One Foot - Another Multiverse SI

[Ars Poetica]

Oh Poe. So trusting. So silly. I have always had you by the throat.

-x-

At the end of the day, I was someone who worked best with direction. When I didn't know where to go or what to do, I floundered and stood still in confused wonder. I needed someone or something to give me instruction, even a simple notepad would have sufficed. As I was, I lacked anything. There was no plan, there was nobody asking anything of me, there was nothing for me to do, and so I did nothing. Medusa 'fixed' that by asking me to kill Justin Law.

A quick summary of Justin Law: a priest who worshipped Death as God, someone with a relatively small role in the anime but a major role in the manga. I assumed the worst when Medusa told me that this was the man who I would have to kill for her. I assumed she wanted me to go after someone terrifying and dangerous.

Mind you, Justin Law was terrifying and dangerous in his own way, just not in the way one might think. Sure, he was a Death Scythe who didn't need a Meister to operate at full capacity. And, sure, he was incredibly zealous and would die for a cause he believed in, no matter how corrupt. What made him dangerous, more dangerous than Arachne, was that he didn't qualify as what one might call an 'acceptable target'.

This was a man who betrayed the DWMA. But he didn't do that yet, and whether or not he did that of his own volition was questionable. Medusa wanted Law dead, but I wasn't sure about killing him. Not the least of my reasons against the notion was that assassinations were unusual for me – actually, let me take that back. Assassinations? I didn't do them. It was enough that Medusa had dragged me into this, now I had to find a way to do it and get away with it.

Even knowing whether or not this was a world based off the anime or the manga wouldn't have helped with Justin Law because it was too early. When Asura was released, then it could be determined whether he was good or evil, whether he was being controlled against his will or gladly following a path of complete destruction. But Asura was not unleashed upon the world. Asura was still beneath Death City, still waiting for the moment he could be unleashed upon the world…

…Wait. Actually, now that I thought about it, there was a single other distinction. I could ask Medusa about Crona, but that probably wouldn't go over well. So, instead, I'd ask a simpler question, "If you want to survive this," the words made me sick. I wanted Medusa to just die. She, however, now needed insurance I'd help her, "I need to know something." And I needed a bit of key information from her.

"Is that your price?" she asked me, "A single question with an honest answer? If your goal is to involve yourself as little as possible, even that might be too damning."

I thought of Mephistopheles, "I know. It's a simple question, though. It's one you shouldn't have a problem answering." Crona was Medusa's ace in the hole and apparently, miraculously, she did not know I knew about… him… her… it…? With the tentative freedom that gave me, I wasn't about to throw it all away. "Is Asura the source of all the world's Madness or does he represent a part of it?"

In the anime, Asura was the origin of Madness. In the manga, Asura was a facet of the already-existing Madness. In one, he was the start. In the other, he was a part. Medusa Gorgon, with all her knowledge of magic and witchcraft and Asura and Madness as a whole was the most likely person to know the answer to my question. At the same time, with an answer to that question, I would know the 'template' of the world I was in–

"Yes." She said simply.

My thoughts were people on a happy train, going back and forth in the dining car when suddenly the whole thing flew off a bridge, crashed into a plane, traveled to a nondescript location, and set everything on fire. There were no survivors. "What." I blinked, "That's… no, you can't…"

"Madness is something that has always existed for each one of us, Asura's Madness began with him, the world's Madness began with it, and so too did your Madness begin with you." She shrugged, "It's not hard to understand."

…Except it kind of was. What Medusa was telling me was that Madness was both based on every single individual and also based on factors outside that, or maybe there was a universal variant that enabled individual variants… and those variants in turn could influence each other, but always within the parameters of the universal… meanwhile, the universal could be influenced by the smaller individual so long as that individual was sufficiently large…

"I… I don't…"

"Does it really take so little to shut you up?" she asked me, "I answered your question. Now, will you kill him?"

I took a deep breath. Maybe it would have been better to have asked if her child was a boy or a girl… It certainly would have given me a less confusing answer. Wait, no. Medusa could have said 'yes' to that question and I'd be just as lost as I was then. What Medusa told me contradicted the manga and the anime. Was I, thus, in a kind of fused world? I knew from the start that this was an alternate universe, but was the template different as well?

This whole time, I had been asking the wrong questions and seeking the wrong answers. Killing Justin Law was not something on my to-do list, certainly, and yet every answer I had to the question of why not to kill him had just vanished. I did not know this Justin Law. I did not know what he could or could not do, might or might not. I did not know if Asura would influence Law or if Law was immune.

Did the continuity shift so absolutely affect my decision making? Maybe. I was so heavily dependent on finding an answer that it never occurred to me the possibility that the answer would leave me more confused than not having it. Now I knew, and I knew nothing. So did that mean it was time to stand up, walk over to the priest, and shiv Justin Law with my flaming soul slayers, was it time to decapitate Law with my Zanpakuto? Did that time arrive?

Medusa grinned. She knew my answer before I said it, because at the end of the day, she knew what her first answer had done. All my reasons to not act were gone. Now, the only way for me to know what was going to happen was to move forward. Bouncing back and forth between Death's Meisters and Weapons would only help for so long. I needed to really do something to know where I was, what I was doing, and where I'd go next – what I'd do next.

"Alright," I said to her, "I'll see you tonight." At the end of the day, I was someone who worked best with direction. Medusa just happened to be a bigger help with that than Death.

-x-

…I couldn't do it. I just… I just couldn't.

He was just sitting there, lightly nodding his head to music only he could hear through those earbuds and I just didn't have it in me to walk up to this guy and slam his head into the table. I certainly didn't have the heart to tell him that it was one in the morning and he'd completely lost all track of time, how could I go about killing him if I didn't even want to tell him that much?

Medusa glared at me, "You're serious."

"It's pathetic. He wouldn't even see me!" I protested.

She looked like she wanted to hit me, "You… That is the entire point of an assassination."

"Well I must be a shittier assassin than Black☆Star because this feels completely wrong. So there."

"…" for a moment, the witch stared at me. Her eye twitched, her mouth moved to say something but she stopped herself and considered something, "You…"

"It doesn't help that this plan is totally half-baked." I told her, "I mean, you didn't change it at all. How desperate are you to kill this guy? I'm not sure going through with it is a good idea."

"You just don't want to kill him because he can't see you." Medusa's hands began to spasm; she looked like she wanted to strangle me. How cute. "If that's the case… then just walk up to him, greet him, then tear out his jugular."

"…Well, aren't you the charmer?"

"Just kill him!" she hissed at me.

Her back against the wall of an alley, I stood half outside of it and half inside. Far across from us in an outdoor café and sitting at a table, Justin Law continued to bob his head to music. "It just feels uncomfortable…" It felt like what I was doing was completely and totally wrong. How often had I felt like this? Often enough that thinking about it made me slightly queasy, "This seems like a bad idea."

"I arranged this." She said to me, "Do you know the favors I had to call in? Do you know what I had to do to get him alone, to have him right here at this time – To get Death's eyes off of this?"

"…This is…"

"You can get away with this. You owe nothing to these people. Just kill him."

It was useless to ask. It was pointless, even. I had no reason not to kill Justin Law. Except, a reason not to kill someone was always there, it was self-evident… why should I kill this man? Why should I do it? Because Medusa told me to… and Medusa told me to do something… and I was about to do what Medusa fucking Gorgon told me to do. I was right to think something was wrong.

My gaze turned to Medusa, "Do you have a screw?" I asked her.

"Hmm?" she seemed befuddled, "Why would you need to know?"

It was primarily because Stein did some strange things to, "…What…" My thoughts stopped thinking. Why shouldn't I kill Justin Law again? He was right there. But Medusa was here. And Medusa… was Medusa saying something to me…? No, wait. No. NO. I refuse! I REFUSE! NO! Something tapped the ground. A slow dripping sound that pounded in my ears and reminded me of drums – My hand drifted up to brush something beneath my nose.

Blood. I was having an aneurysm. Wide-eyed, I stared and slowly turned my head to look at Medusa, "You are going to kill him, Ars." She said to me. I'm pretty sure that's what she said to me, at least. All I heard was white noise. Was I bleeding from the ears, too? I didn't bother checking. I sputtered a bit and took a step back, "No, no…" She pulled me further into the alleyway, "If you can't do a task as simple as this, maybe I should try something else."

…Expendable… That was the proper term, anyway. It wasn't the first time I had been wrong, it would not be the last, but perhaps this was the one time that hurt the most. Medusa hadn't just lied to me about her motivations, I had fallen for it. That snake from earlier? It was never meant as insurance, she was using it to influence my fucking soul wavelength.

Stein couldn't perceive me because her soul protection was extending to my person, because she was saturating her power in my very being to prevent me from doing anything. She was following me without having to be anywhere adjacent to me and I was just… Anger, range, fury boiled over in my mind and being… How dare she? HOW DARE SHE?

"…byrgrl…" I grumbled.

She smiled and dragged me further into the alley, my sight was being covered in arrows as the damage to my nervous system from her manipulation started to become more apparent. My arm was becoming numb. "Say again, Ars?" she said to me, mockingly, joyfully, "I'm not quite sure I caught that?"

The Rider's power fixed my head and burned internal injuries shut with all the elegance of a plasma cutter in a powder room, "Is your child…" I managed, "A boy or a girl?"

"My daughter?" she asked in genuine confusion, "What about her?"

I grinned. Her black, pitch black arrows were already covering my body and I knew the damage done to my nervous system, to my mind and body and soul were incredible, crippling even! But did that matter? At best, hardly. She was dragging me away in complete darkness.

If she noticed my particularly toothy smile, she didn't comment on it. Soon I couldn't see her when the arrows had totally wrapped around us, ready to take her and me away and everything was darkness and death.

A fire lit in the alley. Something whispered in my ear.

It said hello.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-47

 

[Ars Poetica]

Sometimes the journey lasts a while... sometimes, it ends before its prime. But I will never die, will I, Ars?

-x-

Eyes that observed and witnessed truth and fear, these were the eyes of the prey of the judge, the guilty beneath HE who stood in flame and justice. The witch cried for destruction, arrows rained from narrow heavens and detonated the restricting structures of man. There was too little consequence for such an action, thus action to initiate consequence had to be taken.

HE swung hellfire, a storm of ember and burning to torch the cobbled earth and rock and stone and concrete. The world was blackened, new obsidian emerged with every step. A guillotine of light emerged to halt HIS progress towards the GUILTY – HE took pause and observed the man in priestly garb.

Big brother? What are you saying? ​

Rage, anger, fury, justice needed to be served and was not. Another had to be judged and was rewarded for the slaying of the innocent. This would not stand. THIS COULD NOT STAND. Fire soared to the heavens and corrupted the darkened sky, shadowed clouds of ash struck down with red lightning.

I needed a Witch. And you're a Witch. I… It'll be alright, okay sis? It won't hurt much. ​

The guillotine did nothing to block the crying elements of destruction. An arm shattered as with great force HE swung down to break the feeble thing. The criminal that prayed to its new false god cried in pain, sounds of hymns were silenced with a single stamp of HIS heel into the ashen ground.

Please! No! Big brother! Big brother, why?! I'm sorry! It hurts… It hurts…! ​

Still the priest acted to defend himself in conjunction with the other criminal. Still, the other criminal acted to harm and hurt HE who had arrived to deliver justice. Sinners, the lot of them. Traitors to their children, to their family, to their morals, to all justice – there could be no order while these aberrations to the common good were permitted.

*shnkt!* ​

He cried for assistance and others listened. In the burning of what was once a city in the name of the false god of all Order, his tools to enact warped justice acted to defend the sinner, the criminal, the murderer – all murderers! All criminals! There were none who could be called innocent from this lot of beasts.

With blazing fist and screaming bone, the guillotine's head was separated from his shoulders, the snakes of thousands had vanished, but the thing was injured. Priority needed to be taken for she could NOT escape, could not be allowed to escape – HE would act. The arrows did little to stop HE who could not be stopped, for HE was justice.

Fire soared in rotation, the false moon laughed. The world was false. What fiction, what convolution was followed and decreed conventional? HE would deny that with all HE had to bear, all HIS power wielded in HIS hands, all the fires of last and lost promise. A blast emerged from a cannon of the distance did little to stop HIS advance upon the breaking witch-mother of thousands of snakes who wielded arrows and NO it would not control HE who brought justice!

A personal vengeance was warranted for her actions against HIS host.

Still she found power to laugh at HIS advance, still she found strength to scoff at HIS strength, power to mock HIS power as not being HIS own – the foolish thing would perish as the most unclean did, in cleansing fire she would be reduced to silent, screaming ash.

Her whose soul was stained with the blood of the innocent…​

[["PENANCE STARE."]]​

-x-

I was in a train station. Why was I in a train station? Was there a reason for me being in a train station? I recognized this train station, though. There were no people, however. There were only dozens of pillars made from salt, shaped like people turning to look at the rusted tracks.

Had I returned to see the apocalypse? Was this the end?

Looking down the track and to the right, I did not see a train. Something else arrived. It flew through the tunnel, swooping high and shattering the ceiling to reveal nothing above us or even around us. The world was an empty place except for this strange remnant to a train station.

And high above me, I saw something flying there. It might have held something resembling a human appearance, but it was not quite there. The thing's legs, for example, were unusable as legs. Two massive wings emerged starting from the ankles and working up to the shoulder, these impressively massive wings spanned the distance of the sky.

With dawning horror, I tried to comprehend the impossibly massive creature so high above me. Bright like the sun, it shown down upon my little form that could do nothing. Resisting the temptation to bow, still I tried to understand it, still I tried to see all of it that I could. It hurt my brain to witness the construct in its entirety.

Its body was tanned bronze and made of muscle, a massive symbol covered its chest. But I could not see the symbol properly. At the neck, a collar of gold was tightly wrapped. Its head was made of wood and sported three painted faces, each with silver funnels inserted towards where a mouth might have been. A triangular formation to construct some set of crying horns – with six arms it manipulated the extending horns covered in thin holes. A silver crown adorned its head.

Through slight adjustments of its many, chitin covered fingers; it made noise not unlike music. I heard neither flute nor horn, though. I heard whistles. These were the whistles of thousands of trains both diesel and steam alike – these were whistles that resonated throughout the remains of the station.

Its chest opened straight down the center of the bizarre symbol and a new figure emerged bearing the head of a bird with its eyes plucked out. I could see teeth along the edges of the massive opening on the figure's chest and at the center, one of its many tongues became spine and intertwining nerves and organs of the new, human-like thing that drifted down to meet me.

The hawk-man's… or maybe it was a falcon? Fuck it. The fawk-man's umbilical spine started towards its waist to become one of the massive thing's tongues. Other tongues would occasionally spill out and search around, sprouting eyes and teeth and various noses and flashing spot lights. The fawk-man lounged on an overturned sign portraying the schedules of trains that would never depart or arrive. Its beak opened to speak, "Sup."

My horrors all vanished, my awe all but disappeared. Incredulously, I stared for a moment unsure of what to say. Eventually I settled on leaning on some surviving brickwork to what was once a support column in a wall and nodded back, "Sup." It was very hard not to tell this thing that its pseudo mother looked like a demented balloon.

"So…?" the fawk-man trailed with an expecting tone, "Whaddaya think?" His accent was distinctly and decidedly something straight out of Brooklyn. He reminded me of a paperboy. Licking my lips, I prepared to answer. The fawk-man suddenly interrupted me, "Wait, wait…! I forgot something," he reached under the sign and pulled out an old conductor's cap. Patting it off of any dust, he put the thing on his head and adjusted the little blue thing to fit properly, "'kay. Go."

Flatly, I told him the honest truth, "You look fucking ridiculous."

-x-

The head of one of the tools of the being of order struck the ground with great force once, twice, thrice, four times, five – HE stopped counting, what mattered was that this thing's skull spattered in the proper manner before it burned like the rest, like all the rest. Everything had to burn.

Children. Children stood to defy HIM. But the children were innocent.

HE would endeavor not to cripple the foolish children, infants in their right, fetuses in their might, HE did not slay the innocent. However, HE had the power to teach them a lesson. HE would teach them the follies of blindly obeying by beating out of them their mistakes and bashing into them whatever proper actions were necessary.

They faced their fears to fight HIM, thus HE admired their courage. It was a shame they followed a cause HE questioned, it was a shame they fought with those HE inquired, it was a deep and miserable shame that HE would have to harm them at all… HE would not hinder their potential, but they would not win here.

Another, greater force laid in wait far beneath the surface of the bizarre city that called to his attention. An avatar of fear and misery and genuine Madness spoke to HIM, cried to HIM, begged for HIS attention. HE would see this thing. HE would judge this thing. And if this thing was guilty, naturally HE would burn it.

Weaponized females exploded into actions, held awkwardly in the trained hands of the son of a false god. In the name of twisted Order, he would attack. A weaponized male in the form of a farmer's tool aimed to decapitate HIM, but was stopped by an indestructible spine and heightening fire.

Smoke filled the world with obscurity and a sword of sudden darkness struck down in desperation to quash HIS might – "Round two, you bastard!" HE read the lips of the boy who called himself a mighty star. HE did not use HIS swords for the fight against these children.

That changed now.

-x-

"Brain damage fuckin' sucks, man." The thing told me, "I mean, it's just the worst. Total shit."

"I know," I sighed, "I think the same thing."

"You should!" he laughed, "I mean, you are us! Or, well, I guess we're you? Well, we're not really a 'we' since we're one thing, so would it be I? That is, I being me, not that I'm me, I'm you."

"Well, I know I'm you, but more importantly," I noted, "You're me. Both of you."

"There are no both," he corrected me, "There's one. And that one is us."

"…By us, do you mean you and that?" I gestured to the balloon thing, "Or you both and me? Because then, it's not really – actually, wait, no. So you two are one or I'm one with you two?"

"Yes."

"Okay, thanks," I nodded, "And with you two actually being one, and me being one with you two, then why are you here?"

He shrugged, "Formalities?" he suggested, "'Dunno, honestly." He thought about it and snapped his fingers, "Oh, do you think we're like this because you think we're supposed to be like this? Or are we like this because we're actually supposed to be like this?"

"How should I know?" I asked him, "If that thing is you and you are me, then you know that I know you know the answers that I don't know." I answered him, "Which, in retrospect, doesn't make much sense when you take everything into account…"

"No, no. There's logic to it." he defended, "…Thinking about it, you're actually not supposed to be here and I was hoping you'd know why you were."

"…I'm early?" I asked him.

"Yes…?" he trailed, "Wait, no. You're on time. You're just on time at the wrong time, if that makes sense."

"It doesn't. But that's a good thing, right? You're supposed to be cryptic," I smiled at him, "You're me."

"You give yourself too much credit." He corrected.

I shook my head, "No, you just don't give yourself enough."

His beak opened to reply to me, a finger was raised. He thought about what he was going to say. He stopped himself, "Touché," I think if he could smile, he'd be smiling. I felt the smile, anyway. "I think we're digressing, though."

"Right," I thought about it, "Brain damage?"

"Fuckin' brain damage, man…" my Zanpakuto spirit sighed, "How does it work?"

"Soul damage was probably involved, too." My lips turned downwards into a frown. Considering that, it just made what Medusa did even worse, didn't it? "I remember… unleashing the Rider…?"

"He's still out there." My Zanpakuto spirit confirmed, "At this point, he's basically just toying with them all. I mean they just don't have a defense against him. The Ghost Rider, the Spirit of Vengeance…" he sighed, "Fuck, man. Just… just fuck. They're like the Indians tryin' to K.O. smallpox."

"…But you can see all of it, can't you?"

"Oh, I can," my Zanpakuto admitted unabashedly, "And it is glorious."

-x-

HE swung blades of flame upwards to block the incoming scythe and deflect it and its owner far away, a wall of incoming heat further deterred their strikes. A precision swing in the general direction of their long-distance support was enough to drive him to cover, which left only their most diverse fighter.

Wielding the rapidly transforming girl against HIM, the boy aimed to impale HIM. But HE knew this attack all too easily, all too well. With great care and efficiency, HE struck back before in turn being harmed at all. Certainly the incoming attack would not have pierced HIS armor, but the action itself was necessary to deter further efforts.

HE did not break the girl, but instead he disarmed the boy to deliver a sharp and devastating kick. Ribs broke with the immense force of the sudden strike sending the child tumbling. The others cried his name, one gave away his position and aimed to attack once more from the distance.

That could not be permitted.

Swinging the blades into a proper position, their pommels met and the ships properly docked. Corrupted tassels tightly wound around the locked position to strengthen the hold between the swords. Their respective sheaths left their positions at his hips and formed together, jets if flames erupted from their openings to form mighty blades. But these blades would not be wielded to slash.

Pulling the combined sheaths back from a slim position to be grasped, HE adjusted HIS aim properly. A single shot was all that HE released the arrow and did not watch it fly, turning to face opposite the detonation a short distance from the intended target. He knew their distance supporter was rendered unconscious by the attack. In a fit of unjust vengeance, still the boy stood to fight HIM.

HE did not entertain the boy and swiftly turned the child over, swinging the newly formed bow to a proper position and calling back the launched arrow to strike. Rocketing to HIS position, its blunt end buried itself in the boy's abdomen; a swift strike with the now separated pommel of a single sword was enough to render the second unconscious.

The child's weapon still came to defend him, but HE knew better than to allow a force multiplication and swiftly rendered her actions moot. Watching from a distance, the little girl and her scythe boy tried to find an opening to attack from.

Such an opportunity never came as the being called Death wielded the father of the young girl, the kin to the scythe – there, the false god of Order watched HE who was the Spirit of Vengeance with the mightiest of his tools and prepared to battle. Neither HE nor this false god believed the other would back down.

HE, however, had a single other mission. Burying HIS blades into the earth, HE pulled and corrupted a melted tunnel of obsidian to a proper location. Far down, far below, a sealed representative of fear awaited to be properly judged. HE did not even look at the thing called Death before jumping down the hole to continue HIS eternal crusade.

Death followed.

-x-

"How do I call him off?" I asked my Zanpakuto.

The fawk-man shook his head, "You don't. You can't. We both know the Rider, so you should know as well as I do that once the Rider gets started, nothing's going to stop him."

"There has to be a way! Not all the people he's killing are guilty."

"He doesn't care," my Zanpakuto admitted, "There are guilty and there are innocent. He's iffy about what constitutes guilty and innocent, but if he determines you're guilty or innocent, then that's the end of it."

"But how can he be sure?" I asked, "Not everyone he meets is currently guilty, many are trying to work past that!"

"Were trying," my Zanpakuto corrected me, "And now? Now they never will. There is a reason the Ghost Rider was sealed. We both know it, now. The Ghost Rider never stops and never compromises. In a world where killing Witches is an acceptable act when many of those Witches are perfectly innocent, of course the Rider would take offense to the Death Scythes."

"And of course the casualties would be high…" I trailed, "Fuck." The word came out as a hiss. The Rider really couldn't be stopped, could he? He'd just go around and cause as much destruction as possible. "Did he get Medusa at least? Did he kill the bitch?"

"…He Penance Stared her."

I nodded, "So that's a solid maybe?"

"It shouldn't be. But it is Medusa. So… yes," my Zanpakuto exhaled, "Yes, that's a solid maybe."

"…Well, since I can't do anything, and you can't do anything, do we fight?"

"Do you wanna fight?"

"Not really, no," I admitted, "Do you wanna do something else?"

He considered it, "Well… I normally play checkers in my spare time since there's nothing else to do."

"Oh, hey! That's great! What a coincidence, so do… I…" I trailed off and realized something, "Oh. Right… We would have similar hobbies."

"Yup," said my Zanpakuto as he took out a checkerboard from under the overturned sign, "Let's get started, then."

-x-

HE observed the thing wrapped in its own skin with disdain. This fearful thing? This creature? This was allowed to suffer? No. An injustice had been done here. This thing just needed to die, nothing less, nothing more. To enable its suffering would only enable its strength. What foolishness had permitted it to survive?

The creature would die here. Yet the one called Death would interfere. HE would ask why the false god would protest a proper execution of the thing wrapped in its own skin, however such could wait until after the fearful thing had been properly slain.

The scythe that blocked HIS attack was unexpected and unwelcome. HE looked with rage upon the being called Death and reacted accordingly, striking with all the force it could muster. Unforgivable. This false god would allow the escape of such a creature? This false god would protect such a creature? This false god and his tool, both who had truly sinned, both who were GUILTY were in the way of HIS purpose?

They would have perished next. Instead, for their eager transgression, they would perish now.

HE released all HIS fire, all HIS power from the core of HIS being and made what was once intangible corporeal. Fire converted rock into black glass, molten from ever-increasing heat. Each strike this false Death managed to acquire would harm his tool more than he, HE ensured as much.

No guilt could be felt, there was only vengeance. There was only justice. The creature's skin rippled and unwound itself, properly wrapping around the release form of a three-eyed creature now unleashed upon the world. HE would have to defeat both this creature and its newfound protector.

This was good. Justice, genuine and pure, would be delivered. Vengeance, for countless lost innocents, would be had. And these beings who preyed upon the weak and helpless would know fear and pain most divine and true. HE would teach them, HE would break them, HE would–

-x-

"…What if we just left?" I asked my Zanpakuto, "I mean…" I frowned at the board. Stalemate again. "I mean, we could just… go, right?"

"Go?"

"The train," I motioned with my arms, "This is the station for it, right? So what if we call it early?"

"That would require moving to the next world," my Zanpakuto drawled, "I wouldn't recommend it. Leaving early has some severe risk to it."

"What would you know?" I asked, "I don't know anything about it and you're me, so how would you know any better?"

"We're not doing this again…" groaned my Zanpakuto, "And besides, it already happened once. You were forced to leave early after our first world. It wasn't my fault you left early, but you still did. And then…"

"Then I fucked up Bleach. Right."

"…No, you fucked up the world you left behind. Leaving early has some nasty risks."

"Worse than what the Rider's doing in Death City?"

My Zanpakuto considered that, "…Point."

"Look, Medusa's been defeated. All that's left is Arachne and… Noah, I think?"

My Zanpakuto sucked in a breath, "About that…"

"The Rider unleashed Asura, didn't he?" I prayed my Zanpakuto would say no. The following silence was answer enough, "Okay, yeah, the world has been fucked. Time to go."

"You'll come back, eventually!" protested my Zanpakuto, "We can't procrastinate about this!"

"Well I don't have a solution for it! We fucked it up too hard!" I snapped, "Please. We have to leave. We need to get out of here. If you can't call back the Rider, just get us all out of this place."

My Zanpakuto stared at the board… with no eyes – how was he doing that, anyway? "Alright," he finally said, "I'll call in a favor. Just don't be surprised if you lose something along the way."

A favor? Lose something? "…What do you mean by that?" An ominous feeling was creeping up in me, it made me cringe. "Who are you talking with?"

"You make deals with devils all the time," my Zanpakuto ribbed me, "Why're you so surprised I do the same?"

…Shit.

-x-

The train was just as I remembered it. The same tiles, the same waiter, the same windows, the same streamers, the same chandelier, the same door. This time, nobody smiled at me. Nobody waited for me.

I did not hesitate. I asked for this. I knew what I was getting myself into. This time, I knew what was happening. So what if I was transitioning between worlds early? What could be done to stop me? I fucked up, I couldn't fix this right now, but whether my promise was heard or not I would. One day, I would return to this world.

And when I did? When I returned, I would fix what I had broken. Well, I'd try at least. A voice nagged in the back of my mind. I fought past the arrows that spoke to me, that hissed at me. She would not be forgiven; Medusa wouldn't be forgiven for what she did to my head and my soul.

You really are a traveler of worlds, aren't you…? At least I won't be having a dull moment. ​

I wonder… if I saved Crona, would that undo some of the damage I had done?

My Crona? Her? You pathetic fool, she's mine and mine alone. ​

Opening the black door, I wandered through to the other side and saw an endless plain of nothingness. White in all directions – it wasn't like the train station. This was different. This was… This was bad. I had a feeling I knew where I was. Slowly, I turned to look behind me.

Well, well… What's this? Your soul's formulae all laid out to bare… very interesting. ​

This time, I saw the other side of the door I usually left behind. It was a familiar door. It was a massive door that floated a few inches above the ground. I looked behind that door and saw two others. Two young boys kneeled in front of their respective, similar doors.

Direct enlightenment regarding a physical entrance into the metaphysical…? ​

One was sucked in, then so was the other… and I turned to look behind me once more at the one thing that had to be there. I knew where I was. I knew this place very well. A white figure, a profile of me looked back at me and grinned.

What… What Madness is this? I've never felt something like this before! I… I must know more. ​

"Hello, there…" The white figure said in a voice neither belonging to a man or a woman.

I don't care what price needs to be paid. Open that door! That Gate, look inside, Ars! ​

I swallowed, "Hey…" I choked out, "Hey, Truth. How's it hangin'?"

OPEN IT! ​

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-48

 

[Ars Poetica]

Let's travel to brighter, broader pastures. Together. Hand in hand. Oh, Ars, such interesting things I will learn...

-x-

It was one, it was many, it was the universe, it was nothing, it was god, and it was you. I suppose the best descriptor for Truth would be, well, Truth. Tangible quantifiers such as what and who didn't apply to this pseudo-physical concept-based construct, unique to every individual while simultaneously reflecting all things.

"Are you ready?" Truth asked me, "To pay the price for coming here?"

I wanted to hit the smug bastard in the face. Unfortunately, between his presence and lack of a face, I found myself just standing there and searching for something to do that didn't involve me opening the door. I was fairly certain that the act would end very badly for me for what I felt were obvious reasons.

OPEN THE DOOR! ​

Pointing at the door I came in through, however, I smiled at Truth, "Yup! That's your price." I knew this game, I saw both anime, read the manga, watched the films, I knew exactly what Truth was and what he wanted. Truth wanted my 'alchemy'.

What… What are you doing, you fool! That is the map to your soul! Don't just give it away! ​

Except instead of eagerly accepting the price, Truth just scrutinized my Gate. He looked at every etching, every detail, every minute piece and part of the thing. With every second he took to examine my Gate, it was another second I could try to appreciate the sheer detail put into the thing.

Don't do this! You are making a deal with a being you hardly comprehend! This is idiocy! ​

"I don't want it." His words jarred me from my brief moment of satisfaction. He what? Truth didn't want my Gate? "I don't know where you are from, I don't know what you are, and I don't want that Gate." He stuck his thumb at the thing.

How very fortunate for you, Ars… His loss will be your, well, my gain… now open that Door. ​

Slowly, my head shook from side to side, "I don't want it. I didn't ask for this."

HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHA! Kukuku…! Oh… Oh, Ars… you all but begged for this… ​

"The Grand King says otherwise." Truth smiled at me and opened the Gate to my being. This Door did not lead back to the train. Instead, it led to a world of golden light – wait. Fuck. No. That was wrong. The Gates those kids were standing in front of, those brothers… those were the manga Doors. Mine belonged somewhere else. My Door belonged to the anime.

What are you saying now? What should it matter? Just… step into the light, Ars. ​

The black babies, infantile creatures made of interdimensional tar and sin, reached out to grab me and proceeded to drag my body in. I felt weightless as I fell through a world of infinite knowledge, as I saw things that I knew were not there and could not be there. For a moment, I thought I was on a train again. For a moment, I could look around and see that my train was empty.​

I could look out the window and see how the light of the sky reflected across a polluted lake near an old factory that wasn't used for anything, anymore. I could see forestland and various passing towns. For the briefest moment, I felt like I was going home. I felt the train leap from its position and crash, flying off its rails and into an endless void.

My body tumbled through a window. I collapsed to my knees, blood streaming down my face. I looked at Truth with my right eye, he looked at me with my left and grinned. "Now that? That was proper payment. Until next time…" Truth sang at me. I flew from where I kneeled to another place, to a room filled with blood and screaming.

"No… Al…! I'll get you back, Al! I'll save you…!" Another explosion of light blinded my good eye to the world around me, crippling pain from an open socket left me screaming for it all to stop. The world was gone now. There was no world. There was no Truth. There was no train. There was no Gate. For an instant, there was nothing.

-x-

Waking up in a bed that wasn't my own and seeing an unfamiliar ceiling was something I should have been getting used to. I stared at it with one good eye; the other was wrapped in gauze and bandages. Slowly, I shifted positions in this bed that was not mine in order to take a look around – I fell out of the bed.

Now that I was on the floor, I could see that the bed I was using was really a couch that had been converted into a bed. The Rockbell house was a pleasant looking place, peaceful from the inside. I wouldn't have minded living in a house like this one. Rubbing the part of my head I bumped on the floor, I stood up to get my bearings straight.

I saw… something. I saw Truth. Truth opened my door. There was screaming and laughing and… a train? Yes, a train was definitely involved. I'm not sure how trains were involved, but they were. My hand drifted up to rub where my left eye used to be. My depth perception was going to be decimated by this, I was sure.

Reaching down to check my waist, I found my swords were missing. With a scowl, my one good eye began to scan my immediate area with greater intent than before. I needed those. They were my Zanpakuto. They were a major part of my soul and I did not need people accidentally finding out about the umbilical Fawk-man.

There is no such thing as a 'Fawk', Ars. I do not understand why you insist otherwise. ​

"Looking for something?" I paused in my searching to turn and look at the owner of that voice. She was a woman in the blue military uniform of this world and – why yes that was a gun! Riza, or Lisa depending on how you looked at her name, Hawkeye watched me like a hawk. How appropriate. At a moment's notice, she could draw that weapon and put a bullet between my eyes.

A cough escaped me, "Yes, actually." I admitted, "I'm looking for my swords."

"I see." Riza replied to me, "Since you are awake, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang would like to share words with you."

Oh joy of joys. Roy Mustang was here to see me… Well, I suppose he was technically here to see Ed and Al, but since both were either out of commission or just flat out mourning their respective losses and since I was the only coherent person of the lot, the buck stopped with me. Though… if I remembered the series right, he was in the middle of talking with Pinako… so…

"And he's not available right now?" I guessed.

"No." Riza replied.

"I'll just sit down and wait for him, then." I sighed and fell back onto the couch, "Uh, while I'm waiting, can I have my swords?"

Her answer was curt and deliberate, an instant response, "You may not."

"I see." A minute of waiting turned into five and then into ten. I was never a patient person and having virtually nothing to do to pass the time was doing nothing to help with my current situation. "So…" I trailed off, "Uh… Nice weather we've been having?"

Hawkeye didn't even bother to look outside, "Yes." Intently, she just watched me. My every twitch, my every spasm, everything I did. She was watching me, studying me. It was uncomfortable and only made worse by her deliberately not saying anything to pass the time. No questions were being asked or answered, no statements were being made, nothing. Just… just nothing… It was kind of pissing me off.

Finally, I just decided to take the plunge. "…How's your sex life?"

She looked befuddled and went cross-eyed, "…What."

"Your sex life," I repeated, "How is it?"

She made to say something and stopped herself. Taking a breath, she replied, "With all due respect, that is none of your business."

"…It's Grumman, isn't it?" She looked at me. "The father, I mean." She paled. "He gets all the young ones, doesn't he…?"

"What are you talking about?!" She looked sick, "That is disgusting, I would never – no!"

"So when is the child due?"

Her mouth twitched as she openly gaped at me, "…I… I don't…" realization dawned, "I am not pregnant with my grandfather's child!" she snapped at me, "You… You shameless…!"

"Are all female members of the military as kinky as you? Or are you just the exception?"

"That is a loaded question!"

"But you're not answering it…" I sang, "You probably should. If you don't, my opinion of the military might plummet." I snapped my fingers, "Okay! Quick! I'm sure you've had practice advertising yourself, so prove me wrong!"

"Are you calling me a prostitute?"

"If Roy Mustang's incredibly tiny miniskirts fit…" I trailed off, "Actually, I'm curious. With those hips of yours, do they?" I considered that, "Maybe I need a demonstration?"

"That… is the most piggish thing I have ever heard–"

"I think it's sunny outside, don't you?" I suddenly asked her, "I mean, I haven't been outside yet, but I can see the sun so I'm assuming it's sunny. Is it sunny?"

"…Wha… what is happening here?" Incredulously, Riza Hawkeye watched me once more. She had moved on from studying me physically and successfully transitioned to the stage of analyzing me psychologically. My reasoning was that she would be more likely to converse with me if I visibly demonstrated I was, sort of, harmless. In retrospect, I should have been more careful with that plan of mine… I probably didn't need to tease her like that, either.

"I'm sorry, am I being an asshole?" I asked her, "If I am, please. Say something."

I waited for her to say a single word, anything at all. "…You–"

"Don't call me that!" I interrupted her, "It's too formal, or maybe informal? Here, I'll tell you my name so you don't have to call me 'you' anymore. Okay? Great! My name is Poe R.R. Acti. Who the hell are you?" I offered her my hand… and only realized a few seconds later that my hand was too far to the right of her. How badly was my depth perception affected, anyway?

Riza stared at my hand with clear trepidation, "…I am–"

A door opened. Black hair, black eyes, and another blue uniform, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang gave me a quick examination, if only as a threat assessment, "So," he said, "You've heard of me?"

I smirked at him, "I've heard enough."

"…Poe R.R. Acti…" he drawled, "I have never heard of a name like that." Roy admitted as he sat down in front of me, taking a seat next to Hawkeye, "I've already seen the boys. And I saw the finished product. Your work?"

"Hm?" I blinked, "Oh. Oh. No, no, no…" I shook my head, "I'm not really what one would call an alchemist."

"So you didn't perform Human Transmutation by using two innocent children?" he asked me, "I'm not accusing you of anything," he was glaring at me, "It's just, Human Transmutation is illegal for a reason. And in the event you're found guilty of it, I'll charbroil you."

Good luck, I thought to myself. I was fireproof. "Well, I didn't. In fact, I don't even live here."

He stared at me and, after a solid ten seconds, just sighed, "…I figured as much." He steepled his hands, "What we have are two young boys who performed human transmutation," he listed the Elric brothers, "A man with nothing but a name from parts unknown and the clothes on his back to identify him," he gestured to me, "And a woman who was brought back from the dead," and a woman who was brought – what, "What I would like to know–"

Back from the dead? What is so odd about –? Oh… oh, I see, we're not real to you. ​

"Hold that thought." I cut in, "Back from the dead? Would you mind elaborating?"

I would love to hear more about this, myself. Apparently, a universal law has just been destroyed. ​

"…We were hoping you would be able to do that for us." He admitted, "We know the Elric brothers' side of the story, we have an impartial witness, the woman who was brought back hasn't woken up yet, and then there's you." His hands fell into his lap and he tried to lean back and make himself more comfortable, "You're the one part of this that doesn't make sense."

Isn't that the theme with you? I suppose it doesn't hold for me, anymore. I know. ​

"…Okay, well," I licked my lips. They felt dry and chapped, "I'm a drifter?"

How cute. You can lie to them all you want, Ars. I know what you are. I know who you are. ​

"You're not dressed like any 'drifter' that I've seen. If you're wandering around without any identification in foreign clothing, you're most likely an illegal alien." He raised an eyebrow, "I'm not sure why you would be carrying swords around in the East, and it's disturbing that my reputation extends to foreign countries… but what we're dealing with now might take greater precedence." It wasn't every day the dead was brought back to life.

Go ahead. Tell them the truth in all its forms. See if they believe you. ​

"Alright," I raised my hands, "Tell you what. If you give me my swords, I'll try to tell you everything that happened. But before anything else, I'd like to know. Tell me more about that dead woman." I took a breath, "Is her name Trisha Elric?"

We all know the answer to that. ​

"It is." Roy confirmed.

Congratulations. You've sowed more chaos in minutes than I have in centuries. ​

"…Stupendous," I exhaled, "That's… That's just amazing. Um…" fidgeting in my seat, I rubbed my neck, "And my swords…?" I thought about it, "No, wait, never mind. You're a man of your word," it was Roy Mustang. He'd give me my swords if I helped him. That was just the kind of thing he did. "Alright, so, my story begins several months ago with a flaming skeleton man and dimensional travel."

Kuku… It begins… ​

I decided to tell them everything. Judging from their expressions, they didn't believe a word of it.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-49

 

[Ars Poetica]

Do you hear that? It's the sound of everybody's plans exploding. Let them detonate. I have my own.

-x-

While chapters of Fullmetal Alchemist were still being released, an anime was put into production. Problem: The manga was monthly, thus to avoid issues of unwieldy filler arcs and to keep the story in the spirit of the original manga, the author gave the studio free reign to make whatever they wanted to finish the story.

As a result, there was a major divergence and much of the manga was never covered… until six years later when the manga got its own anime and the series was effectively rebooted. My problem at the moment came from some major differences between Gates and alchemy.

In the first anime, alchemy was powered by the souls of a parallel world through a Gate to that world. In the more recent anime, it was shown that everyone and everything had their own Gates and their own Truths. The problem with this divergence became most apparent in the homunculi.

The mother fucking homunculi – artificial, nearly immortal humans with superpowers that made them unstoppable juggernauts of destruction – the manga made them true eldritch abominations and they would, for the most part, present the biggest problem for me… at least, that's what I thought, until Trisha Elric woke up in a panic and started asking about her boys to people she did not know.

For his part, Roy Mustang handled my origin story fairly well. Talking about deals with the devil and a flaming skeleton man without proof didn't compare to the dead woman who returned to life in the next room over. When she woke up, most of his attention was focused on keeping her calm while I just… sat there.

The whole thing felt wrong to me, not because Trisha Elric was supposed to be dead and buried, but because I was playing the part of a sort of voyeur on a person's mental breakdown. This was made worse when, during her attempts to find Ed and Al, her legs turned into water and she just fell onto the ground and stared at the limbs as they slowly reformed.

That look of fear on her face, of incomprehensive terror, was almost matched by my look of abject horror at what I had done. Or, well, maybe it wasn't me. I still held a vain hope that it wasn't my fault Trisha Elric became a semi-immortal, soulless hydrokinetic monster.

Now I'm curious how, precisely, you're going to experiment with this. ​

This is where the difference between homunculi became apparent. Homunculi in this world were monsters powered by the souls of thousands of people. But in the first anime they were made from dead people who were brought back to life through Human Transmutation. Something was broken here and that was just being made clearer and clearer with each passing second.

"Mrs. Elric, you need to calm down!" Roy Mustang was certainly trying his best to stop the situation from escalating, but that was a job easier said than done. Trisha's panic attack was rapidly growing worse.

"My… My legs…! I… Am I dead…?" she marveled, her breathing grew heavier as she hyperventilated, "No, but, I'm not dead…! I'm alive! But I can't be alive! I'm dead! But I'm not dead! I'm…" she babbled, "Ed…? Al…?" she searched around the room, "This is not my home… I don't live here… Where are they?!"

"Your boys are fine, Mrs. Elric," Roy's calm façade was rapidly fading in turn. How was he supposed to defend himself if she started attacking? How was he supposed to do anything without harming her? He didn't want this to end badly for anybody, but until she stopped to think about her situation, he found himself in a dangerous dilemma.

Slowly, I stood up from where I was sitting and started edging out of the room. A click brought silence. Hawkeye leveled a gun at my back, "You're not going anywhere." Her voice was cold, "Explain, right now, what is happening here."

My chapped lips were shut; my tongue ran across my gums and teeth as I thought about what to say. I considered my every word, "If I don't… will you shoot me?" I turned my head to look at her with a single raised eyebrow, "I'm fairly sure that Pinako doesn't want blood on her floor, no matter who it is from."

"Pinako…?" Trisha Elric trailed. Her eyes were glued onto me, "Who… Who are you…? Not military, not from Risembool, not– not from… not normal… what are you…? You are…" her hands held her head in apparent pain, "What am I?!"

I took a breath, now or never. A plunge had to be taken. Canon was already shot to fuck; everyone in this room was in an unbelievable amount of danger and at an enormous amount of risk, if ever there existed a time to go balls to the walls, well, "You are a homunculus." I said simply, "An artificial human."

Artificial life? What's so grand about that? Ragnarok was– Oh… I see… Well isn't that different. ​

With incredibly wide eyes, she stared at me. I won't say her expression reminded me of a fish, but she certainly floundered, "Ar… Artificial…?"

"Maybe that's a misnomer," I considered aloud, "The standard homunculus is made from much worse methods than you. You're Trisha Elric, and you were brought back to life, but not with a human body." I shrugged, "Lucky you, I suppose."

Trisha had stopped moving. She wasn't doing anything, she just… shut down. Did I break her? "…I see." She finally said, "I'm a fake… I'm…" Yeah, no, time to nip this in the bud.

"Fake?" I asked her, "Is that what you think of yourself now?" she glanced at me, but little else. That wouldn't do. I needed her attention. "I am a flaming skeleton man!" I all but roared at her, "I have fought gods! Do you know what put me in this position? Some a-hole pushed me in front of a fucking train," I turned fully and walked up to her, "I died and then I came back. I came back wrong." Kneeling, I looked her in the eye and forced her to look me back, "Never once have I questioned who I was. I know my name is Poe R.R. Acti. I know who I am. And so do you."

It wasn't often that I got to help someone in the same situation as me. It wasn't often that I got a chance to actually be right about something. It was even rarer that I had a chance to council someone on a topic I had this much experience in. Never once did I question my own identity. In spite of all that happened, I knew who I was.

Something pissed me off about doubting oneself on one's actual self, something made me angry about the idea that somebody didn't know who they were. You are who you are. It's what I've always thought. I am and always have been and always will be Poe R.R. Acti.

Give it time, Ars. We all change, eventually. ​

That is the one thing I will never give up, the one thing I would never give up under any circumstances. To see Trisha Elric prepared to throw that away? To see her doubt herself to that extent… it made me angry.

"I… I am…" She was prepared to look away. I reached up to hold her chin. True, it was a violation of personal space, but at the moment, I legitimately did not care.

"Who are you?" I asked her, "What is your name?"

"…I… am Trisha Elric…" she said the name slowly, "My name… is Trisha Elric…"

Nodding, I smirked, "Okay," I said and let go of her to step back, "Now, Trisha Elric, you have two boys who are very hurt and could use a mother's touch. Get yourself together and go help them."

Pathetic. She gains incredible power and all she can think of are those worthless brats? ​

Slowly, so slowly, her legs began to reform. Moments before they could, there was another splash. Visibly, she concentrated on the limbs and focused herself on just condensing the water into physical mass. Roy watched the affair with a measuring expression. I saw him put his hands in his pockets, catching the briefest sight of his ignition gloves.

Oh, how delicious! I think I'm blushing… How many people do you suppose he's burned alive? ​

…he was prepared to do what he had to. He was prepared to stop this situation from getting out of hand. How fortunate, then, that I did what nobody else could. How fortunate that I acted the one time I was able. If I had left, would this house even be standing anymore?

He is a wiser man than you, Ars. He knows potential threats when he sees them. ​

"Well…" a new voice drawled. The eyes of everyone in the room shifted to the doorway once more to observe Pinako Rockbell exhaled smoke and withdrew her pipe from her mouth, "If you're all done with…" she made a vague gesture with her other hand, "Whatever that was… I would like to know what exactly we're all going to do now."

-x-

"They can't keep her." Pinako was the one to say it, "Trisha," addressing the woman as she sat on the couch and focused, "Your… original body has been dead and buried for several months, we had a funeral and everything."

"There's the other matter of your boys," Roy stated simply, "By returning you to the world, they brought back the dead. If rumors of this action were to spread outside of our group, the consequences would be… severe." And he was putting it lightly.

"While we're putting everything on the table," I remarked, "Let's not forget about the conspiracy to achieve immortality and godhood currently being enacted by a man eating, soul-powered monstrosity against nature."

Absolute. Fucking. Silence.

Wow. You have absolutely no talent whatsoever with subtlety. Do you? ​

"…Excuse me?" Trisha almost whispered, "A what to do what?" desperately confused, she looked between the people at the table, "I… What is he talking about?"

"Oh, well, in addition to being an interdimensional flaming skeleton man, I also know the future. Sort of," I thought about that, "It comes with the territory of travelling through time and space. Or is it space-time? Both are technically correct, though…" I shrugged, "Whichever works best, I guess."

Roy seemed torn between saying something about what I just said and trying to ignore it. Pinako had no such problems, "What the hell?" her mouth was slightly open and she took out the pipe just to say that. Would I count it as a tiny victory of sorts in my book? Her stare continued, "Immortality conspiracy?"

"Oh. Yeah. This country?" I asked, "This whole place? It was built so that it could be used as a giant transmutation circle to create a Philosopher's Stone using every man, woman, and child. Millions of people, gone in a night," What was the name of that ancient kingdom? Oh, right, "Think Xerxes on an impossibly larger scale." One more thing occurred to me, "And thank you for giving me back my swords!" Their weight against my hips was comforting to me. "I felt naked without them."

"…Can…" Roy choked on his words. I did give him a lot to process, there. "Can we focus on the here and now?"

"Oh, sure," I nodded, "I'll take her." More silence. "What?!" I cried, "It's the natural conclusion." I had a few arguments for this. First, my arrival into the world was what basically enabled Trisha Elric's return to the living and her sudden acquisition of superpowers. From that perspective I was responsible for her more than anybody else.

Second, Trisha Elric now had superpowers that made her incredibly dangerous to everyone around her. I had little experience in the field, but I did have experience in the field of learning to control new and strange powers. So, from that perspective, I could act as the best possible mentor for her.

Third, there was the obvious issue of Trisha staying. If Trisha Elric remained in Resembool, everyone that nobody wanted to find out about her and their grandmothers would find out about her. Giving her to Roy would enable a similar screw-up while potentially delivering Father a new tool to make use of in the worst way. If she went with me, none of that would matter. Her identity didn't need to be given up while, at the same time, there was a chance of meeting Hohenheim.

This, of course, brought us to the fourth reason. Hohenheim. I was the most likely person here to meet with Hohenheim in the near future if only because of just how horrifying and monstrous my soul was. Certainly, Father would investigate. And if Father investigated, so too would Hohenheim. Father's Homunculi could be dealt with easily enough; I just had to kill them repeatedly. Hohenheim, though, if I met him… we could blow open Father's plans way sooner than the bastard expected it.

Mind you, all these plans hinged on the idea that neither of the Elric brothers would know that they had somehow succeeded in bringing their mother back to life, but as they were both in comatose states I was hardly worried– "Mom!" shouted a suit of armor wheeling a crippled boy.

Son of a bitch… ​

…Son of a bitch.

-x-

One foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-50

 

[Ars Poetica]

Down, Samara! Down, I say! No ring for you, today! A rhyming pop cultural reference? What is the world coming to?

-x-

"You're not taking her anywhere!" Edward Elric was young and crippled; neither of these qualities negatively affected his voice. Loud and proud, he made his declaration that Trisha Elric would stay. I was hoping he would still be asleep, watched over by his younger brother in the suit of armor. I hoped that.

With my hopes dashed, however, I had to rely on an alternative plan. "So, what, you want her to stay here? You want your mother to watch over you two?" I stood and snapped back at them, "Why? So she can just watch you wither away and Al fall apart?" I glared at him, "You want to be a helpless momma's boy forever?"

"And what's wrong with that?!" he shouted back at me, "After what we lost, you think we'd just give her up?!"

"I'd think you would have learned something from all this!" My fists clenched, "If it wasn't for me, she'd be a rotting husk right about now!" Ed paled and suddenly leaned back in his chair, "Oh, did that surprise you? You didn't really think you had accomplished what no other Alchemist ever had on your first try, did you?"

"…I," Ed searched for the words, "I brought mom back, we brought her back," he gestured to her brother, "You–"

"Got dragged into your fuck-up," I snarled, "And ended up fixing it by complete accident! Now your mother's alive and immortal, your brother's body is gone, and you're short an arm and a leg! Was it worth it?" I asked him, "Do you feel like a winner, yet?"

"How would I know?!" Ed attempted to rally behind the cry, "How would I know that you'd be dragged into this, huh? How was I supposed to know any of that?! If it failed, who's to say it wouldn't have been your fault, anyway?!"

"So if your mother didn't come back but I still arrived it would have been my fault she was dead? However, since she's back to life and perfectly fine that's your accomplishment?" Was I putting words into his mouth? Did it matter? "And I guess you couldn't have known any more than I could. Even then, you should have known better than to make a deal with the devil." Roy opened his mouth to comment, "I'm aware of my hypocrisy," I interrupted him, "Now shut up. The adults are speaking."

Adult? You? You… You as an adult? Kuku… Kukuku…! KYAHAHAHAH! ​

"Adults?" Ed seemed genuinely befuddled.

Ku… Kukuku… You count as an adult? To me, you will always be an annoying brat. ​

I scoffed, "Sure! Why not? You're old enough to turn the Grimm Reaper over a desk and fuck it up the ass; you're old enough to be culpable for your screw-ups. How many years in prison would you think is fair for what you have done?"

"I haven't done anything!"

My fists slammed into a nearby table, cracking it, "You brought your dead mother back from the grave!" I roared, "If I had nothing to do with your mother coming back, then you have violated every law regarding life and death forged by science and religion since the dawn of humankind!" I panted, taking a breath, I forced calmness into my body, "There are, at best, three laws that alchemists hold themselves to and are held accountable for. You broke the most sacred of them in the most unbelievable fashion. If you're not going to give up your mother, then you're basically telling me you're old enough be personally responsible for your errors."

The suit of armor shifted, "If you're going to punish Ed, then I should be punished as well!" the boy's voice from inside the hollow thing took the wind out of my sails. With my one good eye, I just looked at Al. Did I want this? Did I want any of this?

With a somber look, Roy addressed the suit, "You've been punished enough." he concluded. The Lieutenant Colonel addressed me, "You have a point about their mother… and you have a point about Ed. But addressing either of them is an incredibly complex situation. We've never had someone so young attempt this, and we've never had someone actually succeed at the act. Leaving Trisha Elric in your hands is…"

"…Don't I get a say in this?" all eyes were on Trisha Elric as she once again was forced to reform a limb, this time it was one of her arms, "I… I died. And now I'm back. One of my boys lost half his body," she looked at Ed, "And the other…" one look at Al was enough to make her sob, "I… I was dead and this is the first thing I see of my boys…?"

She tried to compose herself. Ed reached out to her, "Mom…"

"No!" she snapped at him, "Edward, what you did… I can't be thankful. I just can't. I feel… violated… it's as though I was wrenched from peace and redelivered to the world, I thought you would find a way to manage without me." She admitted, "I knew I was dying. I made plans for what was going to happen." And another conclusion was reached, "…This is my fault. If you're going to punish anyone, punish me."

"You're technically dead," the Lieutenant Colonel pointed out, "I can't punish someone who, legally, isn't even alive anymore. I'm going to assume your sons have learned their lesson, and as for you? How could anyone blame you for what happened here?"

"My parenting led to this, for one." She tried.

Your parenting was awful. They disobeyed you. A child knows not to disobey their mother. ​

I sighed, "What, it was too good? You were too good a mom that they decided to do whatever they could for you when everyone claimed you were beyond help?"

If she didn't know what her children would do after her death, then what was her plan? ​

Trisha made another attempt, "I should have taught them more about the world, I should have warned them!"

One does not teach their children. A mother makes her children learn, one way or another. ​

"They're Alchemists." I deadpanned, "You didn't and still don't know the first thing about Alchemy. What lesson could you have taught them about this? How could you have warned them?"

You don't warn your children of anything. It is their fault if they are hurt through stupidity. ​

"I should have stopped them from learning… about…" she trailed off, as if realizing what she was saying, "That would only have encouraged them." Trisha regarded her sons, "You both would have done this no matter what."

You certainly are the worst parent… to even entertain the notion of keeping them ignorant… ​

I'd have clapped, but the situation wasn't right for that. Maybe later, I'd try the gesture without risk of it being misconstrued as sarcastic. "If anyone's to blame," I sighed, "Blame me." It was easier than I thought to let it out, "It's my fault the transmutation was successful. If it wasn't for my intervention, Trisha Elric would still be dead."

And good riddance to her and the horse she rode on! Ars, kill her. She earned it. ​

"…You're not asking to be blamed in that case," Ed pointed out, "You're taking credit for it."

Credit? How greedy… what a fascinating way to phrase that. ​

"Why the hell would I, an illegal immigrant at best, want to take credit for a human transmutation on foreign soil? No matter its success, you have to acknowledge that it would be a stupid move. I'm taking the blame for it. I'm not asking for praise, I don't want it." Everything that was happening now upset my stomach and left me feeling ill about everything, "I never wanted this."

There are a lot of things you don't want. How interesting that you keep getting them. ​

Ed seemed to consider that, "Then… Then we owe you." What. That was not what I was expecting to hear from him, "Equivalent Exchange. We lost our limbs failing to get our mother back; you came out of nowhere and lost your eye to succeed where we failed." I had to remind myself that Ed was a kid. No matter his skill and talent, Edward Elric was a young boy very new to the world of Alchemy.

No child should be this stupid. It is yet another mark against the parenting of Trisha Elric. ​

"…How is that Equivalent Exchange?" I finally found myself asking, "That…" That was desperation. What happened here, what transpired here, I was thinking of everyone outside this household who would react to this new reality, the reality that bringing the dead back to life with Alchemy was possible. I was thinking in the biggest possible terms. What did all that mean to Edward Elric, though? He got his mother back and lost so much in return. How could he assume that he owed me anything after losing what he had?

A cold feeling weighed down upon my shoulders. Ed was supposed to lose his mother. If he was Icarus, then this should have been his sun. The act of human transmutation should have taught him that some lines were never meant to be crossed, some limitations never meant to be broken past. Losing his mother was a traumatic experience, but it humbled him. It made him rethink his decisions and consider smarter, better options.

This loss, this failure, was supposed to build for him a brighter and better future. From the flames of what remained of his burning home as he left it behind, his resolve would be forged and let him keep walking forward… and I took that from him in one fell swoop. He was wrong. Not a single Elric at this table owed me anything, neither the mother nor her children.

…But they didn't need to know that. "If you owe me," I picked up from where I left off, "Then let me take your mother away."

"Unacceptable," Roy Mustang was quick to interfere, "You haven't given a single reason for why we should trust you or believe you on anything you have said. That aside, we have already discussed how leaving her in your hands is a terrible idea."

"And if Edward becomes a State Alchemist…?" I tempt, "I'd imagine that many of your issues with this would suddenly vanish." I'd derailed canon so much, I wondered if it was possible for me to put any train on their proper tracks anymore.

"Never." The denial came from Trisha Elric, "First, my boys do… do this to themselves… and when you can't get me, you try to draft them?"

At the risk of sounding ignorant, what military would ever draft a cripple? ​

"You say that now. Will you say the same in the future?" I asked her, "We could try to keep a lid on all of this, sure. But that won't work forever. Eventually, these sorts of things get heard about. People have mouths and eyes and ears… it would take someone deaf, blind, and dumb to not understand what happened here." Raising a finger, I pointed at Trisha Elric, "How long do you think your boys have until someone, someone who lost a person dear to them, runs up and begs for their help?"

I would kill him. Or her. Or it. ​

Her mouth slightly open, she tried to formulate a response, "I would tell that person to leave."

IMBECILE! ​

"And if that person didn't?" I grilled her, "If that person stayed, and begged, and pleaded, and offered you everything in the world for the simple task of bringing back his dearly beloved, or her sister, or their child, would you relent? Or would you tell them to fuck off?"

"That's enough!" I had almost forgotten that Pinako Rockbell was there, watching us and listening to what had turned from a conversation into a moral and ethical dilemma. "In the span of a single day, these boys almost lost everything – and at the last moment, when all hope was lost, a miracle occurred… and now, here you are, building a self-fulfilling prophecy and…" With as much bitterness as the action could permit, she set down her pipe and glared at everyone at the table, notably avoiding eye contact with Trisha while keeping Ed and Al just within her peripherals. "Shame on you." The words were said with the utmost disgust.

At this point, though? I just didn't give a damn, "I'll take that," I said to her, "I'll take all the shame in the world, and every ounce of it you can throw at me. It doesn't change the fact that alchemy's greatest law and fairy tale was just shattered and made real. It doesn't change the fact that Ed and Al have been physically crippled. It doesn't change my presence here," I gestured to myself, "Or Roy Mustang's," I gestured to him, "Or anyone else. What happened has happened, now we need a plan to deal with it."

The following silence was not a dead one, but a heavy one. I preferred it that way. It meant I said something important and, hopefully, poignant. "He's right," Roy said it as though it was an oblong pill to swallow – he was still learning, you see, "We can't let her go with him, that route is just not feasible. I can't take her with me or do anything for her, not really. She's legally dead and has been for almost a year. That's not going to change overnight without bringing attention to her and, by consequence, Edward and Alphonse." He didn't say what everyone was thinking.

Morbidly, unfortunately, we were all thinking that this would be easier of Trisha Elric was still dead. If Trisha Elric was dead, Roy could sweep this under the rug easily enough. My presence as an 'illegal immigrant' was not an uncommon thing with the constant border wars to the west and south and the recent civil war in the east. Or, at least, that's what I believed. It was plausible I'd be shipped off to some foreign country, far outside the main plot.

Nobody here would have to remember me. At the same time, I'd basically be left alone to my own devices, to do whatever I wanted. Assuming Father didn't stop me from leaving, I could just let the whole plot unfold the same way it did in canon. My appearance wouldn't have changed a thing.

Now, though? That was impossible. Because Trisha Elric was alive when Trisha Elric should have been dead and… my eyes lit up, "Trisha Elric is dead…" I murmured. Then, louder, "Trisha Elric is dead." I announced firmly. My mind churned, its gears spun, I formulated a plan of sheer and total brilliance.

Splendid! Now: Kill her, silence the witnesses, and be done with it. ​

"I am technically right here," Trisha raised her hand, "And I'm only legally dead."

Best get to fixing that, Ars. Fortunately, her body is made of water, so that should make things easier– ​

"No, no," I shook my head, "You don't get it. Trisha Elric is dead. You, Trisha, on the other hand, are well and alive." She blinked as I fell to a knee, "Oh, Trisha whose last name I have conveniently forgotten, would you be my happily married spouse of three years who has come here with me searching for legal Amestrian citizenship?"

…what. ​

And the dead silence returned from stage left! I almost had learned to miss it.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-51

 

[Ars Poetica]

We're in the clear. Just a few more steps. No number of steps can take you out of this pit.

-x-

To summarize my plan, Trisha Elric was dead. Everyone knew that, so why change it? I was the only person unaccounted for. So how would I fix this? I would make two people unaccounted for. Basically, "You, Trisha, would have married me three years ago on the plains of Creta. When things started taking a bad turn for us, we decided to come over to Amestris and have a new and exciting life here!"

Roy Mustang started nodding along, "So, instead of being one illegal immigrant, you would be two legal immigrants searching for paperwork to validate your new citizenship."

"Yes!" I snapped my fingers, "Exactly! Naturally, since we wished to go to Amestris and didn't wish to stay in Creta, we went as far to the East as possible. We would eventually find ourselves here," I gestured around us, "When we saw two boys receive horrible injuries from a landmine–" I thought about that, "Do you guys have landmines?" at Roy's slow confirmation, I continued, "We just had to bring them to the nearest place we could find to get help. That took us to this humble abode."

"And hearing that the two prodigal Alchemists I came to investigate had been injured, I came rushing here to find out what happened," Roy smirked, "Which brought me to the very legal immigrants searching for paperwork."

I crossed my arms and leaned back, "Thus, two boys were absolved of a human transmutation that never happened; Trisha Elric stays dead and buried; and me and my wife head to the East's headquarters to become legal citizens."

Now, how in the world could you possibly ruin this genuinely decent plan? ​

Trisha looked at me with incredulity, "I am already married."

I never was. What is your point? ​

"I don't see a ring on your hand." I noted aloud, "And Trisha Elric was married. At the moment, you can't call yourself that because you died. Therefore…"

"The only objection I see to this is that you're still walking away with her." Roy pointed out, "I don't trust you. In fact, I don't think a single person at this table trusts you."

If it makes you feel better, I trust you. I trust you to consistently fail. ​

"Then the only solution is to keep me where you can always watch me." I steepled my hands, "What's the lowest rank of your military and how do I sign up?"

A strangled noise emerged from Roy's throat, "What?"

"Sign up. Me. Military: How do I do that?" I slowly repeated.

"Now why in god's name would you willingly subject yourself to that, boy?" Pinako asked me.

I blinked at that, "Isn't it obvious?" the flat stares from everyone was answer enough, "A number of reasons. First: Amestrian soldiers can openly carry their weapons, right?" I was hoping the answer was a solid 'yes'. I remembered several occasions in both anime where soldiers were seen openly wielding swords or firearms. I'd ask just in case, though.

"They can. Even then, they still need a written permit in some non-combat and privately owned areas, but you're right about that." Roy answered me. "Any reason why, in particular?"

"I need these swords on me at all times, so being a soldier and having that legal right in this country would be an enormous help."

"…I see," he didn't. He really, really didn't. But that was fine for now. I just needed to make my points.

With each reason I would raise a finger on my right hand. The next finger came up, "Second: Often, I lack the funds to even buy food for myself, let alone housing and clothing. I won't assume that the soldiers in a military country receive a generous pay, but I will assume you receive something to live off of. I need an income. This is the fastest, easiest solution to that problem."

"There are alternatives if that's your reason," Roy raised an eyebrow, "You could work as a baker, for example."

"A baker wouldn't be able to openly carry weapons. And I don't think a baker makes as much money as a soldier does."

"True," He conceded.

Three fingers stood, "Next: I have regularly found myself facing off against individuals who are smarter, stronger, faster, better trained, or just more durable than I am. Believe me when I say that I have tried just about every route available to me in order to close those many gaps. None have had the success I've needed and I'm hoping that working in your military will."

"That's not a guarantee."

"It's better than nothing," I raised another finger, "Fourth: The homunculi, immortal soldiers of destruction. There are currently eight of them and they are ruling your government from the shadows."

Roy groaned at this, "You can't be serious."

"I mean it," I stayed firm; "I mean it more than I've meant anything else."

Let's put that to a test. Which do you mean more? This, or that you're genuinely selfish? ​

"Let's assume you're telling the truth about that," Edward spoke up, "How would you even know what a homunculus looked like?"

I grinned, "That's easy!" and suddenly I pointed at Trisha Elric, "Honey, remove your clothes!" In retrospect, I completely deserved being slapped in the face for that.

Aghast and appalled, Trisha Elric withdrew her hand, "Never."

The rejection hurt more than it should have, but not as much as the slap, "Ow…" I mumbled, rubbing my cheek, "I was asking because of the mark on your body." I tried pointing out, "If I'm right, you should have a symbol resembling a winged snake eating its own tail somewhere on your skin."

Blinking, she looked down at herself, "You mean to say… that mark shows me that I'm a homunculus?"

"You're a different homunculus than the rest," I reassured her, "All the others are powered by thousands of souls… you're just completely soulless." I gave her a thumbs-up, "But that's okay!"

She just blinked at me, "What… I…"

"We've gone over this," the Lieutenant Colonel pointed out, "And you're going to need more evidence than a tattoo."

"The whole nation is a transmutation circle." I answered him, "You could draw a line from every point of conflict in this country's history and it would form a, currently incomplete, human transmutation circle."

"That's…" Roy made to deny it, but then he started thinking. He really started thinking about it. As a soldier of this country, I'd have been very surprised if he didn't know the map and its towns very well. With his ambition, I would have been completely shocked if he didn't know the nation's history. And, as one of the best Alchemists in the country, it would have stunned me if he didn't know what a human transmutation circle looked like.

Even with a rough knowledge of all these things, when what I threw out there was put right in front of him, he had to consider it. He had to really consider it. "Hey…" Ed trailed, "You can't be serious, right? A human transmutation circle that large…" he was trying to do the calculations, "That would be insane. How would it even be done?"

"A tunnel," I answered, "One of the homunculi is incredibly powerful and durable. Physically, it is well within his ability to dig away through rock and stone and dirt for centuries without rest. And, for those centuries, he has worked – tunneling his way through the country, deep underground."

Alphonse came next, "But… who could these homunculi be trying to bring back?"

I felt my palm collide with my face, "They aren't," I answered, "Their goal isn't revival of the dead. They want to make a Philosopher's Stone. Yes, it exists. And it's made of human souls. Each of the homunculi are powered by one. Their 'Father', as he calls himself, plans to become a god by absorbing the souls of every person in this country into himself."

Slowly, Mustang paled as he connected the very real dots in his head, "No… That… impossible…"

Impossible… I remember a time where what I'm experiencing now could be called that. ​

"Currently, the only people who know the truth are in this very room," I waved my hand to each of them, "Because of my intervention, there's no telling how the homunculi will react. Thus, what we need is a plan to deal with them and whoever they send at us. We need a solid alibi for what happened tonight, even if the homunculi already know about the human transmutation, we need to make it so nobody else will know."

I miss that time. ​

"So you're not doing this for your benefit," Pinako summarized, "You're doing it for ours."

I choked on air. "That's… Well…" I felt my mouth become sour, "Well, if everyone is sucked into a rock, then I'll be sucked along with them, so it's also for my benefit, and…"

Test failed. You're not that selfish at all, are you? It's just a matter of what you would sacrifice for what goal. ​

She just stared at me, "You're acting like that's a bad thing."

It is a bad thing. It is a terrible thing. Those who think solely of themselves, they survive the longest. ​

"It's not. It's just… not how I would phrase it…" I sighed, "It doesn't matter. What matters is that we have a plan. But, first thing's first, let's get signed up as Amestrian citizens." Trisha's look of consternation acted in sharp contrast to my smile, "On a very related note, we need a ring. Any volunteers on making one?"

Nobody raised their hands.

-x-

Crammed in the back of Lieutenant Colonel Mustang's car, I found myself pondering various things aloud. First, I pondered the weather and how long it would remain sunny until it started to rain. Then it started to rain and I pondered that aloud. Then, while it was still raining, I pondered our developing cover story. This, at least, garnered some attention from Mustang.

"I was thinking we'd use fake names." I said, "Well, I don't need one, but you do."

Trisha thought about it, "I could use my maiden name as my first name and my first name as a middle name…"

I shook my head, "Too obvious. I can understand you keeping your first name as a middle name, but the maiden name idea would be noticed too easily if you did both. Also, Elric. Elric is not a strong first name. At all." Yes, Hohenheim took Trisha's last name as his own when they were married. No, I didn't care that much about it.

"That's true… so a different first and last name?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"I'd recommend something common," Roy suggested, "Something that just about anyone could have as a name."

I nodded, "Right! How does Juliet Douglas sound?" I asked Trisha, "You'd keep your first name as a middle name, but your 'new' first name and last name would be that."

"It is a fairly common name…" she trailed.

Roy nodded. Then he thought about it. He looked back at us briefly, "Isn't that the name of the person… who did that one thing… in that place…?" he gave me a meaningful glance.

The soldier who shot that child in the East? ​

"The very same!" I answered cheerfully.

I will admit. That is amusing. Obvious, true, but very amusing. ​

"I'm vetoing that."

"Damn," I snapped my fingers, "I thought it was a good name. Too soon?"

"It certainly isn't getting later."

"I don't understand…" Trisha looked between us.

Riza glanced back at her, "You don't want to know."

And that was all that was said.

-x-

The registration office in the East for new immigrants was… bland. It was bland and it was small. This was not a facility meant to cater to a large number of people, largely because it could hardly be called a facility. It was just a single booth among a small row of similar booths. What made me almost cry in joy was that everything was in plain English.

I was so worried that I wouldn't understand a single word of Amestrian that it never occurred to me to recall that Amestris was, according to the author, based on England. Although, to my ears, everyone's accents were passably American, it didn't really hit home until I saw that.

I suppose it makes sense that you would worry for your literacy in an alien world. ​

Being able to speak with the locals was a huge plus, being able to read everything was even better. The line was thankfully short, the documentation not so severe, and all that was ultimately required of us was a decent reason for coming to Amestris. Oddly, they didn't ask us for any documents to prove we were from Creta… More odd was precisely how simple the documentation ended up being. I expected more…

…Actually, that wasn't so odd now that I think about it. Considering Father's plan was to basically wipe the country from the map to achieve godhood, I would have imagined his policy with immigration to have been 'the more the merrier'. It just equated to more souls for him to collect. He didn't need an exact number, just a sufficiently high number – an easy enough task to accomplish when you considered it.

It's still too lax. This security failure of his led to his defeat, didn't it? ​

This country was his brainchild, so his plans would be reflected in its every policy… and when one considered that the individuals who abused those same policies were doing so in a country ruled by immortal monsters and a dangerously efficient military force backing them, suddenly these leniencies stopped seeming so lenient.

To the man sitting behind the desk, though, none of that mattered at all. What mattered instead was that he had an apparent husband and wife from Creta who could speak and read Amestrian flawlessly, which made his job much easier. And what further mattered to him was that our paperwork was, mostly, checking out.

What kind of idiot writes what you did on an immigration form to a country ruled by its military? ​

Hopefully, within the next two to four business days, the paperwork would all be sorted and I'd be a legal Amestrian citizen… and married to a soulless, undead water woman. I think it said something that I could make the claim that weirder things had happened to me and genuinely mean it.

-x-

Name: Poe R.R. Acti
Birthplace: Creta, the Land of Cheese
Date of Birth: November 18th​, 1889
Sex: Male
Age: 21
Family: N/A
Spouse: Ellie T. Acti
Affiliates: N/A
Race: Miscellaneous
Religion: Judaic-Buddhism, Pseudo-Atheism
Occupation(s): International Translator, Librarian, Negotiator, Professional Driver, Sword for Hire

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-52

 

[Ars Poetica]

You hear that? They're arguing again. A deal with the devil, hmm? Nothing new there, unfortunately.

-x-

Until we could acquire our legal citizenship, Roy Mustang took it upon himself to give us room and board – in other words, I pestered him into letting us stay in his hotel room until our paperwork went through. For two people, I'm sure the room was spacious. For four, that visibly changed.

"Honey," I addressed Trisha, "You can sleep on the floor."

I approve of this. ​

"…You can't be serious." She deadpanned, "I'm not an animal."

You're not technically alive or human, either. I once more find myself asking you for your point. ​

"Then you can share a bed with Riza–"

"My bed's too small," she said with a shrug, "We'd have to sleep right on top of each other for that to work."

I considered that, "And your problem is…?" Riza and Trisha glowered at me. I raised my hands in surrender, "Alright, no floor for anybody. Roy, suggestions?" I asked the man.

Making his bed, the man's back was to me. Very briefly, he looked in my direction, "I'm… staying out of this."

You see, Ars? This is a smart man. This is the response of an intelligent man. Learn from him. ​

My mouth dropped open, "That's not fair! It's your room, too! Help me out, here!" He went on with ignoring me, "Come on!"

"I already have a plan for our sleeping arrangements," Roy told me, "At the moment, I'm more curious about the people who will be sleeping in the same room as us." He gave me a pointed look.

My shoulders shifted as I adjusted my hoodie, "What do you want to know?" I scratched the inside of my palms. They felt itchy and uncomfortable.

"Let's start with something simple," he began, "Those crosses on your apron and jacket, what do they mean?"

"Well, first, it's not called a jacket. It is a hoodie. And second: Crosses?" I questioned, "What crosses?" I glanced down at my front and saw the red marks, "…huh." Well, that was a thing. This was not the apron Uryu stitched up, that was destroyed while I was leaving Bleach behind. My hoodie was a similar story. For the crosses to have appeared was… odd.

Roy continued staring, "Is there a problem?"

"…Maybe…?" I trailed off uncertainly, "I didn't have any crosses on me when I left my last world, so for these to appear now is a little weird." Gently, I traced the symbols on my apron with my finger and felt every stitch. At some point, the apron and hoodie had been altered. Why? How? I wanted to ask Mustang, but it wasn't likely he knew any more about this than I did.

That's easy. Spiritual memory: Your soul remembers that outfit more prominently than anything else. It is primarily why ghosts are often seen wearing what they did while they were still alive and – you can't hear a word I'm saying, can you? ​

Roy 'hmm'd' and moved on, "You have mentioned a flaming skeleton man on multiple occasions now."

Why do I even bother? ​

"Right, right. You want proof. I can do that!" I put my itchy palms on the nearest object I could find, a cheap, decorative vase, and proceeded to channel the power of the Rider through it – oh. Oh dear.

…Perhaps you bother because you care. Perhaps your guise as a doctor may be more than a guise? ​

"…Is something supposed to be happening?" Riza asked.

An interesting theory. My counterpoint: I fucking hate this man. He is an idiot. He is going to get us both killed or worse. ​

"Yes," I admitted, "And shut up. I'm concentrating." I shut my eyes and looked deep. Was I missing something? I could feel the Rider's power coursing through my body; I could just barely feel it leaving me only to return from whence it came. Something critical was missing here. I grit my teeth, "This is bad. My power isn't working."

And yet it was you who lost to him. ​

Trisha seemed to perk up at that, "You genuinely have a special power?"

I lost to a being of immense power beyond all comprehension! I was felled by the Spirit of Vengeance! ​

"Well, yes, but normally it works instantly. It's like something is missing here." I bit my lower lip. It was becoming a bad habit of mine, yes, but the alternative was that I'd bite my nails and I was trying to move past that – my hands gripped the vase more firmly as I tried harder to unleash the power of the Rider, "Come on… Come on…!" Still, nothing happened. With a frustrated sigh, I let go and stepped away from the vase.

And how does this help your argument? Are you saying that you were unbeatable before that? ​

"Performance issues?" Roy asked me with a smirk.

I… ​

I just stared at him, "You're, like… the eighth person to make that joke to me. No." I breathed, "I know I still have my power, it probably just comes out a different way."

You have seen his memories. Our memories. My memories. You know what would have happened to you. ​

When I was in Bleach, I could run across platforms of spiritual particles. But when I went to Soul Eater, that changed. Suddenly, the power I'd grown to rely upon had completely vanished. At the same time, my soul became visible to some people in that world and I became influenced by what they called Madness. It stood to reason that I was being affected by the rules of whatever world I landed in.

Staring hard at the vase, I examined my palms. On either one, I could see some set of rashes forming. I wondered, then, if the solution was really so simple… my power changed objects that I made contact with, but the changes were temporary and would only last while the power of the Rider was, well, empowering them. Clenching and unclenching my hands, I decided to try something.

My goal would have been accomplished! ​

Inhaling, I clapped my hands. With an exhale, I tried touching the vase again. Violet sparks flashed and, almost instantly, it was wreathed in familiar fire and obsidian. The simple vase shined brightly with the power of the Rider coursing through it. One problem, though. Violet sparks. That… was not normal. At all.

Your goal was to die. You died. Congratulations, mission accomplished. ​

Roy didn't bother hiding his awe, "Did… Did you just perform a transmutation without a circle?" he looked over the vase with a more careful eye, "And what did you change that vase into? It looks denser. But… it's the same size… do you know what you even just did?" I didn't, but it looked like Roy was going to explain it for me, so…

I WANTED THINGS TO CHANGE! The world was stagnating, still and unreactive. ​

"I channeled the power of my flaming skeleton man into the vase." He stared at me, "What?"

I did what nobody else would. My actions would force the world to develop and advance forward! ​

"…You altered the components of the vase with a transmutation, without a circle, while apparently violating the Law of Equivalent Exchange." He stared at me with wide eyes, "What the hell are you?"

What flowery words. You killed and tortured for change? For nothing else? ​

At this point, that was actually a good question. The violet sparks from the transmutation were ominous, yes, but more ominous was that apparent violation. Equivalent Exchange was serious business in this world and, apparently, what I was doing was tantamount to genuine magic. It didn't help that I lacked a solid explanation for what transpired, but I had a theory or two.

I would be lying if I said personal amusement was never a factor. ​

The Gate.

I would not be lying to say that I took great pleasure in my work. ​

My powers, my 'Alchemy', only worked like this because I was in this world. In Soul Eater and Bleach, I didn't have to clap my hands. Here, I would. It stood to reason that since the laws of the world affected me, there would be an explanation in that world for how my powers operated. When the power of the Rider left the vase looking completely normal, Roy came up with an answer to his own question.

You really are a pitiful thing, aren't you? ​

"A temporary bypass." He said to me, "Your 'Rider' has qualities similar to a Philosopher's Stone, letting you temporarily bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange to reinforce inanimate objects and dead materials. But it doesn't work on living, organic matter." He pointed to my hands, "If you could directly affect yourself, it would be a different story."

And what would you know, you fucking bird?! ​

"So that's what you're going with?" I asked him, "That the Ghost Rider is an over-glorified battery?" I could buy that. In this world, at least, I could see it. With the sheer amount of power the Ghost Rider wielded, it didn't surprise me that its strength could be used for what Roy was suggesting. And as far as explanations for the Rider's power went, well… it wasn't completely outside reality. At least he was trying to explain it.

It must be so easy to be so high and mighty when your host is– ​

Urahara and Stein just rolled with it in varying degrees of uncertainty and skepticism. Roy wanted to know. In my book, that already put him higher on the list of people who could help me out on my journey.

I acknowledge my host's flaws. I know they are there as well as he does. ​

Again, I bit my lip. What I was about to suggest would seem stupid, but if the paperwork went through, "Could I apply to be a State Alchemist?" I asked him, "Would you recommend it at all?"

Oh? ​

"Could you? Should you?" he asked me, "Your abilities are in direct contrast to how Alchemy is supposed to operate, so much so that I'm not entirely sure how you would be received. And if we're running with the idea that our government is being led by a group of immortal monsters," he looked at Trisha, "Present Company excluded of course."

In a fundamental way, we agree with you. Change must come, change is necessary. ​

"Of course." She said flatly.

But change is constant, it is the only constant. What you wished for was to change a world already rife with change. You wished to remove stagnation by removing change all together! The ultimate change would be the erasure of all change! ​

Roy continued, "Then we have to ask ourselves: Is the risk worth the potential reward?"

That… you're putting words in my mouth. We both know I didn't say that. ​

"It's my head I'm risking here," I pointed out, "And the reward is something that I want. You wouldn't have to be affiliated with it at all."

It is exactly what you said. And the best part is, you can't deny it. You know your own source materials. You know what we know about you, about your potential selves. ​

"And what about your wife?" he asked.

You know your own fallacies – your own worthlessness and pointlessness. ​

I scoffed, "She's immortal." Looking at Trisha, a thought occurred to me, "You don't need to eat or drink anything, you don't need to breathe – Are you even feeling tired?"

And you are most memorable for your failures. ​

"Not… really…" she answered slowly, "Would weariness count as tiredness?"

I haven't failed yet! I CAN KEEP GOING! ​

"They're sort-of synonyms, but I'm really asking if you need to sleep."

You haven't failed yet, true. That is largely because you have no goal left to fail at, however. ​

"I could try to find out, tonight."

…What do you mean? ​

"We're getting off topic," Riza stated, "You," she pointed at me, "Can do something nobody else can just by clapping your hands. However, there are Alchemists who have done similar by using Transmutation Circles on their palms. If you're worried that you are too unique, hide in plain sight."

I mean what I say and nothing else. All your previous goals and alternative, potential goals ended in tears and fire. All of them were miserable failures of the highest order. ​

"False Transmutation Circles on his palms?" Roy asked, "It… could work. The design would have to be sufficiently esoteric, something not too recognizable but still grounded in some feasible reality."

Get to your point. ​

I looked at my apron, "Why not use crosses?" I asked, "Are they often used in Alchemy?"

How would you like to make a deal, Gorgon? ​

"It really depends on the circle," Roy answered.

You're going behind Ars's back to make a deal with little old me? ​

"Then let's make a circle where it would make sense. We throw in some miscellaneous babble, maybe draw a few more details given some time, and suddenly I have two fake Transmutation Circles that draw on… uh…" Oh, dear, "Well, I can't say they draw from the same power source as Amestrian Alchemy."

I am him, he is me. What I am doing, he would do as well. I have his consent in all but word. ​

"It looks too different for that," the Lieutenant Colonel agreed, "Instead… the source of your 'power' will be something that we see every day, something in plain sight." I stared blankly at him, "Something in the sky?"

…Alright, then. Out with it. I'll hear your little deal, if only so I can shove it back in your beaked face– ​

"The moon?" I guessed.

Help him. ​

He sighed, "I was going to say the opposite, actually… Your alibi would be that you draw power from the sun in order to use incredibly large amounts of energy in short, temporary bursts that bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange."

Excuse me? ​

"Oh…" I nodded slowly, "I could see that working. Quick question, isn't there also a Law of Shared Properties?"

My wielder is pitifully weak in spirit and ideology. He is not a broken man, but an incomplete one. ​

"There is," a moment of silence passed, "…Your power can violate that as well, can't it?"

Your ambition destroyed you. But my wielder lacks ambition. Give him a goal. ​

"Does your ability have anything in common with Alchemy?" Riza asked me, "You don't use Transmutation Circles, you don't follow the same laws, what you do could barely be considered real."

Drive him. ​

"…Why base it in reality at all?" I asked, "What if…" I licked my lips as a plan formed, "What if my power wasn't really Alchemy? Instead, it would be something completely unheard of!" Dramatically, I painted the scene, "Long ago in a distant land, I, Poe! The Rider of fire! Pursued a totally average train… But a foolish devil–"

Make him better. ​

"Just call it Alkahestry." Roy deadpanned, "We know virtually nothing about it, so an expert in the art doing the things you do wouldn't be seen as totally abnormal."

A deal implies I get something out of this. ​

I pouted, "Way to rain on my parade… I was getting to the good part. Still. That works too." Shrugging it off, I once again considered the room, "Hey, if Trisha doesn't sleep, does that mean that I have to sleep on the couch?"

You get a second chance. ​

Riza raised an eyebrow, "We don't have a couch, so…"

Oh, please, that line? ​

"It means you sleep on the floor," Trisha answered, "Honey." Her tone was positively chilling.

It worked for my host. It will work for you. ​

With a sigh, I stood and walked over to Roy's freshly made bed. Putting my hands beneath the mattress, I heaved the whole thing off and threw it on the floor, leaving behind nothing but the steel and wire bedframe. Roy gaped. "This is my bed," I pointed to the mess I made.

An excess of eight hundred years of failure culminating in a loss against a being you had no hope against. Are you saying you wouldn't want another go at it? ​

"You… You just stole mine!" Roy snapped at me.

…I will take your deal on one condition. ​

Slowly, I pulled a soft and feathery pillow out. I carefully weighed the object in my hands. With a sudden movement, I threw it as hard as I could at the Lieutenant Colonel's face, "You can sleep on this."

Say it. ​

Roy took a step back from the sudden strike before reaching up to take the pillow away from his face. With a glare that could melt the foundation of Santa's Slave Labor shop, he growled, "…You shit."

What is your name? ​

That was how I dissolved a very serious discussion into a pillow fight between myself, two military officials, and a homunculus. It was surprisingly fun.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-53

 

[Ars Poetica]

The cat goes "meow". The bird goes "tweet". The witch goes "Goddamnit, Poe".

-x-

The papers came in two days later. Immediately following their arrival, I found myself being sat in front of a stack of books. Roy Mustang loomed over me, watching my each and every move. "What is this?" I asked him.

Currently, Trisha and I were homeless. To help us, Roy was letting us stay in his apartment near the Eastern branch's headquarters. Trisha was doing well enough for herself. Between not needing to eat or sleep, the only thing she really 'required' was someone to watch her and something to help stave off boredom.

A library of fantasy, history, science, and some other dozen topics was being made in Roy's apartment and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. Well, no, that wasn't necessarily true. He could take his 'revenge' in pettier ways such as what he was doing here. "You want to be a State Alchemist? You get to study like a real Alchemist."

At least what was happening here had a purpose to it… scratching my palms, I regarded the Lieutenant Colonel, "Mustang," I said to him, "What I do can't really be called Transmutation. Why should I learn any of this?"

"You need to fake it," he answered me. "A lot of what you've told me is incredibly suspicious. At the same time… there is a bizarre merit to it. Working off the belief that it's true, we need to convince everyone there that what you do is within an acceptable realm of possibility. I know you are not an Alchemist. But they cannot know that under any circumstances."

I shrugged, nodded, and opened up the topmost book, "Alright…" I trailed, "What part should I memorize?" It was no different than cramming, in the end. I'd done this routine before. I did it for the SATs, I did it for almost every exam and every term paper I had, and I had become incredibly good at it. The world was not ready for a professional cram student.

"All of it."

The brakes hit me and I stopped hard, "…What?"

A raised brow, "Did I stutter?" At my blank look, he continued, "Every book on that pile, every term, every name, every location, every formula… When I say 'All of it', I mean all of it."

"…I have made a horrible mistake, haven't I?"

I should say so. Get cracking, Ars. ​

"I'm not even going to justify that with a response." He sighed.

The examination for 'becoming' a State Alchemist was held at least once a week. The ratio of failing examinees to the passing ones was… disproportionate, to say the least. Out of every some thousand-odd candidates, less than a hundredth would pass. The Amestrian military wanted only the best of the best, the cream of the crop. Anything less was just not worth their time or their effort. Meanwhile, there was still the exam to be 'certified' as a State Alchemist. That would take place only once a year.

You could take the former exam multiple times, to be sure. But if you failed it once and kept on failing, then it was likely you weren't passing one or two of the remaining parts of the exam. As for the latter exam, that was much riskier and you'd have to pass it on your first try or else you'd have to wait a year before you could give it another shot.

Both were broken up into three exams: First came a written exam, which I would be studying for. A psychological exam would follow that to determine if you were of a sane mind or not. Lastly, would-be State Alchemists would have to pass a practical exam to demonstrate that their Alchemy could be used in real world scenarios.

I knew how to pass a psychological test easily enough and the practical would be a breeze. The goal was to pass the written exam. However, at the same time, I was being faced with an inordinate amount of material to learn and memorize. Since the State Alchemist exam would be given at least once a week, the trick was getting in to do the exam. And I would do this exam again… and again… and again, until eventually, I passed the whole thing – or, at least, that was my original plan until I heard the weekly examinations only did half the job.

Additionally, the plan of repeating the exam until I passed would not necessarily work if the homunculi or their allies ever got a solid look at my 'Transmutation Circles' and grew to doubt that what I was doing could actually be qualified as Alchemy. My goal was to avoid a witch hunt and become a member of the Amestrian military under the noses of immortal, soul-eating abominations.

That goal would be completely shot if I was discovered to be completely ignorant of Alchemy and, thus, there I sat in front of dozens of books. It was these same books that I would examine and reexamine in Roy Mustang's apartment, these same books that I would take back and forth with me wherever I went.

…It is amazing how quick the months of constant studying and hitting one roadblock after another came to a head when we received a phone call from Ed and Al. They were coming to take the exam in two months. Or, at least, Edward was coming to take the exam. Alphonse would be waiting somewhere else.

"Any reason why?" I found myself asking them over the phone, "Being a State Alchemist is serious business."

Their answers ranged from keeping a better eye on their mother… which I actually kind of expected… and finding a way to restore their bodies back to normal. I could have told Ed that he'd only ever be able to restore one limb and it would cost him his Alchemy to restore Alphonse's body, but just this once I held my tongue.

The brothers were tenacious enough that I didn't doubt they would find a way. Things had already changed so much, well – I stopped and looked around the apartment. It was too small for Alphonse and we didn't have enough room for another person. Keeping Ed and Al here while I was lounging about was out of the question.

"Hey, uh, where exactly are you staying?" I inquired, "Anywhere in particular?"

Al answered first, "We were originally going to be staying at the Lieutenant Colonel's home, but…"

"But I'm here," I finished, "So you're going somewhere else."

"Mustang's already got a place figured out," Ed said, "The guy we'll be living with sounds decent enough…"

"Oh?" I was curious, "What's his name?" I got a name. My skin lost its color. I had forgotten about this person. But now I remembered this person. Slowly, my complexion returned, "Can you hold on for a second?" I didn't wait for a response before I covered the speaking end of the phone with one palm, "Roy-boy!" I shouted at Mustang.

"What?" he responded back groggily, "What is it?" Oh, it was early, wasn't it? Well, that didn't matter.

"Two questions: First, what is your opinion on punishing someone for something they haven't done yet? Second, and hypothetically of course, on a scale from one to ten how illegal are human chimeras?" No way in hell was I leaving the Elric brothers in the care of Shou Tucker.

-x-

My smile was positively beaming when I and my 'wife' were introduced to Shou Tucker. Trisha wouldn't be in the home very often, usually receiving a military escort back to Eastern headquarters to work as a secretary, of all things. I was a different story.

Yes, your story involves flaming skeleton men, train wrecks, magic, and insanity. ​

"Hello," I greeted the man, "My name is Poe R.R. Acti. I am from Creta, the Land of Cheese. My friends call me Ars." I offered my hand, "Due to a sudden change in papers and schedules, I'll be staying here until I pass or fail the upcoming State Alchemist exam." Never once did my smile waver. It took every ounce of self-control I had to not wipe my hand on my pants. Or just haul off and punch this guy in the face.

You're trying too hard. I know this man's type. He realizes you recognize what he will do. ​

According to Mustang, no, you could not arrest or kill a man for having the potential to do something horrible. The man had to actually go through with it. So for the time being, I would wait. Shou smiled at me, "I understand. These kinds of shifts happen all the time – actually, you got lucky!" he laughed, "I've heard stories of would-be Alchemists of the State being temporarily homeless. It really is awful…"

Do not make pleasant conversation with the sociopath. He will learn how you think. ​

"Well it's a good thing that won't be an issue, huh?" I elbowed him playfully, focusing all my attention on not collapsing one of his lungs with a serious hit. "So, I'm starved. And I can't study on an empty stomach. Is there anything you have around here to eat?"

-x-

There was something surreal about hearing stories of Shou Tucker's still alive wife. Since he hadn't gone through with the act of transmuting her with another bunch of animals yet, occasionally I would see her around the house. Calling her a traditional housewife would have been rather wrong as she did have some ambition.

After another day of studying, I sat down with the Tucker family for dinner and got to actually talk with her. "I've always wanted to start a business," she said, "It's just hard right now. I need funding for that, my husband needs funding for his Alchemy… it's a tough time for us."

I nodded and sipped the vegetable soup. It was delicious. "I can understand that," I said to her, "I don't come from a very wealthy family… in fact, except for my wife, I can't think of anyone who would miss me…" a plan formed in my mind. Shou Tucker was driven to desperation and used his wife. He got away with it because nobody knew otherwise. I wondered, then, if I could… "Actually, I envy you."

Mrs. Tucker, I didn't bother remembering or learning her first name, blinked at that, "Why? With these money troubles of ours…"

"Well, you two clearly love each other." I smiled at them, "You have a wonderful daughter, a loyal pet, a nice house… I have a wife who can't bear children and blames me for it. In fact, sometimes, I think she just wants to strangle me in my sleep." I clenched a hand in front of me for emphasis, "It can be scary how cold she is, sometimes! I could disappear tomorrow and she probably wouldn't bat an eyelash."

What… What are you doing? ​

"That's awful…" Shou's wife murmured, "Shou," she looked to her husband, "Isn't that terrible?"

Ars. I hate you. But what you are doing right now is so incredibly stupid that, for the love of all things, I must beg you to stop. I am obligated to tell you that you are doing something dangerously stupid. ​

"It is," he nodded, "I just wish we wouldn't have this kind of discussion in front of young Nina," the girl was a baby at this point, barely aged three years, "I don't want her hearing these kinds of things, she's just too young for that."

…Fine. Don't listen to me! See if I care! ​

We all smiled, we nodded, we moved on. I clenched my other hand on one of my legs so tightly I knew it left a bruise. If I wanted Shou Tucker to be caught, I needed to minimize the casualties. This was a man who offended my every sensibility. Getting him alone in a room with me, catching him in the act… I couldn't imagine something sweeter.

-x-

I sipped a glass of water. All that was left, all I had to do now, was stay vigilant at all times. The very second, the heartbeat he did anything, I would crush him.

Wait no don't! ​

With October rolling around, September was finally coming to an end. On the fifteenth, in a little over two weeks, the exam would be held. One more month after that and I'd be twenty-two. A year without seeing my family, my friends, or getting home – at this point, I held no delusions that I would be welcomed back. My intent had changed from getting home to just existing. I just wanted to exist. I just wanted to be me and stay me.

You… you idiot… you complete, total idiot… ​

My melancholy was easy to cap and hold back in the presence of a man I hated with a burning passion. Shou Tucker was very talented at playing the long game, but I was better at screwing that kind of stuff up. The State Alchemist Examination was nearing, and with it he would have to prove once again that his title as the Sewing Life Alchemist was worth the money.

I can't believe you did that. He had you alone. Why would he approach you directly? ​

His relationship with his wife was deteriorating. They needed the money. He was running low on options and he was running out of time. Was I neglecting my studies to try and bust him? Maybe, but the homunculi could wait. There existed a monster right in front of me that I could deal with and, as such, I would deal with it.

You were aware of what he was going to do and he knew that so he took precautions. ​

Shou's wife had left the house, Nina was with a neighbor. I was alone with this man in the house. If he was going to act, if he was going to do something, now would be the time. I had made myself into his new target; I had taken the attention away from his wife by all but stating he could get away with killing me. Now, I just had to… wait… Looking at it, that glass of water was rather murky, wasn't it?

When you are alone in the residence of a mad scientist: DO NOT EAT OR DRINK ANYTHING! ​

…I woke up barely coherent and naked in a dark room next to an unconscious bird and some kind of sleeping, black dog. On the floor, I saw a white circle painted on the ground. No chalk. Damn. A candle illuminated the room just enough that I could see Shou Tucker preparing to activate the circle.

Well. Way to go, Ars. Just… way to go. ​

Well. Well this was… yup. This was happening.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-54

 

[Ars Poetica]

Those wacky Romans...

-x-

My whole body was numb. I don't know what Shou Tucker put in me; I only knew for certain that it made me sluggish and barely capable of movement. "You'll never get away with this, you son of a bitch!" I tried to shout. It came out differently. "Ooll nvr gt waaa wiss oosaanbtch…" Every so often, it felt like there was two of him.

"Please," he almost murmured, "Don't move too much." He carefully reexamined the circle, "This won't work of you move too much, and I don't want to just kill you." His smile exuded innocence, "It would alter the math, you see."

…No, I didn't see. I did not see how this man could be so calm about the thing he was about to do here. Ladies and gentlemen, this was the first time I encountered a genuinely terrible person. This was someone who, driven into a corner, would act in the most despicable way. Not even Medusa was this bad.

My eye focused intently on the single candle that kept the room alit. I needed to blow it out. If the candle went out and Tucker went through with the transmutation anyway, the chances that he'd summon the Rider would increase dramatically. If I could get the Rider, if I could summon the Rider forth, I'd be able to survive this. I could get out of this with the power of the Rider. I just needed to blow out the candle.

I inhaled deeply. The room smelled terrible, reeking of odors ranging from decay to the waste of animals. Even so, I breathed. Even so, I prepared myself. My whole face felt sloppy, everything felt slow. When I tried to pucker my lips and focus the air I exhaled, I sputtered and spat helplessly.

My spittle spattered just beside the candle. It barely flickered. Was I not trying hard enough? No, blowing it would not work at all. Shou ignored my attempts, dismissing them. He focused more on adjusting the unconscious animals at my side. In one hand, he fiddled with a brush. In the other, he held a bowl of white paint.

Every so often, he would make a mark somewhere on the edge of the circle. He would look at me and, with a careful observation of where my body laid, would proceed to add or cross a mark on the edge. Each motion was delicate, belying the twisted nature of what he was about to do here.

Blowing wasn't working, but maybe spitting would work? No, I'd never get enough range. I needed something else… I needed – oh, wait, of course, duh. I reached my tongue back into my throat and felt myself gag. I tried again and heaved, projectile vomit flew at the candle like an early dream of mankind, snuffing its light and rendering the room dark.

I waited for Shou to activate the circle. I waited for the Rider to take control and beat this guy down. Certainly, if the Rider appeared there was no way it would stop with Shou. If the Rider appeared, it would most likely exit the house and turn its attention to everyone in its way. It would hunt down Father, his homunculi, and every individual whose soul was stained with the blood of the innocent.

This world would burn, and I would leave again. I shut my eye in preparation for what I thought was inevitable… only to slowly open it and peek around. To my surprise, nothing happened. My eye was slowly adjusting to the dark, admittedly with little success. A chain was pulled; a light lit itself from the center of the ceiling.

Shou Tucker looked at the vomit with mild annoyance, "That, right there?" he gestured to it, "That's rude." He kneeled down once more to make a finishing mark and sighed in what was probably relief, "You're fortunate I took precautions for that…" Fortunate how?! What precautions?! This guy… I really hated this guy. "Hmm… that look in your eyes… you hate me, don't you?" I didn't bother nodding. We both knew the answer. "That's fine. Hate me all you want. I'm just doing what I need to survive, understand that much at least." He clapped his hands, "For what it's worth, I'm sorry." He wasn't.

His palms struck the edge of the circle, setting it alight in shining blue, a shade of blue so bright and pale it was almost a colorless white. Unbelievable amounts of power spun through the circle on the floor, huge bursts of power exploded from my body and the bodies of the two creatures beside me. I felt faint.

The sparks blackened with existential rot, Shou Tucker's eyes widened comically as the Transmutation hilariously and suddenly began to detonate. One of my palms was pressed as hard as I could press it against the paint. That periodic itching, that sustained annoyance I had grown accustomed to in the many months since my arrival, turned into a blazing agony.

I remembered weeks ago, approaching Mustang and asking for help. I remember asking him to put circles on my palms. At the end of the day, we only ever managed a concept – a rough painting of ink on either palm of what I wanted to see, and even then the details didn't feel entirely right. That was a different story here and now. Voices screamed in my mind, a jungle of flaming agony that roared and spun in thousands of cumulative detonations.

Violet light seeped through the cracks between my fingers, the thin crevice between my palms and the floor. That same, corrupting light… and in the opposite hand, that light was golden and almost holy in its nature. Shou was screaming, I heard him screaming – we weren't in his laboratory anymore. We were in a broken train station.

High above us, the thing that mothered my fawk of a Zanpakuto adjusted its hands on the three whistle-flutes that were its mouths and ears. Steam blasted out from every hole along its body, reminiscent of a strange engine. The hands withdrew from the whitles and reached down, all six of them, to grasp the struggling form of Shou Tucker.

His mouth opened wide, he wasn't screaming anymore. His glasses slid off his face and his body melted and shaped itself into something different. It was turning into a brick of steel and iron, a Gate to nowhere but his very being. The incredible titan that would birth my Zanpakuto opened its chamber-mouth and reached out with its many tongues to wrap around the Door that once was a man named Shou Tucker.

It looked like a floppy disk slowly being inserted into an old computer, being dragged by thousands of cords dripping in black ichor and wide eyes and screaming mouths. The Door tried to open. It was kept shut and silent. The floor beneath me collapsed and I saw, hanging high above me, the fawk-headed man with a Brooklyn accent. "See you on the flipside." He adjusted his cap.

I shut my eyes.

I opened my eyes.

Looking around, I was in a massive library of countless books with various colored covers and titles written in dozens of kinds of scripts. On a tall table in the center of this library sat an hourglass. The top was open and sand rained from an infinite ceiling. Hanging from either end were massive scales, both were empty.

"Thank you!" someone shouted in my ear, pulling something off of my very well-worm jeans. "I was looking for that, you have no idea how long!" this person's shouting was incessant and grating. I looked to see who it was, but the person was no longer there. "You're too slow, Poe!"

I looked to the scale and saw a man dressed in white robes. He wore a winged helmet on his black dog head. On the front of the copper helmet was a shining symbol for a caduceus. His bronzed body was wrapped in robes; red ropes went around his waist to act as a belt.

I frowned at him, "Who're you?" I asked the man with the canine head. I noticed his sandals had wings at their ankles and was regularly tapping his feet.

"Me? Well, I'm your Zanpakuto."

"…What." That wasn't possible, I already met my Zanpakuto. He was high up above me. This guy was just, "You're lying to me."

"Oh. Oh no. No I am not." He said to me. One of his ears twitched. I noticed his accent had a British tilt to it, "I'm just another pretty face, if that makes any sense." He grinned at me, showing off sharpened teeth. "But then I guess it wouldn't." I blinked. The dog-headed man stood in front of me, his hand was in my chest and pulling out my heart. "Now, what do we have here…?" With barely any care involved, he tossed my ripped out heart onto one end of the scale and revealed what he pulled off of me.

A single feather – an ordinary looking, if particularly large, white feather… The dog man held it just above the opposite side of the scale and regarded me with a single glance. His eyes were red. "…I know this." I whispered, "I know this," louder now, "You're going to judge my soul, aren't you? You're Anubis!"

"You're half right and all kinds of wrong." He said in response, "Simultaneously, if you'd believe it! I know I don't. It's quite amazing to behold…"

"Well, you can't be my Zanpakuto," I shook my head at him, "I know him. We've talked."

"…You have two swords, Poe." The jackal-headed pseudo god told me, "What would possess you to think your Zanpakuto spirit would fail to reflect this fact?" A sudden chill affected me. I made to correct myself, "Don't bother. You and I, we're going to have a talk about honesty." He played with the feather a bit, "Tell me, did you help Ichigo invade the Soul Society because he was your friend or because you wanted to do it?"

"That's a trick question. I did it because he asked me."

"Lie." He ticked it off with a finger, "Did you decide Amagai had to die because he was legitimately dangerous or because you were afraid of what was happening?"

"That's more obvious, isn't it…? He was dangerous, so–"

His sigh was painful to hear, "Lie." He focused his gaze completely on me, any casual air about him that I could have seen before completely vanished, "Did you wish to leave the last world because you did not trust the Rider? Or did you wish to leave because you were no longer in control?"

"…That's not fair."

"Life's not fair," the jackal shrugged and dropped the feather on the other side of the scale. It didn't move an inch. "You couldn't even give me a real scale to work with. How cruel. Tell me, were you afraid I would eat your heart out or something?"

"…" I bit my lower lip, "What happened to Shou?"

"My question first."

"No."

"Liar," he sang, "And Shou, well, he flew a little too close to the sun, in more ways than one… does that make sense?" I didn't get to answer this time, "Rhetorical, Poe, it was a rhetorical question. I know it doesn't make sense to you. It's why I asked."

"Is there a point to all this or can I just go?" I finally asked, "I get it. I fucked up, Shou got me, and then you saved me–"

"I saved you!" he cried, "I saved you! I saved you!" he crooned and jeered, "I am you and you are me, so you saved yourself technically… but there are only so many times you can save yourself before you realize just how alone you are."

"Poignant." I deadpanned, "I'd like to leave, now."

"I wouldn't," he said to me, "Consider: Why are you really here? Think about that. Shou Tucker tried to transmute a human chimera using a dog, a bird, and you, Poe. He could not have realized the power of your Zanpakuto, the design of your soul, and when it rebounded and became a human transmutation, he was unprepared for the impossible consequences."

"So he's dead now. And?"

"How can you be so dense?" the voice came from a row of stacked books, "Every time you open your mouth, I am reminded of just how miserable my situation is." Medusa Gorgon walked out from a line of bookcases. Shadows slowly edged away to reveal her, feet first of course. "You see, Ars, just because he is dead doesn't mean what he did hasn't damaged you. And I am here to… he… hee…" she coughed and took a breath, "I am here to… ugh…" she shuddered.

Oh please don't tell me, "…You're here to help me?" I finished for her.

Her jaw was visibly clenching and her smile lacked any form of genuine goodwill, "Yes." She answered with incredible reluctance, "Yes I am."

My other me laughed at me, "I think we're going to have all sorts of fun here."

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-55

 

[Ars Poetica]

Books, books, hooked on books...

-x-

Over the course of my journey, I had been developing some bad habits and losing others. For example, I used to have a nervous habit of biting my nails down to the quick. Since I started this journey, I hadn't bitten my nails a single time. Instead, I often found myself biting my lip or gnawing on my tongue.

In the silence of my mind, walking next to Medusa through an infinite library while the jackal-headed not quite Anubis followed us, I found one finger going into my mouth at a time. I spat out a nail onto the floor. Not-Abubis sighed, "Show some respect, Poe! This is my head as much as it's yours!"

"I am showing respect," I replied back, "I was being quiet in the library." I glanced behind me, "Maybe you should be quiet."

"Maybe you should both shut up," Medusa remarked. "You're annoying me."

We continued to walk, now in a kind of reluctant silence. Every so often, a clicking would echo throughout the library. Curious at it all, my gaze slowly found its way to the titles of some of the books… I couldn't quite read them. More than a few were in Old English. Others were written in a language that I had no knowledge of, others still lacked any recognizable letters.

It raised a question. If this was my mind, why couldn't I read all those books? Was my head just telling me that it would be a bad idea? I wouldn't put it past myself to code things so I wouldn't figure it out, but at the same time I had to know that any code I came up with would be easy for me to break, so…

A thumping sound resonated throughout the endless hallways of the library in my mind. I blinked and turned to look at Medusa, "Hey, what was that sound?" she didn't answer.

Not-Anubis cackled, "Oh, that? Don't worry about it."

My brow crinkled, "Uh…" See, if you were telling yourself not to worry and you were already worried, would you still worry, worry less, or worry more? I only worried more. "You sure about that?"

"Ask yourself this: Would anything in your head deliberately hurt you?"

…well, gee, when he put it like that… I wasn't so sure. I mean, if it was my other Zanpakuto, I guess I could say 'no'. If it was something else, then that would be a different story. I forced myself to lower my guard. I was just messing with myself. It was all in my head and nothing more. I mean, I had a point. Why would I hurt myself? I was me. It wouldn't help me to hurt me, if that made sense.

It was with that shaky personal assurance that I took another step to follow Medusa only for this thing to leap from the darkness and knock me to the ground. With the front legs of a lion holding me down and a crocodile's jaw snapping in my face, the incredibly massive thing held itself on me with the back legs of a hippopotamus.

The sound of its roaring, snapping maw was not as terrifying as the pressure of its body on mine. The creature's weight, alone, was crushing me. I struggled to breathe. "Hey, hey, now!" laughed Not-Anubis, "Down girl!" He snapped his fingers and the pressure disappeared. Getting off the ground, I was treated to the strange sight of the creature balancing itself on Not-Anubis.

"What… That's…" I was speechless.

"That would be Amy," Medusa answered my unasked question, "She is better known, however, as Ammit."

"…She's a dog," I almost gasped, "I mean, she obviously isn't, but she acts like one!"

"I realize this."

"She tried to kill me!"

"She was just saying 'hello', Poe!" Not-Anubis laughed at me, "No need to bring hyperbole into this." He petted the monstrosity and cooed at it. I could only stare helplessly.

"…Leave them," Medusa said with a shrug, "And follow me. You can talk with him later."

"Wasn't he going to come with and show me something?" I asked.

"He's fast enough that he can catch up when he's done," Medusa said to me as she started walking once more, "Now come along." Her words drifted to me from the darkening corridor. I followed her into the abyss of books.

-x-

"What do you see?"

"Books."

"No, what do you see specifically?"

These books had titles that I could read. In fact, there was a sizable list of them. Years Volume IV was the first; it went all the way up to XXI and stopped. "Twenty one books, one for every year… But a few are missing."

"It is to be expected," Medusa said to me, "Your memories are not perfect and will erode with time. Most people do not recall the first three or so years of their development, despite the incredible importance of those years."

"Okay…" I trailed, "So why are you showing me this?"

Medusa gave me a sidelong look before pulling out a book at random. She flipped through the pages and eventually settled on one, "Ars, I want you to answer a question for me. What color is your sister's hair?"

"…that's it?" I asked, "Which one?"

"The youngest."

"Violet," I answered. She usually kept it in a very specific braid

"…No, Ars. Your youngest sister's hair color is red."

I blinked. "Huh?" she offered me the book and even pointed out a line almost at random. A picture of my sister was right there, a description of her was right next to it. I was reading what she looked like. And it did not match what I recalled of her. That was… not right. "No, this book is wrong." I protested, "I know the color of my sister's hair and it is violet."

"What about your older sister's hair color?"

"Black," I answered with a shrug, "What, so Shou fucked up my books?"

"No. Shou did not alter the books. What he did, arguably, was worse," she answered me. "You don't have an older sister, Ars. I do."

I sighed, "Look, I get that you're messing with me, but that's just–"

"I have two sisters. Getting up early comes naturally to me."

I nodded and fist bumped him, "We're in the same boat." ​

Gasping, I fell to my knees as a pulsating headache became known. My skull felt like it was going to burst. "That… That was my conversation with Ichigo… I… I have two younger sisters… but I know there was an older one–"

"There wasn't." Medusa interrupted me, "There never was. You were the eldest sibling, Ars. Just like Ichigo."

…We were in the same boat. "What… What did Shou do?" I finally asked, "He didn't change the books, did he?"

"He reordered them," she said, "I have more than eight hundred years of memories, stored as all the books that you have seen so far. These books are in the wrong place, and the area they were originally stored has been lost. Room had to be made. And some parts of these books were replaced with the parts of other books nearby."

"…Arachne has black hair."

"And Shaula was the younger, yes."

"…he made me forget my sisters." I growled, "That motherfucker made me forget my sisters. I'll… I'll fucking slaughter him! Where is he?!" I shouted, "Where is that son of a bitch?"

"You watched him die, Ars." Medusa calmly replied, "Your soul already killed him."

"Then… Then I'll…" my head throbbed, "What… What'll I do…?"

"You're going to sort your head out. And then, you're going to listen to me."

"You… You're not supposed to be alive, you bitch. You poisoned me! You… Your soul was burned by the Ghost Rider! You… You're dead! You're not alive." I panted, "You… You are…"

"I'm right here," she replied with a shrug, "And I'm not going anywhere. You enabled Shou Tucker and have paid the price. Now, pick up the pieces. You were not the only person affected by this negatively."

"You have eight hundred years of memories!" I snapped at her, "You can adapt!"

"…How selfish of you," she mused, "Tell me, if I informed you that your knowledge of, say, Tae Kwon Do just vanished, how would you react?"

I hesitated. More than half of my life was spent training and learning that martial art. Before I started Tae Kwon Do, I couldn't even catch a ball. Now, I could juggle. If I learned that all the efforts I went through in Tae Kwon Do were for nothing, I– "…That's not the same…" my protest was weak and quickly shot down.

"Hundreds of years," she said to me, "Hundreds of years I toiled and learned and sweated and cried to reach my position and become a Witch of fame and infamy alike. I spent centuries on that. And because of Shou Tucker, my knowledge of magic has been decimated down to its most basic roots." Her smile was terrifying, "He has forced me to start over from scratch and I do not know whether my memories of magic have just been lost or if they are wandering around in your mind and soul. I do not know."

"…You're doing this to help yourself more than me." I realized, "You don't care about me, you could care less about me! You just want your magic back!"

"I was not only learning magic in that time, Ars. In a single instant, Shou destroyed a massive part of what made me who I was. You…" she took a deep breath, "You are my only hope for fixing that damage."

"So, what, now you want to make a real deal? Now that you've lost your big, bad powers, you're coming to me?"

She visibly swallowed her pride, "Ars, I lost everything. I lost everything except the memories of where I failed. You lost the memories of your sisters; I lost so much more than that."

"If I help you get your memories back, you'll help return mine?"

"That's right."

…I did not trust her. Medusa was genuinely desperate. Shou Tucker's actions had reduced her to a mere fraction of her former self. If the damage was as deeply rooted as she claimed, then she had everything to gain from asking for help from the one person who could help her. At the same time… At the same time, I loved my sisters. I did not want to lose the one connection to them that I had left because of some fucking asshole mad scientist.

Medusa's offer was mutually beneficial. Unlike her first deal, we both had something to gain and no reason to walk away from each other. Unlike the first 'deal' we made, she wasn't manipulating me. I knew she couldn't. There was no Madness to manipulate in this world and my soul and mind reflected that.

So I stood there in a hallway in an infinite library of books, more than eight hundred years of memories existed in all these hallways and Medusa Gorgon needed it all in order just as much as I did. I took a deep breath. Already, I had a history of dealing with devils and making Faustian bargains. One more, I thought. What was one more deal compared to all the others that I had made?

I offered her my hand, "If we're doing this, we're doing this right. No tricks. No backstabbing." I knew what she wanted and she knew what I wanted. We both knew that neither of us would get what we wanted if she acted wrong, here. "I will help you remember what you lost. Just give me back my sisters."

Medusa exhaled sharply, "Of all the things I have forgotten, the one thing I remember are my sisters… it's odd. You wish to remember yours, but they are the only thing you have forgotten. I wish to forget mine…"

"And you lost everything," I finished for her, "Wishes suck ass."

She clicked her tongue and shook my hand, "I will kill you. One day, I will find a way."

"But not today."

We knew the score. We knew that our partnership in the depths of my soul was a temporary one. All the same, a creeping feeling built up in me. This was a deal that would help us both, however briefly. This was an armistice. So why did I feel that something was horribly wrong?

"Not today," she agreed and started heading in another direction. Once more, I found myself following Medusa Gorgon of my own volition into the shadows of the broken library in my soul.

…I kind of wished Not-Anubis was there. It was too quiet without him.

-x-

One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train

End-56