97 - Lesson Plan
Squirming in the sheets, Winry rolled onto her left side and seemed to re-settle. But, after a few moments, the AutoMail mechanic rolled herself onto her stomach. In a silent room filled with the new morning sun, Winry pulled her knees under herself and shifted her weight to try and bury her face into the mattress under her pillow. It lasted until she'd either gotten uncomfortable or ran out of air, and Winry popped back up again with a sigh.
Her eyes opened, immediately flew wide, and Winry abruptly sat up, "Hi."
"Hi," Alphonse replied, seated at the opposite side of the bed.
"Good morning," Izumi added from her chair pushed up next to him.
Winry laughed awkwardly, "This isn't my room…"
"You fell asleep," Al smiled softly.
"O-oops," her nervous laugh continued as she fiddled around to fix her hair, "I'll uh… I guess I need to catch up on some work."
"It's fine," Izumi intervened, "a good night's sleep is just as important as everything else."
Winry smiled awkwardly at the reprieve and settled down on her backside, sliding up to the head of the bed, "What time is it?"
"Seven thirty," the teacher eyed the alarm clock.
Winry sunk against the headboard, "I should get up and get breakfast…"
"I can go get something for you," Al offered.
Winry turned to Al with a pout, "Thanks Al… sorry you keep having to run errands for me."
"It's no problem," Al slid himself off the bed and looked over to the small round table in the corner where his brother was passed out, face down in his folded arms atop his work, "he's not up anyways, I'll grab something for the both of you," Al turned to his teacher, "did you want anything?"
"No thanks Al, I already ate."
"I'll be back," with the reply from Izumi, the smallest Elric left the room.
Izumi watched him leave and she turned back to Winry. Possibly one of her biggest regrets about the time she'd spent in Resembool after Al had been brought back, was how little time she'd spent with Winry. Winry lived in the house Izumi had been a guest in for months, but while she got to know Pinako quite well, Winry had kept to herself. After all the revelations surrounding Al and Ed's 'death' had settled, Winry had shut herself away in her workroom for some time, and the woman wasn't sure if it was her place to help dig her out. Alphonse seemed to have no issue going to see her, and Winry had no issue surfacing for Al - but, beyond that, Pinako said to just give her some time and space, which Izumi granted. Gradually, Winry did start turning up more frequently in her own home, but most of their conversations never grew beyond pedestrian and mundane.
The alchemy teacher silently eyed the look Winry had put on Ed in the corner and grew curious when she seemed to be keeping herself from laughing. The woman decided the ball was in her court to try and have a conversation with a little more.
"Something's funny?" Izumi asked.
Winry looked up to the ceiling with a smile, "Not long before we got back here, Ed had set up camp in the living room to try and figure out how to get us home. His papers were everywhere, it was a complete disaster, but he was so happy to be doing it. I found him asleep in his chaos a few times."
Izumi looked back over to their remaining, sleeping Elric, who had surprisingly slept rather well despite his awkward position.
"I have a few things I've been wondering about Winry, if you don't mind me asking?" the teacher figured she wouldn't get a better opportunity than this uneventful morning hour to try and entertain some of her curiosities.
"Sure," Winry replied.
Turning in her seat, Izumi indulged in conversation, "You stayed with Ed and their father the entire time, right?"
She nodded, "Mostly, yeah. We did some travelling, but their dad had a house we stayed in."
The teacher had no explanation for why, other than she just wanted to know, "What was the house like?"
"It was nice," Winry pulled a pillow out and stuck it behind her before she leaned against the head of the bed once more, "it was a little small, but it was pleasant. When you came in the door, there was a small kitchen on the right with a table and chairs up against the wall. On the left was the stairs that went up to the bedrooms," she pointed her finger around as she walked through the memory, "if you went straight through the house you got to the living room. There was a fireplace, couch, and a coffee table in there that we sat around at a lot. There was a chair off to the side that his dad sat in mostly, and tucked away on the right was his study. Oh, and there was a bit of a yard out back."
"That does sound nice, actually," Izumi's head bobbed as she drew the image out in her mind, not sure if she was relieved or disgruntled that Hohenheim could actually provide a decent house, "and Ed managed to get along with his father while you were there?"
There was nothing about Winry's uncomfortable laugh that surprised Izumi, "They tried to get along. They did alright. I think Ed and his dad had some kind of peace treaty going on."
"Did they argue often?" Izumi tucked her curious question in.
Winry hummed her answer before she verbalized it, "Ed argued, his dad talked."
Izumi shook her head at the answer - why did that not surprise her?
With a deep breath, Winry turned a bit more to Izumi to try and elaborate on something that was far more complicated than it appeared on the surface, "Ed argued with a lot of people - most often his dad. Ed just wanted somebody to yell at sometimes," she sighed, "but his dad didn't treat Ed or me or anyone we met poorly. He tried to take care of us, even if Ed didn't want it."
As much as Izumi didn't care how Hohenheim had attempted to make any sort of peace or amends, she was very curious about how Winry would answer one thing, "Do you know how he died?"
"Yeah," Winry sat back and looked to her hands in the sheets, "Envy killed him."
That was already known - woman's curiosity pushed for more, "Do you know how?"
Winry tilted away, her eyes remaining down, her tone uncharacteristically firm, "Unkindly."
Fighting an urge that was pushing Izumi to keep pursuing the topic, because every inch of her told her this injured girl had something more, the teacher erred on the side of caution for someone she didn't know well enough and she let it go.
"I'm sorry," Izumi offered.
Winry shrugged, "It's fine."
Stepping away from a subject that had made the air between them heavy, Izumi digressed to lighten the mood, "You were there for five months. Did you have things to do all day? I assume the two of them couldn't stop working just because you'd arrived. Did you go to work with them or stay home?"
"Ed brought me to the school at first," Winry nodded in thought, her tone perking up, "but I couldn't understand or read anything and Ed's job wasn't exactly exciting. I asked to stay home - I could focus on his new leg and arm better and just take care of the house. There wasn't really anything else for me to do."
Izumi put an arm over the back of her chair, "If Ed had been over there with an artificial arm and leg already, why did you need to redo them?"
"How do I put this…" heavy focus lines sliced through Winry's brow, "their medical knowledge and technology was horrific. I got my license to do AutoMail apprenticeship surgeries under Granny when I was thirteen, but those people didn't even understand the nervous system yet. Their surgical tools were archaic, practically barbaric. But, they did try to make Ed an arm, even if it was pretty questionable. He didn't have it for too long before it broke, though. I only re-did the leg first, because he actually needed to stand on that," Winry suddenly perked up at the memory, "I was pretty proud of it actually, I designed it from scratch. It was a very resourceful and sturdy bit of craftsmanship, if I do say so myself."
Izumi chuckled at her sudden energy and slipped in a question she was far more curious about, "Could he run with one?"
Even before she'd spoken, Winry's facial reaction gave away that she didn't think that was a good idea, "The materials needed to make something with that kind of dexterity just weren't available for his degree of limb loss. He'd have probably damaged it," she straightened herself up as she explained, "the one I made him was the best thing he'd worn there and I still wouldn't recommend it. Ed had to be careful."
The teacher turned her attention to the table in the corner of the room and looked through the bright morning light at their topic of conversation. Ed was still conked out, face down in his work.
Winry released a heavy sigh, "Honestly, Ed taking the job at the school was a smart idea. His mobility was handicapped; his leg and hips were probably killing him while he was travelling and looking for all that alchemy stuff. A false leg isn't meant for adventuring, that's why there's AutoMail."
Maybe it had been the hectic pace she'd been forced to keep up for so long, or the state of upheaval her family situation had been for the last year, but Izumi couldn't help but find it incredibly ironic that Ed, who had been the focal point of so much of their adventure, had spent a good deal of his time away being forced to exist in a very slow, ordinary, domestic life. And now that he was released, she had to get him to keep living that way a little while longer.
While the conversation offered insights and answers to the teacher's underlying curiosities and concerns, in the back of her mind Izumi couldn't help but feel baffled at how nothing Winry had said shed light on how they'd both returned in the condition they had. The only thing she came away with was a nagging curiosity to learn more about how the boys' father died.
Izumi shook her thoughts away and returned to Winry, "Strange to say, but it doesn't sound like it was all that bad."
Winry pulled her good knee back up and tangled her fingers around it as she looked absently into the sheets, "It was a life. It just wasn't the one Ed wanted or where we wanted to live it. We wanted to be home."
The teacher watched Winry's blue eyes come up out of the white sheets and look into hers.
"Ed just wanted to come home. Everything he did revolved around that."
Slowly, Izumi began to nod while her thoughts replayed bits of what she'd learnt and the woman once again redirected her gaze to the Elric still sleeping soundly in the corner.
It wasn't going exactly as planned. In fact, it was far from the original plan, yet the final plan turned out to be an excellent plan crafted just prior to the noon hour.
Ed sat cross legged on the dim equipment room floor, arms folded, scowling back at Wrath who, once again, could not disengage his enthrallment with the older Elric brother.
Al stood, wandering around Wrath, a light held high in his hand to keep their subject illuminated.
And Winry sat on her backside, repairing Wrath's AutoMail leg port completely unhindered.
The entire exercise was going far faster than any of them had anticipated.
"Is he flinching at all?" Winry asked.
Al raised his brow in amusement, "Wrath or my brother?"
Winry picked her head up and looked at Ed, who seemed to drift between a scowl at Wrath and a look of absolute discomfort for what Winry was doing.
"What's that face for?" she laughed at him.
"I just… can remember what that feels like," Ed twitched, "I didn't think I could… but I can."
Winry smirked and resumed her work, "Well, if you'd taken better care of your AutoMail, I wouldn't have had to tinker with it."
"It's just… that was one of the most uncomfortable things I have ever experienced…" Ed's forlorn look fell into his hands, though he made sure to keep an eye on Wrath, just in case.
Al couldn't help but ask, "Why?"
With a pair of pliers in hand trying to re-shape a damaged piece, Winry gave a knowing look to Alphonse from the corner of her eye, "When you repair or tune up a limb, you can either disengage the nervous system connection and work locally or just completely take it off, so when you put it back on, all you get is the jolt of the reconnection. But the ports are wired into the body and parts of them stay live. Generally, you don't notice or feel anything, but depending on what needs to be repaired on them, that will determine how much you feel it."
Ed's head sunk through his hands and his fingers dragged his bangs off of his face.
Al stared amused at his brother's vicarious suffering before returning to Winry as she spoke.
"Wrath should be in agony, he jammed a lot of shit around banging this off this floor."
"Well, he's definitely not," Al peered around at their captured homunculus, "whatever the connection is between my brother and Wrath, it's strong enough to drown out the pain," he glanced from the creature to his brother, "in one of them, at least."
"Okay, Al?" Winry looked up, "can you secure him for me, just in case?"
Al tossed the light he was holding down to Winry. Clapping his hands, Al put them down on the floor and wrapped Wrath in the cement floor he laid on.
Winry tossed the light back up to Al as he stood up, "It's still weird seeing you do that."
"I second that," Ed added, "also Wrath doesn't seem to give two shits about being half in the floor now either."
Taking a few steps towards his brother, Al peered into the eyes of the homunculus reduced to a singular focus, "This is absolutely baffling. What in the world is it about you…"
"Okay, let me know if he does anything," Winry called.
Al looked down to his stiffened brother, "Do you want to hold my hand?"
"Fuck off," Ed squawked.
Al laughed and his brother cringed when the sound of Winry re-engaging Wrath's AutoMail leg echoed in the room.
"Hmm… it looks like the overall circuitry is okay," Winry sat up and looked over to the brothers, "I need him to test it though."
Al went back to Winry, took her under the arms, and pulled her along the floor until she was out of Wrath's range. Ed rose as well; going over to Winry, he picked her up off the floor and helped her over to the wall while Al clapped his hands and released Wrath from his cement bindings.
Ed rejoined the vigil at his brother's side and together the Elrics stood and watched as Wrath seemed to be confused between his desire to visually dissect Ed and the new appendage he had available to him. They watched as he stumbled around, figuring out how to stand, but struggled to understand that his right leg was tethered by chain around a pillar to his left arm. Al resumed shining the light on Wrath while Ed began to circle around, watching the homunculus follow him, occasionally stumbling or falling from his inability to grasp his new physical situation.
Ed gave a wave of his hand to Al; his younger brother backed up with the light and Ed started picking up his pace. From his toes he dodged and dashed left and right around the perimeter of Wrath's reach, occasionally dipping into the homunculus' range. Wrath was forced to scramble to keep up, trying desperately to coordinate his balance and still reach for his target. The clumsy clunk and crash of Wrath's AutoMail created a near deafening echo as Ed forced him through motion after motion for both Winry and his brother to study. Without warning, Ed pivoted and advanced on Wrath, deliberately coming to a stop inside his reach. He let the creature arrive at his feet and wrench his neck to stare up mindlessly at the intense golden glare Ed locked him beneath. As the room stood in silence, Al's light never wavering, an incurable curiosity fueled Ed's decision to squat down on his toes, forcing Wrath to crouch as well. To everyone's surprise, whatever it was fueling the homunculus' desire, it caused Wrath to press his forehead against Ed's with enough pressure that Ed needed to push back to stay balanced.
Wide golden pupils stared straight on into untamed purple ones that twitched around, unable to completely find their focus.
"Look at me," Ed murmured.
Wrath's wild eyes continued to dance around.
"Look at me."
The creature's breathing heaved.
"Ed…" Winry called below the echo.
"Brother…" Al slowly lowered the light as he watched.
"Look at me!" Ed pushed forwards and was met with equal resistance; Wrath's feet dug into the floor behind Ed's pressure and his voice tore through the tension, "What are you looking for, Wrath!?"
"Ed!"
Al dropped the light, clapped his hands, and watched his brother jump back onto his feet. Wrath stumbled forwards through the tumbling beam of Al's discarded light until the younger brother ensnared the homunculus on his stomach in the floor once again.
Ed straightened himself and walked back to Winry, but got his hand slapped when he reached out to help her.
"Don't do that again," Winry met him with a glare for his actions.
Ignoring the quip, Ed gave a nod to Wrath, "Did it look okay?"
"Yeah, it looks like the leg's infrastructure is working fine," Winry nodded and Ed reached around her back as she hung onto his shoulder, and he walked her back to her AutoMail project.
Getting let down onto her knees, Winry pulled out her wrench and set to work removing his leg again while the Elric brothers sat themselves on the floor in front of Wrath.
Al looked to his brother, "Sensei's going to have a lot more trouble getting that thing on him than we just did."
Ed plopped his chin down into the palm of his hand, "We can talk to her about bringing me along, maybe."
Al wrinkled his nose, "Yeah, I'm not sure she's going to like that idea."
Ed relented, "Yeah… probably not."
The brothers resumed their perplexed staring at Wrath with a near synchronous 'hmmm'.
"He did have your real arm and leg for a while," Al thought aloud, "now that you have them back, I wonder if that's related…"
"Maybe…" Ed debated the idea.
Al's brow wove tight as he tried to find something that would solve their odd puzzle, "I'd say maybe the rebound transmutation was responsible, but he didn't react like this with Winry and I didn't do anything differently when I brought you two to the Gate. Whatever's going on is specific to you."
Ed could only grumble, "Well, as long as I'm not around, he doesn't turn into this statue. Maybe we can use that to our advantage at some point."
"Wrath attacks and you render him useless by simply being there," Al gave a laugh to the absurd, yet strangely feasible idea. The exceedingly specific nature of Wrath's behaviour, triggered by his brother's near presence, was as baffling as it was suspicious; something was going on that affected only Ed. Alphonse glanced to his older brother and eyed his hands resting on his knees.
The unannounced sound of Winry disconnecting the AutoMail leg shot through the cement room, seizing Ed up and sending Al into a fit of laughter at the sight of him. Ed could only hang his head while Al let his laughter run on overtop Winry's apology as she finished up. At her call, the younger brother stood up, went over to grab Winry under the arms, and he dragged her along the floor. With the AutoMail limb on her lap, Al pulled Winry until she was next to his brother and safely outside of Wrath's range. Sitting back down beside her on the dusty floor once again, Al clapped his hands one last time and released their homunculus to his singular chain binding.
The trio sat together for a moment and stared perplexed at the creature's unending focus on Ed.
"Well, I slapped a cap on his port so he can't wreck it more while I keep working," Winry put a hand on Ed's knee, "provided you haven't made this permanent, once I finish replacing all the parts damaged by abuse, rust, and neglect, he'll be refurbished and can get going."
Ed looked at her, "Thanks for fixing him, Win."
Her gaze narrowed slyly back, "At some point, when all the bullshit is settled down, you're going to have to pay for it."
"What!?" Ed blurted, his eyes popping, "why me? Charge Mustang!"
Winry raised her nose and slapped on a serious expression, "Al told me you volunteered me for this exercise in frustration."
His expression widened in protest, "Yeah, but—"
"My time and my skill are valuable and not free, Edward Elric," the AutoMail mechanic tossed her gaze to the ceiling.
Ed gawked at her, sputtering half words while Alphonse once again filled the room with laughter.
"Alright, let's get going!" Al spoke through his amusement and ushered his now scowling brother up to his feet while Winry lost control of her serious expression and started giggling.
The mystery of Wrath fell to the wayside as the trio rose. Al collected the AutoMail leg from Winry and ran up the stairs, taking every second step. Winry took Ed's hand as she wobbled onto her one good leg, wrapping her arms around his neck and then hopping onto his back as she'd done to get down there. Ed gave her a little bounce to settle her into place and looked up with a grin to Al, who stood holding open the door, mockingly impatient with his hand free fist on his hip. Ed climbed the stairs and Al released the door behind them, none of them looking back at the defective homunculus trying to mindlessly watch them leave.
"And it is with that, my fellow Amestrians, as representative of the Armstrong Family, who have long stood as a pillar in this great nation, I implore the Central government to step forth and explain its actions of neglect," the man's huge arm swung down, his fist hitting the podium with just enough impact he didn't knock it astray, "explain the lack of conscience they display by not only refusing to address the nation's people like I have done today, but explain why they have chosen to cower away in the remote East, conferencing over mining resources, while the city at the heart of our nation is embattled with itself. The government owes you, its people, an explanation for why they're showing no signs of compassion or consideration to our capitol's citizens in these clearly desperate times."
Armstrong deliberately waited a beat for his words to clear the air before continuing.
"And I implore the Central government to either step up and govern this nation like any self-respecting elected body or step down and turn this nation's helm over to another governance, one that can and will resume taking care of the citizens of this great land!"
From a window perch across the street from the media circus, Lieutenant Breda nodded, gnawing on the end of a pen, "That was great, I'd vote for him."
Havoc snickered, "You're going to be inspired by cries of glory and bountiful greatness daily, my friend."
"I don't inspire the lot of you?" Mustang cocked his brow, looking back into the room his crew had gathered in to watch from.
Hawkeye grinned, "Your type of inspiration isn't the kind that gets bellowed for several city blocks."
Mustang accepted that counterpoint, "So, how's this going over?"
Walking up to his vantage point, Hawkeye leaned against the window frame, "There's the impatience we anticipated. The general murmur wonders why we're standing on the doorsteps and stalling."
Offering a reluctant nod of acceptance, Mustang spoke, if only to remind himself, "Asking the government to either step up or relinquish control works in our favour. It forces Dante to continue playing this game and ultimately allows us to be perceived as less hostile in people's eyes. If she gives up on the game, that gives us more power in the people's perception than she'd probably like."
"We're going to have to start keeping an eye out for any challengers now," Havoc reiterated his concerns, "we're weakening our position and someone else's eyes are going to light up at the opportunity."
"And I will force all those eyes to look at the puppets in Xenotime first," Mustang cast a dark gaze over the charade going on outside, "I want to see how much pressure I can put Dante under before she's forced to make her toys dance."
Breda's brow creased with a hint of concern and he looked out at the spectacle, "Scary thing though, even her half assed plans seem to work. She really did just dump Alphonse at the Gate-thing in no-where's-land, told him to get Ed home, and he did. I can't imagine she could have schemed that up."
"Not in detail, no," Mustang wouldn't disagree, and then offered, "but, if you've studied your assets well enough, you can be confident in their capabilities. I think her study of the human condition over time has given her some blind faith in our singular behaviours that she uses to her advantage," the senior most officer looked over to the lieutenant with a smug grin, "and so we are here to usurp those conditions. And the nation."
"Somethings are still beyond Dante's control at least – she clearly had no way of predicting how, when, or where Ed and Al would come back," watching Armstrong's scene begin to disperse, Hawkeye shook her head at a chaotic memory, "We were beyond lucky to get them out of there without encountering any resistance."
"Says the lady who carried the unconscious one," Havoc nearly spat out his cigarette, "I've cleared out addicts in slums with less trouble than those two were. They had no idea what was up or down."
"All things considered," Mustang lost interest in the dwindling entertainment outside and re-focussed into their empty building unit, "they came back more or less in one piece. Dante looking at us so soon is just an unfortunate hurdle we need to overcome. We should count ourselves lucky that she wasn't around to collect Ed before we could secure him."
A playful grin worked its way through Havoc as he moved his cigarette from one side to the other, "So, how's everyone been feeling about having the non-metallic version of the pipsqueak suddenly stand taller than you all? Probably one of the more interesting turns in this ride."
"I'm feeling that, considering the occupation he had over there, he's probably better qualified to do all the paperwork normally given to you, Lieutenant," Hawkeye peaked her brow at him, "or would it be more interesting to be Sergeant?"
"Hey…"
Havoc feigned agony while the small room of officers laughed at the only one of them who remained taller than Ed.
A knock on the door came and attention turned to Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong letting himself into their dilapidated, but vacated vantage point.
"Bravo," Breda led a mock round of applause to Armstrong's slow shake of his head.
"Well done," Mustang concurred, "I'm glad your family agreed to get on board with all that."
"As am I," the towering alchemist folded his arms.
"So, we'll let that settle, let the papers run their evening editions, and let Dante squirm," the brigadier general revelled in the idea of their Xenotime terror in discomfort, then swept his finger around for Hawkeye and Havoc, "overnight, the three of us are going to vanish for a few days."
The two involved nodded.
With a firm step forwards, Mustang moved to lead his officers out of the room, "Let's have a good lunch before we start to claw a few of our things back."
"Might I suggest," Armstrong's proud voice rose, "a menu."
"A menu?" a number of voices repeated while everyone stopped.
With as dramatic of flourish as he'd offered his podium presentation, the mighty officer proudly produced and presented: "The Armstrong Family's Peak Performance Meal Selections Menu…"
Everyone stood and held their expressions free of amusement as best they could while Mustang was handed a very well-decorated menu sheet.
"…Six highly refined meal selections from the cookbook published by my beautiful great aunt on my father's side, praised for its intensity and nourishment quality by battlefield Generals in both the Armstrong and Gardiner families alike, now passed down."
Mustang stared blankly at the menu, "We don't have this kind of food available."
"Indeed we don't," Armstrong admitted, "but a friend of a second cousin owns a chain of restaurants up two streets and will gladly offer the selections to us for the afternoon."
One by one, a set of officers' eyes flickered over to Mustang standing in the doorway of the vacant room they occupied with great interest as he read over the menu.
A grin fighting its way into him, the superior officer finally snapped the menu paper and offered it to his troupe, "Lunch is on Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong, it seems."
When Ed, Al, and Winry got back to the third floor, Izumi was already waiting for them in Alphonse's room. Initially, the brothers were excited that she was joining them that afternoon, but she was actually there to ask a very important question: had Ed given Al enough information to work things out on his own for a while? The answer was technically yes, but it was easier for Al to have his brother around to help troubleshoot and problem solve.
That led to asking if Al could troubleshoot and problem solve on his own? Well, of course he could.
Then, the challenge their teacher gave to the younger brother for the rest of the day was to stop relying on his older brother and see how well he could manage on his own. Al wasn't opposed to the challenge, but weren't they under a bit of a time crunch? What else was his brother supposed to do? Ed was already starved by not being able to get his hands into any alchemy, or anything else for that matter.
Izumi told the brothers not to worry and that she had some important work she wanted Ed to do. Without any further questions from them, she excused Ed from the room.
The task Izumi had in mind for Ed took them to the quiet second floor - the military personnel that normally buzzed around there had gone out for some reason she'd ignored. To Ed's jaw-dropping shock, Izumi clapped her hands to let herself into the room Mustang would have normally been working in, if he weren't out trying to mangle the government system even further. The teacher turned on the light and marched into the stuffy room early that afternoon with a very confused Elric trailing behind her.
Picking up a clipboard filled with paper from Mustang's desk, Izumi leafed through the top few pages, "That looks like everything I asked for."
Ed gave Mustang's military logistics room, with no military officers in it, a baffled look over, "What the heck did you need from here?"
Tearing off the top sheet from the clipboard, Izumi walked over and handed it to Ed, "You need to get this done in an hour."
His fingers slowly taking the sheet, Ed staring blankly at her while his mind processed what was going on. He looked down at the sheet, read it twice, re-read it a third time, then raised his puzzled gaze to his teacher. When the realization properly hit, Ed's eyes nearly popped out of his skull, "Woah woah w-wait, WHAT? ME?"
"You have one hour to get that done," Izumi reiterated, tucking the clipboard under her arm, "and in an hour, when you are done, get your backside back here, because there's more."
Ed's jaw hung loose as he stared at her - she was serious. Again looking down at what he'd been handed, he re-read it once more in disbelief, "Th-they have people for this already," his brow slowly knotting, Ed gawked at his teacher, "Mustang has people for this. This building has people for this. This isn't my job. We have alchemy to study and Dante to deal with, I don't have time for this."
"Today you do, Mr. Elric," Izumi's blank expression was somehow both intimidating and terrifying, "I understand you can do a menial job well enough to not get yourself fired, so don't make me fire you."
Sinking back on his heels and at a loss for words, Ed paled at her threat and looked at the papers in his hands again, "An hour?"
"The clock is ticking," Izumi snatched up one of the waiting chairs in the room and placed it against the front of Mustang's desk, facing the door, and she sat down, "don't make me come and fetch you in an hour."
His jaw still hung, Ed backed himself out of the room, eyes flying from Izumi, to the paper in his hand, and back again, before he took off.
Looking over her shoulder, Izumi's eyes wandered through the mess on Mustang's desk until she found a book amongst his things. Delighted it was still there, she picked it up, flipped to the first page, and started reading while she let Ed run around on his mission.
The task he'd been given was comprised of unloading a shipment of supplies that had arrived about a half an hour prior to his arrival, inspecting and cataloguing the inventory for what both Mustang and the hotel had received, and then sorting and running half the contents up to the storage suites on the third floor and the rest to the basement. Ed had the boxes in the shipment unloaded fairly quickly, it was cataloguing the inventory that took forever to figure out, but once he had, he realized he had barely any time left. Wasting no time, Ed ran box after box either up two flights of stairs or down one into storage. Ed managed to return to Izumi huffing and puffing a minute before his time was up.
Izumi sipped a cup of coffee she'd helped herself to while Ed had been running around, put it down on Mustang's desk, and re-crossed her legs, "Good job."
"Why am I doing this?" Ed frowned at her, took a deep breath, and straightened his shirt, "I should be helping Al."
"Your brother is perfectly capable on his own," the woman tore out the next sheet and handed it to Ed, "one hour."
Ed begrudgingly took the sheet, but he planted his feet and rolled his head back, "Why?"
Setting her clipboard aside again, Izumi clasped her hands together, put the bundle on her knee, and the woman looked at him without a readable expression, "Because, I'm telling you to."
"Okay fine, but…" Ed's posture sagged and he finally looked at his next assignment list. His face contorted and his arm dropped to his side as he looked pleadingly at his teacher, "laundry?"
"Collecting all the linens is simple enough," Izumi picked up her book again.
"Come on…" Ed groaned.
"Stop complaining and get to work," remaining hardened and unfazed, Izumi turned a page in the book, "you have fifty eight minutes now and I don't want to fire you."
Ed nearly snored fire out of his nose; he clenched the paper in his hand and hauled himself out of the room.
Everyone under Mustang's supervision had received a notice to leave their doors unlocked for laundry the day before, so while she tried to enjoy her book, sometimes Izumi was more occupied by the sound of Ed thundering around, ripping sheets off beds, and slamming them into the squeaky hamper he dragged around while he cursed and bemoaned the exercise. Every time he filled it, Ed let the oversized hamper clatter down the stairs as he dragged it to the basement level. Izumi either wanted to laugh at the tantrum he was too old for or drop him on his ass for it - ultimately, she did neither. But, the escapade kept him occupied on both the second and third floor for nearly an hour.
Ed returned fifty two minutes later with his arms crossed and squarely planted his feet in front of his teacher.
Izumi didn't even look up from her book to hand him his next task, "One hour."
Remaining where he stood, Ed neither unfolded his arms nor took the paper, "There are a million better uses of my time right now."
Picking her head up from her book, Izumi finally looked up at the older Elric trying to make his presence imposing - she had to say, he was a lot better at it than he used to be and the height certainly helped, "Today, there isn't, and this is what you're doing today."
"Why?" Ed's voice rose.
Prompted by the surge in his tone, Izumi stood up, put her book down carefully on the chair, and then slammed her hands on her hips, "Because I'm telling you to Mr. Elric and that's all you need to know. Now, you have fifty eight minutes to get all those beds re-dressed in fresh sheets, and that's going to require a hell of a lot more effort than just taking them off. My advice is to dump the attitude and focus on what you have to do, or you're going to find out what I mean when I say I'm going to fire you."
Ed took a step back and glared at her. Izumi held her position unfazed. Turning on his toes, Ed marched out without another word and slammed the door. Izumi picked up her book again and happily sat back down.
Again, the chaotic sound of Ed storming around echoed through the floor as he ran fresh sheets into rooms and scrambled to get his assignment done in time while Izumi thoroughly enjoyed the book she'd borrowed off Mustang's desk. Around the fifty-fifth minute mark of the hour-long assignment, the door to the room flew open again. Izumi picked her eyes up to watch Roy Mustang take two steps into his office and stop dead.
"You're finally back," she greeted him dryly, "took you long enough."
Standing dumbfounded just past the entry, Mustang's one wide eye looked at her with equal parts confusion and shock. He abruptly glanced around the room to see if anything else was amiss and ended up finally returning her greeting with a very dull, "What the hell?"
"This is a good book, by the way," Izumi held up what she'd taken, "I've been meaning to read it."
The officer straightened up, got his composure back in order, and continued to stare at her. His tone dropped harshly, "What the hell are you doing in my office? Who let you in here?"
"I let myself in," was her flat answer, "it felt like an appropriate place to order someone around from."
Mustang walked deeper into the room and circled his desk, growing more annoyed with her intrusion, since it didn't appear that she intended to leave now that he was there, "What makes you think you have any authority to order people around from my office?"
Opening the book again, Izumi nestled in the chair and searched for the paragraph she'd left off on, "I'm making sure that task list I asked for this morning is getting done."
Frowning further, Mustang's eye twitched at her empty coffee cup adding to the clutter on his desk. He moved a coaster under it and glared at the back of her head, "Get out. I assigned you your own quarters and you can mind your own business from there."
"I prefer to sleep and relax in my bedroom and do my curriculars elsewhere," Izumi replied then turned a page.
Mustang sat down at his desk, "I hope your husband's okay with that."
The book in her hand was snapped shut and Izumi snapped a fierce look over her shoulder.
Unbeknownst to him, Mustang's life was saved by the intrusion of Edward Elric. At exactly the fifty eighth minute mark, the frustrated, frazzled Elric with a few frayed hairs blew into the room with a gasp for air. He'd wanted to slam his hands down on his knees and take a moment to catch his breath, but he took one look at the man at the desk behind his teacher, let out the loudest groan he could manage with the air he had left, and turned to walk out of the room.
"You're done?" Izumi asked.
"YES," Ed yelled, grabbing the door handle so he could slam it on his way out.
"Get back here!" Izumi's voice boomed off the walls.
Mustang leaned back in his chair and quickly decided he had nothing else to do at that moment.
After Ed paused to debate his next move, he turned back into the room to scowl at his teacher and slammed the door behind himself, "Now what?"
"Don't take that tone with me," Izumi tore the next sheet and held it up for him, "one hour."
Ed surged up to her, snatched the paper away, and looked at what task he'd been given. Grinding his teeth, he crushed the paper in his hand and threw his voice to the ceiling, "For fucks sake…"
"Get on it," she again ordered.
Ed said nothing to his teacher, or Mustang - he didn't look at either of them, he just thundered out of the room, ripping the door open and slamming it behind himself as he left.
Within the four walls of his normally uninteresting office, Mustang tried to find a good beginning point for his mountain of questions, "You seem to be agitating him."
"That's unfortunate for him," Izumi opened the book again and settled into her borrowed chair.
Folding his arms atop his desk, Mustang leaned forwards and reluctantly accepted he was going to have to work to get answers from her, "Why are you agitating him? Considering the bind we're in, I don't think this is the best use of Ed's time."
"Al is quite capable of figuring things out on his own," Izumi's reply was blunt and direct while she kept her nose in the book, "and Ed is going to spend his afternoon and evening doing as he's told whether he likes it or not."
Mustang wanted to reply with an exasperated huff, but he was far too intrigued by this infuriating woman's assertion that she was going to somehow wrangle an entire days worth of volatile complicity out of their stubborn Elric, "In five or six hours I am leaving for Xenotime to rescue our people. Why do you have the person, who is most critical to luring Dante away so I can do my job, doing menial tasks that I have people for?"
Once again, Izumi closed her book. She put it down on her thigh, put her arm over the back of the chair, and turned around to address him, "Because I'm tired of fighting with him, Al's tired of fighting with him, and you're tired of fighting with him, so I'm going to tire him out and then get him out of our hair."
Sitting back in his chair, Mustang cautiously entertained Izumi's declaration, "Those work orders I had Havoc put together for you are going to take him hours on his own."
"Yes, they will," Izumi straightened herself back around on the chair and brought up her book again, "it'll be a brisk eight hour work day for him."
Mustang suddenly doubted he would be able to get Izumi out of his office any time soon or remain in Central long enough to see the end result of her efforts.
Dante turned herself around in the mirror.
She was precious, wasn't she?
Yes, fully dressed she was full of utter charm, childish innocence, and the visual reflection of youthful purity. She could make men and women swoon.
It was a far less useful kind of swoon though.
Dante had started to miss the ability to make mankind offer themselves to her in a developed body. It was much easier to seduce a man or woman with the right words or well-placed touch. It was much easier to coerce anyone to sway or bend by offering to shine a light on what they wanted to hear at a moment of any sort of weakness. She had spent centuries practicing how to mold mankind's sorrows from behind a curtain, where at any given point, Dante could disappear again and watch them wallow. At first hoping, then anticipating, and finally expecting, how the grief she led them to would shatter them.
Dante decorated her world with their pieces and made it her art.
But she'd practiced that art with glass men for so long that a change seemed interesting. Dante had no interest in invading a man, so when the empty body of a child became available, it was beyond perfect.
A manufactured, soulless doll.
No impurities like a homunculus.
A soulless doll made from the disturbed and twisted shards of shattered regret and perverse love. With no soul to subjugate, Dante slipped the flesh outfit on like it was a fresh robe. It was so effortless and the centuries of frustration she'd suffered through with her body's rot was gone – she was free to grow up in this guise and see how many good years she could get out of it.
At the beginning, a child's persona offered her so many freedoms she hadn't experienced in hundreds of years. Dante gained new perspectives into the flaws that came with innocent trust people freely gave her. It was the most useful insight she'd gotten into humanity in quite some time.
Though, her guise came with just as many drawbacks. She had to behave like a child. Dante had to act ignorant. She had no problem acting innocent and youthful, but her own pride struggled with ignorance. Dante understood everyone who looked at her in a way they never could, and she knew at what points she could have woven in her seeds with little more than a shift in tone of voice or a moment of thoughtless words. Guiding these fully developed pawns into their places was a lot harder to do with youthful ignorance in play. Her word choice had to be precise. Her calculations needed to be flawless. It was occasionally tiresome.
Like all the other challenges she faced every one hundred years or so, she would learn to adapt – and learning something new would always come with benefits. The one card she always kept near and dear to her heart that never failed her: everyone unquestionably trusted a small, seven-year-old girl. And if she perverted that trust, they would never know it.
She was innocent.
The problem now was the sight of her perfect body. The rot growing through the middle of her slowly worsened. Eating at her. Enraging her. She could heal it, she could slow it, she could waste the Philosopher's Stone on it, but like all the other bodies lost to the rot, this soulless concoction now withered too. This shouldn't be happening. There was nothing to support this. It was scientifically wrong. She shouldn't need to be hunting for a new body for another sixty years. Her reserve on the Philosopher's Stone was below what made her feel at ease. Even with Izumi's horrendous interference, there should be enough remaining in Aisa to spend on a new body and vanish again. The stone around Dante's neck would be for Edward Elric, in the event he was less than forthcoming with what she wanted to know, which she didn't doubt he would be.
Or, could she expend a little and refresh her stock somewhat with the town of Xenotime? Was she that uncomfortable with things that she would openly and blatantly extinguish the place? She could end Aisa's purpose and vanish easily, letting the people puzzle and wonder and argue and fall into anarchy amongst themselves. It wouldn't be the first time she'd let that happen. Dante could find some innocent fool to take in this poor, lost child and use the Xenotime Stone to procure the new body. But, what then of Ed? The extent of his knowledge was unknown. The impact he might have on her, and those around him, was incalculable. The sooner they met, the far better position she'd be in.
People like Edward Elric were fun to play with. They were hot headed, impulsive, and emotional about what they believed in. She could toy with them, they would hold fast to their morals and higher grounds until their dying breath, and rather than give them the death they'd fought towards, Dante would collapse their pedestals and let them shatter. Ed could easily be lured if she waited long enough, or hung enough heads out on the lawn, or dangled Brigitte out once in a while.
In something that must be as vast as the world beyond, how did they know each other? Brigitte didn't seem to have any interest or knowledge of alchemy, perhaps she was too young? In those ten months he'd been gone, how had he gotten to know her? Specifically her, who'd landed in Dante's lap unknowingly. It was a shame Dante couldn't simply use the girl's mind to get a foothold on some of her answers, but she suspected Brigitte's thoughts were as unintelligible as her words.
And though there was no telling how much knowledge Edward was able to gain while he'd been away, the most intriguing part of it all was that Alphonse had retrieved him using her exit plan. The fact that Envy had even seen the need to lay down that transmutation circle in the first place told her that those beyond the Gate would be less than cooperative in allowing someone to return.
Dante needed into Edward's mind to know just what obstacles lay in wait for her beyond the Gate.
Putting her nightgown on, Dante walked to her bedroom window and stared down at the nighttime lights of the Xenotime town below. They were extra bright tonight: car lights, window lights, lantern lights …
She had too many of these overstuffed men to make dance around. People, press, from East City had arrived in the evening.
A press conference ? Her lip twitched. Of these fools she needed to bring along, because this 'father' of hers couldn't seem to accomplish anything without an entourage, who the hell thought a press conference was a good idea for tomorrow morning? She wanted to go to bed, but she needed to think up some words to put in their mouths first.
Dante didn't care what the radio kept putting on repeat. The Armstrong family only had as much sway as she felt like giving them. Diplomacy was just the polite window-dressing of mankind wishing it had morals; just take this forsaken country Mustang, and get out of the way.
A soft knock came to her door and Dante put her darkening scowl towards it.
"Miss?"
"Come in," Dante stole a glance back out her window once more, before putting her focus into the room.
Aisa let herself in and allowed the door to click shut behind her.
"What do you need?" Dante wasn't interested in keeping company too long.
Aisa held her unwavering, proper posture, "There are a few gentlemen we have gathered downstairs who seem… befuddled."
"Befuddled?" Dante repeated dryly.
"Yes," Aisa confirmed, "perhaps you should entertain one or two of them before you retire and offer guidance."
Dante rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Yes, I should do that. And write their song and dance for tomorrow as well. Aisa, I've never been fond of acting as a playwright."
The generally cold woman offered a hint of a smile, "It's always good to hone the skills we're weakest at."
Lowering her head, Dante stared blankly back at Aisa from beneath her tiny brow for the comment. She considered a counter argument, but it felt beneath her since her consort technically wasn't wrong and Dante had probably offered that same advice to someone along the way, it just wasn't something she wanted to hear.
Dante shook it off, "Seems I'm going to be spending far too much time and effort organizing my side of this pissing contest I've been strong armed into."
"Armstrong'd into."
Dante pivoted on her toes, put her tiny fists down on her small hips, offered a wicked grin at Aisa and squeaked, "Since when did you have a sense of humour?"
Aisa bowed her head, "I look to surprise you now and again, Miss."
Dante finally laughed.
The cold, otherwise emotionless woman picked her head up, "And considering the state of things, might I offer a suggestion?"
"Ohhh," Dante embellished her intrigue, "and you've come willing to council me too. I am very interested."
Aisa nodded, "The Philosopher's Stone eaten by Gluttony has finished digesting and the final portions have begun to crystalize…"
Dante's devilish blue eyes widened.
"… and I believe that makes me available to suggest a course of action that might suit your interests."
If children's delight honestly sparkled the way they were written about, Dante would have likened herself to a shooting star.
Since Ed's return, the most thankful sight Izumi had been gifted was what it looked like to watch the boys work together. Watching the boys work always made her smile; sometimes on the outside, but certainly on the inside. From across Alphonse's room that night, the teacher just stood and watched for a while as the boys pressed their hands into their faces, occasionally peeping, occasionally writing, but otherwise glaring intensely at whatever was on the paper between them. Izumi dearly wished she could take them home just like this. She wished she could just hit the stop button - this was good enough. But, she didn't have that ability and they weren't there yet; Izumi had to raise her voice.
"So?" she asked.
"Interesting…" the Elric brothers replied in unison.
Izumi put her shoulder against the wall, "Well, that makes me feel safe." Despite the assurances from Ed and the confirmation from their tests that the symbols were indeed benign, the concept of foreign alchemy scared her fiercely, "Before you get too much farther, Ed, I'd like to talk to you."
A wary golden eye peeked over his shoulder at her, "I did everything you asked already…"
"Yes, you did," Izumi had freed him from that a few hours ago, "but I still need to talk to you."
Ed glanced at his younger brother, who could only shrug, and the older brother reluctantly got to his feet to follow his teacher out of the room once again.
"What did you need to talk to me about?" Ed lagged behind her, folding his arms as they started down the stairs.
"I'll explain in a minute," Izumi continued the descent ahead of him.
Taking him all the way down to the main floor this time, Izumi turned down an adjacent corridor and let Ed follow at his own pace. Stopping at a door that looked like all the others, she waited for the agitated older brother to catch up before she turned the knob and went in. The pair stepped into a fairly spacious, slightly musty, yet completely emptied meeting room. Ed's apprehension fell to suspicion, eyeing the drawn curtains as his teacher closed the door behind him.
"What did you want to talk about?" Ed bluntly repeated his question.
With the door clicking shut, Izumi came around to face Ed and gave him a declaration that had been as firm as the one he'd once given her, "After I get back dispatching Wrath, you and Winry are heading north, then Al and I will join you once we're done."
Ed's brow crashed down and his tone grew firm, "This isn't something I should be running from."
"Why not?" Izumi asked.
"Because I—"
Without letting Ed ready himself for it, Izumi moved on him. She made sure he felt the iron grip on his wrist that spun him, and knew full well he didn't feel her foot knock out his left knee that dropped him. Ed's knee hit the ground and Izumi pinned his left arm to his back.
"What if Dante bypasses me and Al entirely and zeroes in on you? Rationale be damned," Izumi tightened her grip, "what if we bring her out here and she decides to just simply see if you're here instead? Show me how you intend on defending yourself."
Ed scowled and shifted his balance over his free right leg, filled his chest with air, and thrust himself upwards, attempting to hoist Izumi off the ground and flip her over his back.
Izumi willingly let go and popped off. The teacher let Ed square around on her before she began throwing her hands, watching how he blocked, dodged, and countered almost exclusively with his left side. The right seemed to be used for balance and at several points…
Lunging in at an opening, Izumi caught Ed's right arm, put him off balance, twisted him around, forced his feet out from under him, and let Ed land on his back on the floor.
"You're letting one side do all the work, Edward," Izumi rose up, held her head high, looked down at him and barked, "Get up!"
Ed swung around on his knees and, by the time he was on his feet focussed on Izumi, she'd hopped up on her toes and was already on the move. The teacher watched Ed widen his stance as she moved around him, blocking her first few jabs before she changed her strategy and started targeting his legs. With each kick and each lunge she made to force Ed to move his feet, blocking or evading the occasional counter attack, Izumi got to see exactly what she had expected. Feigning an opening for Ed to take, Izumi pivoted on his move and took out the back of his unfeeling left knee again and sent him down to all fours with a swift arm thumping across his back.
"You're not balanced, Edward," Izumi's feet landed squarely and she slammed her hands down on her hips, ordering, "GET UP!"
Flaring back up onto his feet, Ed squared off again with a scowl.
The fire and frustration showing on his face was exactly what Izumi had hoped for.
This time, Ed moved on her first; swinging in on Izumi, the more practiced of the two evaded and blocked everything he tried. Reaching around, Ed nearly caught her at the elbow, but Izumi snatched his exposed right arm, wrenched it behind him once again, and ran him into the wall.
"Can you tell me how hard I'm gripping this? How much of this shoulder can you actually feel me yanking on?"
With his stronger left arm planted and a knee to the wall, Ed pushed back and freed himself. Izumi bounced away from him, stepping back as she watched him turn, his frustration clearly mounting.
Izumi's arm flew out, finger pointed, "You spent ten years not having that arm and most of the last five years with nothing at all, where do you expect to suddenly get any strength or reflexes from?"
Ed clenched his jaw as he breathed and Izumi watched his eyes dart around and weigh options. She would have grinned had the situation allowed it – Ed would still carry himself through a fight on stubbornness and adrenalin alone if he could.
The teacher took a wide stance, "COME ON."
The authority in her voice drew Ed in and he charged, planting his right leg and kicking in with his left. Izumi absorbed the move, caught the leg, and spun him over with it. She let go and watched Ed control how he came down, absorbing the landing through his arms, and still finding the strength to kick out his anchor leg to push her back. Ed swept back to his feet and forced Izumi away farther as the pair exchanged blocks, and then Ed's eyes lit as he caught her arm. He tried to force it around behind her, but Izumi's foot shot out and took out Ed's left ankle.
As Ed momentarily lost his balance Izumi grinned; he still had fire and his head could do the game, but he was also…
Izumi put a heavy flat palm to his chest,
…just horribly…
Threw a knee into his stomach,
…horribly…
and flipped both of his legs out from under him.
…out of practice.
Izumi let Ed land face-first on the ground beneath his own weight.
She rose up over him and took a step back, her brow flat and voice pounding, "When was the last time you practiced sparring with anyone other than a pedestrian street thug, Edward Elric? GET UP."
The teacher didn't need to see the infuriated look on Ed's face to know he was angry; she'd riled him long before they'd even started and she could tell he was hot by the way he moved on her. And while that fueled him, it also made him easier to deal with – the less focus he had, the more his current imbalances would show. Despite the wounds she'd read he in Mustang's assessments, and the ones she could see, Izumi decided to clearly land every punch she drove in, every kick she swung, and every other move she chose to make, until she bounced him off on the wall, helped him fall, and finally pinned Ed to the ground on his stomach.
"I want to know from you how much physical conditioning a one-armed, one-legged university office assistant could actually do," Izumi tightened her grip and leaned down, "Come on, fight me off and GET UP."
With the only limb he had available, Ed's left palm slammed into the floor as he tried to push up. Watching his fingers curl on the floor and listening to the noise he made as he fought to find a way to get her off, Izumi refused to let him gain anything on her as he struggled.
"Ed," she watched his eye fly open and lock on furiously to her. Izumi leaned down, her voice calmed, and she let him in on the first lesson, "you're out of breath."
She watched a golden Elric eye look around absently for a moment, examining her assessment as he stopped his struggle and just heaved through his breaths.
"If you can't force me off, I won't let you get up," Izumi refused to let him budge, "and I haven't clapped my hands yet."
Ed rolled his forehead into the ground, the fingers of his left hand scraped off the floor into his palm, and he slammed his fist down in frustration.
"FUCK."
"Watch your mouth."
Holding him for a few seconds longer to let her point settle, Izumi finally released her grip. The teacher sat back, settled on the floor, and let Ed collect himself. Izumi watched while he pulled himself to his knees, gathered his breath, and then she waited until he sat around and looked at her, frustration etched into his face. She was a touch sad looking at him; when he was younger, Ed's look of defeat used to have a childish pout to it, but he didn't have that any more - now, he just looked mad.
"Nothing we are getting ourselves into is easy," Izumi crossed her legs and entertained the Elric scowl she was getting, "and it requires the kind of energy and stamina that you haven't needed in years."
The bridge of Ed's nose wrinkled when he realized something and he cast an annoyed look at his teacher, "You had me do all that shit earlier to try and wear me down before you actually kicked my ass."
Izumi considered smirking, but left her expression flat, "I couldn't make you run through town, so I made you run through the building."
Ed rolled his eyes to the ceiling and dropped his head back.
Sitting up a little taller, Izumi let her shoulders ease, "Fighting makes you feel like you have control, but if you can't even meet me at a near draw, you're physically in no condition to be involved in anything. We both know Dante picks people off at their weaknesses. She either finds them or creates them. Even if you feel alright, or tell yourself you'll be alright, that's not where you are, and we will lose you. Considering how far you've come, I can't imagine why you'd risk that now."
Sinking into the collar of his shirt, Ed took a breath like he had something to say, but then thought better of it and discarded the idea, opting to say nothing at all.
"You've been pretty confined since you got back, so the things I had you doing this afternoon were to get your blood going and get you operating both arms and both legs. I constricted your time so you'd be forced to focus on what you needed to do, rather than thinking about how to do it," Izumi pulled in a sharp breath through her nose and handed out her grade, "because it's clear you've taught yourself how to be exclusively left handed and you don't trust your numb leg to balance you. You can't notice it if you're not doing much, but all of it was very obvious when we fought and I'm sure you felt it. You're going to have to unlearn and relearn a few things or you're going to get hurt."
Ed looked through the corners of the room as he slowly swallowed his instructor's assessment, "That just makes me pretty useless."
"No," Izumi corrected, "you came back exactly as the conditions around you needed you to be to survive. That didn't mean maintaining your military training or mine, but actually learning how to live without your right arm and left leg."
Ed nearly scoffed - it was a humbling situation that he hadn't given into willingly. He had fought to reject everything he had to put up with while he'd been gone, including accepting his physical impairments, until he either superseded his conditions or succumbed to what he'd been subjected to. Most of the time, he'd been forced to kneel, like he was being forced to with his teacher. Ed could only sigh.
Getting to her feet, Izumi rose up and placed her hands comfortably on her hips, "The time you need to adjust doesn't exist right now. So, for you, that means taking a back seat and using your head for a while, not your fists or your emotions. The other skills that had to be let go along the way can be re-learnt with time and effort once we're settled elsewhere."
Izumi offered a hand for the seated Elric to take. He stared at it frustrated, debating his willingness to step aside now that he was home, until he finally bowed his head and took the hand that helped hoist him back to his feet.
"I'm demoted to office duty," Ed dusted himself off.
Izumi narrowed an eye at him while he tucked his shirt back in, "I'd chain you to a desk for the rest of your life if I had things my way," she nearly laughed at the pained look she got from him for the comment, "for now though, you're going north or I will put you in a condition where you're forced to go north. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ed surrendered.
"Good," the teacher nodded.
"But, everything we're doing is just buying time," Ed's thumbs caught the edge of his slacks' pockets, "when is anyone planning on doing something about Dante herself?"
"I don't know," Izumi couldn't answer that. Dante was a far bigger problem than safely extracting anyone from her vicinity, which they had to focus on first, "she has red stones, the Philosopher's Stone, a place that can nurture both of those, five hundred years of practice, alchemy skills I've never conceived of, a lack of respect for humanity as we are, all packaged behind the shield of an innocent child."
The assessment sounded more bleak audibly than it had in her head, Izumi had to admit. So much had been going on that it wasn't until Ed had returned that anyone had even conceived of actually addressing Dante. Most of the people involved didn't even know she'd existed until recently. There was no plan, and not even much for ideas…
Still, Ed made an offer with a shrug, "You have me."
Izumi didn't hesitate to swat him.
To Be Continued...
Author's Note:
This chapter is alternately titled Izumi's Revenge Tour. Ed has no one to blame but himself.
I accidentally demoted Armstrong at some point. He's supposed to be Lieutenant Colonel. I'll have to go back and correct that at some point.
A reminder that Dante doesn't know that time moved faster beyond the Gate.
