Title: Associates
Rated: T (there's like minor profanities, but eh)
Summary: For once, being level headed actually had its perks, kind of.
Warn: AU, crossover, ooc, headcanons galore, FMA post-series, Vongola Primo timeline, weird, absurd, not beta'ed.
Disc: I do not own KHR or FMA, I do somewhat own Yanagi Sawada tho.
A/N: So uh, apparently even tho FMA is one of my favorite manga (well, anime (Brotherhood) first, then manga) (like really high up that I would occasionally want to reread from the beginning to end over and over again, with ES21 and DCMK, I think), I haven't really made a lot fanfic for the fandom (I think just a couple of months after reading DCMK, then FMA, I jumped straight to KHR and never looked back, weirdly enough) lol
—until now that is!
Anyway, I have some Almei fanfics on the works (one of my fav pairings tbh haha) and also an AlaKou (Magi?) one too, I think…? Also, also, what's my KHR fanfics progress? And what is omertà? …hahahaha /rollsaway
Also, also, also, in another note, this is placed post-FMA-series-canon and Vongola Primo's time (before making Vongola and his first years), so Ed is around 170-180 cm (I'll assume he's still growing even after the series ended, since he was slightly shorter than Al (who'd definitely grow taller after being stunted as a teen) at the epilogue family photo picture) and the timeline of the two kinda fit so why not, if anyone's wondering
Also, also, also, also, this is kinda serious but more of humor undertone I guess? /rollsawayagain
They first met during the first nine months of his travels westward, if Edward Elric remembered.
The blond-haired man had hurriedly introduced himself as Giotto while his red-haired companion as G when he accidentally stumbled into a fist fight between them and a couple of burly armed-knife men. Sensing he would bound to find trouble anyway even if he had only arrived in Italy (the country's name, if he recounted correctly) a few hours prior, Ed immediately set aside his belongings and kicked one of the men's knife away, then drag-kicked him on the head, instantly knocking him out cold. The rest of the knive-men had blinked and gaped at his quick handiwork before launching themselves to attack him and were promptly knocked out by the blond-red-haired duo from behind a few minutes later.
As he returned the thank yous from the spiky-haired man in a heavily accented English (even in the nine months he had on the open road, he still had some trouble learning language, thankfully Amestrian was slightly similar with German, so he was faring a bit during his previous stay in Germany), with translation help from G (apparently the tattooed man was also well versed in English, German, and Spanish), Giotto had offered a lodging at one of his friend's inns in the city.
He accepted.
During his two months stay at Palermo (the name of the coastal city, his hometown, Giotto explained through G), Ed had first asked around about the alchemical knowledge in the nearby vicinity or even country (there were none that had something even came close to be called Alchemy, unfortunately), then he began to occasionally help Giotto and the rest of his friends (they had an accidental run-in again one day and began exchanging name thereafter) with the mundane citizen problems in town, for a fee, of course.
(It was usually in the form of food, or small knick-knacks he could send to his friends back home, or even "new" clothes he could wear aside from his not so great number of wardrobe. After all, it was the Laws of Equivalent Exchange.)
When the two months had passed, he had begun packing again to continue westward, wherever his legs could take him and wherever his thirst for knowledge led him, he explained to the taller blond-haired man a few days before his departure to a new country. Giotto had been saddened by the information, but said his well wishes, making him promise he had to come again to visit in the future.
He only shrugged, never confirming nor denying the notion.
A few months later (it was actually almost a year, Ed reminded himself), he eventually did come back to Palermo as (kind of) promised before heading back to Amestris. By meeting Giotto who was running away from a mob of armed-shotgun men behind him, shouting (presumably) Italian profanities at the top of their lungs.
(Déjà vu, Ed thought, a word he had learned when he had travelled to France a couple of months before travelling to Spain, while running and dodging incoming gunshots beside the caped-man.)
When a bullet had almost hit his head (there went his "don't die" promise to his fiancée and younger brother, again), instead of the expected eternal darkness, Ed's eyes widened at the sight of Giotto's flame-covered hands just barely catching the bullet in his fists, disintegrating the small metal into ashes. And also a flame-covered forehead too, apparently.
He had almost wanted to accuse the man for withholding secrets from him, but kept his mouth shut until they had defeated all of the armed men and turned them in toward the local authorities half an hour later.
Crossing his arms when they had settled in a nearby abandoned house, his golden eyes narrowed as the blond-haired man held up his hands, explaining.
"In my defense, I only had these just a month after you left to go to Austria, so in all honesty, I haven't lied to you." The unspoken yet was left out, but he wasn't going to grill him about that.
"And lemme guess, if we haven't met again in this circumstance, you probably won't tell me either way, correct." Giotto's silence was his answer, so he merely sighed and slightly relaxed his tense shoulders. Both of their English had improved the last time they met, so they could communicate properly with no translation or pronunciation error now. "So this country really does have some semblance of Fire Alchemy in here, albeit long lasting and not scorching the human skin when touched..."
It reminded him of his former Commanding Officer. Barely.
The taller man however rose an eyebrow at his observation and mutter, "Fire Alchemy...? Oh no, I don't really know what you're thinking, honestly, but it's not like that, it's a physical manifestation of our dying will." he explained, then closed his eyes for a moment before the orange fire he had seen back in the alleyway burst from his still-gloved hands and forehead. His now-opened eyes weren't yellow anymore, but were orange with a tinge of gold in them. "You could say, it's our Dying Will Flames."
"That still doesn't answer how that," Ed's eyes rolled to the side without missing a beat, the man in front of him did love the dramatics sometimes, "came about—nothing can just come out of nothing, it's not—"
"—adhering to the Laws of Equivalent Exchange." Giotto finished, already knew the principles the golden-haired man was going to say, he had never been subtle about it the last time he had stayed in the city. "As I told you, it didn't come out of nowhere, Edward, it's a physical manifestation of our dying will—"
"Oh shut that bull crap, Giotto, we all know this 'dying will' is just a piece of mumbo jumbo created by those 'philosophical' idiots and it's not real energy." the former State Alchemist argued, his arms still firmly crossed over his chest. "If it's indeed a physical manifestation of your so-called 'dying will,' and we take this to the most logical extreme, you're basically saying you're using your 'soul' as fu—"
Then Ed blinked.
Instantly holding both of Giotto's shoulders, the golden-eyed man stared square at the yellow-eyed man (he had extinguished both 'flames' on his gloved-hands and forehead beforehand), grinding his teeth.
"Who told you about this technique."
The blond-haired man blinked in return for a few minutes, but eventually replied.
"It's apparently common knowledge in the Mafia…?"
"…what?"
Shrugging his hands off from his shoulders, the taller man continued, "that's what the person who gave me this," as he held up a small blue-gemmed ring with the words "Vongola Famiglia" carved around it after taking off his gloves from one of his hands, "told me when they initiated me as a Mafia boss back then."
"Why are you so anxious about it? It's not like I'll ever use it on civilians, Edward." Now it was his turn to roll his eyes while the man in front of him had his mind elsewhere.
Of course he would be wary, it was basically a stripped down single-soul version of a Philosopher's Stone.
Whoever taught this transmutation array (if it could even be called that, since he never saw Giotto draw a single transmutation array back then to call forth the so-called "Dying Will Flames" into his hands, perhaps it was the same like the Colonel, correction, General Bastard, but without snapping or clapping to activate it?) had dangerously left out the important detail of it using the user's life force to ignite it—aka shortening their life span the more they activated it.
…hold on, did he say the Mafia?
"What do you mean when you got initiated as a Mafia boss—"
"Primo!"
As Ed was about to interrogate Giotto again, G had burst into the abandoned house, his eyes narrowed and in his hands were a couple of small handguns ready to aim and fire.
"Oh hello G, good to see you again," the blond-haired man greeted his red-haired friend, not even perturbed by the sudden intrusion, "you still remember Edward, right? He came to Palermo a year ago."
"G." Ed nodded in recognition as the tattooed man tucked away his handguns after deeming the coast was clear and nodded as well to him.
"Elric."
There was a few minutes of awkward silence before the golden-haired man turned his head again toward the blond-haired man, his golden eyes narrowed. "Anyway, what the hell did you mean you got initiated as a freaking Mafia boss last year, Giotto."
Another moment of awkward silence engulfed them again as G smacked the back of Giotto's head, growling, while the head-smacked victim yelped.
"What did I do!?" He accused the red-haired man with a pointed finger, "for your information, I only told him about the inner workings of Dying Will Flames, alright!" and in an instant his gloves turned alight as orange flames were present again in his hands to prove his point.
"Ow!"
Smacking the blond-haired man in the back again, G hissed at the caped-man, glaring. "You just had to tell him, didn't you."
"This is why we never leave you alone—you'd always want to tell people about that!" He continued, pointing at the man's flame-covered hands with distaste. "Also, have you forgotten about the freaking omertà, idiot—you're going to get both of us killed!"
"The Vindice knows better than to target the Vongola, G, you know that," Giotto snorted as if it was an obvious fact, which the red-haired man smacked his head again.
"I'll have you beheaded for committing treason and slandering the Vongola Primo when we get back to the mansion, G!"
"Do that and who knows who'll help you organize your mountain stacks of paperwork and the Vongola Madness until you die, stupid!"
This was certainly going nowhere, Ed sighed.
(And here he thought he and the General Bastard were a nonsense bickering machine—at least they knew when and when not to tear each other's throat off.)
Repeatedly snapping his fingers beside the two grown men, they finally snapped their heads toward his direction after his fifth try, growling.
"What?!"
The golden-haired man ignored the bubbling irritation to the back of his mind (he had matured a lot in the last eight years, alright) and pulled a restrained scowl at the two.
"Mafia boss. Explain."
After a few more arguments, the two begrudgingly explained how Giotto, against all odds, was crowned as a Mafia boss of his little vigilante group by another female Mafia boss of a nearby Mafia Family a year ago, giving him and his closest friends (now dubbed Guardians) the rings (now called Vongola Rings) and the knowledge of the Dying Will Flames and how to harness its power, then how his little vigilante group had grown into a very influential and powerful Mafia Family in the span of a year.
"We're currently in the fifth rank of all Sicily Mafia, last time I heard."
It took a couple of moments for Ed to comprehend the additional information, but eventually he managed to digest it to his brain and then sniding.
"Never would've guessed a busybody like you would actually get promoted as a Mafia boss in a lifetime, Giotto."
The offended man merely shot him a pout and a glare.
"Anyway," as G steered their conversation away from anything Mafia-related, looking at the golden-eyed man in the eye, "how long are you staying in Palermo? I thought you wanted to get back and marry that childhood friend of yours as quick as possible."
He was about to respond with, after he had done more research about the newly known "Dying Will Flames" (which could take him months to even years, if he wasn't so lucky), but quickly diminished the thought. If from what he had heard about the Mafia in the last couple of months on the road, it was certainly going to hurt him and his (future) family and friends in the later years. He already had enough of life-and-death situations in his teenage years and he still wanted to be alive if his fiancée ever found out he got involved with crazy crap that could bite them in the future, again.
And besides, he had seen how Giotto and his friends handled themselves during times of crises, they were going to be fine without his meddling.
"You know what, I was about to head out tomorrow, I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi and goodbye to you two—now that that's done, I have no more lingering promises to both of you."
At this, Giotto had a slightly disappointed look on his face.
"Well that's certainly a shame," he replied, "I was hoping you'll stick around and help us with the Family—your fighting prowess is really something, Edward, it's as if you're a veteran of it, ever since I first met you a year ago." his eyes shone orange and slowly narrowed.
(It was the look of a seasoned tactician. Giotto had certainly grown a lot in his year of absence.)
Ed only grinned.
Yep, definitely not regretting this one bit.
The next time Ed had heard about Giotto and his not-so-legal merry group of friends, it was during his fifth year of familyhood.
(His oldest of five years and second oldest of three years had started to learn about Alchemy like their father did while his youngest of ten months had begun to start walking without any help from both of her parents, it was certainly a rewarding parenthood.)
"I never told you my number," the golden-haired man flatly stated, outwardly ignoring the knowing chuckle from the man on the other side of the line.
"I have my ways, Edward," Giotto merely replied, "and besides, finding out a civilian's public number is basically a child's play compared to a private number of a military operative."
"So you knew," he could definitely hear him shrug over the telephone, "what do you want, Primo."
Then a laugh. "Oh no, not Primo anymore, please, just call me like old times—anyway, did you know how expensive it is to call someone internationally? I think I'll be broke after this call."
Apparently the Vongola Family had recently went through a bit of succession ceremony two years ago (his distant cousin, Ricardo, was appointed as Vongola Secondo, he told him) and Giotto had taken refuge with his friend, Ugetsu Asari, back to his hometown in Namimori, Japan. There he had met a young orphaned woman, Yanagi Sawada, and took a liking with her. He then married her just a few months later and changed his name to Ieyasu Sawada, taking her family name since he never had one in the first place, now currently blessed with a one year old son named Yoshimune (or little Mune, as he affectionately called him) and a second one on the way later in the Fall.
"Congrats," Ed deadpanned, "if that's all you wanted to say, you could've just sent me a letter, you know."
"And risk it being immediately burned by you in a heartbeat? Not a chance," he snorted, already too familiar with his not-so trusting habits, "anyway, just wondering, did Daemon ever visit you in the last couple of months?"
"None that I can think of," he answered in honesty after a moment of thought. The man in question, Daemon Spade, was one of Giotto's (nay, Ieyasu's) now-former Guardians. The nobleman was surprisingly polite and level headed for being part in a slightly rambunctious group of misfits when they had first met years ago. He had almost thought the blond-haired man had blackmailed the blue-haired man into joining him, if it weren't for the fact Daemon sometimes showed a healthy amount of mischief like the rest of the back-then-not Guardians whenever any vigilante-shenanigans was involved, so there was that.
"I guess even the Military would make him think twice about contacting me," Ed joked, "and before you ask, no, not even your other 'Guardians,' including Asari since he was with you this entire time, had ever visited me either, why?"
There was a slight pause from the other line, but eventually Gio-no-Ieyasu sighed.
"No, just wondering, I hope that'll be the case," he muttered, his voice sounded slightly tired in his ears, but he let it slide, "oh yeah, your brother, I forgot what his name was again…"
"You mean Alphonse?" the golden-haired man raised an eyebrow at the sudden mention of his younger brother's name, if he remembered, the younger Elric was currently still on a journey eastward with his own fiancée (how the small squirt was a royal member (a princess! Her!) of the Xing Empire was still beyond him) and his chimera bodyguards-cum-friends, last time he heard him, "what about it?"
Ed could practically hear the blond-haired man's huge grin on his telephone.
"I saw him, a young woman, and a couple of men, his bodyguards I presume, a while ago—his hair and eyes looked kind of familiar, so I asked him if he knew Edward Elric and told me he's your younger brother—I must say, he's almost at the same height as mine, are you sure you're the older one, Edward—and now he's teaching me how to Alchemically transmute the Vongola Rings—before you ask, the ones currently in the possession of the Family is a replica made by Talbot, you know the old wrinkly guy, the one with a black cloth around his eyes and mohawk hair, that guy, and I am going to return them after sealing most of its power, alright, I told you, I have my ways, Edward—after I told him in return I would teach him how to manifest and help his research around the soul properties of Dying Will Flames."
"After all…"
Oh, the grin had certainly turned into a full blown smirk by now.
"It is the Laws of Equivalent Exchange."
Ed sighed. He should had had seen this coming a mile away, to be honest.
"Just a heads up, Al's a much more experienced fighter than I am and his fiancée is even feistier in hand-to-hand combats, Ieyasu."
If he thought Ieyasu Sawada's grin couldn't get bigger, it definitely did now.
Hopefully, he wouldn't get any bright ideas to implement it more than transmuting the so-called rings.
Probably.
Well, even if it did happen, at least for the first time ever, it was actually his little brother's fault and not because of his own misgivings.
THE END
A/N: Well, that got out of hand pretty quickly. I first imagined this as a short 400-600 word fic, but somehow turned into an almost 3k+ monster, whoops. Anyway, constructive criticisms are welcomed and have a good day everyone! /slowlyweepsbacktohomeworkland
~G L. [Jakarta, 10.05.2020]
Edited some stuff because sleepy-typos and weird word structure-ish. [Jakarta, 10.05.2020] Edited more 'cuz of reasons. [16.05.2020]