Trade, in its essence, is an exchange—each party offers what the other desires, seeking mutual benefit in the process.

"Wait!"

Just as Kurama was about to take the Philosopher's Stone from Diarmuid's hand, a call rang out from behind him, exactly as expected.

The silver-haired fox turned, unsurprised to see Roy standing at the doorway, his expression grave.

"Please wait a moment."

Meeting Kurama's calm, tranquil gaze, Roy hesitated, lips pressed together, as if uncertain how to begin. Yet, the importance of the crimson gem in the lancer's hand, acknowledged by Lust herself as the true Philosopher's Stone, compelled him to suppress all other thoughts surging in his mind. His voice was tight as he finally spoke:

"That... is the Philosopher's Stone, isn't it?"

Kurama nodded openly, without the slightest intent to conceal.

"Yes, it is."

He had never intended to hide the truth from Roy. Otherwise, when Diarmuid appeared out of nowhere and easily dispatched Lust, Kurama could have used hallucinogenic plants to cloud Roy and Lieutenant Havoc's senses, perhaps even implanting false memories.

But Kurama's candor was not born of trust. He simply needed a partner with both power and cunning, for his ambitions were far from simple.

A single Philosopher's Stone, miraculous as it was, held limited energy. If he used it as barter with Yuuko, he doubted he could recover much of his own demonic power. He needed more—far more—Philosopher's Stones.

This required long-term scheming, and attempting it alone would be troublesome and exhausting. The best solution was to find a collaborator.

Roy was a suitable choice.

"Colonel, do you want this?"

His gesture, momentarily paused, resumed as Kurama took the small Philosopher's Stone from Diarmuid, raising it and shaking it twice in Roy’s direction.

Roy pressed his lips even tighter, his expression unusually stern and solemn.

"Yes." He nodded firmly.

This honest admission brought a deeper smile to Kurama's lips.

"Then... let us have a proper discussion."

He smiled.

"About this Philosopher's Stone, and the potential exchanges between us that may revolve around it."

Hearing Kurama's decision, the dark-haired man released a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief.

"Agreed!"

His response rang with conviction.

***

Diarmuid’s awakening, as he had claimed, was truly brief.

Not long after Roy and Kurama reached a verbal agreement and Roy hurried off to rejoin Riza and Alphonse, who were investigating the other side of the corridor, the lancer, his expression serene, faded once more into spirit form, returning to Kurama’s pendant—the Throne of Heroes.

This time, when Kurama tried to reach out to the Throne, the sense of their mutual connection was even more strongly, unilaterally severed.

"It seems Miss Yuuko was right. Diarmuid’s consciousness is in deep slumber. He can only passively respond if my safety is threatened. Otherwise, he remains in a sealed, motionless state, unable to sense the passage of time or answer my summons."

Kurama, holding Mokona, followed unhurriedly in the direction Roy and the others had gone, murmuring in thought.

The white puffball in his arms heard the undertone in his voice and looked up at him.

"Is something wrong? Or did you realize something, Kurama?"

The fox spirit smiled and shook his head.

"No, I merely find it remarkable... Even though it’s called a 'mini' Throne of Heroes, none of its functions seem diminished."

No—if anything, they might even be enhanced.

Time does not flow on the Throne of Heroes because its original location is outside of space and time, a place without the concept of time. But Kurama’s miniature Throne was always with him, existing within a particular time and space. Yet still, the world in which Diarmuid resided remained utterly cut off from the flow of external time.

It was, he had to admit, a most mysterious phenomenon.

Kurama was not especially interested in fully unraveling such mysteries or mastering the profound laws of time and space. Even so, his curiosity about such wonders was no less than anyone else’s. The realization of the Throne’s power did stir him.

Sharing these small insights with Mokona was simply a routine exchange between trusted companions, sharing each small discovery from their endless journeys. Mokona nodded knowingly, then reached out a small paw to pat Kurama’s cheek comfortingly.

"Don’t worry, Kurama. Diarmuid said himself he’ll wake when he’s rested enough. It might take a while, but once he awakens, there’s no need to fear further mishaps."

Smiling, the round little creature nuzzled into the hollow of Kurama’s neck in its own way of offering comfort.

It was clear that Kurama was a bit shaken by Diarmuid’s brief reawakening. Perhaps, after experiencing the full reliability of the lancer in his true heroic form, Kurama was reluctant to see him return to sleep.

Mokona understood that, even with his own company, Kurama’s journey could not be called truly unlonely.

He could offer laughter, understanding, conversation, and trust—but more often than not, his help was modest, someone to consult with during planning, but rarely of use when it came time for action.

With the fox’s strength and resourcefulness, carrying out those plans alone seemed hardly a burden—but only Mokona knew what Kurama bore on his own.

Perhaps he really did need a companion, even if he seemed so at ease, so content with his solitary travels.

Silently, Mokona was cradled in the fox’s warm arms, his tiny paw unconsciously gripping Kurama’s slender, gentle fingers.

***

In the end, they left the Third Laboratory that day without reaching a deeper consensus about their so-called deal.

For from that point on, Roy's "game" was already in motion. Though neither he nor his subordinates had suffered a scratch, he was still carried away by medics and sent to the military's highest-level hospital.

"It’s so convenient having you here, Captain Kurama," said Lieutenant Havoc, lying in the next ambulance.

This time, Havoc had joined Roy in feigning injury—his wounds far worse than Roy's—for the Colonel felt he needed a more nimble agent outside official channels.

Thus, Havoc would soon apply for early retirement due to grievous wounds and go underground, supporting Roy’s team with covert operations.

This was to evade certain eyes in the military, since Roy had recently sensed that someone above was watching him.

Although Havoc himself had no complaints about this role, it was clear Roy felt some guilt—after all, Havoc’s injuries required Kurama’s "illusion" to fabricate, and, for safety, only a handful of trusted subordinates knew the truth. Not even Havoc's family could be told.

Roy was clearly troubled by the thought of causing his subordinate’s parents grief for the sake of his own plan.

"That man," Havoc said, playing with Mokona and laughing as he spoke to Kurama, "has always been too gentle, from the very start."

"For someone like him to talk about reaching the top of this country—well, it’s hard not to feel conflicted, isn’t it?"

"But that’s exactly why I want to follow him."

"Lieutenant Hawkeye was right. Having someone as kind and foolish as the Colonel is the best thing of all."

The sunlight flooding the ward softened his already handsome features, and in that moment, the conviction and faith on Havoc’s face made Kurama sense even more keenly the trust and loyalty he felt for Roy.

The fox spirit smiled lightly.

"Lieutenant, you needn’t worry. The 'transaction' between the Colonel and me will not cost him that gentleness."

He spoke quietly, reclaiming the now-sleepy white puffball from Havoc’s arms.

"Or, to be more precise, it’s because the Colonel possesses that gentleness that I chose to negotiate with him in the first place."

And not... with that other person, as he’d originally planned.

Kurama lowered his eyes, his expression in the backlight making it hard for Havoc to read.

And indeed, as the fox had said, in this world of Fullmetal Alchemist, Roy Mustang was not the only one Kurama could have chosen as his partner.

But Colonel Mustang was the one he ultimately settled on.

That was his decision.

As Havoc’s gaze grew even softer, Kurama turned his attention to the doorway.

The next moment, the dark-haired Colonel, accompanied by Riza, appeared there, right on cue.

"Ah, finally got rid of all those annoying people," the Colonel muttered, discarding his superior’s facade. As the blonde lieutenant closed the door behind them with a sigh, he shed his previous act of feeble invalid and briskly strode to his bed, sitting down comfortably.

"So, can we talk properly now, Kurama?"

"About... the deal you proposed earlier?"

Kurama nodded readily. "Of course, Colonel."

At once, the two adopted the air of serious negotiators, leaving the still-pretend-injured Havoc and the newly arrived Lieutenant Hawkeye helplessly watching from the sidelines.

How they envied Major Hughes, who wasn’t here at this moment!

For a fleeting instant, their thoughts were perfectly in sync.

But reality offered no escape; all they could do was stand by and witness the two master schemers at work.

"It’s not really that complicated," Kurama said at last, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

He fixed Roy with a calm gaze and spoke evenly.

"I will provide the Philosopher’s Stone. You and any trusted alchemists may use it as research material as you wish."

"Even if the Stone is destroyed in the process, I have no complaints."

"In return, when I seek help, you must provide me with whatever assistance you can—so long as it does not expose us or harm your interests or the order of this world."

He winked slyly. Seeing Roy deep in thought, the fox spirit fell silent, his composure and confidence so complete that, for a moment, the Colonel was tempted to don his gloves and set the room ablaze.

Yet, after long contemplation, Roy resisted the urge.

He sat in thought for some time, but in the end had to admit—he had already lost the negotiation before it began.

Every word, every clause, was precisely aimed, closing off all loopholes while offering endless possibilities. He could neither refute nor demand more.

At last, the Colonel could only sigh in resignation.

"Deal," he pronounced, his voice ringing with finality.