they are afraid of it. It's simply human nature to reach for the stars, to find out what makes them what they are. Is a child's mistake worth the ultimate punishment of death?"

The storyteller held a pale hand above his head, looking up at the underside of it thoughtfully against the backdrop of the light sky. The hand-shaped shadow flickered on his face, the light fading in and out due to the changing light.

He sank into the empty, train of thought completely forgotten as he listened attentively to the unraveling tale.

"Who are you even looking for?" Dabi brought up the next day as Elric came in during a break. The younger of the two slipped into a seat, gently removing his mask and putting it in his pocket. He looked at Dabi with an incredibly deadpan expression, golden eyes as flat as he could make them.

"It is none of your trade."

Dabi pulled a magnificent spit take at both the words and the delivery, coughing for at least a minute while the bartender on duty just laughed, the shithead. "Fullmetal, I think you meant 'none of your business,'" he managed to wheeze out after his lungs stopped trying to tie themselves into knots.

Elric threw his hands up, muttering in that odd language of his until the bartender gained enough motor control to get off of the floor. Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and in stepped a shady figure in black, making Elric rush to slip his mask back on. Everyone else went right back to their conversations after a quick glance over, in this part of town people looking like that were practically common.

"-and I don't know what you want me to do, exactly, asshole, because I literally started learning this language like- mmph!" The bartender had quickly silenced Elric, taking one for the team, as the new figure took a seat at the bar right next to them.

"... can I have the most caffeinated thing you have?" The scruffy-looking man asked, and the bartender cautiously released their death grip over Elric's mouth to get him what he asked for. While he was waiting on the drink, the newcomer looked over to where Dabi and Elric had started a silent argument. A few seconds later, the owner popped her head out and gave a scathing glare to both of them.

"Hey, boy! I'm not letting you stay here for free, you get up off your ass and go do your goddamn job for once. Get away from the bar and stop talking to customers on work, you imbecile!" Everyone at the bar winced at the volume, and some of the regulars sent Elric a few pitying looks, as if Dabi should be planning his friends funeral.

Elric caught his alarmed glance. "She's not gonna kill me, relax. She's too much of a softie for that."

A very obvious cough sounded from the back, and his face went three shades paler. "O-on the other hand, I do like having all of my limbs attached." The little lunatic chuckled under his breath and murmured something inaudibly, before turning around to go back to work.

Dabi had almost forgotten about the stranger, but right then the bartender returned with something probably radioactive, judging by the expression on their face. Either that or it was straight snake venom, or a pumpkin spice latte, or something equally as bad.

He paid and sniffed the drink, cringing in that special way that only teachers, insomniacs, and new mothers can. A 'this may kill me but if I don't get the caffeine then I'll kill myself anyway' kinda charm. A glance at Elric as he walked outside was enough to get him to turn to Dabi questioningly.

"You seem to know that person." Dabi nodded, not seeing where he was going. "Why are they working in a bar in this side of town? And a foreigner at that?"

Huh. He… hadn't really thought about why Elric would go straight for the area of the city that had a big red sign pronouncing 'ILLEGAL STUFF HERE'. If he needed a place to stay, why didn't he get a room somewhere nice?

"I… actually don't know, really. Mysterious, but makes a good bouncer." The hobo-man looked displeased with that answer, but he knocked back half of his pond sludge with a grimace and Dabi couldn't help but feel mildly impressed with that, so all was cool on his end. The bartender finished cleaning one of the cups and leaned on the bar, looking questioningly at the newcomer.

"Oh, you talking about Fullmetal? Yeah, the squirt's real foreign, didn't speak a lick of Japanese when 'e first came here. Few days later, was practically fluent!" They laughed at the confused face of the man in black. "A real smarty, and boss has taken a liking. Got some serious height issues though."

Why did this dude look so familiar? It was nagging at the back of Dabi's head, just something about this guy… maybe he was a big time villain? Nah, seemed too concerned about Elric working here to be really evil.

Before he could figure it out, the newcomer paid in cash for his drink, then ambled away from the bar.

Ah, well. It would come to him.

It was a bar.

It wasn't enough that Shota was dragged out of bed at the ass crack of dawn to chase some new vigilante, nooooooo, of course the video trail lead him straight to a bar. Not only was the headache bad enough already, the first people he saw upon entering just so happened to match the basic descriptions of his perps. And they were both kids.

Okay, maybe the scarred one might be an adult, but he was younger than Shota and thus that argument was invalid, and he wasn't sure about the masked one. Speaking of argument, why were they shouting? Really, must every blonde he will ever meet be obnoxiously loud? It didn't seem that unusual to the patrons, which was upsetting because this person was the height of a twelve year old seriously.

And yeah, he had some doubts. You'd think that anyone trying to be a vigilante would know how to accurately avoid cameras, and for this person to get caught, then either they knew absolutely nothing about technology or did it on purpose. The first means… well, not anything good, but not earth-shattering. On purpose, however, means that this is probably a trap.

Goodie.

He was not awake enough for this.

He sat by quietly as they got yelled at by someone telling them to go back to… wait, did they work here? Shota really didn't like that. He also really didn't like the mask they were wearing as they walked by, which implied a lot of things that he didn't have the time to go into. Most importantly, that was the mask caught on film.

Why did they look like a kid? He taught people older than that, he knew just how terrible teenagers can be.

The bartender seemed willing enough to share basic information, but the scarred man seemed a bit more wary, almost as if he recognized Shota. The suspicion was worth it though, and he got a few good tidbits he could share with the police. For example, the man sitting next to him was obviously the closest to them, and everyone at the bar knew them as Fullmetal, for some reason, but this dude seemed to know a different name, seeing how he needed to correct himself every time he talked.

If this person's best friend was an angsty college dropout who practically lives in a bar, then there was no hope. Nevertheless, his teacher instincts were screaming at him to at least try, and after a minute he forced his aching limbs to move again and paid in cash before slowly walking outside.

"You are new?"

He wasn't startled at the sudden appearance (a bright red coat will have that effect, seriously, why was it red?), but the very noticeable accent still caught him a bit off guard. Not many people here tended to have such a blatantly european accent.

"Yeah, I guess. Who are you?"

The masked vigilante gave a little sigh, very obviously unhappy with having to talk to someone. "My name… no, it really does not matter. Who are you?"

"I'm Shouta... Yamada." He cringed internally at having to use Mic's name, but whatever. "I assume you work here? How did that happen?"

A shrug. "I was down on my… luck, I suppose, and the owner was very kind enough to offer me a job and place to stay. What brings you here?"

"I'm new to the city, just exploring." They were matching him question for question almost offhandedly, like they subconsciously refused to let Shouta have the last word. "How long have you been here?"

"Not very long, I am new here as well. As you can see, I am really not from around here." They stressed the really, but without seeming embarrassed. The two stood in silence for a moment, except it was more contemplative silence than awkward, both sizing the other up. Shouta hadn't seen them without the mask, and he was really itching to see, but he realized he had already intruded far too much. He turned to leave with a muttered goodbye, and was halfway out the alley before the voice made him stop.

"Hey, wait a minute. Do you know anything about…" Shota turned back in time to see them pull out a slip of paper from some unseen pocket and frown at it. "... some villain named All For One?"

He could honestly say he hadn't, but the name was certainly ominous enough. "Can't say I have. I'll keep a lookout, how about that?"

"Maybe neither of them are to blame. Perhaps the guilt rests on the father's shoulders. Yes, he gave warnings, but children cannot be held accountable for mistakes they make without knowing any better. The father should have talked to his boy, should have guided him and told him of the dangers and watched him and caught him when he fell and carried him to land. All of it could have been avoided if the father hadn't given his son the wings in the first place."

"Are you speaking of anyone in particular?" he laughed at the listener's sour look.

A quiet breath cut him off mid sentence, but the man wasn't stupid enough to try to continue.

"Are you telling me that you haven't found anything, even after the month I have so graciously given you? Even after I allowed you to use new recruits as searchers? That you have absolutely nothing?"

"W-well…" He licked his lips nervously. "We did get an abnormally high reading on someone who came in recently, meaning they probably spend a lot of time around the anomaly. I-I have set someone up to tail him… Master."

All For One eased himself back gently, seeming a little less mad, but also much more distracted. He waved at the doctor, who let out a silent sigh of relief. "I expect constant updates. Just because I can't kill you doesn't mean you get unlimited time. If this… anomaly is as powerful and slippery as I believe, then I give you until our planned attack at U.A., whenever that may be, is."

The most dangerous man in the world leaned forward, scarred face wrinkling at the edges. "By then, doctor, I expect to have them either working for me, or dead after I take their power. This is your job, I hope you realize what failing entails for you and your family."

The doctor whimpered out a hurried affirmative and scurried out the door. All For One scoffed. How such a proud man could become so cowardly when faced with someone stronger, he would never know. The door clicked shut behind his subordinate, and his multitude of sensory quirks slowly whirred to a halt and he was once again left in pitch blackness. It was a shame he couldn't kill the man for not meeting his deadline, but the Nomu he was creating were quite incredible and thus he was far too valuable.

Originally, the supervillain had been planning to simply experiment with the amount of quirks he could make a single person have, which in turn would create mindless beasts to do his bidding. But the doctor and he had realized that certain people and parts of the city were extremely high in ambient quirk energy. They had begun to monitor it in curiosity, and the doctor's research had yielded fantastic results, with the new Nomus being able to maximise their quirk's power.

It was, quite honestly, groundbreaking.

By increasing quirk factors in various ways, a person could be genetically modified to successfully hold multiple quirks and their sanity. More and more quirks were required to make a good Nomu, but he had quirks to spare and they were the most powerful yet. Better yet, one of his quirks was perfect for breaking down genetic and atomic codes to make each generation better than before.

All For One leaned back, satisfied. When an enormous spike had shown up in the ambient quirk energy readings, he figured it had been some type of rogue Nomu, or maybe someone with a quirk similar to his own. Only someone with ridiculously powerful abilities or an immense amount of quirks would create that kind of disturbance, and he was sure that they could work something out, either a partnership or a new quirk for him. Either way, a success.

After all, that level of power would be enough to reshape the fabric of the world.

Dabi slammed down his glass. "Never heard of him. Why?"

Elric sighed, sliding down in his chair until his heels scrapped the old wood paneling. "That is the person I am looking for. Have you really not heard of him?"

The man shook his head, then paused. "Say…" he wet his lips cautiously, leaning forward amid the general chatter. "I haven't heard that name before… but I have seen the posters, so I checked up on those."

"Posters?" Elric looked surprised, which was odd. With the amount of small-time villains and criminals he talked to on a daily basis, Dabi thought that he would have at least heard of them.

"Oh, yeah, the posters. Honestly surprised you hadn't heard of 'em yet, with how much they get passed around this part of the city. Posters, um…" he racked his brain for words that weren't more than ten letters long, "... for hiring people? Do you know recruitment or propaganda? Yeah, those. They were put up long before you got here."

The teenager wrinkled his nose in distaste. "And what do posters have to do with my looking for someone?"

That brought a small laugh out of him, and he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Possible everything, if I'm right. So I went to check this thing out, as one does, and guess what I find? Practically no one. This big warehouse down in Kamino, complete with rooms and beds and a whole bar. But there's not a soul there, except for a few guys who flit around during the day. I stayed for two nights, and not once did I see a leader."

"But you would need some type of a leader in order to organize something that would require… recruitment posters."

"Exactly. So I started wondering where this guy could be hiding. I go in, just to look around. This big burly dude comes up to me and starts rambling about me being a new hire or some shit, so I play along and eventually I con him into giving me a tour. Still no boss." Now it was Dabi's turn to make a face. "But we did find one other guy, this little crusty hand boy who acts six but looks fifty, with the body and temperment of a college freshman during exam week. So now I'm listening to Hands McGee go a little cuckoo and rant about some guy he called Sensei. Ultimately, still no leader."

Elric frowned in confusion, leaning back a bit to avoid Dabi's now wildly swinging hands. "So… nothing. Then who would organize this… unless-"

Dabi grinned. "Yep. Turns out I was right, since this nice lady eventually took pity on the 'new hire' and explained some things. They were hiring for an attack on a hero school, specifically U.A. High." His audience looked a bit confused, and he elaborated. "Heroics high school, famous for a lot of things, not really important. What is important is that they said they were attacking All Might."

He paused for dramatic effect, but a slight narrowing of the kid's golden eyes was all he got. "Oh, really? You don't know All Might?!" He was fixed with a deadpan stare at that, and he huffed in annoyance. "Have you never gone on the internet?"

"Actually, I have," he said, way too proudly for a teenager. "I do not have a computer or cell phone though, and so I had to use the library's."

"...you know what, I'm not getting into this. We are not talking about him today. The only thing you need to know is that he's ridiculously powerful, and villains have been trying to kill or defeat him for literal decades. If they want an army to defeat All Might, then its a disposable one. And a-"

"-disposable army doesn't need to see the leader, so they can't give up any info if they're captured," Elric finished with a calculating look in his far-off gaze. It wasn't hard to forget how smart and analytical the kid was when he screamed at milk, but now it was really showing through. "I would bet that most of those people do not even know where the base is."

"Exactly."

"So you think this 'Sensei' guy is the person I am looking for?" He shot Dabi an intrigued look. "As in I might be able to discover him if I can follow this group of his?" The scarred man only nodded, and Fullmetal murmured something in his language with a heavy exhale through his nose, rubbing his arm as if in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, um, yeah," the boy said, looking a bit startled, before relaxing a bit with a little wince of pain. "Just an old injury, acts up in bad weather."

It was silent for a moment, both watching the first little raindrops begin to pitter against the grimy windows.

"...I actually meant to- well, to ask you this earlier, but I got sidetracked. I mean, we know, like, nothing about you. Why are you looking for this guy?"

Elric coughed a little sheepishly. "I- well, he-," he started haltingly, then paused as if gathering his thoughts. "... I am working for someone, you could say, and I need to bring them this man in order to be… paid." He looked a little awkward saying it, and he chose his words very deliberately, but Dabi couldn't be sure if that was due to the language differences or not.

"Oh, so you're on a job, then," Dabi said, trying very hard to not ask who would employ a kid to be a hitman, or why they would choose a kid in the first place, even though it did explain the 'old injury'. "Where are you from?"

He looked a bit frazzled at the sudden change, but answered soon enough. "Amestris." Dabi had never heard of it, and it must have shown on his face judging by the huff he received. "... I suppose you would call it Germany." Now that made more sense, just from the coloring alone.

He was about to ask another question, but Elric's head shot up like a startled rabbit as a woman all dressed in grays walked in, which was a bit odd since they were about ten minutes from closing and people had already started to leave en masse.

Nope, sorry, girl dressed in gray, with blond hair and a nasty grin. She didn't even look twice at the bar area and the people sitting there, just striding straight to the back and letting herself onto the roof. Judging from the shouts outside, she must have been escaping someone, and Dabi had to give points for creativity.

"Thank you for the tip on… what do they call itself?"

"Oh, yeah!" Dabi snapped in remembrance, turning back from staring at the door, and almost missed how Elric flinched at the sound. The boy was standing with his mask on, probably to go outside and scare away some loiterers and drunks who tried to stay past closing, which meant he needed to go soon too. "I almost forgot to tell you, because it was so stupid. They called themselves the League of Villains."

The storyteller sighed heavily, sitting down to look down on his listener.

"In the end, it doesn't matter. That tale is just a story, a cautionary tale for mothers to tell their children when they misbehave. 'Don't end up like him,' they say, and the kids become still with fear until they forget and go right back to playing their carefree games."

The listener sits up too, sending one last look at the glowing sky. "Why doesn't it matter?"

He turned to him, face somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "The story is false, anyway. The closer to the sun you get, it actually gets colder in our atmosphere. His wings would only have failed if he flew too close to the water. The higher you fly, the safer you are. No one can touch you, everyone always watches the one who flies the highest and dares to go where none have gone before."

It wasn't that Shouta wanted to go back to the bar. Hell, that was one of the last things he possibly could have wanted. And yet he continued to find himself back here, even if it was chasing down a high schooler with a blood quirk and a penchant for violent murder. From a rooftop half a block down, he just managed to see the person he had talked to a few days ago shoo away a few lingerers out of the alley, and suddenly a thought struck him.

He couldn't tell exactly how old they were, but it didn't look older than the incoming first years. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to Nedzu with their basic characteristics, asking him to keep a lookout.

He looked back, watching the other teen he'd seen leave with a wave and a laugh to the golden haired boy. Something wasn't-

Ding

That… wasn't good. Nedzu always took time to research, to calculate before responding with any kind of an answer. Nedzu didn't just guess. A quick look at his screen confirmed his suspicions.

King Rat: That is the person who is being watched on vigilante charges? Do you have any more information? I need you to respond quickly, Aizawa. What is the quirk, the name?

depresso espresso: I don't know. I haven't seen their face at all, I only know where they're working and living. If I get more information I will send it to you, but for now there's nothing.

King Rat: Intriguing. Applications are going to be coming in soon, it's only nine months before school starts. If they apply I can run a search and we could possibly get more information. I might decide not to look, however, this is you investigation, you should finish it.

depresso espresso : Patrons at the bar they work for called them Fullmetal. I can't get too much more info while doing my classes though, so if you need anything else be sure to tell me soon or assign someone else.

King Rat: It is three in the morning, Aizawa. Go to sleep. You have class tomorrow, or did you forget?

Shouta scoffed, silently enjoying the pre-dawn city breeze in his hair as he crouched on top of the building. Nedzu seemed to catch on to his relentless expulsion method pretty quickly, since even though he didn't have students this year he was still teaching around the school and filling in as a substitute or tutor. It was honestly unfair.

He pocketed his phone, not deigning Nedzu with a reply. A glance down and across the street showed him an empty alley, so he cold assume his target had finally gone inside to sleep. Seriously, they must have an energy quirk with the way they stayed up all night and yet Shouta saw them wandering the streets during the day, poking into libraries and stores and other back-alley bars.

But however he denied it, it was still three A.M., and he did need to wake up in about two hours. Goodie.

"But wouldn't there be less oxygen too?" the helpless the atoner the bargain the listener asked the one with a confused look.

"Oh, I said his wings wouldn't fail, not that he would survive. Fly too high, and you can't breathe. You choke yourself on your own ambition, go any further and you would no longer have the strength to flap your wings, to even keep aloft. You would black out before you hit the water. Not only that, but the higher you go, the harder you fall."

"Remember, boy, being in the sky is dangerous, if you're alone. But my little al~chem~ist will never leave you truly alone, will he?"

The Truth paused contemplatively. The boy had already been away for a few weeks and not much has happened, it was getting bored… "Say, Alphonse Elric, would you like to watch?"

Their guest nodded cautiously, expecting them to name a price, but when it didn't he grew more excited.

Huh. That was always an option. Truth had to say that they liked Edward Elric, liked his tenacity and willingness to play by its rules. It would so hate to see him die…

A choice, then. And wasn't that just life?

A light knock on the wood was the only warning he got before Ijiwaru barged her way in. Edward was starting to get droopy after he didn't sleep yesterday, but he could still make out her disapproving stare.

"You need to go to sleep, Elric." At least she had the sense of mind to not scream it out for the whole city to hear. Small mercies. She was still glaring at his lack of reaction, so he forced his numb fingers to uncurl from around his pen and blearily opened his mouth to respond.

"No, no, you don't get to talk. You've been running on empty, boy, time to go to bed. What are you even working on this late at night?" She leaned over his desk, her lavender pixie cut casting a dark shadow on his strewn about papers. Edward didn't have much room to begin with, but he had alchemized himself a desk as soon as he could, figuring he would need it. Turns out he was right.

She stared with unhidden curiosity at his forms, namely the six or seven application forms for different hero schools around Japan. She picked one up, squinting at it in the low light. Edward's back ached from the odd posture, and it protested loudly as he made an ineffective swipe for the… either the Shiketsu or Ketsubutsu one, he was too tired to tell.

"Gibe id baag," he slurred, finding Japanese to be particularly difficult after so long staring at it's unfamiliar writing systems. Ijiwaru only sighed, but she did move back far enough for him to stretch out his back and numb tailbone

She made no move to force him to go to sleep, so he took another look at the paper-strewn space. "You know," she started, a bit slower than usual, "When Ryōsei told me you mentioned applying to hero school, I didn't think you were serious. Or that you were applying to so many." She grimaced with a distaste for paperwork even greater than Mustang's.

Edward's brain was still a bit fuzzy, but he could see the honest confusion on her pale features. "Yeah, um…" He yawned before he could finish, but she seemed to get what he was trying to say.

"Keeping your options open, smart," she commented, yawning in concert with him and stretching out her thin figure until her hands brushed the ceiling. "Just get to sleep soon, I can't have a worker who falls asleep on the job!" With a toothy chuckle she left his room, closing the door softly at her heels. He was left alone in silence.

He reached over to switch off his light, but paused, eyes just catching on the U.A. form he'd gotten from online. Most of it was filled out, but the clean white paper mocked him with its empty, unanswerable spaces.

Name: Edward Heiderich

Like hell he was going to use his real name, and a simple online search had given him a trove of common German names.

Place of Origin: Munich, Germany

Age: 15

That one had also taken some digging, to find the average high school entrance age, and he was already lying about his name, his age wouldn't make too much of a difference.

Place of Current Residence: Musutafu, Japan

Quirk:

That one was left completely blank. He knew that Truth said to put it down as Atomic Manipulation, but for some reason that just rubbed him the wrong way. He supposed he would need to come back to that one, but it rested heavily on the back of his mind. It was left blank on every document, as was the Reason for Application and Optimal Costume Design.

He groaned it frustration and slammed his face on the desk. He had not the faintest clue of what to put on either of those too, but for a completely different reason. For the reasoning, well, he can't exactly say he just wanted the school's resources in order to find a massive supervillain he needed to kill. That was a good way to not get accepted. As for the costume, it was simply that his preferred outfit was currently associated with a vigilante, who just happened to be very illegal.

Ugh.

After another five minutes of staring at his desk and contemplating throwing himself out the window, he finally flicked off the lights and rolled onto his bed. The dark ceiling shimmered with moving shadows from the lights outside and the hustle of city life just beyond his window. He squinted at his stopwatch, which read just after five. It was far too late- er, early?- to be figuring out his problems as he lay in an illegal bar in the middle of a city he had first laid eyes upon a month ago. Truth, his brain hurt.

He fingered the stopwatch as he held it over his head, getting glimpses of the cool metal as he traced his flesh fingers over the intricate military design. Even after all this, the wars, the fighting, it was still working, still chugging along with that near-silent tick tick tick and comforting weight in his pocket. His stiff right arm flopped across his forehead on top of his blankets, and he had to marvel that his automail was still working too, even as the plate connections threatened to tangle up his hair as it splayed across his rock-hard pillow. He wasn't sure whether to thank Truth or Winry, but it was impressive nonetheless.

A lazy roll onto his side gave him a nice view of the cracked walls, the ones he'd promised to fix someday when he had somewhere else to stay. As much as he'd like to deny it, Edward had grown attached to these odd people and this crappy old bar. He could almost hear Al yelling at him to go to sleep, and started imagining all of his friend's and coworker's reactions to his situation. Havoc would be laughing with Breda at the hilarity, Hawkeye would be way too protective over him, Winry would be screaming about not breaking his automail, Mustang would be smug over how he could do a better job. 'Fullmetal', he'd say, 'looks like you really can't do much. Is the little Fullmetal Alchemist too proud to ask for help?'

He thought brought a grin to his lips, even as he dragged a hand down his face slowly until his eyes were again exposed, staring sightlessly at the walls. He let out a puff of air.

Fullmetal. Hagane no. Literally, it translated to steel, or Alchemist of Steel. And in Japanese, alchemy was an odd word since it was so uncommon. Full of syllables, so out of place in this era of quirks and technology. He… he was ancient, in all reality. Outdated, unused, unneeded. So was alchemy, since everything he could find showed it being a useless dead art from long ago that had little to do with Amestris' version. There, alchemy was a commonplace word. Everyone had at least heard of it, it was essential for a lot of things, just as quirks were now but not as polarizing.

He sighed in the dark, as the little flashes of light from his covered window carefully illuminated his weary face. Someone shouted outside, but it faded off quickly. Almost… He sat up in bed, flicking on his light. It was almost a little too quickly. He carefully pulled his coat back on to cover his arm and grabbed his gloves, slipping them on with his shoes as he carefully looked out the window. He didn't see anything immediately, but the scream had been close.

A shadow flickered at the end of the alley, and Edward cursed in Amestrian as he started to overbalance putting on his shoes. The movement stopped, but now his curiosity absolutely would not let him go back to sleep. A muffled sound finally convinced him, and he sent a mental apology to Ijiwaru as he quietly opened his window and climbed out, dropping the ten or so feet to the ground with a roll. There was still a bit of a clanking, but he was really hoping whoever it was would just think it was a cat or something and not pay attention.

The sounds paused, and he held his breath, then released it when they started up again. It reminded him… He blanched, eyes quickly shooting open. Oh, please let it be anything but that. If he walked in on that… oh Truth, he would boil his eyes right out of his skull. Fuck the mission- gosh, why did he phrase it like that! Shit shit shit goddamn this whole thing. The only functioning part of his brain, the parts not filled with screaming sirens and a chorus of much more colorful nope nope nope's, yelled at him to just climb the wall again, slip back inside and go to bed, just forget about all of this.

He was about to do the smart thing and listen to it, but an itty-bitty voice in the very back of his head that sounded eerily similar to his brother whispered that someone might be in trouble, he should at least go check it out.

Ah, fuck it. The adrenaline wasn't going to let him go back to sleep now anyway. His scrubbed at his burning face with his gloved hands, then paused in sudden realization. He didn't have his mask. Whatever it was- stop it brain, he needed to think- was getting closer and louder, he didn't have enough time to go back up, get it off his desk, and come back down again. Silently swearing even more profusely than before at his inner Al, he raced over to one of the dumpsters and formed a new one, jumping behind the dumpster and fitting it onto his face just in the nick of time. Two arguing people rounded the corner, and all of his mind was filled with relief that it wasn't what he'd feared.

"-course he was there, assface! What did you expect, a fucking hero would catch the bastard before I would?" Edward was really pushing it today, the unfamiliar accent of a brand new language was certainly not doing any favors for his tired brain. The other one- a girl, maybe?- scoffed at the guy who'd spoken, as if finding the whole thing ridiculous.

"I never doubted you'd get him, I just wanted proof," she huffed out. She gave off too many Lust vibes to put Ed at ease, and he wasn't one to underestimate women, but the guy seemed to not take her too seriously. "So, where is he? I heard a bit of the fight earlier, so I know you're finished. You still need half the money, and I need him."

"Ah, ah, ah, the money first. You really think I'd just hand my catch off to some bitch before I've gotten paid?"

"You really think that I'm stupid enough to just give my money to some back-alley murder fucker before I've gotten my prize? How much of a shithead can you get, honestly." She took a drag from a cigarette, and Ed fought not to cough. He poked his head around the edge just enough to see them, and noticed a large squirming bag on the ground. It seems they both noticed it's movement too, and the woman took a step back.

"Ugh, so unprofessional. You didn't even knock him out? I shouldn't even be paying for such a sub-par job." And off they went again. The bag continued to squirm, and now he could hear muffled shouting. The woman walked closer to where he was hiding while the man kicked the bag. He started saying something, but Ed was more preoccupied with watching her then figuring out his accent.

She gently brushed the ground as she passed him, rippling the concrete as she coaxed it to move. A small briefcase was pushed to the surface with a little shudder, and she came to a stop right underneath his window. He couldn't see her face, but her high-heeled boots clicked ominously across the pavement as she strode back to the bag and it's watcher. She dragged the back of her uncovered hand over the bag, and it stilled.

Ed hated quirks with a burning passion.

She reached up and touched the man's arm, but Ed couldn't see much after that since they moved a bit more towards the mouth of the alleyway, probably to talk about prices. Fortunately, that meant they left the bag unattended. Why was it always stealth with these things? Maybe he could ask someone to make him a muffler for his arm and leg… No, focus. The sun was going to be up before too long, he didn't want more people coming by and seeing this kidnapping in progress. And judging from the arguing, this could turn into a fight and get ugly real fast. He felt like bashing his head against the wall. Fine, fine.

Creeping forward, he inched his gloved hand toward the bag carefully. Neither of the villains noticed, too busy getting more and more heated in their discussion over price. He gently wrapped his left around a corner, getting ready to drag it back over to him. But there was a problem.

Ed was crouched down. The bag held a fully grown man. Ed was not a fully grown man. There was a logistics issue here, as in it was very difficult to drag or lift someone much heavier than you with any type of speed or stealth. It wasn't impossible for him to lift, but it wouldn't be fast or quiet or easy, and more importantly it would be very hard for him to lift it through his second story window. Solution: take out the man and woman first.

He couldn't let her touch him, that much was obvious, but he really had no clue about what the man's power was. And he couldn't endanger the victim either, so he was at a severe disadvantage. But on the other hand…

His head poked over the edge of the dumpster to pinpoint his attack, then ducked down again and he clapped. The usual blue light and clapping noise drew their attention, but it didn't matter as two stone hands flowed their way out of the concrete. The newly-formed fingers curled around the shocked villains and the woman dropped the briefcase in surprise. Before it could hit the ground, a gloved hand snatched it away. It was heavy enough, so he transferred it to his right arm.

The wide-eyed woman screeched at him behind the stone finger as Ed stalked forward, still annoyed by these idiots not letting him sleep. Her hands were pinned at the wrists and unable to touch anything, so she was safely secured. As for the man, whose quirk was still unknown, Ed had covered him up to the eyes in concrete, completely immobilising him and hopefully neutralizing his quirk. Even so, he walked forward carefully with his hands inches apart and an array shining in his mind. The guy looked normal enough, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Look, guys. It is almost sunrise. I do not know how long you have been awake, but for me it has been several days since I have slept. I am quite pissed about you fuckers making me get up when I was just about to fall asleep." He paused a few feet from the now furiously screaming woman, but she fell silent when he shifted his arm into a blade that stopped inches from her exposed throat. He would never kill her, but she didn't have to know that.

He paused for effect, as both the villain's eyes were now pinned on the sharp, gleaming metal. "So. I suggest you work with me, before I do something I might regret."

He flopped into bed- finally- about thirty minutes later, after scaring the absolute shit out of both of his captives and then taking all three people involved and dropping them off nicely in front of a police station. He'd set the man in the bag free, and boy was he not happy about being kidnapped. Ed had left both of the now thoroughly tied up people with him, figuring the dude would help police with filing a report. He had been very thankful to Ed, which was very appreciated, but had also promised not to give too many details about his savior.

He paused. That… that was his first actual vigilante-ish act. Huh. The one from last week didn't count, not really, since that was just for information (And cash, but he needed food money. That was a fun conversation, when Ryōsei had to explain their currency to him.).

Really, Al. I wish you could be here, since when I come back for you, you'll never believe me if you don't see it for yourself.

As the boy rolled onto his back and stared with tired golden eyes up at the ceiling, the sun just cresting the horizon and beginning to paint the new buildings in pinks and blues, another set of sleepless eyes fills out a U.A. application on a desk halfway across town, green irises bouncing with excitement even as he gets ready for his morning jog.

Two bloodshot eyes blink tiredly at a phone screen in a small apartment next to the school building, just now falling into bed only to awaken an hour later and get ready for his job with a steaming pot of coffee at the ready.

A pair of cerulean eyes look out a window into the rural countryside of her hometown, clueless about the shifting paths, clouds casting dimply shadows on the rolling green hills as the sun and moon still in their path across the blue, blue sky.

Black irises freeze in place at the moment of activation, faded from their usual rich color by the lifelessness of the blind and exhausted, as his subordinate with her own grievous wounds holds him up, her mouth spread wide in an agonizingly still imitation of a fearful scream. Both of them were bathed in frozen blue light that crackled harmlessly across their skin in a gentle hold, his face twisted in confusion and dawning horror, hers in the fear and anguish that mirrored many others'.

A matching golden set, more bronze than his brother's, flit back and forth as if watching a tennis match, seeing what has happened and what is happening and what will happen with a broken expression as he watches his brother's trials to return him to his rightful place.

And watching over them all was an eye-less face that held a perpetual grin, seeing everything play out never ending and yet never beginning, as its favorite puzzle pieces slipped together like gears in their vast white machine.