We are only as blind as

we want to be.

– Maya Angelou

The Hunting Dogs

He didn't know how long he ran, where his feet led him or why. The promise of dawn breathed through the city dyed black by smut and shadows, dark things darting away to grant him passage. Frothing clouds, cold air stinging his eyes.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised when the snow came.

The flakes fell gently at first, kissing his hair and ears. Soon enough a fine powder coated the street, marking his trail so anyone could find him, though he couldn't care less. Let them come with their pitiful weapons, their strange tongue and magic:

Anything to ease his roiling gut.

You're not worth it.

Veering to the side, he managed to stop when bile surged, vomit splattering across the brick wall. Palms planted on either side of his head, he cursed when half-digested meat slid down with a plop, hating his trembling knees, the pitiful sounds coming from his mouth. Five years was a long time, plenty of time for a stomach to shrink, for the mind to forget how much could be eaten in one sitting. Five years of starving, grasping at dwindling power:

And he'd gorged himself like a child on a feast day.

Another wave and he groaned, clouds of frosted air shrouding his face. Cold dripped down his neck, tender flakes melting as soon as they met his skin. He didn't know how long he stood there but when the nausea passed, he found the snow falling faster, dusting the world white.

Turning from the mess, he allowed the wall to support him a moment longer, closing his eyes. Brick chilled both hands, water weighing his shoulders, his back, clinging to his hair. Honestly, he could care less about snow though it always brought to mind a favorite memory – the first time he saw Yukina.

The images produced by the Jagan were fuzzy then, the best that could be hoped for from an inexperienced child. Despite the surgeon's warning he used the eye immediately after the operation, enduring the pain of aching nerves and freshly formed veins.

He would never forget the wonder of seeing his sister for the first time.

Pale hands cupped, she caught snowflakes one after another, tasting them, breathing them in. White collected on her hair and clothes, not daring to melt. Looking back, she spied other prizes, games leftover from before. Snow mounds, snow people, snowballs and angels; each grouped in pairs, exactly the same size and shape–

One for her and one for her brother.

His own hands refused to acknowledge the cold though the brick did not give up, sure and cool beneath his fingers:

Cool as the hand reaching for him at the beach.

"So what were you saying earlier?"

He stiffened at the rough voice, low and impossibly close. Darting into shadows, Hiei cursed his carelessness, the lesser instinct pressing him to hide. Two humans materialized from the gloom, one idling about, the other locking a shabby door. They appeared harmless enough – graying men in dirty, worn clothes – but he wasn't taking any chances.

Unlike Kuwabara, he was blind to who could use magic in this world.

The taller of the two shrugged, watching his companion pocket a key. "Nothing much, just wondering how long Bradley can keep this up."

Hand in his pocket still, the older one made a sound deep in his throat, stroking his beard. "You mean the benevolent act or pretending everything's under control?"

"Ha! Take your pick!" He took a drink from the flask in his hand, the stench of spirits drifting across the street. "You think he knows he's got a war on his hands?"

"If he doesn't, he'll find out soon enough."

Hiei frowned, back pressed to the wall as the men started in his direction. They couldn't see him – he was sure of that – though he couldn't make heads or tails of what they were talking about.

Regardless, it didn't have anything to do with him.

Just a bit longer; enough time for these fools to get out of sight. Then he would–

"You hear about that girl Kidava found? The one they're calling the 'Ice Princess'?"

Hiei froze, cold racing through his veins. Again, snow angels flashed, a candied smile, those tiny hands. There was no way, no way they could be talking about her–

"I heard something about that, rumors, mostly." Stroking his beard again, he glanced at the other man, who looked entirely too sure of himself.

"She's a real looker from what I hear, if you're into little girls." He snickered, sipping from the flask again, Hiei crept along after them, avoiding the streetlamps, ears straining to hear the hushed conversation. "Something out of a fairy tale: a tiny thing with cotton candy hair and red eyes."

"Red eyes? You mean she's Ishvalan?"

"Not from what I hear. She's got real pale skin, like she's never been in the sun before."

A snort. "So what makes her so special?"

"Well, apparently they brought her here using . . . that."

The bearded man's brows rose though Hiei didn't see it; he was too busy listening, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Revealing himself to the humans would do no good; they were delivering second, no, third-hand information, at best. Even if he threatened their lives, they would only tell him what they thought he wanted to hear.

Such was the nature of their pitiful race.

"You mean it actually worked?"

"Yeah, killed the saps that did it though."

They were nearing the main street. Indigo skies surrendered to crimson by degrees; soon everything would pink and bright, just the way humans liked it. He could follow them from the rooftops though doing so would make him vulnerable. Even now, the city teemed with soldiers: he could almost smell their sweat, the steel of their guns. He needed to get back, burrow underground until night came–

"D'ya know why they call her the Ice Princess?"

"Well, they've got her somewhere up north and–"

The man's lips curled, whiskerless face sporting a revolting smile. "When she got her, she froze someone to death."

He didn't stay to see them turn the corner, to hear whatever else they had to say. Lungs burning, he retraced his steps faster than he thought possible, prying the manhole away in minutes and slipping inside. The dark didn't stop him nor the damp, cramped underground route. He didn't care that he was out of breath or what the others would think; pride had no place here.

Yukina.

They had Yukina–

And he couldn't save her alone.

A breath of wind and Yusuke looked away from Kuwabara, stopping mid-sentence. "Took you long enough."

But Hiei wasn't listening. Chest heaving, he slid to a halt in the middle of the platform, narrowed gaze fixed on Kurama. "We have to go."

"Huh?" Yusuke blinked." What do you mean?"

He couldn't imagine how he appeared to them, stooped and out of breath. Pride dictated he harden his look, not allow weakness to show. But the street was still fresh in his mind, the human's words ringing in his ears. "We have to leave. Now."

"Hold on a sec!" Kuwabara moved toward him, checking his step at the warning growl. "What's going on? What happened–"

"They have Yukina."

The two boys started, the psychic sputtering her name, though Kurama remained nonplussed, eyes fixed on Hiei. "Do you know where?"

"North."

A snort. "Great, that narrows it down."

"Shut up, Urameshi!" Kuwabara flew to him though didn't dare touch him, hands fluttering. "Is she okay? Is she hurt–"

"I don't know." Finally, his lungs allowed his to stand at his full height, unwilling to look at any of them directly. "The sooner we leave, the better."

"Agreed." Kurama pressed a fist to his mouth, countless simulations flitting amidst the green. , Reaching for a volume at the bottom of the pile, he opened it to a marked section, eyes scanning one leaf after another. Maps flashed as he flipped, finally stopping on one which took up two pages. Amestris lay in the center of the diagram, a circular, landlocked country split neatly into five districts: North, South, East, West and Central. The map contained no information on topography, scraping by with names of large towns or important sites labeled with the proper markings.

"Currently, we are here." He brushed a golden star with his fingertip, all eyes traveling to the Eastern district. "The fastest way north borders the Central district and, while it is indeed the quickest route, many cities lie along that path."

"Meaning it's a no-go." Yusuke knelt beside him, balancing on the balls of his feet.

Another nod and Kurama chewed his inner cheek, a habit he normally hid with a hand. "Our safest bet is to travel east, near the desert's edge." He tapped the tan-colored area, the only section sporting one city – Lior. "In the off-chance what Hiei heard is a trap, going this way will confuse the enemy."

Another snort, this time from the demon in question. "Those idiots couldn't hope to fool anyone."

"Still, given the situation I would rather err on the side of caution. We know little of this land or its people; and do not forget – they are hunting us."

Situation, a delicate word, spoken in almost a whisper. Perhaps the fox didn't want to remind them of their weakness, stranded and left to rot in an unknown world. Maybe he couldn't point out the things stolen by Truth, what they'd lost to the Gate.

Still, they knew – of course they knew. Yusuke stared openly at splayed fingers; Kuwabara made a fist with one hand, brows pinched, trying and failing to access severed channels. Even Hiei nearly reached for the headband but stopped just in time, hand slipping into his pocket. Kurama watched them without a word, noted the determination glowing in their eyes. They viewed their tolls in a different light; inconveniences, nothing more:

He wished he could say the same.

"How far up you think we'll have to go?"

"I cannot say, though if necessary we will sneak across the border into Drachma." Dragging his finger up, he stopped upon the red country, far bigger than its round neighbor. "Hopefully that will not be necessary."

"So east then north, huh? Sounds simple enough." Yusuke stood abruptly, body curling as he stretched. "What about this stuff, though?" He jerked a thumb to the bag stuffed with rations and clothes, some of which had been laid out to make pallets.

"Leave them. The books too." Hiei retreated to the tunnel mouth, pausing to look over his shoulder. "And I suggest putting on more clothes, if you don't want to freeze to death. It's snowing."

Taking to the damp corridor, he paid no heed to the questionable smells, the water lapping at his boots. Let the others dawdle, wasting time worrying over the unknowns of this world.

If need be, he'd leave without them.

Soon enough, he heard footfalls behind him, though only that of one man. The scent hit then – freshly cut hay tinged with cinnamon – a unique smell, especially for one who'd never worked on a farm. Familiar breathing, a steady silhouette.

Hiei didn't expect him to follow, so he waited.

Kuwabara materialized from the gloom, not seeing him until inches separated them. A thick coat covered his arms, mangled and by no means new though it appeared warm, so thick his shoulders brushed brick on either side. No extra layers adorned his legs, hardly surprising.

He'd been lucky to find pants for the fool the first time.

"About those guys, what you heard." The psychic managed to rub his neck despite the tight space, not daring to look him in the eye. "You sure they have Yukina?"

Hiei watched as he squinted in the dark, his own eyesight unhindered. He came alone to ask that? "Who else could earn the name Ice Princess so quickly?"

Kuwabara swallowed, lips twisting in a scowl. "You don't–" He bit his lip, taking a breath before trying again. "You don't think she's hurt, do you?"

Truth's laugh rang in his ears, blood dripping from the translucent body, the Jagan held high, a grisly prize. Yukina's face, that sweet smile crushed beneath a man's hand–

He couldn't think of it.

Rather, he took in Kuwabara's attire once more, noting his ruddy hands and cheeks. "That's all you're wearing?"

"Yeah, most of the stuff's too small. Urameshi wants to bring food but Kurama's talking him out of it." Pushing both hands into his pockets, he glanced once more at the fire apparition, body relaxing by degrees. "He's got a point though. What are we going to do about food?"

"Steal it, what else? If there's nothing to steal, then scavenge. Surely even an ogre like you can hunt."

Jaw tightening, Kuwabara appeared ready to bark back but stilled instead, taking a deep breath. "What about you?"

He tried and failed to keep the question casual, anxiety tickling his tongue. "What do you think?"

"No! I mean, what'll you do when there aren't any people around?" He forced the word through a tight throat, gritting his teeth. "From what Kurama said, you can't . . . do what you did before."

Go without; abstain.

Starve.

There were many words for it but all meant the same thing. "No, I won't."

The distinction was necessary because while he could refuse to eat again, he would not. Not with so much at stake–

Not when Yukina was in danger.

"Look," Kuwabara hesitated before straightening, rising to his full height despite his hair brushing mucky brick. "I'm not gonna tell you I'm okay with you eating humans, 'cause I'm not."

Fiery eyes narrowed, sneer pulling his lips. "Did I ask your permission?"

"Will you just listen a minute?" The shout echoed up and down the corridor, bouncing off the walls, hovering over the water. "I'm not like Urameshi or Kurama – I can't just brush it off, not when I could be dinner one day!"

Hiei stilled, hiding his surprise with a scoff. "I'll pass in the off chance your stupidity is digestible."

"You wanna go, runt boy?!"

"Let me quell your pitiful fears – I have no interest in any of you."

This continued for several minutes, the all too familiar call and response. Even as rallied against the barbed insults, the witty remarks he wouldn't have understood years ago, Kuwabara knew he was forgiven. Hiei's willingness to speak proved as much but he also noticed the demon's slack shoulders, the hands nestled thoughtlessly in his pockets, throat exposed without a second thought–

The throat he'd squeezed less than an hour ago.

After the Demon World tournament, when the other two didn't come back, Kuwabara spent almost all his spare time with Kurama – it was the only thing that helped him stay sane. He'd lie awake at night, grim fates for his friends stewing. They could take care of themselves: he knew that, and Kurama gave him updates whenever possible. Still, Yusuke's dead face in the cave flashed, Hiei being thrown about like a ragdoll.

Initially that's why he asked Kurama to teach him about demons.

Of course he knew some things – enough to help with re-locations and take out the bad guys – but he wanted to know more, to understand why they felt more comfortable in Demon World than here. He wanted to know their thoughts, how their bodies moved without hearts:

After all, what man wouldn't want to help his friends?

Guilt stung as Kuwabara remembered the warm flesh beneath his fingers, the pulse against his palm. "Listen–"

But footsteps cut him off, silencing the squabble. Yusuke and Kurama emerged from the dim, empty-handed and sporting more layers of clothing.

If they heard any of the argument, they kept it to themselves. "What's the plan?"

"If they do have Yukina, they are likely holding her in the mountains to the northwest." Kurama said, pulling the map from his memory. "There are many places to hide in the region though the mountains are nearly impenetrable."

Hiei nodded, taking in tired eyes, the pale pallor. "Are you fit to travel?"

The ghost of a smile. "Don't worry about me."

"Hold on!" Kuwabara stammered, glancing back down the tunnel. "What about the books?"

"Leave them." Hiei turned, starting up the ladder.

"Yeah, not like we'll have time to read anyway."

"I don't think you can read, Urameshi!"

Mustang stifled a yawn, the sound quickly morphing into a rumpled sigh. Morning light streamed through his office window, christening the space, though he couldn't imagine for what.

If the day proved to be like the night before, he might take Riza's advice and go to bed.

Massaging bloodshot eyes, he sagged against his hands, peeking at the papers littering the desk. Though the forensics department questioned them, his team wasn't given the dead man's case.

A small mercy, since he had his hands full with the Fuhrer's orders.

A week; seven days since the rebel's transmutation and losing track of the suspects–

Four and a half days over his deadline.

So far his superiors remained understanding though their patience wore thin. He couldn't blame them; he felt the same way. Despite searching day and night, they'd not only failed to find the four but allowed them to slip between their fingers twice. He alone bore the responsibility for the blunder but for how long? He wasn't naive enough to believe the others could escape this unscathed–

The military was anything but forgiving.

Pressing his eyes until he saw white, Mustang took a breath, straightening. He'd asked to be informed of any strange happenings in East City, anything that could possibly be linked to the mission; Hawkeye humored him. Other than the man discovered last night, only petty thefts had been reported – shop keepers noting their trash had been pilfered – as well as a break-in of Eastern Command's branch of the Amestrian library. The latter puzzled him and the timing couldn't have been worse.

Fist pressed to his lips, Mustang scanned the report once more, noting the books missing. Volumes on science, geographical indexes and alchemy; histories, political journals and literary classics. Even a children's book and cookbooks were on the list, anomalies in a thoroughfare of information. Why would anyone steal books that were offered freely?

And could this have anything to do with his investigation?

Another report, one granted because someone owed him a favor. A witness had come forward about the murder last night though admittedly, the account didn't make much sense. After closing his bar for the night, the man claimed he heard a scream and, like any good citizen, went to see what the trouble was. A shape fled from the shadows, though the only thing he could make out was red eyes. He'd found the victim's body and, while running to report it, Havoc arrived on the scene.

Mustang mulled over the page, images of the night before coming unbidden. Given the description and state of the body, he was tempted to lay blame on Scar, the Ishvalan murderer shrouded in mystery. However, Scar hadn't been spotted in this area and the victim was a civilian, not a state alchemist.

There was another possibility, a thought he couldn't quite shake. The fire-wielder's face flashed, dark flame coating one arm, crimson eyes narrowed in hatred.

Still, if it was him, what could his motive be?

And what of the state of the body?

"Hey Mustang, you in here?"

Too late he realized the clanking wasn't his pounding head; the knocking didn't belong in his chest. A familiar golden head poked through the doorway, looking this way and that before settling on him. Without waiting for a response, Edward strolled into the office as if it were his own, Alphonse on his heels.

"Ed! It's not polite to–!"

"No, it's alright." Mustang straightened, forcing back a yawn. "I'm surprised you're here, Fullmetal. Surely you haven't read through all of Tucker's library yet."

The last came with a smirk, a gesture the kid returned. "No way! We've been there every day this week and have barely made a dent in it!"

Edward moved to the sofa without being asked, sinking into a leather seat while his brother remained standing. "Where is everyone? This place is usually swamped!"

"They're either resting, patrolling or gathering intel." He glanced back at the reports, frowning. "This week has been–" A chore? Nerve-wracking? "Busy."

Golden eyes flickered. "Does this have anything to do with those circles you showed us?"

So he hadn't forgotten like Mustang hoped. "That's none of your concern."

"About the library–" Alphonse interrupted, voice echoing softly in the armor. "You see, Colonel, that's why we came by."

"Oh?" Mustang leaned forward, resting his chin on laced fingers. "Is his collection not what you hoped?"

"No, it's great!" Over-sized hands waved away the thought. "But–"

"We heard the library's Eastern branch was broken into last night." Edward cut to the chase, arms thrown across white leather. "Is that true?"

He hesitated, mind racing. "Yes."

"But why?" Alphonse demanded. "Is anything missing?"

"I can't discuss an ongoing investigation, you boys know that." Mustang fought against the roaring in his ears, eyes stuffed with cotton. "We're looking into it. The only reason this was given to us is because it happened right before–"

He realized his mistake a moment too late, jaw clamping shut in-time with Edward's frown, that challenging look. "Right before what?"

The corpse flashed in his mind's eye: the hollow abdomen and picked-over limbs, face twisted in agony. "Nothing."

Edward raised a brow, taking in the desk overflowing with papers. "Seems like a lot of work over 'nothing'."

"Leave it, Fullmetal–"

"Sir."

Hawkeye appeared behind the younger Elric, manila folder clasped beneath one arm. Both boys started but Mustang simply held out his hand, accepting her offering. He'd never been more happy to see field reports.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

She nodded, offering a smile to the Elrics. Despite her perfect posture and clear eyes, she was exhausted – he could tell by the set of her mouth, the rigidity of her movements:

Before he knew it, she withdrew to the window, back reflected in the frosted glass.

"That reminds me," Edward said, regaining his attention. "How is the investigation going? Any leads?"

The question settled in Mustang's stomach like lead though he refused to show it, falling into the facade built from years of training. "That's none of your concern."

The boy blinked. "What did you say?"

"I said this doesn't concern you. Either of you."

"But–!" Edward stood, motioning to the desk. "We're part of the team! We told you about the circles–"

"And we appreciate that but your involvement ends there."

"But Colonel–"

"He's right." Hawkeye said, eyes belying the calmness of her voice. "The rebels have already killed several in the military and are skilled in guerrilla warfare. We do not know how the suspects appeared in the circles, who they are or what they are capable of – sending someone inexperienced after them would be unwise."

Alphonse stepped forward, drawing their attention away from his brother. "We are experienced, though! We've fought many times – Ed even took down a chimera in Lior!"

"Those were not fights to the death. Also, it's easier to kill an animal than a human being."

"Are you saying we're useless?"

This from the elder Elric, trembling with rage.

"No, only that you're not ready." Mustang leaned back, staring through the suit of armor. "When we find them, they're not likely to come quietly. We will have to fight and, while we want all four of them alive, that may not be possible." His reflection glared back from Alphonse's breast plate though he knew both boys were listening. "Many soldiers have made the wrong choice in that moment; I don't want you to be one of them, Fullmetal."

Alphonse shifted, bringing Edward into view.

However, before he could speak:

"Colonel!"

Breda burst through the door only to bend double, chest heaving. Uniform jacket half-buttoned and undershirt sticking out in odd places, he'd clearly left in a hurry, not even bothering to shave. Mustang and Hawkeye watched on stoically but the Elrics were clearly taken aback, Edward gaping, Alphonse reaching for the new arrival.

"Are you alright, Lieutenant Breda? Here, let me help you–"

But he waved away the thick gauntlets, rising to attention. "Sir, we found them!"

Mustang's eyes narrowed; Breda met his glare without shrinking. "Where?"

"Four males matching the suspects' descriptions were seen leaving East City before dawn: sightings have also been reported near Demur, Zachburg, and Rödheim."

"They're traveling north."

Mustang barely heard Hawkeye's murmur, already on his feet. "Have Fuery continue to monitor the situation – everything he hears is to be reported directly to me. Armstrong is to continue patrolling the city; we don't know if they left any allies in the city and need to be ready for anything. Breda, you, Falman and Havoc will put form a squad for the support unit, drag those two out of bed if you have to."

"Yes sir!' A swift salute before Breda faltered, staring as Mustang grabbed his coat. "Where are you going, Colonel?"

"Lieutenant Hawkeye and I will form the advance unit, see to it that your men come quickly." Already Hawkeye was at his side, arms slipping into dark wool. "They're not getting away this time."

"But sir, you'll be outnumbered–"

"Hawkeye and I are the only ones here who have an inkling of their ability. Sending anyone else would be suicide." The barest hint, the purple flames licking into the night. "Dismissed."

Breta hesitated a moment before dropping his salute, rushing from the room.

"Looks like you could use some help."

"No." The word flew with a savage bite but there wasn't time to soften it, not when they were this close. Mustang turned to meet the glaring Edward head-on, donning the icy mask of authority. "You are to stay put and support Major Armstrong."

Edward bared his teeth, nose wrinkling at the challenge. "Don't give me that crap! The Major can take care of himself and we both know it!"

Ice settling in his stomach, a dangerous cold. "Leave it, Fullmetal."

"I won't! Admit it, you've been holding out on us this whole time, haven't you? Tucker's library was just a decoy!"

Mustang didn't deny it nor did he back down, towering over the boy. "I said leave it, Edward."

"What's wrong with helping? We're part of this team too, you know! From what you told me, you only know what one of these guys can do, right? You think one State Alchemist is enough to handle that?"

His face darkened, blood bubbling in his veins. He didn't realize he'd taken a step until Riza placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We just want to help you, Colonel." Alphonse soothed, trying and failing to calm his brother in a similar fashion as the Lieutenant. "We've faced danger before–"

"Not like this." Mustang set his jaw, chest tightening at the possibilities, the unknowns surrounding the four.

"That's it, isn't it?" Edward's question came softly, directly contrasting his honeyed glare. "You don't think we're equals – you don't see me as a State Alchemist."

Mustang took a breath, picking up the kernel of truth in his deduction. Edward Elric – both of the Elrics – were phenomenal, no one could deny that. They'd dared to perform the ultimate alchemic taboo and survived, bearing a pain few could understand. Then, rather than settle with their fate, they decided to reclaim their bodies, a journey which truly began when the eldest became the youngest State Alchemist in history. They were brilliant, talented, brave–

They were still children.

"You will stand down, or I will put you under house arrest. The choice is yours."

A series of clacks as Edward clenched his right hand, automail creaking.

"But Colonel, it's snowing."

Alphonse's statement caught him off-guard and he paused, brow rising. "Yes, I'm aware."

The younger Elric pointed outside, motioning to white already two inches deep. "If there's a fight, won't the snow melt?"

In a moment the weight fell from his chest, face draining of blood. A natural reaction, basic physics. If he was forced to use alchemy to apprehend the four – something he fully expected – the snow would melt, reduced to its basic form–

Water.

"Oh, that's right! You're useless when you get wet, aren't you, Colonel?" Edward's smile came slowly, ire forgotten.

They were wasting time; with each minute, the four's advantage grew. "I am well prepared for–"

"It'll be hard to change gloves in the middle of battle and if the enemy discovers your secret, you're screwed." The boy grinned, watching as the reality of the situation sank in. "Al and I don't have any weaknesses. There's a lot of ore up north, plenty for us to work with. Plus, if you run into a tight spot, we can cover you! I dunno, sounds like a good deal to me."

Mustang's eyes narrowed to slits, a scowl cementing his lips. Try as he might, he couldn't fault their logic, not when they'd pointed out the chip in his armor. Despite his best efforts, the boys had built a metal wall:

Not surprising, given Edward's title.

He didn't need to look at Riza to know he'd lost. Turning on his heel, Mustang stormed from the room, the other three close behind. "You will follow my orders exactly, without question. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!

"You got it!" Edward hurried to keep up with him, practically sprinting down the hall. "Think you may be going overboard, though. How dangerous could these guys be?"

A/N: Hello and welcome back! Thank you once again for reading Divergence and for your follows, favorites and reviews! I read every one and appreciate your thoughts and comments.

So, the boys set out after a possible lead on Yukina but Mustang and company are close behind! Will the two worlds finally meet and, if so, who will come out victorious? Find out next time!