Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Yo. Solle. New mission?”

Solle looked round at the address, returning the greeting just as gladly as it had been given. “Hello, Homura. Yes, we received a new request today I thought you might like to undertake.” He would have risen from the bench out far behind the office, where he’d retreated to in order to properly enjoy his mid-morning break, but- “I also thought you might like to meet some of the homunculi that work here, while you’re staying in Colseit. I’m sure you’ve seen each other around, but I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced yet.” Thus he gestured at the pile of furry bodies sat on and snuggled up to him, all equally enjoying their break by pawing for chin scritches and attention if they weren’t the current lucky ones to be receiving it. “These six and I have known one another for some years now.”

Small heads on the bench perked up, turning their attentions towards the newcomer with curious, jewel-like eyes and wagging tails.

While Homura himself stood up straight on his tall shoes, shadowed gaze looking out from under his hat and taking in the scene in front of him. “...These homunculi. Solle’s friends?”

“Yes, if you like,” Solle supposed, before addressing all of them. “This Homura. New homunculus I talked about. My friend. Say hello.” The chin scritches stopped too, an extra encouragement to go do greetings instead.

One by one, little boots dropped down onto the cobbles to cluster around Homura, long tails all waving and near-synchronised voices chirping, “Hello!” as they’d been bidden to.  

Though initially taken aback, a wary hand on his sword hilt, Homura had enough poise to simply nod and greet them similarly in turn. When the first stepped up to perform the standard greeting of touching tail tips he wavered back into unease however, turning to allow it but ready for their confusion at his oddly-shaped tail and the physical difficulty of the height difference his tall shoes created. They all persisted and made the effort nonetheless, but after retreating Solle could see all six looking him over quite blatantly.

“...Homura, look wrong,” Homathan was the first to speak up.

“Homura, funny colours,” Homas agreed.

“Homura, too many clothes,” Hometti added.

“Those words not kind. Don’t say,” Solle lightly scolded them, catching sight of the tips of Homura’s ears drooping for a second before they were forced back up. “Homura look different. But Homura still homunculus.”

The six didn’t seem to know where to place their confusion between Homura’s appearance, and Solle scolding them for merely pointing out that fact. “Homura... work with us?” Homper asked instead.

“No. Homura fulfil requests. Homura treasure hunter.”

“Treasure hunter?” Now they spoke with curiosity, tails wagging as they looked at each other as if to check they’d also heard the exciting idea. 

“Yes!” Homura proudly folded his arms, back to smiling now. “I fight. Defeat strong monsters. Get rare materials. Find treasure. Have adventures. Exciting!”

The six other homunculi made little synchronised noises of awe, something Solle smiled more gladly to hear. “Where tail?” Hombre asked though. “Cut off?”

Now Homura faltered, dropping his proud posture and bowing his head slightly. “No. Always like this.”

“That weird shape, on face. Not star.”

“Eyes odd, like human’s. Stolen?”

“Enough,” Solle cut back in, especially as the other homunculi seemed practically cheerful in their curiosity. “Not kind,” he insisted again to the innocently blank faces that had turned to him.

“It fine. Solle,” Homura said, putting on a normal face as his gaze tracked away to the far edge of the unpopulated space. “Always hear. These things.”

Perhaps he did, and was used to it by now it seemed. But still Solle could only frown at the thought his own kind treated him as such. Yes, Homura had quickly ingratiated himself with the various humans of Colseit, making efforts to be accepted as an equal to them, but that didn’t change what he actually was. At least amongst one’s own kind, one ought to feel... Well, Solle himself very much knew not every individual got such basic kindness granted to them. But he could hardly just sit by and let his friend suffer all the same. “There’s no reason for other homunculi to say that sort of thing to you,” he said, hoping it was simple enough for the others present to comprehend too. “You’re like a cheesecake compared to a normal cake, when both are still cakes and equally enjoyable despite their differences.” An odd analogy, he would admit, but Solle had a feeling putting it in terms of ‘shiny’ would make the lesson stick in the seven furry, little minds better.

While it made the others chorus cheerfully about cake, “What cheesecake?” Homura asked. “Like chocolate cake. But cheese?”

“Ah, no.” That was a point, Homura was still far too new to the wonders of ‘shiny’ compared to the others. “It’s... Well, it’s quite a different kind of cake, but one that’s hard to describe. I’ll make one for you to see, if you give me a couple of days to procure the ingredients.”

The other homunculi cheered, presuming for whatever reason they were entitled to some as well. “Not here. In couple days. Going north. For work,” Homura said.

“Oh, of course. That mission that came in.” It was a monster subjugation considered much too dangerous for Solle to have felt comfortable entrusting it to any usual treasure hunter or hopeful that might have accepted it. If anything, it should have been left to Combat Division professionals if the bureau had that department still. But Homura was just as good as a squad of them, even if his father certainly didn’t believe such a thing possible for a mere homunculus and the two were heading for a duel to settle the matter. “I’ll prepare it for your return then. How many days do you think you’ll be?”

Homura’s head tilted up and then down thoughtfully, finally judging, “Journey. Two days. Fight. One day. Journey back. Two days.”

“Five days then.” He looked forward already to the prospect of seeing what Homura would make of it. And if there was the chance even it might make him feel better about his general situation too...

“Five days. Look forward. New shiny.” Homura was smiling as well at the prospect.

~#~

Solle counted off each of those five days all day long the entire time, his mind always defaulting back to a quick check any time it had a moment of space between tasks. It was too important to run any risk of forgetting, after all.

The fourth day of the wait was the one allotted to purchasing the necessary ingredients, something else to flit in and out of his mind with a restless perseveration all day even when he knew he could do nothing about it until after work. It was the irrationality of that which brought him to question, while eating lunch, why this promise felt so ridiculously important to keep. Because Homura would surely forgive him for an honest mistake, wouldn’t he? And there would be many other chances to introduce him to cheesecake.

But Homura deserved this, deserved to have a promise made to him that was then kept and fulfilled. He may not have shared much yet about his life before now, and always insisted he was happy living it as it was. But no one resigned themselves to accepting as fine the way the other homunculi had talked about him without enough pain of some kind in their past. That was... something Solle knew. And that was why he reasoned he was so unnaturally fixated on this. One small step of many over quite a time it would probably take, yet it was a long journey he felt wholly committed to.

Thus the best ingredients he could buy were placed within his kitchen stores that night.

And the next day, the fifth and appointed day, he began looking up from his work at every slightest possible sound that might be Homura entering the office to report in. More than likely he wouldn’t be back until the afternoon given when he had left, but there was always the possibility he might be early.

Or the possibility he might be late.

His father questioned the extra work he was staying on late to complete – Well, really as an excuse to stay so late at all – on his own way out for the evening, pointing out many branch members were going to the tavern this evening if Solle wanted to join them. The offer stammeringly declined, as ever, he stayed. Though Solle himself could only bear an hour or so of the needless overtime, before deciding to pack up for the day. It was even a possibility, one he hadn’t considered until now, that Homura assumed he had gone home at his normal time and was waiting there instead.

Only he wasn’t.

Solle was cleaning up from his dinner, one spent sparing too many pointless glances to his windows with ears always pricked up, when finally he heard the hopeful sound of the small homunculus-door built into his back door opening. (And no, he refused to call it a ‘homflap’ and demean his friends by implication, even if Awin had referred to it as such the entire time he was installing it.)

But that too was only his six friends, running in cheerfully from playing out in the garden. “Solle, shiny ready?” Homas asked.

“Shiny time, Solle!”

“Creamy-crumble shiny!” Homper cheered, swaying side-to-side.

“Homura not back,” Solle broke to them. “No cheesecake until Homura back.”

The whole little group whined and sagged in sync, so easily deflated when it came to such a critical matter as cake.

“Where Homura?” Hombre asked with a simple-minded logic.

“I don’t know,” he answered them. “Maybe not finished mission.” It was probably dangerous to say Homura could be back at any moment and get their little hopes up back to trouble-causing level again. Instead he looked out at the set of mushroom-like dwellings taking up the bottom end of his garden, quickly reasoning things out as he thought through the few homunculus-suitable accommodations in town. “Homura must live in old homunculi barracks. Where you used to live. Go there. See if Homura there.” It was generally best to keep a homunculus busy whenever possible, he’d learnt. And that went exponentially the more of them got together in a group.

A look was shared amongst their little party for a moment, and then a set of heads nodded back-and-forth to each other. “We go!” Homlet said.

“Find Homura!”

“Then shiny time!”

“Thank you,” Solle said, watching them leave and trot quickly down the rather messy garden, slipping under and around the gate to head out into town. He doubted he would have peace for long before they were back asking for sweets, whatever answer they found. Perhaps he could begin on some part or other of the cheesecake that could keep, even if Homura was a day or two late? The base possibly- No, no, Homura deserved only the highest possible quality, freshly made just for him. He would wait.

Thus Solle eagerly looked up from the book he was only vaguely reading at the sound of his homunculi friends returning most of an hour later, making their way through the house to find him. “Solle!”

“Well?” There wasn’t really a need to bookmark the volume as he got up to meet them, crouching down to hear what they had to say.

“Homura, not back,” Hombre informed him.

“Barracks empty,” Hometti continued in more detail. “Uninhabited.”

“Homura not live in barracks?” Solle checked, unable to contain his confused frown.

“No,” Homas confirmed. “You lie. Homura not live there. Where Homura live?” They all looked as if they had every intention to try and be helpful by searching there instead, if only Solle would provide them the location.

“I... don’t know,” he was forced to admit however. Because if Homura didn’t live in the abandoned homunculi barracks, nor in his friends’ houses in his garden obviously, there was nowhere else in Colseit designed to accommodate a homunculus. While Homura had proven himself much more capable of dealing with environments designed for humans than the rest of his kind, Solle still couldn’t imagine him staying at a hotel or similar lodging- He wouldn’t even have the money for such a thing, come to think of it. So then... Where had he seen Homura leaving in the direction of, the times they parted before...?

“Solle?”

Ah. He may have his thoughts about one particular homunculus to puzzle out, but there were still six in front of him right now waiting for his attention and next directive. “Then Homura not back. So not shiny time.”

“Why... not back?” Hombre enquired as they all deflated again, confused by Solle’s normally reliable words not coming true for once.

“Perhaps monster moved. Or perhaps difficult fight.” Those were logical enough possibilities, ones his father had encountered regularly during his time in the Combat Division. “Homura back eventually. Wait until then. Go home now.” They may as well go have fun doing whatever it was they liked to do inside their little houses- “Ah. Clean garden first,” he remembered now, having seen the state of it earlier when they left. “You made mess.”

At least their ears drooped contritely about it. “Sorry, Solle,” Homas said. “Playing with leaves.”

“Stomp leaves. Leaves, go crunch crunch!”

“Crunch, fun!”

The large tree in their garden had indeed finally lost its grip on its browned leaves these past few days, depositing quite the blanket out on the lawn. While no doubt very fun to stomp and crunch, the six must have indulged enough to smush the leaves into paste, going by the brown, mud-like mess all over the grass. “Clean up. Before mess gets worse.” Or before he had to wash a dozen little boots covered in the gunk.

“Okay... Leaves, all stomped now.” And thus their fun was at an end regardless. “Solle, shake more leaves?” one had the bright spark to ask, and then all of them were pleading for it.

“All right. Yes, yes,” he conceded. “Tomorrow. Shake down more leaves.” Although actually, tomorrow they might be busy because- “If Homura back tomorrow. Let Homura play with you.” Maybe if they all got stuck into a game together, the six might stop noticing any differences between them, or so seemed sensible to hope.

At least these six agreed to it eagerly enough, scurrying off now to clean up today’s mess ready to make another tomorrow. So Homura ought to-

...Was Homura actually the type to play in leaves, and the other simple pastimes this lot indulged in? Well, he may be more intelligent, yes, but he was still a homunculus. And their species by nature enjoyed...

He came to a pause, stood at the window looking out into the darkening evening, lit with a few distant pinpricks of homes in the suburbs of town and the much larger, warmer glow of its centre. Of the tavern where nearly everyone he worked with was having fun together now, while Solle himself was home alone. Where Homura sometimes visited to drink and win bets against those who didn’t believe a homunculus could arm wrestle, joining in with everyone while Solle sat in the corner uncomfortably the times he’d been dragged along. What if this would be just the same for Homura? If he truly was different... then all these plans of Solle’s, the ones that were already beginning to develop unexpected cracks around their edges...

Maybe that was why Solle couldn’t stop himself continuing to glance out of the window all evening. Until it grew too dark to watch any longer, and he drew uneasy curtains across the uncomfortable quiet of this night.

Chapter Text

The next day began with a certainty in Solle’s mind that Homura would be returning any time now, one that persisted into an evening when again he had to tell his other friends to be patient, that Homura would surely be back soon. The ingredients for the cheesecake were all still fine, this wait was no problem.

The following morning began under an unwelcome pall of uncertainty, something that was forcibly resolved into a belief that Homura would be there waiting for him at the office when he got in. A belief that, when proven wrong, shook the underlying feelings he had staked it into so strongly that tiny cracks of doubt if Homura would ever return now crept in. Ludicrous ones, he told himself, because Homura had always returned before- Homura could always return, unlike a mortal human out on this mission. Unlike when his father had been out on combat missions long ago, and Solle had waited behind like this with a belly full of gnawing stress and no concentration for anything but how long until the estimated return time. At least with maturity had come the ability not to worry until that estimated point was significantly passed.

But when it had passed, and with it the most perishable of the dairy products for the cheesecake, there was no point fooling himself that, thanks to his childhood, he was anything but a worrier when someone he cared about was potentially in trouble.

He tried, on the next day, to remember the times his father had come back late with some perfectly reasonable explanation, to imagine that Homura too would be back soon in just the same way and he would feel foolish for all this needless worrying. That was what he told himself while having to dispose of the other dairy products now as well.

Then, as another day passing gave him the time to think too much about it, he began to question exactly what could be a reasonable explanation for Homura having taken this long. So long that even the remaining perishable ingredients for the cheesecake were looking rather past their best. Was there a non-worrying reason for a delay of this length?

Thus he shot up from his desk, father watching him be damned, when Homura finally dragged his tired, little body into the branch office late in the afternoon. Crouching down brought unwanted attention to Homura’s short stature, but right now Solle was too concerned to worry about any offended sensibilities. “What took so long? What happened?”

Homura sighed, making his way past Solle up to Solle’s desk; it seemed he wanted to be proper and deliver the proof, materials obtained in victory, of his completed mission before all other things.

Always so damn prideful... Solle swiftly perched himself on the uncomfortable edge of his chair to fill out the requisite paperwork he’d had waiting right at hand for days. That was the only absolutely necessary thing before he could open his supplies drawer and hand over into Homura’s paws waiting ready the Cole reward that would get him to open his mouth. “What happened to you?”

“Monster. Stronger than expected. Worthy foe.” That was something Homura tried to sound pleased about. “Failed twice. Each time. One day to return. Eventually though. Win! But injured. So journey back. Hard going.”

Well, an unexpectedly hard mission was quite fair enough. But concerningly, “What do you mean ‘to return’?” Solle asked, because he certainly didn’t mean to return here to Colseit. “Do you... mean to return to life? Do you mean you died?”

Homura nodded with complete nonchalance about what he was confirming. “Die twice.”

Then all the other times he had also mentioned ‘failing’ during this or that excursion or mission... Solle turned his chair away from all his work to properly face the other, leant down slightly to bring them closer. “How often do you die during fights, Homura?” he had to ask, even as the very thought appalled him.

“Only sometimes,” Homura claimed proudly, seeing no issue at all here.

While Solle could only shake his head, exhale heavy with days of tension. “Use the Cole from this mission to buy yourself some proper armour. Please?”

“Dying. Not big deal. Don’t mind.”

“And you don’t mind how worried I’ve been this whole time about what happened to you? And will continue to be each time now I know this?” As much as he felt guilty himself to play the guilt card, given the saddened reaction on Homura’s face it seemed an effective tactic. They both held there for a moment, relaxing into the proximity of finally being together again at the same time uncertainty kept dragging each of their gazes aside. “...Also, all the ingredients I bought to make a cheesecake for you have perished,” he thought to mention, if they were getting things to make Homura sad out of the way. “I don’t mind purchasing more, but you’ll have to give me a few days.”

That he had not only let Solle down, but also the precious Mother of Creation, sweets, as well, “Sorry. Solle...” Homura wilted with true contrition.

Solle simply let the rest out as an exhale, as he didn’t want to stay mad, especially not when any frustration was merely a sublimation of his amassed worries. “I know it may not be easy to find armour for someone of your size but... please.” He could only hope his words would be taken to heart when spoken so earnestly. He held himself just as awkwardly as Homura did, pressed tensely on the edge of his chair still. Though there was so much unfinished paperwork crowding his periphery, “...I wanted to ask, Homura,” he wouldn’t be able to settle back to it without a little more of the company he craved, and an answer to at least some of the questions and worries he now had, “where are you living in Colseit? Apparently you aren’t living the town’s homunculi barracks, But I couldn’t think of anywhere else a homunculus could comfortably reside.”

Homura’s gaze and mood lifted slightly at the new topic, before blinking back down into a similar discomfort when he had to give Solle his answer. “In field. Under Balloon docks.” Pre-empting the coming response, “Is okay. Big tree. Very shady! Some stone wall. Help support tent! Get to watch. Big balloons!” he did his best to enthuse.

The fields under the balloon docks... Solle was familiar enough with them, as much as there was any need for anyone to be familiar with overgrown and unused pasture land walled with edges that were more crumbled rubble than wall anymore. There was a river running alongside it, but aside from that, “Why are you staying there of all places?” he had to ask. “I know the homunculi barracks look a little dilapidated, given no one’s lived there since my friends moved out, but I can assure you they’re still structurally quite sound.”

Homura’s false enthusiasm faltered a bit, showing itself clearly for what it was. His little hands moved into a rather un-homunculus-like fidget he watched rather than look Solle in the eye. “Other homunculi. Might need. If visit,” he demurred.

“We rarely get visiting homunculi here in Colseit. And they’re quite spacious; even when my six friends were living there, they always had plenty of room.”

Homura’s hands continued to fidget, tucking in against his chest. “...Not like. Sharing,” he tried next, ear tips cringing slightly at the weakness of it even he couldn’t deny after what Solle had just said.

Solle watched the shameful droop that came into them as they expected to hear the matter pressed further, to have those feeble defences broken through. Defences for what reason, Solle couldn’t help but wonder though? A reason he didn’t want to live with others of his own kind, to even risk the potential of it- ...Ah. “Other homunculi... aren’t very kind to you, are they?” he gently ventured.

Homura startled, then let himself sag more visibly now, confirming it without the need to admit it in painful words. “Used to. Being alone. Doesn’t hurt. Solle,” he insisted weakly, barely more than a mumble.

“I... understand that,” Solle confessed back, tensing at the thoughts of the father he knew would be watching by now, watching his son spend yet more time with homunculi instead of other humans, slacking off at work even to socialise with one. Yet with Homura hurting so visibly right in front of him, he couldn’t simply ignore this. “Homunculi were created as deliberately social creatures, from what I’ve been led to understand. Don’t your instincts require you to spend time with others of your kind?”

His tiny hands fiddled with his human-style clothing, pulling up the belt his baggy shorts required to stay on. “Fine alone...” he insisted the same again, something that wasn’t an answer to the question.

“So you had your funerals all alone when you died on this mission?” The instant stiffness in Homura’s large ears belied Solle was spot-on with his deductions, as much as he hated what that meant for his friend. “Having friends to watch over your departure is important for homunculi, I thought.”

Those little, three-fingered paws fisted in his shirt now, scrunching it up messily on his small frame. Everything about his conversation was causing him such physical discomfort, but as it was Solle asking these things, “...Mm,” Homura finally admitted in the tiniest voice, something only Solle would be able to hear. “Never... Have anyone...” His face had long been down-turned to the wooden floor, but Solle could practically hear the tears beading in those large, green eyes anyway.

“You would prefer to have someone there, wouldn’t you?”

“...Solle. Saw tail-touching,” he just about managed to mumble the small words. “Homunculi things. Want to do. Meant to do. For me. Not work right...” His clenched hands scrunched in even tighter, hugged against his own chest. “Feel worse. Than. Not doing....”

When you don’t fit in, and trying to only made it more glaringly obvious... The pain and loneliness of the reaffirmation compared to if you had simply accepted yourself as the defective outcast you are... “Homura...” His deep sympathy might have driven Solle to do something unwelcomely demonstrative if not for the sound of shuffling papers from the other desk in the room snapping him into an instant anxiety, heart pounding just at the thought of who was watching all this. He needed to get back to work, he really did. But... still. “...Let me talk to my friends again,” he offered, just so they both had the prospect of a solution to cling to. “I’m sure they can come to understand your differences respectfully, and would want to be friends with you as well.”

“Thank you. But. Don’t trouble self. Solle,” he tried to decline before Solle went to the effort on his behalf. Such politeness was almost uncomfortable to hear taking the place of usual confidence and cheekiness.

“Just...!” Solle pulled himself up at how forcefully the word had come out, both of them awkwardly aware it would have leaked out of their little bubble to the other ears in the room. There was too much sympathy for his friend’s situation, too strong for someone so unpractised with emotions to properly handle. “Just... come by and meet them once more? Please?” Solle’s own voice sounded pathetic to him with desperation, a clumsy outpouring of determination he didn’t know how to channel.

Homura weighed the entreaty up, glancing at all the work on Solle’s desk being ignored for him, and the curiously frowning manager watching who could see as much; that conveyed it as much as the clumsy words, how much his friend wanted to do this for him. “...Okay. Come by,” he pushed himself to agree to, even as he already knew how this would go.

“Thank you.” Still a little worked-up with all the memories and feelings of his own this conversation had brought out, Solle hurried himself back into a show of looking over his papers, checking there was nothing else to be dealt with for Homura right now, even though in his right mind he easily would have known that. But it gave his father the correct impression, and a good opportunity to nod that Homura could leave now. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

Homura nodded too, saying nothing though, before taking his slow, muted leave.

~#~

Purchasing enough sweets to pay for homunculi duplication was infinitely cheaper than getting spare outfits sent all the way from Central out to Colseit, and thus what had once been the burden of the long-distance postal service had now become the burden of Solle’s friends. Arguments had been had with Marion over whether this was truly a work-related request that the Provisions Division ought to be fulfilling, but it couldn’t be denied that most of Linca’s outfits got damaged during work duties in the first place. Nor that Linca couldn’t exactly do her work naked, however much she may claim otherwise.

Such a needlessly complex outfit though – Whatever Marion may insist about ‘needing’ to take care of Linca’s appearance properly – made it little surprise that a solid day and a  half of duplications would leave the six utterly drained.

Too drained even to play, each one had been filled up with a belly full of sweets and were now waiting out digestion time snuggled up in a pile of floppy fur around Solle in their garden for story time. Oh, he didn’t doubt half of them would fall asleep before the end of the chapter, and then would ensue a fight next time over whether it should be read again or not. But stopping now with the heroines having just leapt into a new magical painting on their next adventure to the Great Cascades of Anfel would only lead to an immediate protest by those still awake. Thus it would simply have to be a problem for future-Solle to sort out.

So the story continued, little mouths occasionally yawning as the furry pile melted sleepily in the tepid Autumn afternoon, one of the last days the year’s warmth would eke out before the encroaching cold of the past month truly set in. A temperature that was still just enough to be pleasant for those with fur coats, of half a dozen fur-coated beings piled all over you.

That was the scene Homura came upon as he walked up to the back garden gate, having been knocking and waiting patiently at the front door for a good ten minutes without anyone answering him. His little hands came to rest on the weathered wooden slats, face peering through the gaps and trying to pick up the on-going story he could barely hear from here. It was too hard to see anything but the happy, comfortable hompile all curled up together, how close they all were to Solle as part of it as well.

It was only Homper accidentally rolling over and off the pile in his sleep, bumping to the ground with a little cry, that caused anyone to be looking in Homura’s direction. Instantly, simple sugars having had enough time to rush through little tummies into their bloodstreams, all six were chirruping and scurrying his way at the prospect of a friend.

“Homura?” Solle also made it to the low wall around their garden, leaning over and catching the other’s uneasy attention. “I’m sorry. We didn’t notice you there. Come in.” His single, larger hand accomplished what a handful of scrabbling paws hadn’t in successfully opening the back gate.

Since Solle was holding it for him, waiting for him to enter, Homura made his feet move forward and enter. He withstood it, even as the other six homunculi all circled up around him, staring, while Solle pushed the gate back to. At least they had seen each other recently enough there was no need for tail-touching, but this was no less awkward in other ways. “...Sorry. Interrupted. Story time,” he began politely, watching Solle pick up and close the book from before.

“That fine.”

“Make Solle read later.”

“New friend, more fun.”

Homura noted Solle didn’t seem bothered by having his weekend’s limited free time decided for him like that. More importantly, all these other faces were staring at him expectantly, their guest of honour. “Um. What all. Want to do?” Things homunculi did when together... He certainly didn’t have the experience to decide.

“Play game?” one suggested, the others all quickly chiming in that, “Game good,” with a round of nods. Before Homura could agree or not- “Balloon!” was suggested, and everyone else concurred in sync, no debate or explanation given.

“What, ‘balloon’?” Homura asked.

“Not long. Since you all ate,” Solle’s voice cut in, calming the group about to get out of hand. “Too soon. To play with balloon.” With all the effort he put into baking sweets, he hardly wanted them coming back up from over-exertion. Besides, they were bound to still be tired from all the duplication work even if they couldn’t feel it behind the rush of excitement right now. “How about. Go inside. Do handicrafts?” he said, a suggestion not at all rooted in being the only one out here without a fur coat to protect him from the autumn’s fresh wind.

Whether all the words even registered didn’t matter because ‘handicrafts’ at least had, given how the group cheered it as they ran off for the back door. Apparently that suggestion was a winner.

Solle was left behind with a startled and uncertain Homura, taking the chance to fill in, “By ‘balloon’ they mean a game of theirs where they keep a balloon afloat by batting it up with their tails.” He watched Homura look round to that fluffy feather-duster of a tail, so unlike the long, solid ones of the others. “They allow me to use my legs or a held stick when I play with them, so you could perhaps do the same, if you do want to play later.”

If he was comfortable with his differences being highlighted therefore, something worth having this private conversation about beforehand. He would need to use the same accommodations as a human being to join in with his own kind- Although, examining his own short legs, he wasn’t human enough for them to work quite right either. “...Will think,” he said, simply so he didn’t have to think about it anymore. “Thank you. Solle.” That he could be more certain about, meaning it whole-heartedly.

He followed close at Solle’s heels while heading into the house, stopping short at the back door though and the... little door built into it?

“Ah. That’s so the six of them can come and go as they please from my house,” Solle explained, waiting before opening the larger back door that contained it in case Homura wanted to try this novelty out first.

Homura seemed too consumed simply staring at it, at his little hand on the perfectly sized doorknob. “...Solle. Do this. For friends.”

“It’s as much for my convenience as theirs, as I was getting tired of always having to get up and open the door for them.”

“Never known human. Do this,” Homura continued. With his little head thoughtfully downturned, Solle was without clues to parse the almost solemn-sounding musing. But he made use of the smaller door before anything could be asked, even politely taking the time to shut it behind him unlike the rest.

What awaited, as Solle entered as well, was the usual sort of playful chaos running back and forth between the kitchen and living room, some homs in here to drag their human to come along already while others were already in there rummaging away. He placated them all that he was coming, sparing what attention he could to check on Homura as he dealt with the demands to light the fire and help set up for crafts time. They could barely wait for one to be done before already trying to proceed with the other, forcing Solle to drop the matches to save his end table being knocked over by their materials box being dragged out from under it.

Box opened safely, and his items removed from the floor to make room for the homunculi to sit instead, he let out quite the sigh as he could finally turn back to the first matter again. The fire had already been lit it for him by Homura however, although he couldn’t place the matchbox back in its home on the mantelpiece at his height. “Thank you,” Solle said as he saw to that part. This time he could more easily see Homura’s thoughtful frown trained on the other homunculi messily unloading everything from the box without a care for who would have to tidy it up later. “They’re not normally like this; it’s only because they had too much sugar this afternoon,” he defended. “And because they’re excited about having a new friend to play with.”

Homura’s frown only continued though, turning questioningly up to Solle because they sure were just ignoring their ‘exciting new friend’ in that case.

With his face often downturned or attention focused on Solle, he probably hadn’t noticed the confused glances of the others his way though, unable to understand why another homunculi wasn’t excited to make friends and play like them. Not to mention they could be more sensitive to things like a nervous newcomer than first seemed at times. “Go on,” Solle encouraged. “Use whatever you like from the box.”

Setting his gaze to the group, Homura’s tail swished slowly for a moment before he complied with Solle’s urging. He settled himself kneeling beside the others, noting Solle seating himself on the sofa with a book, before taking a mature survey of the full contents to decide what to take out rather than just grabbing the first whim that took his fancy. Crayons, colourful paper, bits of ribbon, almost empty tubes of glitter... His uncertain mind had to look at what the others were doing, glue sticks and small scissors being employed into collages or simple drawings being merrily scribbled, as tails wagged contently behind them. Solle had been right that they were normally more settled, he supposed.

Though the principle could be grasped through simple observation, he had never done any kind of collaging before. But crayons, yes, those had been forced into his paws by over-eager children a few times over the centuries. He would draw then, glancing very surreptitiously at Solle still watching for him to join in with the rest.

It wasn’t an unpleasant activity by any means, quite calming if nothing else. The wider situation perhaps less so, with the little interruptions of the other six showing each other their results as they created renditions of simplified flowers or cakes and the like, giving equally simple compliments to each other’s work. A few showed him as well, and he gave a stilted repetition of the sort of compliments he heard, cringing internally at how obviously fake he was being. Not that they seemed to notice, or maybe they were being kind.

Eventually he was sat with a completed drawing in his paws, but by a time that all the others had drifted off bored with crafts to pester Solle or wander around his house. Homura’s attention began to wander as well, understanding now the presence of a stepstool in each room and those little strings tied to each door handle specifically to accommodate those of a stature like his own-

“Homura?” Solle was crouching down beside him, having herded all the homunculi back together again around him. “Are you finished drawing?” he asked, giving a more sensitive out than the others all explicitly asking to see it.

He didn’t mind, showing them a jaggedly geometric tower of stacked boxes, arches and spires stood within the deep shadows of an endless pit. The shading was basic and details the best he could do from memory, but still. “This Zweiteturm. Big library. Faraway on frontier. Near sea. Visited once. Librarian very nice. Even there though. Few books. On homunculi,” he reflected, since that was what had brought it to mind.

His reflections went ignored under the noises of awe from the other homunculi, “Homura drawing, like photo!” and compliment they all agreed on.

“Not photo. Perspective wonky. Lighting too crude.” he demurred, because it really wasn’t that good. Although... compared to the flat, crude drawings left scattered on the floor around him, that had now served their purpose of being an amusing distraction for a brief while... Then he could understand the surprise on Solle’s face at seeing a homunculus draw something like this.

Dwelling on the stark difference was apparently boring to the others though, now all pestering Solle that it definitely time for a game as it had been long enough since they ate. And thus various game names were thrown about, hide-and-seek was picked, Solle was named as ‘it’, and Homura found himself suddenly being told to hide as well as they all ran off to hide around the house.

“Um.” Homura got himself back up, supposing he should leave his picture there, as Solle shouted a reminder for the others to be careful not to break anything. “Go hide. As well?”

“Yes. I trust you not to accidentally break anything in the process though,” Solle said, a rare hint of playfulness about him. “They all have their favoured hiding spots they know well by now, but I’ll give you a bit longer to find one. I’m sure they won’t mind thinking they’ve got the better of me for once.”

Hide-and-seek... The principle was easy, but Homura still took his time in the unexplored house, especially as it took him past numerous other things he couldn’t help but stare at: each chair in the house having a gap in the back for tails, a calendar hung too low for a human to write on without crouching, each step of the stairs having an extra halfway step along one side of no use to a human but for tripping on.

It wasn’t a particularly large house, and from the number of tail and ear tips sticking out here and there it looked as if all half dozen good hiding spots it had were already taken.

Thus Solle found him definitely not hidden in the front hall, only looking lost if anything. “Ah. Did I not give you enough time?”

“It fine,” Homura spoke softly, seeming unconcerned by his ‘loss’. It was better opportunity to simply admit, “Never played before. Harder. Than thought.”

“You’ve never played hide-and-seek before?” All homunculi were many centuries old- Well, perhaps Homura might have been different, but being actually more advanced than them would suggest he almost certainly came from the height of alchemy over 900 years ago. Even Solle, for all his social flaws, could remember playing at least a few times in his 19 years of life.

Yet here was Homura, shaking his head in confirmation.

Was there something about it he didn’t like perhaps? This whole time, he certainly hadn’t seemed very enthusiastic to join in. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to, Homura.”

“Wanted to play. Just... Tired.”

“Yes. You haven’t seemed quite your usual self today,” Solle said, still keeping their voices a little lowered in case of any hiding ears nearby that might hear.

“Probably. Still tired. From mission. Injuries,” Homura conjectured.

“Ah. Of course...” It seemed plausible, enough so for Solle to trust the justification at least. “...You don’t have to stay, if you’d prefer to go home and rest,” he suggested, and Homura’s head lifted receptively. “Then you can come back next weekend when you feel better.”

Homura held his ears firm, although they deeply wanted to sag back down, and focused on Solle’s hopeful face. “...Okay. Solle.” If Solle was the one suggesting it, trying this hard to make it work... “Will try harder. Next time...”

Chapter Text

Normally the Administration Office clock was a non-entity to Solle, something he cared little to check as he worked to task regardless of its ever-moving hands, and at worst a thing to be glared at whenever it displayed a time far too late for his liking after looking up from those finished tasks.

Today, however, the urge to check it was an itch as bad as any insect bite.

Its hands crept ever closer to 5pm, officially the end of his shift even if rarely so ever in practice. To leave even five minutes early would be unacceptable. But 4:58pm rounded to 5pm, didn’t it? Well, technically 4:57:30 rounded to 5pm, but the office clock didn’t have a second hand.

So 4:58pm it was when Solle rose from his desk, putting every file into place for the morning and locking up his valuable supply drawers.

It would take him at least two minutes to deliver these papers to the Branch Chief’s desk and then make his way to the entrance doors anyway, so he wouldn’t technically be leaving until 5pm. That was what he repeated to himself as justification while approaching his fa- the Branch Chief’s desk, those sounds of closing up for the day having already alerted the other’s curious attention.

“I-I’m done for the day, Sir,” Solle announced, placing the papers with precision onto the in-tray. “Here are today’s budget summary and division reports.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Colland didn’t even look at them. He was only looking at Solle. “You... don’t normally leave so early, Solle.”

“M-My shift does officially end at 5 o’clock, Sir,” he hastened to state. “I merely made sure to be finished on time today.” The things he normally would have stayed for could be done tomorrow morning instead, particularly if he came in a little early. Yes, there was nothing wrong with this, he told himself again.

“Is there a particular reason you wish to leave on-time today?”

Solle winced slightly, keeping his hands tightly clasped in front of him to refrain from how badly they wanted to fidget right now. “I h-have plans to meet with someone.” Don’t ask any more questions, don’t ask any more questions-

“You’re... having dinner with someone?”

Oh good Lord, did his father assume he had a date? Why did his father have to assume he had a date? And why did he have to sound so hopeful about it? “N-Not, um- Well, perhaps? We’re going to the bookshop, but I-I suppose afterwards- N-No, I’m just meeting someone...” Solle absolutely fumbled his way through.

“Ah...” Solle winced again at the uncertainty he could hear in his father’s voice, the lack of knowing what to say because Solle had no doubt once again failed his expectations. “...It’s good that you’re... socialising.” This was painfully awkward for the both of them, but at least Solle could phatically agree with that and then be on his way- “Who are you meeting with, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Condemned. He was condemned by a divine will to this suffering. “I-It’s, erm... j-just Homura...” he mumbled out, already staring down at his boots to brace for the impact.

“Oh.” Still he flinched hard at the sheer disappointment crammed into that single syllable. His father had been the one to teach him not to lie or conceal the truth though, so all he could deliver was the disappointing truth of his life. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with that... homunculus,” At least that was all Colland called him, “since he arrived in Colseit.”

“He, well, h-he’s different to other homunculi. He’s very interesting, a-and we get on well. And I-I can talk to him in a way I can’t with the others, s-so...” He rambled his way to a stop, aware of how hot his cheeks had gotten.

Colland sighed heavily.

Solle tensed up, heart pounding through the many layers of his clothing.

“You always were more comfortable with them...” Even if Solle hadn’t seemed so desperate not to be looked at right now, Colland’s gaze still would have tracked past him to the Provisions desk. The one that Solle presided over now, and his mother had before that. There had been days back then when it had had a little, wooden playpen beside it, before a more appropriate solution had finally been found. “We couldn’t even leave you at nursery without your mother having to assign one of them to stay with you there.”

Sufficient surprise snapped Solle out of his cowering nerves, able to look at his father while his father’s gaze was faraway in those old memories. “You couldn’t? I don’t.... remember that at all.” He remembered the debate over whether ‘homunky’ technically counted as his first word, or if it had been ‘biskit’ instead. And when he had been the right size to try wearing a homunculus collar and belt, and nothing else, the stern telling off he had received from his father that he was a human and needed to wear human clothes. But nursery...?

“It was meant to be a temporary measure, to help adjust you to being apart from the two of us. But then you wouldn’t separate from them either, and would only sit in the corner playing with them all day long.” No matter how hard he frowned, no, Solle didn’t remember any of these things Colland was relating now. Worrying really, that he had manage to forget something like this; how many other flaws of his had he also forgotten and thus never sought to correct over the years? “It was too convenient to use them to babysit you when we were both busy. Perhaps that’s to credit for why you’ve become quite responsible, since they hardly were, but...” Colland returned from the memories, fixing his attention on the adult stood before him now, who startled and visibly swallowed with unease. “Maybe if I hadn’t allowed her to do that, if we had made more effort to force you to play with other human children instead...”

Solle flushed with shame, instantly resuming his completely downturned gaze to the floor. “I-I’m sorry...”

That... That wasn’t for him to apologise for. But Colland, in his equally awkward way, lingered over the words to say so for too long, until his tongue felt too thick with them to say anything. He cleared his throat therefore, rising from his desk to signal a moving along without addressing it. “That’s all in the past now, Solle.”

“Y-Yes, Sir...”

“Perhaps you were too mature and intelligent for your age to get along with other children in your youth, but things change when people become adults; there’s no reason for you to avoid spending time with other humans now,” he said, taking some of his paperwork of the day to file away on one of the shelves. “You may be a little unaccustomed and nervous,” The boy did stammer dreadfully even around his own father, after all, “but if you try a little harder to get along with them, I’m certain you’d enjoy yourself, Solle.”

If he... tried again, tried harder, just gave them another shot, even after all his poor experiences before... Then for some reason this time would be magically different?

“Your mother enjoyed the company of homunculi too,” Colland continued obliviously, “but she spent plenty of time in the normal company of other people as well. And never went so far as to things like letting them live with us.” Well, technically they had contributed a good portion of the money Solle had used to purchase his house, so it was only fair to let them build homes of their own in its garden, although protesting such a thing now...

What might seem like and have been intended as softer encouragement, that anything his mother had done was in reach for her son, was anything but when it came weighing down on top of every other failing of Solle’s in that regard. He knew that Provisions had been more efficient under her, that veteran treasure hunters still made comments they’d preferred the old Provisions officer as she was much nicer, that she’d already been dating and a popular friend to everyone in town, all by his age.

To then add this now, especially when just the other day he himself had said... “I’ll... try to take your advice, Sir. Thank you...” When he’d forced Homura into the same awful, insensitive situation...

“Solle?”

“I sh-should get going,” he said, without even looking his father in the face again. All he needed to do was grab his few daily effects from his desk and-

“...I hope you have a good evening.”

-and stall slightly at Colland’s painfully formal parting words, tone clipped now Solle had chosen to cut short the conversation his father wanted to have. But Solle was too busy already wincing at the thought of having to face Homura now, deciding he’d messed up enough already here, so it was safer to stick with an awkward, “You too, Sir,” and make for the exit.

~#~

So consumed with agonised regret and planned apologies, Solle didn’t even notice Homura approaching outside the bureau until he practically tripped over the homunculus in question. His own frantic hurry to apologise for this as well met with nothing more than a tired waving the matter off, Homura picking himself up slowly from the cobbled ground. “Homura? Are you all right?”

With a little sigh, Homura made only the most passing of efforts at dusting his beloved clothing down. “Need to. Cancel mission,” he didn’t have the energy to waste not getting straight to the point. “Okay. Solle?”

“Y-Yes, if you need to,” Solle understandingly accepted in this individual’s case. “Why though? You seem...”

“Time for. Final day. Tomorrow.” Homura’s small grip tightened on the end of his sword hilt, all he had to hold onto, as they began walking away together.

“Your ritual funeral, you mean?” No matter how recently they’d died of other causes, the ones that came every three to five years seemed to happen just the same. Why was probably just as confusing as everything else to do with homunculi life cycles, and similarly no use to ask. That sort of thing was the whole reason for their excitement over the rare book on homunculi the bookshop owner had managed to acquire for them today, Homura every bit as eager to learn about his own kind as the human who wasn’t.

“Think. That’s why. Tired. And messed up. During last mission.”

“I see.” Solle had observed them growing more lethargic in the run-up to their final days, perhaps to store energy for the rebirth process or by whatever same cause forced their deaths in the first place. Perhaps that was also accounted for Homura having become lost in staring at the flowers in the beds lining this entrance plaza as they left, that his own homunculi friends helped to maintain when free of other duties- Ah. “Do you need Soulsoother flowers for your funeral?”

The deduction apparently correct, Homura blinked away from them, nodding. “Around here?”

“Yes. There’s a grove not far out of town, on the left-hand side of the way to Twilight Forest, where they grow in a clearing.” That ought to be enough for directions, given their shiny appearance and scent of candy that was like a lighthouse beacon to homunculi senses. “...We could come help you to gather them, if it would be too hard for you now? I’m sure the bookshop owner will hold that book for us, so we don’t need to go there tonight.”

Homura considered Solle’s offer, but then the word ‘we’ registered properly in his weary mind. And he shook his head. “Used to. Doing funerals alone. Will get them. By self. Go to bookshop. Another day. If Solle not mind.”

“Of course. I understand.” Solle considered offering for only himself to come. But would Homura even want that, when he’d proven himself such an insensitive friend now? Still, the quiet between them walking the already-twilight streets of Colseit was uncomfortable for once, and with a friend potentially in need... “It’s the weekend tomorrow, so we only have to work in the mornings, if you do change your mind,” he wanted to leave that offer gently on the table. So close to town there shouldn’t be monsters to cause trouble, but if Homura only was this close to his end...

At least that was accepted with a nod, even if only from politeness. “Not take long. In heaven,” he continued. “My visits. Only one day. So. Read new book together. And complete mission. Afterwards. If still open.”

If he was only going to be dead that long there was little point to cancelling it in the first place – Solle had known other treasure hunters to pass out drunk for longer than that – but more importantly here, “Only one day?”

“Live for. One year. Die for. One day,” Homura explained.

It kept the same ratio as other homunculi, but they were three-to-five in both cases. “I see.” Another way that Homura was different... Not better or worse, just always different, always apart in his experiences from everyone else of any species. Perhaps Solle had once thought it over-emphasised, particularly by Homura himself, but the small, ever-present ways stacked up: the foreign clothes he wore, the sword he carried at his hip for work, every time he opened his mouth to speak... Perhaps some of these could be considered self-inflicted, but no, they were only the symptoms of root differences that already ran far too deep-

“Solle?”

“Oh! I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his face, realising he’d been staring far too hard down at the ground. Enough so that he barely avoided a collision with one of the plaza’s short fences thanks to Homura’s prompting. “I’m also... sorry for not properly appreciating your situation before, when I asked you to give socialising with the other homunculi another try,” he continued, keeping his voice lowered from all the chattering housewives and playful children they were passing. Solle’s mind could easily imagine all the unspoken judgements their minds would make, could feel his tongue sharpening ready in defence. But then looking at Homura again, walking along beside him comfortable and curious, it softened back up, thick and clumsy now. “I’ve always thought of you as a gregarious person who easily makes friends,” Now wasn’t the time to mention any jealousy about that he might hold, “as you’re so friendly with humans. But that’s only because humans are all you have, isn’t it?” His expression was still held in a small wince of sympathy. Because...

Because Homura realised why, mood also lowering slightly at the sad thought. “Mm...” Humans always stared, always walked straight up and sometimes even tried to grab him at first wherever he went, although at least the people of Colseit had mostly passed that stage now. It was never hard to get his chance to socialise with them, something to fill the emotional void, however imperfect. The whole situation, and its sadly implied parallels, sat heavily now in his mind. “...Even if. All Solle has. Homunculi,” he said in turn. “Hope his friends. Appreciate. Are grateful. Solle. Do so much. For them.”

Solle did smile at that; how could he not, to hear someone actually care that much about him? “I’m happy just seeing them happy,” he said honestly. Homura frowned as if he didn’t accept that, but it didn’t stop it from being true. “They’re... very different to you, aren’t they?” Neither particularly enjoyed returning the conversation to that, but it needed to be addressed. “I didn’t truly appreciate the gulf between you and them until after last weekend, psychologically I mean.” There it has been though, in stark illustration in the side-by-side drawings like he had placed one of his own beside a five-year-old’s. “...Do you... know why you’re different to other homunculi, Homura?”

“Don’t know,” Homura answered brusquely, not dwelling for even a second. Either that was a question he had had to answer too many times before, or an answer he didn’t want to think about.

“I see...” Not that it mattered if it gave no help in overcoming said difference. But it was something you wondered about, in Solle’s experience, especially when each new, failed attempt let you down once again. “I... can’t even imagine how many times you must have already tried to befriend other homunculi, and it was selfish to think I knew better than you did. I apologise again, for everything.”

All those words filtered slowly through his weighty tiredness, before Homura eventually nodded that the apology was accepted. “Knew Solle. Meant well.”

Solle shook his own head in disagreement. “I should have known better.” The centre of town was one of the most awkward places to stop and have such a personal conversation, but also the place where their paths home now diverged with their plans shelved for another day. Neither cared to get caught up in the noise and bustle of everyone going about normal lives, shopping for tonight’s meal or simply skipping all that fuss to blow their money at the tavern instead, so stepped off to the side. Thus they found a place to stand together away from everyone else, simply watching from afar. “I... Well, perhaps it’s too much to claim I know what it’s like on the level you do, especially when I have no excuse of being that different to other humans. But in any case, there’s no need to force yourself to come by anymore.”

“Okay,” Homura said, gaze down-turning in thought for a moment. “...Also hoped. This time. Maybe different...”

Solle couldn’t keep himself from wincing, “I’m sorry...” because to get someone’s hopes up where they had already been left so many scars before...

“Already said.” He only had the small energy to totter over and pat Solle’s knee in comfort, leaving his hand there as he took the opportunity to lean against that leg for support. He sensed Solle’s hand twitching as if to pet the ear tip now resting near it, and wouldn’t have minded, but Solle was only quietly watching him with that sad expression on his face. It really wasn’t something he liked to see. “...Solle. Not fit in. With humans?”

“I’m sure I’m over-stating it,” he demurred; “it’s nothing compared to what you must have to deal with.”

“Want to hear.”

“No, it’s not interesting at all,” Solle insisted, and sighed when he looked over at all the people completely unaware of him, to whom he was no more important or interesting than the wooden information board they were stood beside. “They all see me as nothing more than a functionary fulfilling a position, simply a boring at best or unpleasantly strict at worst nobody. And I always find myself unintentionally hurting their feelings with the things I say, when I’m not just sat at my desk working or a table all alone in the corner, watching them easily get along and be friendly with one another.” He touched a hand to his face with a further flush of shame at how worked up he was getting. “Considering they all get along, and I’m the only one like this, it’s quite plain that I’m the problem and not them.” It was all his own fault, just as his father had made clear yet again today.

Homura’s tired thoughts moved slowly through all of that, through his own few memories of Solle in the company of other humans. Then it came to finding the words for the verdict he reached, which was, “Solle. Special human.”

“Special?” As pleasant as the flattery was, “I really don’t think I am.”

“Must be,” Homura disagreed. “Reason why. I fit in. With humans. Because special homunculus. So Solle. Special human. Must be,” he firmly declared. “...Solle. Very special human.”

Homura had shuffled a little closer, perhaps for extra support although with his face downturned it was hard to be certain exactly what he was feeling right now. “Not really,” Solle again demurred. “It was my mother who taught me how to get along with homunculi; I actually had quite a lot of trouble understanding them at first as a child. ...Are you feeling all right, Homura?” The little grip clinging on his breeches had gotten very tight. “Would you... like to head home and get some rest? Or I could make dinner, if you’re comfortable coming to my house?”

“Dinner unnecessary. Final day tomorrow,” he observed rather morbidly. “Should rest. Busy tomorrow.”

“If you... say so.” He wanted to object, to try and force Homura to have a little more concern for his own well-being, even if it seemed ‘unnecessary’. But after the damage he’d already caused thinking he knew Homura’s life better than the homunculus himself, Solle held his tongue carefully. “Shall I walk you home then?”

Homura shook his head against Solle’s thigh, finally forcing his grip free from its support. “Out of way. For Solle. Be fine alone.” His tall shoes were perhaps dragging and catching a little on the street’s cobbles as he walked away, but he didn’t look in danger of falling over. “Thank you. Solle. For friendship. And lots of shiny. This life. Very good! All because of. Solle.”

Solle found himself wordless, for all he knew Homura would be coming straight back in a single day apparently. It still didn’t change that it was a death, and completely felt like one. “That’s... I’m glad I could make it so happy for you.”

“New self. See Solle soon. In next life.” Homura bowed his head. “Farewell. Solle.”

Again wordless, “...Farewell,” that was all he could say. He didn’t know what he could do but watch Homura leave, and let him go. It didn’t feel right, not at all... But what else could he do? What else could he do about any of Homura’s suffering?

Maybe they were just making things worse for each other, when it truly came down to it...

~#~

He really did want to write- Or rather, no, he wanted to have written. For all the ideas in his head to be out and on paper in words he could read and share with others, without having to go through all that messy process of actually coming up with said words, selecting phrasings and worrying if his plot was properly paced, and if there wasn’t far too much dialogue compared to description like normal.

Why was he even worrying so much? It was only going to be read to homunculi, and they would lap up anything so long as it wasn’t atrocious.

Solle sighed, setting his quill down on the paper and giving in to his urge to procrastinate.

Still ten minutes until the biscuits were finished baking...

...Was this really how he should be wasting away another weekend? Yes, the week’s salaries did need to be baked. But it was Saturday, and here he was spending his free time writing a story for the amusement of homunculi who would be just as happy with any book bought from a shop- Heck, they didn’t even need to have stories read to them, let alone hand-crafted ones that took hours of his finite lifespan to create. Was this really what made him happiest in life? Or was it simply what was easiest, what kept him from having to confront the prospect of change in his life? Maybe he was simply telling himself this was what made him happy so he could avoid the difficulty and anxiety of pursuing what would be better for him.

Like spending more time with other humans, for example. Wouldn’t his time probably be better spent socialising with them right now, getting over his nerves from years of avoidance, as his father had suggested?

Perhaps he could invite someone out for a meal or drinks. Marion, maybe, or Awin? The latter would be less likely to tease him about the sudden offer, although Awin would be more likely to take it as an invitation to keep inviting Solle out in future- Wait, shouldn’t he try to see that as a good thing? But on the other hand-

“Solle!” The homunculus-door in his back door opened, and all chances of focused consideration were now dashed. “Solle! Solle! Solle!”

“Yes? What is it?” They all sounded so eager, which with this lot could mean either immense trouble or that they’d found a particularly big snail they wanted to show him.

“It weekend,” Homper said, all of them crowding around his chair, noses twitching at the scent of shiny in the air but actually managing to stay surprisingly focused. “When Homura come?”

“Said, Homura come. Play again.”

“Ah.” He tidied up the sheets of story on the table, merely for something more comfortable to do with his hands while answering this awkward question. “Homura not coming. Homura’s final day today.” Well, he wouldn’t have been coming over anyway, but this was a very convenient excuse. By next weekend they would probably have forgotten all about playing with Homura too.

“Homura’s final day?” To their credit, the six could all become perfectly behaved in an instant when a matter was serious.

“Yes. Homura busy. Collecting Soulsoother flowers.”

They all just... stared at him, tails wagging practically in sync. It was rather unnerving, actually.

“Collecting flowers, job of friends.”

“Homura, should rest. Celebrate good life.”

“Solle, should collect flowers.”

“Homura said. Wanted to be alone,” Solle defended, feeling uncomfortably judged simply for respecting those wishes. “He always has funerals alone.”

“No!” That they all protested sharply in one single voice.

“Alone departures sad,” Homlet insisted.

“Return sad too, with no welcome,” Hometti agreed.

“Can’t celebrate life properly without friends,” Homas finished for all of them.

Shame prickled under Solle’s collar. It flushed through him hot enough that he couldn’t help getting a little worked up as well. “That what you say,” he managed to keep his sentences just simple enough, although he couldn’t keep his voice from quivering slightly in meeting their forcefulness. “But Homura different. Homura not like you!”

“Homura, homunculus!” That they all replied in one even more united voice.

“Solle, stupid!” one yelled as they all began scurrying for the back door.

“Solle, make friend sad!”

“Solle, bad friend!”

“H-Hey!” He actually couldn’t stop himself pushing his chair back to stand, flushing hot with anger at the things they said. Which in itself was the evidence they were right, wasn’t it? “Where are you-?!” Too late. “Damn and blast...!”

He did try to bolt from his chair, but too much attentiveness reminded him of the biscuits in the oven with a few minutes left on their timer. He couldn’t leave them if he didn’t want to come back to a burnt-down house. And his pride just wouldn’t let him turn them off early to produce inferior results.

So he could only watch through the kitchen window as the six escaped from his garden, running down the lane outside, the one that headed out to the edge of town.

Chapter Text

The Soulsoothers glowed warmer than the late afternoon’s setting sun, their red light burning slightly into his retinas as Homura hunched over the plentiful patch filling this clearing. His eyes were struggling to stay open even without the glare, and his hands kept missing as they grabbed at the short stems. And all that was even before the fact he kept losing his grip on his already collected blooms in the loose pouch he had to hold them.

His clumsy fingers undershot his next target, closing around nothing but air, before he tried again and got a proper grip this time. Homura pulled, and...

And it didn’t even snap off. He didn’t even have the strength to snap a single flower stem anymore.

Homura collapsed back on the grove, unable to do more than feebly grasp in the direction of all he had collected tumbling back out onto the ground. Then he just gave in, arm limply dropping beside him.

Oh well, this was close enough. It wasn’t like it really mattered to uphold what was merely a tradition of his kind, especially not for an individual like him. He’d simply have to apologise to the living flowers he was lying on once he was alive again. It didn’t seem as if there were any monsters around here to mess them up by eating his remains at least.

Being attacked and eaten wouldn’t stop him from returning, so it was only on the instincts of a living being that he twitched at the sound of something coming towards him- No, multiple smaller somethings? Poison Squirrels, it sounded most like.

His hand feebly tried to reach for his sword on a similar level of instinct, but that wasn’t happening in this lifetime, all fifteen minutes or so he probably had left of it. At least if it was Poison Squirrels they wouldn’t eat him alive, he knew that experience to be an extremely unpleasant one. It didn’t sound like stray dogs, although considering whatever they were was coming as a pack-

“Homura!”

Loud voices, but also at the same time small ones like his own. That could only be... But why?

He turned his head, blinking through the tiredness hazing his vision, picking out a familiar set of colours that made his weak heart sink. The cortisol of anxiety at least brought some clarity back to his mind and muscles, though not enough to realise he wasn’t strong enough to lift himself back up anymore until he had tried and failed. So he was forced to simply lie there as the six homunculi ran up, circling around him, entrapping him even if he wasn’t already too weak to escape.

He couldn’t exactly do anything as they all stood there, staring down at him as if they expected something from him, except to close his eyes so he didn’t have to acknowledge them there.

“...Homura departure, sad if alone,” one finally began, in a rather subdued voice compared to their usual boisterousness.

“Homura, should rest. Celebrate good life.”

“Friends, collect flowers.”

So they had come to get themselves involved after all. Perhaps it was some pack instinct, part of that hive mind they seemed to share that he never did. “Not needed,” he told them. “Have funerals alone.”

There was a moment of quiet pause, of tails probably wilting in rejection. “...Sad, if alone.” They stuck to their simple-minded assertion.

“Not want Homura sad.”

Homura sighed, feeling the breath already beginning to clog and rattle a little in his throat even if he could still clear it with a small cough right now. He literally did not have the time to argue with them about this.

“Homura sad... That make Solle sad.”

Rebuffs that they weren’t friends and thus the six of them didn’t need to do this plummeted from his mind. Instead Homura opened his eyes again, looking at them all stood looking down so sadly at him, all for... Solle’s sake? “Solle?” Was Solle sad right now?

“Even if we not friends,” one said. “Homura and Solle, good friends.”

“Homura, make Solle happy.”

“Want Solle, be with friend. Be happy.”

This was... because he was Solle’s friend? Because they cared about Solle and the things that brought Solle happiness, not about him being another homunculi?

Homura may not have cared about being sad from having a funeral alone; being made sad just happened to him, he was used to it. He cared to stop others he’d known and grown to like from being sad if it was possible, but he also accepted sometimes that was beyond him, and bore them being sad as he did himself. But Solle... Solle was the first person he couldn’t bear to let be sad, even if he didn’t have the power to stop it; he just couldn’t stand that thought.

“Solle, lonely without Homura,” one continued.

“Must make sure, Solle never lonely.”

“That our promise,” they said, all concurring with a round of nods and murmurs that they had, “Promised Evlynne.”

Was his brain starting to give out on him? “Who Evlynne?” Homura asked, really trying to think hard.

“Evlynne?” All six looked at each other, simple-mindedness striking once again as they failed to comprehend the idea of someone not knowing the things they knew. The way other homunculi stared at one another while thinking like this, sometimes Homura did wonder if they were all in on some telepathic power he hadn’t been synthesised with. Eventually enough shared brain cells were rubbed together for one to deliver, “Evlynne, Solle mother.”

“On side of Mother now.” They all sagged sorrowfully. “Humans, not allowed to return...”

Solle’s mother... In his surprise at learning the needlessly large, beardy boss Solle was always so nervous of was actually Solle’s father, Homura had asked about his mother without a second thought. Her fate had been obvious from the expression on his face before the words even left Solle’s mouth, that she had died some years ago in his early adolescence from a long illness; Solle had not handled it well, and his father’s poor handling of that had only made it worse.

So she had... Solle had mentioned she was close to homunculi. So then, when she was dying, she had asked these six to stay with her son in her place, a boy who had never fitted in well with other humans and wasn’t even comfortable around his own father. ...Oh.

“...Help Homura with funeral,” one continued, as he hadn’t said anything. “Then, Homura happy. Homura return soon. Solle happy.”

How long they were dead for before returning didn’t actually have anything to do with how happy they were, and they surely knew that. But whatever. They were trying to help the best they could, that the way they were synthesised allowed for, in all its clumsiness; even if his own were different, he knew those limits they’d all been created with.

Even as his throat began to lose strength, “Thank... you...” Homura managed to say, meaning far more than just for the present moment.

The group perking up and self-organising to begin work was interrupted by a larger and louder arrival, a voice Homura recognised as Solle’s even though it was only gasping for breath right now.

The six all looked over that way, seeing no need to offer greetings. “Solle, slow.”

“Solle, too tired.”

“Should run more.” Judgements though, those they were only too keen to offer.

“Oh shush,” Solle grumbled as he approached, nothing else to say to such true statements. “Homura? Are you...?”

“Solle...” He was still alive, yes. Just barely at least.

“We gather flowers,” the homunculi declared.

“Not much time.” Hence they rushed straight into work collecting the blossoms Homura had dropped and picking more, leaving the other two a chance to talk.

Solle knelt himself down at Homura’s side where he could be seen with little effort, lit softly in the red glow of the Soulsoothers all around them. “I’m sorry. I should have...” He wasn’t quite sure of any procedures, but Solle did what he could plucking a few of the flowers now, as he should have been doing all along for his friend.

“It okay...” Homura wanted to reassure him. He wanted to tell Solle everything, how he had been jealous of these six that got so much of Solle’s time and attention, that he had believed were taking advantage of Solle’s kindness. Of the one human Homura had ever met who made all this effort to learn about and accommodate their kind, rather than taking being able to roughly speak and act like a human as free rein to treat them like small, simple-minded humans, if not just cute creatures to try to hug. That he recognised how Solle went out of his way to meet homunculi on their level and treat them as they actually wanted to be treated, something he had thought the others didn’t have the capacity to appreciate. That it mattered so much that Solle loved him exactly as he was, not despite what he was like every other human he’d ever made friends with. But he had been created with a larynx that tired after just three or four words at a time at the best of times, however complex the thoughts and feelings in his head that he wanted to express, let alone now. So he simply tried to reach out for Solle’s hand.

His own arm flopped weakly against the ground though, only bridging half the distance. Solle set down his flowers to do the rest for him. “Are you close?”

Homura swallowed, trying to clear his throat to speak. He could barely get it clear enough to continue breathing though, so ended up only nodding, focusing on the sensation of Solle’s thumb soothingly rubbing over his held hand.

Solle was here, watching over him at his side.

The other homunculi were moving all around them, gathering flowers ready for him.

This was... what it was like, not to be alone for once?

His vision was blurring in and out with the lack of oxygen getting to his brain, but he could make out the tightly-held smile on Solle’s face above him. He’d probably been taught not to cry at departures, hadn’t he? It was true, Homura wouldn’t have wanted to see Solle in tears. But that Solle wanted to cry at the thought of him dying, even though they’d be seeing each other again so soon...

His eyes were getting so hard to hold open now...

“It’s okay.” Solle’s voice was hushed to keep the quiver in it to the minimum possible. “You can let go now.”

Yes, he could let go, couldn’t he? He had others he could trust to see to the rest for him now...

The fighting of it stopped, a surrender into the peaceful decline through senses fading and blinking out, all movement and life ceasing, until there was nothing left to sense his own end had come anymore.

Solle continued holding that small hand even after it had gone completely limp, needing this minute before anyone noticed and told him off for the tears beading at the corners of his eyes. His bangs gave him enough cover to surreptitiously wipe them on the back of his wrist, before his scooping up of Homura’s corpse let the others know what had passed.

He still never got over the feeling of their utterly limp, little bodies like some mere ragdoll in his arms. That warm, soft fur having turned inanimately cold by the time he laid Homura’s remains down in his living room for the night. Or coming down in the morning to find rigor mortis had set in as he gently did his duty to carry the lump of stiff, inanimate flesh that had previously been his living and happy friend outside, laying it on the flowerbed that had been prepared.

~#~

“It time.”

Solle had long given up figuring out how homunculi sensed the things they did, how they knew what food had gone off even before he’d opened the packet or where lost items were whenever he couldn’t find them. Some special power the alchemists must have imbued them with for analysing alchemy ingredients, he supposed, or maybe just helping locate their lost socks.

Telling when one of their kind was soon to return to life, and thus his funeral should be begun, seemed fair enough therefore. And certainly too convenient to deeply question.

So they all circled up late that Sunday afternoon around Homura’s body, basking in both the glow of the Soulsoothers and slowly setting sun, with hands folded and heads bowed.

“Homura,” Homathan began. “We glad he came to Colseit.”

“We happy Solle got new friend,” Homas continued.

“We excited, meet special homunculus.”

Solle merely listened, hoping Homura could somehow hear what was being said about him. They were simple feelings, but heart-warmingly honest ones.

“Had good life. Many adventures, as treasure hunter.”

“And got to eat Solle shiny.” Of course there was no greater highlight to a life than that, apparently.

“Now, he leave us.”

“We glad, could give him good departure.”

A good sending off, as per their kind’s customs... There was no doubting then these six did see Homura as a fellow homunculus, even if he himself may have felt otherwise.

And then came those words they always knew just when to say, “When life returns to heaven, it is here. Life circulates. Day we meet again will come.” A ritual said every time, of perfectly timed final words. “This brief goodbye till then. Farewell.”

His heart lurched each and every time Solle watched their bodies rise from the glowing flowers, some human instinct perhaps of recognising death and departure, unnecessary as it always was. But it hurt, to see someone who meant so much to him disappear into nothing in a blink like that, gone completely from the world, even if just for this short moment.

“His life now returned to side of the Mother. Much happiness and sadness he brought us. We never forget him.”

The ‘side of the Mother’... He had never been able to get a proper explanation out of his friends what that meant, whom this ‘Mother’ homunculi referred to in life and death but also in sweets was. Perhaps Homura could actually answer him if- when he came back. He still always worried about it being an ‘if’...

“Now, we welcome him.”

But no. For all his stomach dropped in that brief gap of a second that this time might be the time they were all left standing there, waiting, worrying, confusion setting in when there was no return and his homunculi looking to him for answers and comfort when he would know less than them, this time was not that time.

It still couldn’t be good for the health of Solle’s insides the way they surged up at the sight of light reforming, the familiar shape of a small body descending back down into the bed of plucked flowers and coming to rest as good as new. Homura, definitely Homura down to every unusual homunculus feature and item of clothing.

There was a moment in which the circle’s joy was palpably warm in the air, and then the soft breathing turned into a sharper blinking open of eyes, and finally the full vivacity of him stretching out and pulling himself up to sitting. Homura looked about in bewilderment at the bed of flowers he had been laid on, and even more so at the sight of others stood all around him, eagerly awaiting his return.

“Welcome back, Homura.” The homunculi were first to speak, all dropping their folded arms now, back to bright eyes and contentedly wagging tails.

“You visit heaven very fast.”

Homura looked about further now, past them to the setting sunlight and long shadows covering most of the familiar garden. In that case it had been about 24 hours, as usual. Solle was in his casual clothes, so it was definitely Sunday too, to confirm it. Reoriented, he rocked back and then hopped to his feet, facing Solle and the group clustering up around him. “...Yo.”

The warmth and relief in Solle’s smile was overwhelming, strong enough it must have been washing so much worry and sorrow away. “Welcome back, Homura.” He might even have been resisting the urge to crouch down or reach out, if those things wouldn’t have been patronising to the smaller one. “How do you feel?”

“Feel fine.” He was just reborn after all- Ah, humans wouldn’t know what that felt like that. But this time... “Proper funeral. Very nice. Definitely help.” It was awkward to admit after his insistences before about preferring them alone, however with a gratitude this overwhelming it couldn’t not be said.

“Yes. That good funeral.” Maybe their simple-mindedness really was a boon when there was nothing to get hung up on about or rub in with an ‘I told you so’.

“At funeral. Friends very important.”

“Glad Homura have friend here.”

One friend, Solle they meant. So they had paid attention to his dismissal of them being friends... “All you... Thank you,” Homura said, head tilted down in thought for a moment. Simple-minded, huh...? Well, it wasn’t as if he couldn’t tap into that part of himself too when necessary, being a homunculus and all. That was how he lifted his head back up with a grin now. “All you. My friends now.”

There was a moment of group uncertainty, then, “We friends?”

“Mm. We friends.”

And that was that. The six rushed in to cluster up around their slightly taller friend, who greeted them all with a similarly keenly wagging tail. Over their heads, he could see the confusion on Solle’s face thanks to his silly, human mind that couldn’t comprehend these things, but at least it soon gave way simply to a relief everyone was getting along.

Before the playful chirruping of what to do with their new-found friendship got too out-of-hand, “By the way,” Solle cut in, “I had the opportunity to finally make a cheesecake while we were waiting for you to revive, Homura. Shall we have some now, to celebrate your return?”

“Not ‘revive’. Reborn!” he insisted on over the cheers for creamy-crumble shiny. It was met with a rolling of the eyes from the silly human who didn’t understand these important distinctions. But more importantly right now, “Cheesecake ready? Want now!” A new shiny! And more than that, such a long-awaited one, made by Solle of all creators!

He gestured to come into the kitchen then, deciding it was best to step aside from the herd of little feet that ran for the back door. The little hom-door was opened, Homura entering with them, before Solle too entered and caught them all crowding around the cool box where they could sense it was being stored, trying to get their new, taller friend to lift one of them up to open the high box none of them could normally reach. “Ahem.”

Sufficiently scolded, they all defaulted back into milling around at his feet, pulling at his trousers or swaying and dancing in excitement about ‘shiny’. He had to get it out and add the finishing touches first, as he told them, but even such a sensible reason couldn’t contain their enthusiasm to hang around right in his way, somehow everywhere he wanted to step.

Happy even while stressed... That was Homura’s observation as he watched how Solle handled all this. None of this was a chore to him, an unwanted task he felt forced to do, even when he obviously found some things bothersome. The homunculi really weren’t taking advantage of him, as one couldn’t take advantage of someone this willing. A willingness born of being given a purpose and place in the world, a reason to exist, by having friends so eager for your company and happiness. The value of having that was something Homura only too readily appreciated.

“Enough,” Solle told the begging paws at his waist once again, no actual bite to the admonishment though. “Wait until I finish.” Telling this lot to wait... No, that never worked. Especially not after making them wait so long already for this. “Homura? Can you keep them entertained for a minute?”

Homura perked up – An order from a human; his instincts bade him to follow it, even if his free will could choose not to – and found a dozen jewel-like eyes staring at him. He was being asked to help, to do something Solle couldn’t do, that no human could probably do actually if Solle couldn’t, and nor could the homunculi do themselves... Maybe... this was a reason to exist? In the exact and unique way that he was.

He considered for a moment, “Okay. Let’s talk,” before working out how to put the situation to his advantage too. “You all. How long. Known Solle?” he asked, finally sating his curiosity.

“How long?” Time had a different feeling when you had so many short lives. “Few lifetimes ago, we meet Solle.”

“Back then, Solle very small.”

“Solle, covered in blood.”

“Solle, very noisy.” All of them pulled down their ears at the memory of it.

Noisy? Solle? Thought more importantly, “Blood? Solle hurt?” Human children did often cry pretty loud when they fell over.

“Solle fine. Just messy.”

“We help.”

“Brought towels.”

“Brought warm water.”

Wait, towels and warm water? If you spent enough centuries around humans, you learnt what particular situation demanded those items to deal with a noisy, mess-covered child. “You see Solle born?”

“Couldn’t see being born. Bed too high.” Overly literalness aside, that might have been deliberate given how oddly fussy humans could be about being seen during times like that. “Also, Solle father faint. Even if say didn’t.” Was that a brief noise of amusement from Solle? “Saw just after.”

Anyway, the point was they had been in Solle’s life from the very moment it began. Homura looked over at the full-sized human who towered above them now, at work preparing all sorts of intricately skilled wonders they never could, but that had once just been one of those tiny, helpless babies? Yes, he’d seen plenty of humans at all life stages. But he had never stayed in one place long enough to see any single human actually grow up, well aside from back with the alchemists- No, those were the bad memories, the ones not to be remembered. Back to thinking about Solle. It hadn’t been even that many lifetimes ago Solle that was a child, although he always seemed so mature that Homura forgot how relatively young he was for a human, barely an adult in actuality. “...Funny thought. Even Solle. Once baby.”

The human in question glanced his way, seeming bemused why that idea held such fascination for Homura.

“When Solle small. We help Solle,” the homs continued. “Now Solle big. Solle help us.”

Human children were normally annoying, trying to grab at him like a stuffed animal or get him to do tricks for their amusement. But if it was Solle... Yes, he definitely couldn’t have denied his jealousy right now. “Small Solle. What like?” This was the best he could do to sate it.

“If you’re going to embarrass me with stories of my childhood,” Solle cut back in, the sound of everything being set aside and cake platter picked up causing many large ears to perk up, “please do it later when I’m not around.” He shared a look with Homura, grinning up at him that he’d do just that then, before finally lifting down the long-awaited shiny where the homunculi could see it. “Here. This is a cheesecake, Homura.”

While Solle defended the cake in question for him from eager paws and mouths, Homura studied the... was this really a cake? It did have a denser base similar in colour to other cakes, and then smooth, white icing on top, but there was so much icing by comparison. And not to mention both parts just looked weird, a hard and crumbly base with a thick icing that was holding its own shape. “This cake? Lots of icing.” Icing was often the shiniest part of a cake, so that wasn’t exactly a problem.

“I wouldn’t call this ‘icing’ per se. It’s a layer of sweetened soft cheese, more like cream really. The base is made from crumbled biscuits and butter.” Those were all good ingredients, very shiny.

The surface had a V-shaped marking as well, made with a dusting of light brown powder... cocoa, a few sniffs picked out. It looked to be decoration, and the shape struck a familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. “This shape. Know from somewhere,” he therefore asked.

A strange question, apparently, going by the bewilderment on Solle’s face. “It’s the crest on your forehead.” He couldn’t have gotten it wrong, since he was literally staring right at that marking right now.

“Oh.” Now Homura recalled, yes. “Can’t see. Forgot.” He kept his gaze down on the cheesecake, away from the stars on every other furry forehead around him. “Have shiny now. Solle?” When feel down, eat shiny – It was a universal rule.

And from the resounding cheers that went up, the crowd was with him on it. “All right, all right.” Thus Solle had no choice but to lift it back up and begin the process of cutting slices. “I suppose you’ll claim you deserve the biggest slice, since you’re the ‘birthday boy’, Homura?”

“Do deserve,” he was instant to agree. “...’Birthday’. Not had before.” A funny human tradition, marking the intervals of their single lifespans ticking away.

“Birthday good,” the other homs claimed.

“Get presents.”

They all looked at each other, realising and concurring in a single moment. “Homura, need present.”

“What to give...?”

“Find present later,” Solle told them, beginning to pass down the first small plates of sliced cheesecake. “Here. Make sure hands clean.”

Whether they were all already clean or the advice was being ignored for the sake of getting cake into mouths faster, consumption commenced right away. Solle was already placing a hand over his face at the sight of so much creamy mess going all over furry hands and faces, but at least they weren’t above licking it off themselves like cats, so nothing went to waste.

Homura picked up the child’s fork that had been included on his plate, the only one it was worth bothering for, and watched how Solle was cutting off pieces with the side of his before spearing the base to pick it up. Copying the motion, finally he placed his first bite of cheesecake into his mouth.

This was... not cake, no. But it was so very good all the same, too good to care over trivial differences and definitions like that. Of course this was a naturally exceptional specimen at its potential finest, being made by Solle, yet Homura could imagine all the same why this would be made and lined up alongside normal cakes; for when you wanted to satisfy a slightly different desire, or simply because it wasn’t all that different in the end, despite its actual differences. Cheesecake was just as shiny as any other cake.

“Good?” Solle asked.

“Mm...” Homura agreed, finding his throat a little choked up actually; he’d blame the rebirth if asked though. “Thank you... Solle...”

“I’m glad you like it,” Solle said simply, although his voice was soft enough to suggest he sensed a little more than he was acknowledging.

Nothing else needed to be said right now, nor really could be with mouths being shoved full of cheesecake. Somehow Solle did manage to shepherd everyone to seat themselves down more sensibly on the living room carpet, himself included despite the height difference. Disaster was just barely avoided thanks to Solle’s handkerchief dabbing the worst mess off furry, little hands before they could touch the fabric; this is why he always wanted them to use cutlery, even if they claimed it unnecessary precisely because Solle was always here to do this for them.

“Good thing,” Solle observed. “That this evening. Bath night. You all. Definitely need bath.”

“Bath night!” Any other day of the week and they stuck out their tongues and ran away at the mention of a ‘bath’, but come Sunday for some reason that was all change.

“Solle. Our bath. Can have bubbles?” Homlet asked.

“Bubbles please, Solle!” Hometti backed up.

“Yes. Can have bubbles.” They cheered, while he shook his head because he always put bubblebath in for them every time. Looking over he found Homura watching silently, that same uncertainty of an outsider there as usual, yet somehow the forlorn edge of before had become something closer to curiosity this time. “At least I don’t need to bathe you, Homura,” he lightly teased.

“Bathing... Fun?” The idea was odd to Homura; it wasn’t just about getting clean as functionally as possible?

A jumble of enthusiastic explanations were piled onto him, about the shininess of the soap bubbles, and how Solle would scritch all their hard-to-reach places for them, and the fire-element imbued fans they used to dry each other off toastily afterwards. And the fact Solle helped wash all their clothes for them meanwhile to dry overnight, during which they would keep warm – It was no use pointing out their species’ clothes hardly provided any warmth anyway – with a big hompile of snuggly, cuddly bodies down here by the fire.

It was insisted he ought to join in tonight, that it was good for a homunculus to have regular cuddlings with their own kind. And that might have been true. He wouldn’t actually know, completely lacking in any experience. But being put on the spot like this...

“Let Homura decide,” Solle cut back in, before this got out of hand. “Homura still clean. And your cuddling. Overwhelming. For some.” For humans who found half a dozen bodies suddenly climbing into bed to pile on top of them at 5am, for instance. Maybe homunculi did need physical contact with their own kind. But people said that about human beings too, yet Solle hadn’t had any proper physical contact with other humans since his mother died years ago and he was... he was fine.

Between the other homs looking dubiously at Solle and then back to hear that decision, and Solle looking at them to check they’d behave before looking patiently to him as well, was where Homura found himself caught. The out that Solle had created for him, born likely of having no one to do the same when it came to himself and other humans, would have been readily seized upon in every lifetime before this one. But...

Was it okay, to trust these six, to entrust himself to them of all things? Even Solle wasn’t encouraging him to agree to it. Yet they wanted him to join in as one of them, even after acknowledging his differences. This time... Was this the one time to finally get his hopes up? To not have to pretend he was fine all alone anymore?

His tail started wagging despite himself, instincts forming an answer before his mind.

It paused though, when the thought struck about what bathing would entail, when the memories of the things they had said about his appearance like every other homunculi collided with the prospect of having to shed the protection of his covering clothes.

This time... could it really be different?

Homura looked again at both parties waiting for him, that actually cared for him to choose this for himself, regardless of species... And he swiped up some of the cheesecake cream he hadn’t yet gotten around to licking off his plate, smearing it on his nose. “Messy now. Must bathe too.”

Solle raised quite a confounded eyebrow, while the other homunculi took the logic in-stride and all turned to look expectantly at Solle.

The sun had dropped beneath the horizon outside, and the light was waning fast; he supposed it was getting late enough to be bathtime soon, since their little minds operated more by the natural clock of the sun than the human one on his mantelpiece. “All right. Bath soon.” What peculiar creatures they could all be... “What now. Until then?”

“Until then...” The six turned it over in their little minds. They formed up a circle, a sign of group thought, and rarely a good one if he wanted them to stay out of mischief. “Still need, birthday present...”

“Yes. Need present, for Homura.”

“What to give...?”

A beat of thought passed, in which Solle and Homura shared an out-of-the-loop look, before six bodies trotted off in perfect sync. “Find present!”

“Ah-!” Nope. As ever, Solle was too slow to stop them. He sighed, touching at his face, before noticing the uncertain-looking Homura still here with him. “They’re always like this, I’m afraid.” He might as well give forewarning about Homura’s new friends.

“Is okay.” No, he was barely keeping up better than Solle, really. But still, “Is fun.”

“Well... it is,” Solle would admit that much about his friends more fondly. “Are you sure about this though? Bathing and staying with them tonight?” He didn’t know how to broach his assumption that Homura wore clothes because his body was likely equally as different beneath as the parts on show.

“Mm. Definitely bath,” Homura insisted. His pink tongue kept flicking out, unable to lick at the cake smeared on his nose despite its best efforts. Neither could it all be wiped off with his hands either. “Can smell. Can’t lick. This. Most cruel tragedy!”

“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” Solle chuckled, wiping what he could off with a handkerchief anyway.

“Homunculi... Social creatures. Like you said. So. Not easy,” he admitted as he addressed Solle’s actual point. “But important. Homunculi. Need other homunculi. Just like. Humans. Need other humans.” They did; he knew that much from so long around them. Therefore, “Solle. Need more humans.”

Solle winced lightly, fussing with folding back up his handkerchief to distract himself. “Well, perhaps... But it’s not always so easy, is it?”

“Solle. Very talented! Hard worker! Sure if. Try hard. Can find humans. To bathe with. And cuddle with.”

That wasn’t... No, he wasn’t going to get into that now with Homura; Solle got enough of all that whenever Homura remembered his offer to answer any questions about sex and other things homunculi didn’t understand that he might have. “If being with other homunculi is something you want to do more of now, you’re welcome to build a house for yourself in our garden, Homura. I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind.” A diversion; perhaps they could get this off him and back to Homura.

The prospect threw him enough to save Solle’s dignity, Homura’s head bowing thoughtfully at the same time his tail wagged. “Those houses. Never been in. Don’t know. How to build. ...Look small.” Reasons against. But, “Would like. To live here. With friends. Feel happy. Feel welcomed. Even though different.”

It probably was a daunting thought, to break the habit of centuries of solitude. “Well, if you...” Solle started before realising what he was about to say, to offer. “...If you want to live here, with us, you could live in my house, Homura.”

“Live with... Solle?”

It was a completely spontaneous, not at all thought-through idea. Doubtless, there were six dozen reasons it wouldn’t work out in practice and it was silly to have even offered. Yet... the sparkling aspiration it had put into Homura’s eyes, “I know a human-sized house wouldn’t be particularly suited for you, and perhaps you’d get sick of spending so much time with me-”

“Never could!” Homura insisted. “Always want to. Be with Solle!” Once such passion was expressed, he turned to the practical side of it. “Human sized house. Used to. Could live in. No problem.”

“Are you sure? I can add more accommodations to make it easier for you, but some things I can’t do anything about.”

“Not problem,” he repeated. There was an element of blaséness about the assertions that made Solle’s worrier mind uneasy, but he couldn’t deny his heart was touched by just how keen Homura seemed about moving in with him. “Solle. Okay with. Homunculus?” Homura asked more seriously though. “Humans. Need other humans.”

Oh great. Normally at home Solle could at least here escape the disapproving nudges of his father about this, and hopefully forget his own worries about the same. But if it was Homura pushing him about it again, “I know... I know that I should socialise more, but...” He was happier like this – On reflection, he was feeling just as keen about the prospect of having a housemate he’d actually be able to get along with – and it was just so much effort, especially when it probably wouldn’t pan out.

As if he had sensed those thoughts, Homura approached to pat Solle’s knee comfortingly. “Is okay.” He... wasn’t going to push it? “Will help. Will find Solle. More human friends. Good human friends. That he like.” It wasn’t as Solle disliked the people here in Colseit, per se. “Solle. Special human. Search for friends. Harder. Maybe take years. Maybe none. Here in Colseit. But! Will find!” Homura was so fired up on his behalf. “Solle. Helped me. Find homunculi friends. Will do same. For Solle.”

“Thank you.” Since Homura was patting him... Placing his hand on Homura’s head to pet it and his large ears didn’t look to be unwelcome, not given the way that fluffy tail began to wag, although to point that out might have ruined this special privilege he was being permitted. His own human ears couldn’t hear the sound of little footsteps coming back to join them, so, “Oh, I purchased that book on homunculi for us, just in case it got sold first – Call it my birthday present to you – I suppose if we’re going to be living together, we’ll have plenty of time to read it.”

“Mm. Hopefully. New information. On history. And creation.” Maybe clues, answers even, for his long-pursued quest... Well, probably not. But any scrap had to be grasped at when there was so little information left now. “Then. Might know-”

A sudden rush of boots now interrupted them, all six of the others swarming back into the room. “Have present!”

“Present for Homura!”

“Oh?” Solle couldn’t see anything obvious in their hands. “What is it?”

Homathan stepped forth, holding up a small piece of paper with scribbled writing on it. “It name!”

“New name, for Homura!”

“Special homunculus need special name.”

“Extra names, like human.”

“Name?” Homura was suitably confused. He already had a name, a fine if somewhat conventional one for his kind. It was certainly not one he had any desire to replace, in any case. Still, out of gratitude he took the paper presented to him, letting Solle see too.

As ever, the homunculi’s handwriting looked like a four-year-old who had been set loose with alphabet fridge magnets, but it was legible all the same.

“Does it mean something?” Solle asked, taking the guess, “‘Tiny’...?”

“Not tiny!” Homura insisted too fiercely. “Mean...” Was he trying to remember, or buying time to make something up? “...Secret.” Uh-huh. Sure. “Special name. Lose power. Out of. Original language.” Solle’s expression looked so very ready to call him out his bullshit, but today was his ‘birthday’. Besides, Homura looked to be mediating on the new name he held in his hands, silently contemplating his reaction to it. “...New name. For. New life,” he came to his decision. “As treasure hunter. With Solle. And new friends. ...Yes. This good gift. Thank you.”

All six bobbed happily. “Well,” Solle supposed, “even if I’m not sure I quite understand,” He was going to chalk that up to the species difference. But Homura seemed to understand it, and the other had equally understood him in making the present therefore, “I’m glad that you like it.”

“Mm! As of today. This life. Now life of. Homura Tinus Alexandros. The 1^st!”

Chapter Text

Solle’s sigh was a heavy one, attempting to release a very intense day’s worth of tension from his system as he shut the house’s last curtains against the night and headed to their bedroom.

Ah, the curtains in here weren’t closed either. But Homura was sat on the sill, in his own rather archaic, robe-like bedclothes, closed book in hand and staring out distantly into the night below. Joining at the window, Solle also looked down upon their garden and the unnaturally large artificial being they’d been introduced to as Yggdrasil now slumbering across most of their lawn’s surface, half a dozen homunculi curled up at total ease amongst his many massive arms and fronds. It was the sort of thing that happened when you associated with as many alchemists as they did, Ayesha turning up with Odelia for an impromptu snacktime and then calling out her resurrected, ancient superbeing because all other artificial lifeforms liked sweets so maybe he would too. It had required an entire cake just for Yggdrasil to answer the hypothesis with a resounding yes, he also greatly enjoyed this baked sweetness that had been presented unto him. Come nightfall, Ayesha and Odelia had now left for wherever Keithgriff had stomped off to after finding out the rumoured rare ingredients Odelia had heard of in the area were something she had actually heard 500 years ago and merely a pretence for coming to eat Solle’s sweets. It had been an eventful enough afternoon even without Keithgriff’s presence anyway, although Solle also found himself grateful Homura had been spared the senior alchemist’s usual prying enquiries.

Though... Homura still had that look about him this evening that he often had after being subjected to those questions about his past, distant and distracted, his usual chatty nature turned contemplative with all the depths of however many centuries his life had spanned.

Solle noted the book, held closed more for its comforting weight than any real purpose; it was the one on homunculi he had bought back in Colseit around the time the two of them moved in together. They had devoured it back then like all texts on the species they could find, but it had only been an old explorer’s meandering tales of various homunculi villages he had visited – And not even with the flair of Harry’s writings on the same – nothing useful.

Following Homura’s gaze down, he was staring at the others of his kind nestled up so carefree in Yggdrasil’s embrace. “...You can sleep outside with the others tonight, if you’d prefer,” Solle offered. While he would have missed the embrace of someone who was practically a warm, living teddy bear, he appreciated Homura needed time with his own kind sometimes.

Homura shook his head without yet breaking his preoccupied gaze. “It okay.”

What else should he offer? What was he meant to say? His human mind, so young relatively, couldn’t comprehend what could possibly be on Homura’s mind right now. The afternoon had been primarily the homunculi, including Homura, playing games with their new, similarly artificial friend while the humans and automaton sat around talking, filling Solle in about the Two Cradles while Odelia needled him in return for every technical detail about baking even the Zweiteturm’s extensive collection couldn’t answer for her. There hadn’t seemed any issues at the time, not until now when it was just the two of them alone.

Finally, Homura picked up on the uncertain silence as well, green eyes snapping back into focus and turning to Solle. The book was set aside, Homura shifting himself around where he sat into a more comfortable position for the ‘backwards’ knees of his homunculi body. Solle was watching him, and he studied Solle for a moment as well, part of considering where to begin. “...Reason. I’m different. From others. Because. Was made. That way,” he began a little haltingly even for him, bringing an echo of a former conversation back to their minds. “You said. Don’t worry. Still. Myself.”

“Yes. I did,” Solle vaguely recalled, and that seemed like something he would say.

Homura considered the advice, but, “...Do worry. Do wonder.” Because he’d been made different from every other member of his homogenous kind, and not by accident but on purpose. “Reason. I’m lonely. Don’t fit in. Get sad. Because. Someone. Alchemists. Made me. This way. Thought. This life. Okay. Fair. To force. Onto me.” His head bowed for a second, brows knitted below the crest on his forehead. “...Can’t comprehend.”

Oh. “I... I’m sorry,” Solle truly had to apologise. “I didn’t think... I didn’t realise that was what you meant by it, Homura. I wouldn’t have said what I did if I’d had known. I only... I don’t like seeing you sad, that’s all.” Normally, Homura’s little mind only filled itself with happy, little thoughts about sweets and fighting and exciting adventures. Although... perhaps because these were the thoughts that would fill it otherwise. “...While I can’t speak for them with any certainty, I would sadly imagine there’s not as much to comprehend as you’d like – We humans can be incredibly unthinking in our actions, and short-sighted in the effects they will have on the lives of others.” One only needed to look out of this very window past the outskirts of Stellard, to a sea that was now rendered nothing more than an ocean of sand by the Dusk, to see all the evidence one could need for that.

“...Mm,” Homura accepted, though it was little solace. “Alchemists particularly. Don’t think.” And there was just as much evidence of that sleeping all over their lawn right now, an artificial being created to serve a purpose who had been neglected to the point of malfunction, necessitating his own death as the only solution.

“Well, they...” Ayesha maybe did, on rare occasions. Keithgriff didn’t before he spoke or committed crimes, right as his actions might be. Shallotte certainly didn’t. Shallistera and Escha tried. Did Logy and Miruca even count? “...Perhaps that’s what makes them alchemists, living by instinct over reason and leaping too bravely into the unknown.” If so, he was probably quite justified in declining the Shallies’ offers to try synthesising and see if his baking aptitude translated over to alchemy as well.

“...Maybe,” Homura agreed in a small voice, head bowing with the weight of things Solle couldn’t begin to imagine. For once, the age difference between them was robustly clear, any of Homura’s levity and simple-mindedness that normally painted him as the more immature one completely lost. Again, Homura’s gaze kept returning to Yggdrasil out of their window, to what had been brought back with his arrival today. “...Maybe Keith. Right. To stop them.”

“Perhaps,” Solle responded, attempting a little levity to help, “although his methods leave more than somewhat to be desired...”

“...Alchemists. Of present. Have forgotten. ...Will make. Same mistakes.”

The slightly wider, more concerned expression on Homura’s face now, full of emotion held back behind a bitten lip, was not a sight Solle had seen before. “...Homura?”

“Normally. Forget too,” he said, tucking in a little tighter into a furry ball of self-comfort. “Or. Say. Don’t remember.” So he was just playing dumb sometimes when Keithgriff asked those uncomfortable questions. “But today. ...Do remember,” he admitted in a very tiny voice, a weak tone that put one in mind of a lost child.

Solle found himself growing equally uncomfortable, his desire to free Homura from this misery uncertain whether that meant hearing this pain out or distracting him from it, and that duelled with a guilty curiosity to hear these dark secrets of history, while also finding himself in fear of what he might learn. Knowledge of the past so bad Homura normally went to all lengths to forget it... “Do you... want to tell me?” Maybe it was a cop out to place the weight of deciding onto the one suffering.

But the face Homura looked at him with, big eyes wide with hesitance as he too weighed up the act of placing this burden on someone else’s back as well as his own, showed what a hard decision it was. “...Solle. Not alchemist. Can’t make. Mistakes,” he finally judged.

“No, I wouldn’t be able to do whatever it is they did,” he agreed. “If anything, it’s part of my job as a government official to oversee and regulate what alchemists do.”

Homura nodded, finding a little solace in that thought. He still dwelled on it for a moment, if it was right to inflict this on Solle when the knowledge couldn’t be taken back. But if there was anyone he could also trust with this burden, more so than the pure-hearted young alchemists that didn’t need to be darkened with this or Keithgriff who was already too deep into misanthropy... “Alchemists. Always dream of. Artificial life,” Homura started. “Eventually. Succeed. Create first generation. Create slags. Not sure when. Long before me.”

Solle nodded along to the simple start. Already tension was beginning to creep along his nerves though, because nothing came without trouble in this world, and this was likely the high-point of all he was about to hear.

“Slowly. Make better slags. Stronger slags. Even. Dangerous slags.”

“Those ‘tanks’ and ‘dragoons’ we’ve faced?”

“Mm.” As fun as battles against strong foes like them were, even Homura accepted their existence was far from a good thing. “If slags powerful. Bad people. Misuse. Cause harm.” It was human nature, whether one went so far as to label it ‘malice’ or not. “And. Slags. Hard to control.” Ayesha had mentioned something about speaking to them today, in how she’d communicated with Yggdrasil too, but it had hardly been coherent or clear. Maybe because even an accomplished alchemist like her couldn’t understand it well. “So. Alchemists say. No more slags.”

“They outlawed creating them?” Solle wondered.

“Don’t know.” Again, things centuries before one’s time were hard to say for certain. The recipes were lost now; maybe they’d been destroyed then. “But. From slags. Learn. Important lesson,” he said, taking a moment to ask, “Solle. What think. Most important?”

“The most important thing when creating artificial beings?” He gave it all the thought he could. But a life of red tape-laden bureaucracy behind a desk, following rules and upholding regulations, did not train a mind well for such broad philosophy. “I wouldn’t know. But as you mentioned the slags, perhaps ensuring they’re not dangerous?”

Homura’s tail wagged a little. “Yes. Solle smart.” Why did he look so proud his human had got that right? Anyway. “Most important thing. Safety. Achieve through. Obedience,” he continued, now holding up two of his short fingers. “So. Second generation. Two approaches. First. Limit actions. Only possible ones. Programmed.”

If they were talking about programming’ then... “You’re talking about automata, I presume?” Solle rightly guessed. “I see. If they only have a very select set of behaviours they can perform, and no ability to go outside of those, then you can ensure they never do anything dangerous.”

“Yes. Automata. Very safe.” The little Odettas were mere tools, singing keys, to open a single lock after all. “Eventually. More complicated. Less limited. More powerful.” They knew a couple of them too. “But. If no weapons. Can’t fight. Never dangerous. And still. Always follow task.”

“Ah, like Clone.” Harmless, ever diligent to her work looking after Colseit and its people, even after so many generations. She wouldn’t have been able to help in pacifying Flameu by force even if she had had any desire to.

Homura nodded, observing the garden table where they had sat peacefully enjoying themselves with their visitors earlier today. “Odelia. Given weapons. To protect Zweiteturm. But that. Very rare.”

“It would be extremely hard to program them to only ever use them in correct circumstances, I imagine.” It was something Solle could barely imagine quite literally, where you would even begin in teaching a bunch of cogs and wires how to tell friend from foe, when it was necessary to harm a human to protect something more valuable, how much force needed to be used...

“Automata. Very safe. But. Very limited,” Homura returned to. “Can’t think. For self. Can’t learn. New behaviours. Can’t act. If scenario. Not programmed. Pinnacle of technology. Odelia.”

That had been nearly a millennium ago, according to an off-hand comment from her today about the Zweiteturm’s history, centuries after the creation of automata began then.

“But. At same time. Second way.” The other little finger Homura had been holding up this whole time. “Not limit actions. Instead. Being. With free will. That want to obey.”

“That wants to obey?” Well, yes, Solle could see the logic in that. But a method to do so... That sort of thinking was beyond him; no, he certainly wouldn’t have made a good alchemist after all.

“This being. Like obeying. Want approval. So. Follow orders.” Homura shuffled where he sat, righting his posture a little more, looking almost well-behaved for once. “That being. Safe being.”

An artificial being like that, who wanted human guidance and praise, to help humans, to avoid scolding... “You’re... talking about homunculi now, aren’t you?” Solle realised quietly.

Sharing in the awkwardness, Homura blinked, gaze dropping into a different, lowered angle. “Alchemists realise. Other beings. Already like that. Similar.” Solle’s mind set to thinking, trying to solve this puzzle that had once led to the creation of so many of his friends. “So. Start there.”

A being that wanted to obey humans by natural instinct...? “A dog... perhaps?” he took his guess. “Their pack instincts make them want to obey the being they see as the pack ‘leader’, even if that being is of a different species such as a human owner.”

“Dog good. But... Other being... Better...”

Homura’s halting words... It didn’t need to be asked that the answer that lay behind them, if Solle asked, was worse. Another step down into the dark truth of this subject, an even darker one, of something he couldn’t un-learn. Each new piece of this conversation had faced him with that dilemma, the choice between ignorance or knowledge, the choice even to know there was something he didn’t know. Like peeling back layers of unaware bliss, each showed an outline of the next below it to know. But as a sum total, what had once been opaque was becoming translucent, and with it Solle had vague instincts churning within about what lay beneath the remaining layers, too indistinct still to be certain but... Enough to know he didn’t want to know this. “...What being?” But Homura knew it. He carried that weight every day he couldn’t succeed in forgetting, and had done all alone for centuries.

Homura’s gaze looked out at his kin sleeping so peacefully down below, untroubled by anything in Yggdrasil’s protective embrace. “...Artificial beings. Created because. Alchemists. Want servants.” Yes, that was true; slags, automata, homunculi, they were all originally designed to serve in some function or another. The arrogant selfishness of humans, to think they could create life that would be content merely serving them. “Servants. Best if. Easy to instruct. If understand. Human language.” A fair point. Slags certainly proved the folly of neglecting that. “Only one being. Know language. And fits needs.”

Well, dogs were ruled out if truly comprehending language was the standard being sought. All animals really. A few, very rare monsters displayed that level of intelligence, but certainly nothing that would want to obey humans.

The lack of answer, of Solle’s ability to guess, confirmed his morals; there was no danger to him knowing this knowledge. “Human children,” Homura said, and watched ignorance clear into wide-eyed, horrified understanding. “Human children. Intelligent. Know language. If carry. Alchemist potential. Can give. Special powers.” Solle’s head snapped round, staring out at the small, innocent homunculi he spent so much of his time teaching, corralling, playing with- ‘Like a preschool teacher’, he’d always described his function in regards to them, when asked. “And. Human children. Nature to obey. Seek approval. Of human adults.” For safety, yes. Young human children were biologically programmed to obey their caregivers who had experience of the world, even if they eventually gained their own experience and grew out of it. “And. Even if. Very powerful. Never evil.”

No, you could tell a child to do bad things, and they would if they trusted you. But the most they would ever commit was unintentional harm or self-serving mischief. By the homunculi’s ‘golden rules’ they called them, impressed into them so firmly by their creators, they had powers they were allowed to use as they willed and those they had to get a trustworthy human’s approval to use. Just like the sort of rule you could unquestioningly teach a very young child. So then, “You were made with...?”

Voice now rested again, Homura continued, “Using living ingredients. In alchemy. Nearly always. Dies.” It was hard to wrest his brain away from this topic for Solle to think back, but yes, when the Shallies had been synthesising on the ship, anything like fish or bugs that went in didn’t produce a living result- Well, he was going to discount whatever uncanny monstrosity Shallotte’s ‘Living Trashcan’ was... “To create life. Best use. Pre-life.”

“You mean... like an egg, or seed?”

He nodded. “Don’t know. Exact recipe. Only saw. ...Ingredients,” was how Homura chose to term the memory that made him cringe. “But. Basic homunculi recipe. Human foetus. ‘Wrap’ in. Animals. Monsters.” An awful way to put it, but he’d gotten a rough sense for what was going on in those cauldrons. “Wrapping. Inhibits growth. Constrains intelligence. Always stay. Like child.”

Perfect innocence... All the intelligence and power you would need, but with no hostility, no ability to plan for itself and scheme dangerous ideas, no desire to disobey or doubt you... “It’s... perfect,” Solle acknowledged. “It’s horrible... And it’s perfect...”

A very good summation, really. “Solle. Disgusted?”

“Di-? Of course I’m...” he hesitated, not sure which way he was going to finish that sentence. Which was the desired way? Was Homura looking for agreement with the judgement, or reassurance his existence was still acceptable in Solle’s eyes? He couldn’t tell, leaving him only with his own, honest answer. “I’m not disgusted by you, by any of the homunculi, for knowing this.”

“But process. What alchemists do. Monstrous...” Homura replied in kind, with an honesty that made him curl up his small, human-like but three-fingered hands.

“Homura...”

“Don’t tell others,” Homura beseeched with a sudden thought. “Make others sad. No need. To know.”

Looking out at their innocently sleeping friends again, “I understand. I won’t.” This was what Homura thought of his own creation? No wonder he preferred to forget, to not think about it, even when asked. This whole conversation... Should he stop it? Let Homura go back to that state as soon as possible? Could he now, even knowing Solle knew as well? Maybe the only way out was through now. “...You know about it though, Homura,” he acknowledged. “You’re always the different one. It’s not fair.”

Homura held his gaze, human-like eyes shifting shape a few times through surprise, anger, sadness, and down into acceptance. “...Eventually. Alchemists wonder. How intelligent. Will still obey,” he started, closing in still more on himself as his voice grew even smaller than before. “If human foetus. More developed. If less ‘wrapping’. Resulting homunculus. More intelligent. More... Human. So...” His voice tightened up, and not simply from the normal cause of too many words without rest. “Experiment... Create...”

“...You.”

Homura’s large ears finally drooped in acknowledgement; he’d done well to hold them up for so long through all this.

“So you do know why you’re different...” Solle murmured, before realising it might come across unintentionally critical of the times Homura had lied to him about it. “I... I don’t know what that must feel like to live with- I can’t know what that must feel like. But...” What was he meant to say? Homura’s feelings must be so complicated about other homunculi, about humans after what they’d done creating him, about his very existence...

“Solle. Good friend. Best human. At understanding. Life caught between. Homunculus. And human,” Homura said, although it brought no solace to his still-drooped ears. “Before... Never understood...” It was a necessity with the knowledge imbalance, but here he was having to do all of the work again in this conversation. That’s why Solle’s hand came to rest on his lap, large hand taking both of Homura’s smaller ones in to squeeze gently; it was all he could think to do in comfort. “...Other experiments. Disposed...”

“There were others like you?” ‘Were’. Only past tense.

“Mm. Similar. Slightly different. But all experiments.” Some a little more intelligent and less obedient, and others vice versa. “Decided. I. Best experiment.”

“So the others were...?”

Homura’s tiny hands fidgeted inside the comforting grip, head bowing even more. “...Reason. I exist. Not them. Why?” he asked, just as he had always asked himself. “Reason. I exist. Not beings. I made of. Why?”

That question he was always asking, that he lived to find the answer for... “I understand now; this is why finding that reason is so important to you, Homura.” Because he had to live with the knowledge that... “...The alchemists who created you, who could answer that, are long dead now. I don’t think you can...” Was it too cruel to say the truth? Homura wasn’t speaking though, digesting the words. A problem like this... Something ought to be said, comfort be given to someone he cared so much about, but what was Solle meant to offer? “...Even if you had the actual answer, I doubt that...” No, that wasn’t going to sound right. How to put this? “Whatever reason you exist, the purpose you were originally created for, it doesn’t have to matter now, Homura. You don’t have to carry the weight of their actions. If you can’t know the answers, it would be easier just to live for your own sake now, as however you want to.”

Those large ears tilted a little back, almost aggressive in the most minor of ways, although his gaze was kept tipped down, remaining resentful only instead of a more directed anger. “Solle. Can’t understand,” he levelled with a sharply bitter tone, finally growing a little tired of being the only one who understood and had to educate here. “Natural beings. Like you. Created. From love. Accident. Biological instincts. Not purpose.” Even in his clipped sentences, a degree of jealousy still came through clearly enough. “But. Artificial beings. Always for purpose. Part of nature. Without. Have hole in life. Need purpose. Solle. Not understand.”

Being rebuked by Homura, properly rebuked that was rather than his usual playful teasing, made Solle realise their vast age difference again, that this conversation had helped him estimate must be... Oh my. He’d always known vaguely Homura must have been created back during the golden age of alchemy, but now with all this confirmation there was no escaping the being sat next to him was roughly 1,000 years old. And here he was, not even 30 years to his life yet, thinking he could give Homura advice on how to live... “I apologise. I didn’t...” It crossed his mind to compare it to his own experiences being raised to follow the strict path his father thought best for him, but it was probably naive to think the two experiences were anything alike. “I’m sorry...”

Homura calmed as quickly as he’d grown irritable, settling back into quiet melancholy. “...It okay. Solle. Understand lots. More than expect. More than. Anyone.”

His hand hadn’t been removed from Homura’s lap at any point, and he was going to take that as a sign his mistake hadn’t made him any less welcome in this conversation. “Even if our pasts may have been very different, they seem to have brought us to a similar place now. That’s all I can credit it to,” he said. “That and simply a desire to understand my friend, I suppose.”

“Friend...” Homura repeated, little hands squirming thoughtfully inside Solle’s larger one. His gaze was staring at it as well, at the human hand holding onto his. Bigger, furless, more fingers, in so many ways different... But Solle always held his hand just like he would another human hand; you could live a millennium and only find one person who could do that. “Even though. Know now. What I am?”

“You’re who you are now in the present, Homura. Whatever alchemists, other people, did long ago in the past doesn’t change anything about that.” Nothing about the little body Solle was looking at had changed during this conversation; it still looked like a mutated humanoid body with the proportions of a human child covered in fur, just as it always had without ever bothering him. That was what homunculi looked like, and there was nothing wrong with that. “A cake isn’t the eggs, flour and sugar used to make it, and the same principle goes for all of you.”

The metaphor seemed to strike Homura well, probably because of the particular item picked, and his ears finally swivelled back up to their normal position, tail even bobbing a couple of times against the corner of the windowsill. “Cake... Need shiny. Talked lots,” he declared, that particular cheeky grin of his sneaking into his features.

Any excuse that could be twisted with this lot... Well, he deserved it tonight, after all this. They all did, perhaps, as Solle glanced out one final time at the peacefully resting homunculi curled up down in the garden, a soft, Stellard night breeze ruffling gently at their fur as they burrowed deeper into Yggdrasil’s. He wouldn’t let on at all to them what he knew now, or to anyone else. But the existence they had been born into living without choice, that had been decided entirely by the heedless desires of alchemists... A little cake and biscuits to bring them joy was the least humanity owed them. “All right.” He’d best see to this particular one first though, reaching his other arm out ready to lift up. “Just remember to brush your teeth after before bed.”

Homura let himself be picked up eagerly for once, using one arm to draw the curtains as he moved before wrapping both around Solle’s neck as far as he could reach. “Solle shiny. Taste too good. To brush away.” A mischevious compliment, one that suited the way he was letting Solle do all the work carrying him right now when he could have moved perfectly fine by himself.

Honestly, even after all this time, that Homura still insisted Solle’s sweets were the best of all... As much as he was proud of his frankly impressive baking skills, did it owe more to the fact they had been the first sweets Homura had ever tasted after almost a millennium of denial? During that conversation years ago, Solle had never forgotten the hunch he had gotten then, that Homura had been taught he wasn’t allowed to eat human food until Solle convinced him it was okay.

In light of all this now... He wouldn’t ask, Homura had been put through enough talking about this much tonight; he should live by his word that Homura’s past didn’t matter to the present, at least unless a time came when Homura wanted to tell him.

But Solle could guess. Because alchemists with that little regard for the living beings they used as ingredients would hardly have had much more for their created servants either. If Homura was merely an experimental proof of concept, they likely hadn’t intended any purpose for him after his creation; fighting strong monsters to fetch ingredients for them probably was just a way to make use of him, possible because his extra intelligence allowed him to learn solo combat proficiency the others couldn’t. Homura’s own blasé attitude towards dying might well have come about from being externally treated that way, sent out with no regard for how many deaths it took to acquire their desired ingredients because he would always regenerate, and thus also no reason to waste money on armour for him. Homura’s suggestions, the times he had been injured whilst fighting with their group, that he could simply die and return faster than waiting for it to heal wouldn’t likely have occurred to him without prior use of that ‘solution’. And the off-hand comments he had made over the years about what various manners of death were like proved first-hand experience of them. The fact he knew starvation particularly... Would the alchemists even have seen a point to feeding him if they didn’t have an active use for him at the time? Well, perhaps if his ‘use’ was as a proof of concept to be learnt from... Was there basis to his fears about what Keithgriff might do to study him, those allegations of dissection that had seemingly come out of nowhere?

Maybe he had had purpose back then, had the emotional hole they had created in him filled, and also been designed not able to hate his creators anymore than a very small child could hate their parents, but...

“Solle.” Homura’s voice snapped him back, and then a little hand was poking at his face. “Big scowl. Deepen wrinkles further. Like that.”

Solle realised it himself now, the sheer amount of rage and disgust he held inside even if his composed outward demeanour was containing it into nothing but a scowl apparently. With an apologetic sigh, he forced it to relax. Because Homura’s past didn’t matter, only their present now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to- What do you mean, ‘deepen’? I don’t have wrinkles.”

“Do,” Homura insisted with a little noise of mischief, tucking himself back against Solle and burrowing his face lovingly into Solle’s neck.

“I’ll make you sleep outside with the others tonight.”

“Won’t.”

“I’ll drop you, and you’ll have to walk downstairs by yourself.”

“Will do that. Solle arms. Weak. Like limp noodles.”

“Oh, shush.”