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“Hey, Hohenheim!”
Hohenheim looked up to see his elder son storming toward him, steaming with rage, as usual.
Edward pointed back at the small mountain that Hohenheim had just formed around his younger son and the homunculus Pride. The enormous earthen shell still crackled with the aftermath of alchemy.
“Al’s trapped in there with that monster!” cried Edward. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Hohenheim regarded him calmly. “It was Al’s idea,” he said.
Edward blinked.
“Since we can’t defeat the homunculus,” said Hohenheim, “our best option was to imprison it. Now we’ve bought ourselves some time to come up with a more permanent way of dealing with Pride.”
“But why didn’t you at least consult with me before you—”
“Because,” said Hohenheim, “Al said, If you tell big brother, he’ll be against the plan for sure.”
Edward gaped at him.
“Al volunteered because he knew he was the one that was most suited for the task,” said Hohenheim. “He came up with a plan that would allow all of us to survive.”
“But… That… You…!” Ed’s expression contorted as his initial fury warred with the ensuing logical reasoning.
Fury—and indignation—apparently won out, and Edward bared his teeth. “You still shouldn’t have done it!” he barked. “What kind of father traps his own son in with a dangerous monster like that? Just because it was his idea doesn’t mean it was a good one!”
“I think it was a good idea.”
“Hmph.” Edward turned up his chin. “Did becoming a philosopher’s stone addle your brains? Or have you always been this stupid?”
The corners of Hohenheim’s mouth twitched downward. “I really wish you wouldn’t speak to me that way,” he said.
“I’ll speak to you however I damn well please, you old bastard!”
Hohenheim sighed. What had Greed said when they’d first met? Something about the cocky brat needing a firm hand?
“Edward,” said Hohenheim, trying for a sterner tone. “I am your father, after all, and—”
“You are not my father!”
The teenager tried to stomp past him, but Hohenheim caught him by the arm.
“Yes,” he said, “I am.”
Edward turned a look of wide-eyed incredulity up at his captor. “Let go of me!” he snarled.
Hohenheim studied him a moment.
Yes. He was Edward’s father. Not a very good one, perhaps. Arguably the reason his son had come to resemble a feral cat more than a young human. But it was plain in the blond hair, the golden eyes. The fervent passion that seemed to drive everything Edward did, that reminded Hohenheim so much of himself, in his own youth, those centuries ago.
The boy was his son. Indisputably.
“I will not let go of you,” said Hohenheim, tightening his grip on the boy’s arm. His left arm—the real one, not the automail prosthetic.
He pulled him close, and Edward stumbled in. “You’ve inherited my temper,” said Hohenheim. “I’m sorry about that.”
Then he hiked him forward and smacked him on the backside.
Edward’s eyes popped. “Hey!” he snapped. “What the hell was that?”
“That was a…” Hohenheim trailed off. He frowned. “What do you call it? We had a word for it. I can’t remember.”
He gave the boy another smack, and Edward yelped.
“Stop that!” Edward tried to twist away, but Hohenheim held firm. “That hurts!”
Hohenheim ignored the obvious observation. “You have every right to be angry with me,” he said. “But you shouldn’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”
“I’m not letting my—augh!”
“Your brother had a good idea,” said Hohenheim. “And I did what had to be done. How you feel about me is completely irrelevant.”
One final swat, and he let the boy go. Edward danced away, his face as red as his coat, rubbing furiously at the seat of his pants.
“Just be careful how you speak to people,” said Hohenheim. “Not everyone has your father’s patience.”
Edward ground his teeth. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled.
It wasn’t respectful, exactly, but at least it was subdued.
Hohenheim looked around the broad clearing in the forest. The nearby trees were still ablaze, spitting flaming leaves and branches up into the air.
“All right then,” said Hohenheim. He turned to the rest of the group, as collected as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Let’s put this fire out. Or else Al’s gonna be roasted alive.”
And the others, after a moment of agog silence, gathered themselves and complied.