It's absurd to divide people into

good and bad. People are either

charming or tedious.

Oscar Wilde

Spoils of War

A silent sigh and Mustang pressed a hand to his mouth, palm still warm from the telephone receiver. A call from Central Headquarters, one he expected:

Though he hadn't foreseen the caller.

"Sir?"

Twenty minutes. He'd slept only twenty minutes when the phone rang at his desk, even though his subordinates knew he was not to be disturbed. Fuery should have been screening all calls, putting out or at least redirecting any fires for the next hour. Mustang woke at the first ring though it was Hawkeye who answered, ready retort dying the moment the caller spoke.

Fuhrer King Bradley, head of the Amestrian State Military.

Pleasantries exchanged, the insistence on hearing Mustang's report personally, without the mediums of secretaries, paper and ink. Events dutifully relayed, slowly at first, though soon the Colonel's calm confidence returned alongside wakefulness. Though by no means harmless, the four suspects were not part of the insurgence – neither terrorists nor Amestrian citizens.

When asked his opinion of their characters, Mustang gave an honest assessment: Yusuke Urameshi was bold and reckless, a passionate boy with good intentions but lacked self-control. Kazuma Kuwabara appeared even-tempered, docile unless his friends were threatened; the youth had given them no trouble, respectful to both the medical staff and soldiers.

Shuichi Minamino remained an enigma. Obviously the brains of the small group, he demonstrated both tact and cunning during the interviews with Hughes, saying much while revealing precious little. All that was known of the boys' origins came from Shuichi, a story hedged by obscurity and national guilt.

Then there was Hiei, the half-Ishvalan child who had yet to speak.

The boy who nearly ended his life.

Mustang dutifully recalled the powers of the three, ignoring stinging eyes, the growing headache and pain in his throat. Hiei's flames conjured from air, Shuichi's mastery of flora, and Yusuke's uncanny ability to make objects explode, the result of a blue light that none but his companions and Fullmetal could see.

The latter caught Bradley's interest. "Are you saying only Edward Elric witnessed this light?"

"Yes sir, though why is unclear."

Mustang didn't expect the Fuhrer to ask to speak with Edward. The boy's being in the barracks did not matter; Bradley was happy to wait. Mustang would never have guessed Fullmetal could reach his office so quickly, nor be so polite to the Fuhrer.

Then again, the boy didn't know Mustang had told no one of his disobeying orders.

Bradley listened to the accounts of blue light at the mountain and firing range without interruption, inquiring only after Urameshi's explanation. Spirit energy, he'd said, a physical manifestation of one's life force? An ability that if used incorrectly could drain the soul completely, killing the user? No one had ever proposed such a theory.

Mustang never heard of it, anyway.

Edward answered to the best of his ability, fist clenched tight around the receiver. Urameshi's not using a transmutation circle, the same reported by Mustang regarding Hiei and Shuichi. Could this spirit energy account for such a thing? Was there any way of knowing if the other two could use it as well? Questions Mustang inferred from Fullmetal's responses.

Questions no one could answer.

A quiet goodbye and Edward handed the phone to his superior, backing away though not given permission to leave. Orders going forward, given with unexpected cheer. Since the four were not terrorists, they could not be lawfully held in prison, neither could they be allowed to roam freely.

The military would offer a compromise: an escort – a state-ordained guardianship – granted by the Fuhrer; the path to possible citizenship.

A bribe for cooperation.

"Our options are limited, Colonel. We must either utilize these boys or kill them." Bradley's tone never changed. Deep and serene, a crystal lagoon; that of a loving father:

A father contemplating murder.

"If possible, I would like for them to become our allies. Their strange abilities may help us end this conflict before it breaks into open civil war."

A final order, disguised as a suggestion. Wouldn't it be nice if Shuichi stayed with the Colonel? Of course, Mustang was free to choose who was assigned to each boy, though a Xingese guardian may help put the eldest at ease. Shuichi had been the most forthcoming of the bunch. Why not reward him for his efforts?

The fact that Shuichi was the smartest of the four remained unsaid. Cut off the head and the snake will die. A good strategy, a responsibility which fell to him as the commanding officer.

One of the rare occasions Mustang despised his rank.

"Colonel."

He started, recognizing too late the aching press of his palm, tasting copper on his inner lip. Hawkeye's frown registered though her attention didn't linger, shifting to the far corner of the room. Edward stood in the shadows cast by the afternoon sun, hand clasped around his right arm, watching snow fall though frosted window panes. Shoulders stiff, lips pressed tight, he'd heard every word.

How did Mustang forget he was here? "Fullmetal–"

"You're really going to do it, aren't you?"

The Colonel stiffened, mouth suddenly dry. "Do what?"

"Don't screw with me!" Edward turned, face lit by fury and a myriad of other emotions. "You promised – Urameshi did what you wanted and you're going to kill them anyway!"

A short breath, an attempt to catch scattering thoughts; the result of an overworked brain. "Hold on–"

"I gave him my word – I told him that if he cooperated, nothing would happen them. They don't have anything to do with this rebellion and we both know it!" Nostrils flaring, the kid drew closer, growing more animated with each step. "Are you really going to kill them because they can transmute without a circle? Why don't you just take me and Al out while you're at–"

A blur of blue, the sound of skin-on-skin. Edward's head rotated from the force of the slap, staggering away. Mustang blinked at Hawkeye's back, the Lieutenant still standing at attention save for her raised hand.

"That's enough." She said, voice cold as the steel at her waist. "Apologize to the Colonel."

Only then did reality hit and Edward tensed, breath stopping altogether before resuming far too quickly, the beginnings of panic tinting his gaze. Cheek flushing after the shape of the Lieutenant's hand, his eyes darted about the room before settling on a wooden chair, a scowl tugging his lips.

Once again, Mustang noted his stature, the man's watch bulging in his pocket. A child trying to survive in an adult's world:

The same as those four boys.

Batting away fatigue and blurred vision, Mustang rose before rounding the desk. Hawkeye began to speak but stopped at his look, obeying the silent command to back away. Even with his commanding officer standing before him, Edward refused to move, mouth sealed shut. The kid wouldn't even look at him.

His pride wouldn't allow it. "Fullmetal."

Nothing, save poorly-concealed rage. Pinched brows and a wrinkled nose, shaking shoulders, emotion humming through his body. Not that Mustang was surprised; Edward had never had a good poker face. "Look at me."

Flecks of gold flashed, bright as the sun and just as fierce. The Colonel didn't react to his anger, the close relative of hatred. Once again, gratitude welled that Fullmetal had been assigned to him: he didn't want to imagine what would happen to the Elrics under anyone else's command, especially with the eldest's temper and flights of fancy.

"I have no intention of killing Yusuke Urameshi or his friends." Edward stiffened, eyes widening. "The Fuhrer wants them alive – he has ordered the four to be placed under military supervision until further notice. As long as they don't do anything foolish, no harm will come to them." Mustang ignored the fatigue weighing his voice, eyes that burned no matter how much he blinked. "I couldn't touch them now if I wanted to."

"Hold on." The boy blinked, mind whirling. "You mean . . . they're safe?"

"For now," He nodded, swallowing past a sandpaper tongue. "Though what happens from here out depends on their cooperation."

"Wait, you said they're going to be under 'military supervision'." Edward's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

"The future of those four will be discussed at the meeting this afternoon." Hawkeye stepped in, seeing what he couldn't: the drooping lids and sagging mouth, the legs supported solely by the desk. "Your questions will be addressed then."

To the kid's credit, he didn't oppose her, hand rising to his reddened cheek. "What time?"

"Report back here in three hours." The slightest dip of the chin, a razor edge lighting her gaze. "I expect you to bring a better attitude."

Edward's face flushed though he remained silent, nodding before fleeing in a flutter of red.

Mustang stared openly at Hawkeye even as she crossed the room, locking the door for good measure. "Lieutenant–"

"Please use this time to rest, sir. If any needs arise, I will see to them myself."

He knew an order when he heard one and bit back a chuckle, allowing her to help him out of his uniform jacket and lead him to the couch. "Yes ma'am."

"Is everyone clear on that?"

No response though a few grimaced, tension thick as the snow outside. Hughes maintained a calm demeanor despite the hand at his belt while Fuery made no effort to hide his fear, gaze revolving between Mustang and the Lieutenant Colonel. Edward intermittently shifted his weight though not from anxiety:

There was no disguising his boyish hope.

Armstrong, on the other hand, was anything but pleased. Neck now properly bandaged, his girth seemed to grow as he crossed his arms, mouth cemented in a scowl. Brow furrowed, shoulders entirely too straight, Baltic eyes staring into nothing.

The very image of his sister.

"You sure about this, Boss?" Havoc didn't dare glance at the fuming man beside him, hand rising to the back of his head. "Don't get me wrong, I know we've got to do something with them, but–"

"The Fuhrer's orders are absolute." Mustang frowned as pain laced his throat, just as it did every time he raised his voice. At least his mind was clear. "We must trust his judgment."

"He knows about everything they've done, right? Including this afternoon?"

"Yes and he wants them anyway." Disbelief quickly hidden by professionalism; the Lieutenant's arm fell back to his side. "The Fuhrer believes we can use those four to stop the insurgence and I agree. Ending their lives here would be a waste."

"So we're just supposed to let them off the hook?" Falman shook his head, hands grasping at open air. "What's to stop them from turning on us or, even worse, joining the rebels? Forgive me, sir, but this is a terrible idea!"

"This is the Fuhrer's plan. Weren't you listening?" Breda glanced at his brother-in-arms. "If this is from the top, there's nothing we can do."

"You're all overlooking something." All eyes turned to Hughes, though only Mustang noted the fingers still wrapped around thick leather, the slight tightening of his jaw. "We've already concluded that those boys aren't terrorists or, at least, they weren't brought to Amestris of their own free will. The Fuhrer granting them clemency only proves what we already knew – he wouldn't show mercy to our enemies."

Armstrong's glare hardened. "You believe they are innocent, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"We have no evidence of their committing crimes outside of self-defense." He replied, controlled calm contrasting the rumble in the other man's chest. "We also have no reason to doubt them aside from wounded pride."

"Hughes is right." Mustang cut in, recapturing attention. "Which is why they have been placed under our care."

"What?" Fuery squeaked, eyes wide. "They're staying here?"

"The military is prepared to offer each of the boys an escort with the possibility of full citizenship later down the line." His subordinates gaped as Mustang rounded his desk, studying forms made up just before their arrival. "I will see to Shuichi Minamino myself."

Edward's brow furrowed. "What do you mean 'see to'?"

"The Colonel will be Shuichi's guardian." Hawkeye supplied, watching Mustang settle into his chair.

"But that still leaves the other three: Yusuke Urameshi, Kazuma Kuwabara, and Hiei." The Flame Alchemist took up a pen, glancing at each of his men. "I appreciate volunteers but have no issue assigning someone to each boy. Not you, Fullmetal." He added as Edward opened his mouth.

"What? Why not?"

"You're far too young." Hawkeye supplied, eyes closing at her silent sigh. "Those three are around your age."

"Yeah, you're gonna have to sit this one out, Ed." Havoc leaned forward, shooting the kid a grin. "Besides, they all dwarf you, even the little guy."

"Who're you calling a half-pint midget?!"

"Back to the matter at hand." Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting an impending migraine. "Who wants Urameshi?"

Silence other than Edward's fierce mutterings, the boy refusing to look at anyone. Emotions morphed the officers' faces, everything from fear to anger and disgust rippling down the line. Only one man appeared removed from it all, the only one to step forward.

Hughes raised his hand, grip on his belt forgotten. "I'll take him."

Mustang nearly dropped his pen, hand falling from his face. A gasp from Fuery as Falman recoiled; wide-eyed stares from Armstrong and Breda though none dared speak.

The Colonel recovered first, dipping his chin. "Maes, are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine." He donned an easy smile, one they'd seen a million times.

"But what about Gracia? Don't you want to talk with her first?"

"He's right, Lieutenant Colonel!" Falman stepped forward, mouth twisted as though in pain. "There's no need to put your family in harm's way! Someone else can take Urameshi."

"I said it's fine, didn't I?" Hughes didn't turn nor allow his smile to fade, though they all heard what was left unsaid: because none volunteered, the duty fell upon him as a superior officer, second only to Mustang.

This was a result of their cowardice.

"Besides, Elicia's always wanted a brother; she's going to love this!"

Mustang pressed his lips together, fingers tightening around the pen. "You won't change your mind, even after seeing today's demonstration?"

"Come on Roy, we both know Yusuke's a good kid. He's done everything we've asked and more – the only thing that might get him in trouble is his mouth." Hughes chuckled, face softening into something akin to affection. "The kid just needs a break; he's been fighting all his life and needs a soft place to fall."

A moment's hesitation, pity weighed against realism. Mustang knew Hughes was a good judge of character: those instincts had saved their lives more than once and helped him become Central's Head of Forensics.

Still, the missing half of the mountain, multiple targets detonating because Yusuke pointed his finger . . . He didn't trust it.

But he trusted his best friend.

Uncapping the ink well, Mustang dipped the pen tip before he could reconsider.

"Colonel–!"

But it was too late, the scratch of sharpened metal, black letters staining the paper. Falman swallowed, unable to watch the process. Shuffling feet and creaking leather, larynges working overtime to water parched throats, as if he were signing Hughes' death warrant.

Mustang pushed the thought away along with the document, Hawkeye faithfully retrieving it from the corner of his desk. "All right, who's next?"

Silence as Hughes returned to his place, hushed whispers bubbling between the four lowest ranking officers. True, the barracks weren't ideal housing for the boys but what choice did they have? Bribes, favors, outright begging, Mustang heard it all and prepared himself for the worst possible outcome.

However, before he could reprimand the bunch, Armstrong stepped forward. "I will look after Kuwabara."

Negotiations screeched to a halt, all eyes turning to the burly man. Though he possessed none of Hughes' cheer, he appeared just as sincere as his superior officer. Perfect posture with a confidence paved by boldness, an action lacking both passion and fear.

Once more, Mustang found himself at a loss for words. "Major?"

"I was moved by his display earlier today, as well as reports of his conduct over the past week. Most boys his age would prioritize their own safety above all else, yet Kuwabara never ceased his attempts to aid his friends. He also has a clear understanding of masculinity." The gaze beholding Mustang sharpened – was that judgment? "If the Fuhrer wishes for the boys to live, Kuwabara would fair best under my care."

No one dared argue; they'd seen that look too many times.

Mustang bit his inner cheek, teeth rolling over tender flesh. "If you're sure that's what you want."

A nod and he returned to his place, watching the Colonel fill in the boxes on the third document.

"That just leaves Hiei."

His subordinates faces paled at the name, attentions drawn to the burn on his neck. Talks resumed and Mustang steeled himself for the impossible choice. The boy hadn't proven to be a social creature and the thought of placing him in a building together with hundreds of soldiers turned his stomach. Even if Hiei did nothing to provoke violence, plenty of Amestrians still hated Ishvalans, even those who had nothing to do with the war. Prejudice coupled with the boy's temperament was a recipe for disaster.

The softest of sighs, one nearly lost in the commotion. "I'll take him."

Silence once more, each man turning toward the voice. Neither Hawkeye's posture or expression changed but she met Mustang's gaze all the same, clipboard held dutifully at her side.

"Thus far, I am the only one Hiei has obeyed – that alone qualifies me as his guardian. Also, he needs structure, something he will not find outside of an established home." Amber met ebony, hard and unyielding. "I am the only logical choice."

Protests from her coworkers but he filled out the form anyway, trusting her judgment. A noble sacrifice, the only alternative to the boy remaining in a cell.

He couldn't think of anyone more capable of this task.

"All right." Mustang filled out the form quickly, surrendering it before standing. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, Major Armstrong, and Lieutenant Hawkeye, take tonight to make the necessary preparations; the rest of you will help in any way you can." Nods from all, though a couple were still noticeably green. "Meet back here tomorrow at 0800 hours to pick up your charges."

"Man, this sucks!"

The observation was met with silence, chilled stone throwing his words back at him. Yusuke sighed, ignoring the damp and biting iron, the odor of his own musk. He'd done everything the officer asked and then some, and where had it gotten him?

Chained to a cell wall.

He closed his eyes against the shackles at his wrists and ankles, arms stretched as far apart as they could go. A faint dripping, the far-off shuffle of boots. He hadn't heard the Colonel's orders at the shooting range, didn't have the strength to fight when several soldiers lifted him. Protests from Edward Elric, followed by a scream; fiery pain in his temple and the world tilted and before going black.

"Try to be patient." Kurama cut through his thoughts from the other side of the wall, voice deep and soft as summer forests. "After that display, you cannot blame them for taking precautions."

He'd awoken to their presence, friends he was sure he'd never see alive again: Kurama rested in the space directly behind him while Hiei hunkered in an adjacent cell, the latter's heat embracing them all in a thick blanket. Protection, a sign of ownership:

One the fire apparition appeared unconscious of.

"I know, just–" Another sigh, resting his head against a rough-hewn block. "This would be so much easier if those guys could sense energy."

The demonstration had drained him dry. While he only divided a single shot, the technique itself used spirit energy – almost all he had left. Even now, cotton filled his ears, gray eating his vision, numbing his senses. Yusuke's regaining consciousness this soon was nothing short of a miracle.

He feared how long he would be out if he went under again.

"We should be thankful they cannot. If any possessed that ability, the military would have killed us the moment we were found."

A snort though otherwise Hiei remained silent.

"Are you sure you're alright, Kurama?" Kuwabara's voice filled the ensuing silence, his cell directly across from Yusuke's. "You looked kinda pale out there."

"A trick of the light and snow." The softest chuckle, the hint of a smile. "Don't worry, my friend."

The psychic ground his jaw but remained silent. While Yusuke had never been overly sensitive to auras and territories even after his ancestral blood awakened, he still prided himself on his intuition, instinctively sizing up opponents and allies alike. Of course, he knew the difference between demon and spiritual energy – Genkai made sure of that – but he couldn't hold a candle to the other three, especially Kuwabara. Kurama looked fine earlier. Tired, but fine.

Was he missing something?

"So, what's our next move, fox boy?" Yusuke chased the doubt from his mind, back arching in a stretch. Their first priority was getting out of here; if something really was wrong, they could figure it out later. "You've got a plan, right?"

"Yes." Though his voice lacked its usual lightness, replaced by a weight that did nothing to put Yusuke at-ease. "However, there is something I must share, first."

So Kurama told them the story he spun for the Lieutenant Colonel: child soldiers, casualties of a civil war in the neighboring country of Xing. Homes lost to conflict, eking out a living as mercenaries after the Yao clan restored order; orphans who knew little of peace or order.

Yusuke laughed outright at Hiei's fabricated history, a humanitarian's wet dream. "You're saying he bought all that?"

"We can only hope he does – our future depends upon it."

Hiei remained silent though the temperature in the cell block rose, grip on his knees tightening.

"Wait, you're saying shorty hasn't talked since we got here?" Kuwabara leaned forward, disbelief coating his tongue. "I mean sure, he hasn't said anything since we got here but I thought he was in a bad mood or something."

"Before our encounter with the officers, I asked Hiei to remain silent if we were captured; it is my understanding he has done exactly that."

The fire apparition scowled but said nothing, chin sinking into crossed arms.

"But why? Why is that so important?"

"Guilt is a powerful emotion, especially when experienced by an entire nation." Shifting in Kurama's cell, the sound of popping joints. "The military seeing Hiei as half Ishvalan is crucial due to a war that plagued this land ten years ago."

A short history lesson, sharing what he knew of Amestris's slaughtering its own people, all due to a misfire that killed a child.

"In this world, only Ishvalans are born with red eyes. If I were to guess, Amestris harbors deep shame over a war that killed thousands of innocents. Also, many of the soldiers here likely fought against the Ishvalans in the conflict. There are undoubtedly those who feel nothing concerning the war, though our future relies on the former's shame."

"So what, you want Hiei to be our poster child or something?" Yusuke bit back a yawn, blinking away sleep.

"Yes. He meets all of the requirements; even his temperament aids our cause." The ghost of a snort from the silent cell, red glinting in the gloom. "A child of Hiei's status would naturally distrust anyone in a position of power, especially those belonging to a military state. By remaining silent, he has forced them to create a persona for him, one molded after their worldview and easily fed."

A unmistakable chuckle and Yusuke grinned. "You sneaky bastard."

"It's too early to celebrate; the game isn't over." Fatigue crept in, weighing Kurama's words as he shifted once more. "Even now, the military is likely discussing what will become of us – there are only two possibilities."

Kuwabara pressed himself against the metal door, peeking through the grated slit at the top. "What do you mean?"

"While our captors have confirmed we are not part of the insurgence, they still consider us a threat. They cannot lawfully imprison us, though they cannot leave us to our own devices, either. Since deportation is impractical, they will have no choice but to place us under military custody." Shallow breaths underlay his solemn tone, voice deepening to a murmur. "We will likely be separated."

"What?!" Rattling metal followed by a thud and curse as Yusuke attempted to stand, remembering his bonds too late. "There's no way I'm letting that happen!"

"Unfortunately, we have no say in the matter."

"Hold on, you said there were two ways this could end." Kuwabara raked his bangs from his eyes, hating sweating palms, his audible desperation. "What's the other one?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Velvet in the dark, sweet poison. "If the military cannot find a use for us, we will be executed."

A sharp inhale and tinkling chain, beats of a racing heart. The temperature rose alongside the pregnant pause, choking and thick, birthing perspiration upon each brow.

"Of course, we could fight that fate but how long would we last? Even if we escaped, they would send their best agents after us, much stronger than those from before."

"Then what are we supposed to do, die like dogs?" Yusuke snapped, blinking away sweat.

"No. I only mentioned execution because it was necessary – killing us is not in their best interest."

"Why not? You saw how afraid they are of Urameshi," Kuwabara wiped at his brow, damps curls brushing his forehead. "And you guys almost killed two of 'em by yourselves! We've been on lock-down this whole time . . . Why would they want to keep us around?"

"Greed." A sly smile, taking in callused hands. "The military fears us but they fear the rebellion more – kingdoms have toppled over less. They know the power we hold and that we belong to no one; they also know their own citizens have taken up arms against them. Who better to quell an insurgence than nameless mercenaries?"

Wide eyes from the psychic's cell. "Hold on, I didn't sign up for a war!"

"They won't send us to the battlefield right away, not until they know we can be trusted." Kurama clasped his hands, shoulders settling against the warm wall. "However, trust works both ways."

"What a pain in the–" Yusuke sighed, head rolling atop his shoulders. "How do you expect us to trust them?"

"I don't; only that you give the impression you do. This 'trust' should not be given freely." His attention turned to the cell door. "Especially for you, Hiei."

A sudden stillness from the opposite cell, heat stalling its descent.

"There is no need for you to remain silent after we leave this place. Though if you are placed with a guardian, make sure he or she earns your voice: given the history created for you, your actions will be under more scrutiny than our own; they will view your speaking as an act of trust, a leap of faith. However, be sure to gain their confidence, no matter what. That goes for you two as well – the sooner we earn our freedom, the sooner we can find Yukina and a way home."

A flutter of warmth and twin grunts before a door slammed, echoing down the hall and into their block.

"It's them." Kuwabara whispered at the approaching steps, carrying scents of flint, gun oil, and the unique taste of metal. Four in all:

A curiously sparse force.

"Good morning, gentlemen." Colonel Mustang's voice came from between their cells, confident and clear. "I trust you're well?"

"Sure, couldn't be better." Yusuke droned, head turning toward the door. "Look, I don't care what kinks you're into but could you leave me out of them? Bondage isn't my thing." He shook his wrists, making the chains sing.

A dry chuckle, one he didn't recognize.

"You'll have to forgive me for taking precautions," Mustang said, sounding anything but sorry. "There are protocols for dangerous criminals and like it or not, you dove into that category yesterday."

"So we are criminals, now?" A deceptively soft voice – Kurama's voice – silenced Yusuke. The temperature rose once again, though neither demon moved, not yet.

If the military had decided on option B, none of these soldiers would leave alive.

"No; the opposite, actually." Mustang maintained a light tone though the fox sensed a shift in his mood; he wished he could see the Colonel's face. "By order of Fuhrer King Bradley, you are being released into protective custody."

Movement in Kuwabara's cell, vying for a better view of the soldiers. "Protective custody?"

"Yep, though that's for your benefit." Lieutenant Colonel Hughes spoke up, voice warm, inviting. "Too many of our people view Xingese and Ishvalans in a negative light; the last thing we want is for you boys to get hurt."

Mint mingled with honey; truth wrapped in a lie. "Losing track of us would be inconvenient for your government, yes?"

"That's right." Mustang cut in, right outside Kurama's door. "Whether you like it or not, you've given us no reason to trust you – we can't afford to set you free."

The turning of a key, rusted squeaking preceding lumbering steps. A gruff command, heady fear heralding the sound of flesh-on-flesh, something heavy being dragged across the stone floor.

"Let go of me! I said let go!"

"Kuwabara!" Yusuke renewed his struggle as the temperature spiked, pulling at his restraints even after he could no longer hear his friend, wrists and ankles warm and wet. "You stupid bastards, I told you to take it up with me! I'm the one who screwed up! I'm the one who ticked off your boss, not them! If you hurt him, I swear I'll–"

"Whoa, easy there kid. Weren't you listening?" The 'click' of a lock and Hughes entered his cell, hands empty save for a ring of keys. "Your friend's fine. Major Armstrong is just taking him home, that's all."

The name didn't ring a bell, not that it mattered. "Why should I believe you?"

"You don't have to but you've only got two options: come with me willingly or I'll take you by force. I don't want to hurt you but the choice is yours."

Anger twisted Yusuke's gut as he stared at Hughes, fuming over his confidence, wanting nothing more than to break those stupid glasses. His feet moved on their own, gathering beneath him, chains rattling as he threw himself at the officer in what should have been a vicious headbutt.

"Yusuke, no!"

But Kurama's warning came too late. Though Hughes was easily within Yusuke's reach, the latter underestimated him. The former Spirit Detective barely had time to wonder how he dodged the blow before Hughes' fist buried itself in his stomach, stealing the air from his lungs.

Another well-aimed strike to the jaw and he saw stars; soft brown eyes filling his vision before he fell into darkness.

A/N: Hello and welcome back! Thank you for your continued readership, and to those who have followed, favorited and reviewed this story.

'Spoils of War' marks the end of Divergence's first arc. Along with tying up loose ends, this chapter featured a character I have never written before – Fuhrer King Bradley. What did you think of his characterization, as well as his decision concerning the boys? Feel free to leave your thoughts in a review!

While Yusuke and the others now have a bit of freedom thanks to the Fuhrer, how will they get along with their guardians? What does a guardianship look like in Amestris, and how will the four play into the fight against the rebels? Find out next time!