Chapter Text
If there was one complaint that Colonel Roy Mustang could levy against Eastern Military Headquarters – other than it not being Central Military Headquarters, the place where his ambitions would undoubtedly one day lead him, but had regrettably not yet done so – it was the simple fact that there were no parking spots on the entire property. Convenient as it was, the motor-car was still a very recent invention and, accordingly, also expensive. If he the military hadn’t provided him with one due to his rank, there would have been no way that Roy would have been able to afford one, not with how he budgeted his money. More on the point though, this recency also meant that the motor-car could not have been taken into consideration back when Eastern Headquarters had been built. Meaning, if he actually wanted to go to work by motor-car he needed to find a nearby parking spot and then walk the rest of the way, which still meant a decent time investment.
That was all not a problem normally. His work ethic, which some around him had on occasion called workaholic (and less charitable voices had in their more charitable moments described as “good at delegating to others”), meant that he was used enough to getting up early so that this commute was not a problem.
Was not a problem normally.
Today was regrettably different. Today was the day after the pay for last month was finally deposited on his bank account, which had meant an evening full planning out his budget to figure out how much money, between rent, utilities and food, he would have left for the ever important other expenditures.
Those last ones in particular could get quite costly, and were part of the reason why the apartment that he lived in – because calling it “home” was far too much of a stretch – was… well, not exactly shabby per se. No, not shabby, thank you very much. But it was admittedly not what the average person would have expected of the place where a colonel of the state military slept. Not like that mattered much anyway though, as the apartment was only temporary. One step on the many that he would take to being on top of this country, one day.
One thing after another, though…
The point was, he had had a good reason for staying up late last night. And doing so once in a while and being a bit late the following day was acceptable!
It was acceptable usually.
But today, he had a very good reason for being punctual. A better one than usual, even. Because today marked one of the woefully rare occasions where he got to extol the virtues of regularly reporting to your superiors, delivering properly and well-written reports on time, and generally showing respect to your elders. In short, it was him doing everything he could to lead the youth of today towards a brighter future.
A more succinct way of describing it would be “the sort of behaviour that gets him called “bastard colonel””. Sadly enough. But then, it was always common knowledge that the youth of today was a lost cause already.
…Which would be easier to bemoan in front of said youth if he actually was punctual himself.
And that in itself already seemed to be a lost cause for today. Waking up early hadn’t worked out, actually staying awake had been a challenge in itself, and rushing to work could only do so much. By now he could only hope that he would be able to somehow pull this off.
“Good morning, Colonel!” he was greeted by Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye as he finally entered Eastern Headquarters, her briefly saluting before falling in line closely behind him. For the entire way from his car, he had walked the fine line of, well, walking as fast as he could without breaking out into a full sprint while still trying to look somewhat dignified (lest certain youngest State Alchemists in history were already watching him and getting ready to describe him as a penguin with its arse on fire). Even now he did not slow down, all while his legs were already writing formal protests that he just knew would be felt for the rest of the day.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Roy said as he passed her by, managing to banish all hints of heavy breathing from his voice. He was good at this.
“While we have been waiting for your arrival, the team has already begun work for the day. The tasks were still clear from yesterday, so there was no clarification needed. If all goes well, we should be able to finish the current documents before the next ones arrive,” the Lieutenant said, entirely unprompted. In response, he hummed.
“Good, good. Is there anything else?” Roy asked, starting to get his hopes up. If the Lieutenant hadn’t mentioned Fullmetal yet, then that likely meant that he hadn’t shown up yet. Stood to reason, too – a teenager with no obligations other than a yearly assessment for his position as State Alchemist probably slept in as much as was humanly possible. That’s what teenagers did, right?
(…Even if his brother couldn’t…)
The Lieutenant meanwhile coughed. “…I am afraid it appears that General Grumman has decided to empty the contents of his personal in-tray into your own.
Roy momentarily slowed his step, but did not stop. “Again?” he sighed. “Third time this week… well, better than that time where he asked me to simply burn its contents. And since it keeps me in good standing with him…” he trailed off. Then he took a deep breath, and decided that it was best to make sure about that other thing. “What about Fullmetal and his brother? I assume that they have not yet deigned to grace us with their presence that they so magnanimously announced in advance for once?”
At this point, he had expected a simple no, though in a few more words to keep it all professional and appropriate for military work. Or, on the off chance that the answer was a yes after all, he would have expected… well, much the same. When talking with the Lieutenant, there were only so many ways their whole song and dance could go, and it very often was not very emotional. At least not from her side.
So it was a bit of surprise when the steady rhythm of her footsteps accompanying his own suddenly ceased, and his question was met with dead silence. Caught off guard, Roy took a few more steps before stopping dead in his tracks and looking back at the Lieutenant who had her eyes closed and was seemingly mulling something over.
“…Lieutenant?” he asked uncertainly.
“My apologies, sir,” she said, just a bit more quickly than he was used from her. “Edward and Alphonse have, as a matter of fact, arrived quite early actually.”
Roy cursed inwardly. So much for extolling virtues while being all high and mighty, and most importantly, in the right. “Unfortunate… I assume they are waiting for me in office, then?” he guessed, silently adding With Fullmetal likely already fuming for making him wait so long. Which could be entertaining, don’t get him wrong, but not as the first thing in the morning at work.
Once again however, the Lieutenant hesitated. “That’s the thing, sir. Edward and Alphonse have… already left again.”
Instinctively, Roy let out a quiet sigh of relief over not having do everything in his power to avoid usage of the word “short” or any of its synonyms in his speech for a while. Then what the Lieutenant had said actually sunk in for him, and he raised his eyebrows.
“Hm? During his call yesterday, Fullmetal sounded like whatever he was coming here for was quite the important matter. Did something more pressing come up?”
“Not exactly, sir,” the Lieutenant said. Whatever matter she was dancing around here, she seemed to be more at unease the longer this went on for. “Edward came here to hand in an official leave of absence. He said that since he’s not officially part of your team, he can just as easily resolve this matter without a… Colonel present. So, I took care of it for him.”
“I am guessing that his word choice when talking about me was a bit more colourful?”
“I may be omitting a few swear words.”
“As to be expected,” Roy said, shrugging. “Still… rather odd. So whatever the next destination for their journey is, he is planning in a lot more time than usual, is that it? Did he say where they are going next?”
Once again the Lieutenant hesitated, and Roy was rather starting to suspect that he was about to find out why. That he wouldn’t like the reason was just about a given – that’s how it usually went with Fullmetal.
“You recall the incident with the Freezing Alchemist back in Central a while ago?” the Lieutenant finally asked. Taken aback, Roy blinked.
“Uhm… yes, of course. It still pains me that we had to deal with a comrade like McDougal in such a manner, but he clearly too far gone.” He paused, and shook his head. “What does this have to do with Fullmetal?”
“Well… do you recall what the final report said about his peculiar usage of Alchemy?”
Roy had to think a second before it came to him. “Ah, yes. That he made use of something called Alkahestry, a form of alchemy that originates in Xing–“
He stopped.
“No,” he said.
The Lieutenant sighed and nodded. “Edward read the report for himself once he had recovered enough from his injuries to leave the hospital.”
“No,” he repeated.
“According to Alphonse, the two of them combed through the entire alchemy section for both the Central Library and the library here in East City, only to find nothing about Alkahestry,”” the Lieutenant continued, deaf to his heartfelt pleas to tell him that this was not going where had already concluded it was going.
“No,” he tried one last time. But still, the Lieutenant remained merciless.
“I am afraid so, sir. They have already departed on a train heading to Youswell.”
And that was the breaking point for Roy’s professionalism.
“Of all the…! How did Fullmetal get it in his head that crossing the desert to go to a country that Amestris has no formal relations with was a good idea?! They could have at least headed to Aerugo first to take a ship! Are twelve year olds these days really this detached from reality?!”
“Fourteen, sir,” the Lieutenant corrected him calmly, “And Alphonse is thirteen.”
“Not like that makes it any better! Urgh, if anything I would have expected him to talk some sense into his brother…!”
“You know, if anything, Alphonse seemed more nonchalant about crossing the desert. He said that since the heat doesn’t really affect him, he should be fine. And that he should be able to provide shade for his brother.”
Roy just groaned. “You are taking this a lot better than I would have expected, Lieutenant,” he noted.
“Your late arrival has given me more than enough time to come to terms with it myself. And believe me, I did try to dissuade them myself – but you know how they can be once they set their minds to something.”
“Thick-headed and stubborn,” he concluded and let out another sigh. “Well, at least we know for a fact that they’re both to stubborn to die from this kind of lunacy. So we can only hope that these brothers don’t get themselves into anything stupid…”
It was not easy being the guide of the cursed springs of Jusenkyo.
For starters, the job title hardly conveyed all that it really entailed. When you hear of a “guide”, the first thought more often than not is somebody who gives tourists a… well, tour of the area, tells them some of the history of the place that makes them go “ohh” and “ahh” whenever it was appropriate, and then at the end sold little trinkets and thingamajigs that served no other purpose than to be a future conversation piece about Look Where We Spent Our Holidays. All these were things that you did do as the guide of Jusenkyo, not to misunderstand. But there was also a good deal more to it still.
For example, there was also care and general upkeep of the area. The individual pools were often less than a meter apart, and it was imperative for the preservation of this mountain valley that they stayed like that. So every few days saw him go for a not at all leisurely walk through the hundreds of springs to see that everything was in order, all while making sure that he didn’t accidentally fall into one. He had managed that last part perfectly well so far, to the point where he sometimes wondered if all the visitors to the springs who couldn’t last more than an hour before falling into one of them were – pardon to impolite language – just stupid.
Tourism and upkeep were not the worst obligations, mind you. The Jusenkyo guide relished them even, and was happy every time he got to tell one of the many legends of the springs to visitors, even if all too often he fell on deaf ears. It was always just “What the hell have I been turned into? WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” (most often expressed through body language and only occasionally verbally), and never “oh, this is such a heartbreaking legend”. The people just had no appreciation for culture.
Either way, the main problem was that it was still just him alone who was responsible for taking care for the entirety of the springs. Sometimes his daughter helped out, since this was practically a family business, but she was still too young in his eyes to do so in any significant way. More than once, he had already requested the aid of at least one assistant from the Chang clan officials governing this area… but since the Chang clan was one of the smallest and weakest clans in all of Xing, he might as well have turned to any potential spirits living in the area. With rumours of the emperor’s health – May He Live Long (at least, say, three more years) And Prosper – starting to decline in old age, all of Xing’s clans had other matters on their minds, anyway.
That aside, what also didn’t help was that just about everyone outside of Jusenkyo seemed to be impossibly oblivious to the fact that these were called the cursed springs of Jusenkyo for a reason. You know, despite the fact that far more people than the guide cared to admit left the springs each year with a life-altering curse (with admittedly tons of comedic potential).
Because the curses were very, very real.
And also another part of why being the guide of Jusenkyo was difficult work.
Oh, sure, the tourists and other visitors that fell into a spring and took on the form of whatever being drowned in it countless years ago was bad enough. But since Jusenkyo was in the middle of nowhere, there were countless wild animals who were just as prone to getting cursed as humans were. And since water hot enough to restore a cursed individual’s birth form – at least until the next bit of cold water hit – was not exactly a common occurrence, whenever an animal fell into one of the springs it usually meant that their magical transformation was permanent.
He had long since lost track of which animals were actually native to this region, and which ones only lived here because enough other animals fell into a specific spring to form a population of the cursed animal. For example, he was near certain that the tigers with the two really long fangs probably didn’t belong here.
Aside from that, he had also long since given up on cooking any animal that he hunted, since there was just no telling what his game would turn into once he splashed it in hot water. At least roasting and frying weren’t off the table… even if some past experiences had already done a lot to almost ruin his taste for meat altogether. He still ate it though, because fruits and vegetables weren’t much better either, on account of the likes of the spring of the drowned daikon radish and the spring of the drowned banana. Even he didn’t know how those had come to be. Though they were at least still easier to wrap your head around than the spring of the drowned tree and the spring of the drowned rock. Sometimes it really was just best to not question how Jusenkyo functioned.
Worst of all in that regard however had to be the animals that fell into the various springs in which people had drowned. Once a mind tasted that sweet, sweet sentience, there was no going back. Not even being returned to the birth forms did much then. In those cases, the guide simply led the newly transformed humans to society, and prayed that they would somehow manage.
Another issue entirely meanwhile, and one that had popped up only more recently, were tourists. Or rather a specific type of tourist, because Jusenkyo tourism in general had already been a thing for a while. What was new were tourists from other countries, and from the island nation of Nippon in particular. The Jusenkyo guide had no idea what drew them in particular all the way to a remote corner in the mountains of Xing like this, but it had happened enough already for him to start learning the language to be able to guide them at all. So far, that had gone… reasonably well. It hadn’t stopped these tourists from getting cursed though. But then again, that was exactly how things were for tourists from Xing as well, so he figured that he must be doing his job well enough.
Today however, for the first time as far as he could remember, the unthinkable was happening. For once, he was starting to feel less and less inclined to do his job well at all. Today he had another duo of visitors from Nippon, a father and a son who were both martial artists.
The boy, seemingly in his mid teens and with long black hair tied in a pigtail, was reasonably easy to deal with. A bit stuck up perhaps, maybe a bit arrogant in the way that teenage boys who worked out tended to get, but still a nice enough kid. The father on the other hand, a stocky and bespectacled middle-aged man who hid what the guide assumed was a well polished bald head under some kind of rag, was worse. Observing him made it pretty clear where the boy got his less agreeable traits from, and also conjured a harrowing vision of the future where there were two of him. Perhaps the father did it so that they functionally had two full heads of hair between them, because the guide could not for the life of him think of a reason why anyone would think that raising a kid like this was a good idea.
He was also certain that the father had already stolen his wallet. Since it was empty anyway, the guide hadn’t called him out for it (yet), but he had already made up his mind that once the idiot inevitably fell into one of the springs, that he would not tell him about hot water and how the curse worked. He would soon enough figure it out himself, anyway. They usually did And if the boy fell into a spring as well… well, with any luck he’d blame his father for it, and sow the seeds of breaking free from his influence.
At the least the guide hoped that that would happen. He really, really hoped that it would happen.
In the meantime, his prediction that the two of them would get cursed were getting closer and closer to being confirmed. No sooner than he had shown them the training grounds of the springs that they had already both performed gravity-defying leaps to jump on top of the bamboo poles sticking out of the pools.
“Dear sirs, what are you doing?!” he shouted (admittedly somewhat half-heartedly)… only to be flat-out ignored by them. Seeing as they had just seconds prior dismissed the springs at not looking very impressive… yeah. Whatever was happening next, they had it coming as far as he was concerned.
“I will not go easy on you, boy!” the father said, assuming a one-legged pose that didn’t seem very practical for fighting, but did look reasonably well suited for keeping his balance.
“Just the way I like it, pops!” the boy shot back cockily, assuming a one-legged pose that didn’t seem very practical for keeping his balance, but did look reasonably well suited for fighting.
Both of them did keep their balance though.
And then they clashed.
These two were good, the guide had to admit. Again and again they jumped for an aerial clash, before landing back on the bamboo poles. Right now, it was unclear which one of them was going to win… but considering where they were fighting, that probably wouldn’t last long. The hijinks that were to follow were practically guaranteed.
Taking his eyes off the action for a moment, the guide looked around. So, what curse could these two end up getting…? There was the spring of the drowned sparrow, that was a good candidate. Spring of the drowned panda, also an option. Orang-utan, giraffe, seal… oh, this would be interesting.
…Ah! There was also the spring of the drowned girl. That was generally an odd one. Not due to the spring itself, or even its curse, but because on more than one occasion the guide had seen a man fall into it, and for some reason come out completely overjoyed once he realised what had happened to him. The guide had, on occasion, considered trying it out for himself, just to see what all the fuss could be about. He hadn’t done it yet however.
Come to think of it, the exact same thing had occasionally also happened with women falling into the spring of the drowned man…
The guide shook his head and focused on the martial artists again. They were still fighting, still with no one having the upper hand-
And suddenly, the guide paused. There had been a… weird noise. Almost like a metallic clang?
Then he heard it again. And again. And again.
It was coming closer.
His curiosity piqued, the guide turned around…
And was surprised.
A bit behind him and to the side, there was a person wearing a huge, bulky suit for armour walking through the springs. That in itself was already odd. But what was more odd still was that the armour looked like no armour that he had ever seen. If he had to guess it probably was a foreign one, but not from any of the countries bordering Xing to the east. If anything, it looked like it came from one of the countries beyond the desert in the west.
After staring at it for a moment, the guide realised that the person in the armour was not alone. Walking beside them was a child in an almost blindingly red coat, with golden hair that shone in the sun.
The guide raised his eyebrows. As the two got closer, he also thought that he saw the child having matching golden eyes. Just like the Golden Sage from the West, who was said to have visited these very springs centuries ago… oh, this was definitely odd. But also interesting.
Soon enough, he could also hear the duo talk… speaking in a language that he did not understand.
“Ed… do you really think we should keep going this way?” armour said, in a far higher voice than the guide would have expected from someone this big.
“Ah, c’mon Al! It’ll be fine,” the child said, his voice meanwhile a bit deeper than anticipated.
“Are you sure? I really don’t like the idea of accidentally falling into one of these ponds and risk having it get on my seal…”
The short teen exhaled sharply. “I know… but I fear right now we’re in the middle of this… swamp? I think it’s a swamp. I think we’re still in the middle of it, so the only way out is forward.”
There was a moment of silence between the two. The guide meanwhile hesitated. It was his duty to guide any visitors to the spring of Jusenkyo… but if he didn’t understand a word that the visitors were saying, now that was a bit of a predicament.
On the other hand, surely tourists from the west weren’t foolish enough to visit a country where they did not speak a single word of the language?
“Ah! Look, Ed! There’s somebody!” armour suddenly said, pointing right at him. The child looked into the direction, and spotted him as well. After briefly looking at each other, the two then briskly walked towards him.
“Hey there! Can you show us the way out of this swamp?” the child said, sounding probably polite and looking at him hopefully.
…And all the guide could do was shrug. “My apologies, esteemed visitors. I don’t understand a word that you’re saying,” he said, lowering his head apologetically. How shameful… maybe he really should broaden his linguistic horizons some more in the future.
Once he actually figured out what language these two were even speaking, that is.
Short teen meanwhile sagged. “Oh, great… doesn’t a single person in this country speak Amestrian?!”
“Maybe we should have learned some Xingese instead, Ed…” armour said, as if he was suggesting something.
“On this short notice?” the child growled… and suddenly looked past the guide. “Hey… look Al! I think those are martial artists!”
For that last bit, he actually sounded excited. Armour seemed to follow his gaze, and added equally excited, “You’re right! Ohh, this is so cool!”
The guide turned back to the father and son. The short minutes in which he had looked away had seemingly not been enough to decide a victor, as the two were still going at it, still charging at each other for aerial clashes before coming to rest on their poles again.
“I wonder if we could beat them…”
“Please don’t attack them… they probably don’t speak Amestrian either, and will just think that you’re trying to mug them.”
“I wasn’t going to, Al! But they’re definitely not Alkahestrists, and that way we’d at least have something to do.”
This time around, the guide didn’t even bother to look at the other duo. No way he could figure out what any of that meant.
“Enough now! Time for the final blow, boy!” the father suddenly shouted, taking another leap-
But his son was faster.
Having finally found his proper footing on the poles, the boy leaped through the air almost gracefully, somehow manoeuvring himself above his father…
And knocking him right into the spring below.
If the guide had anything to smoke on him, he would have taken a long, deep drag. Panda, then. So it began.