Chapter 87: The Trumpet of Counterattack

This is a world of alchemy.

No matter how wondrous and fantastical the phenomena that accompany an alchemist’s techniques may appear, at its core this world belongs to science.

And in a scientific world, how could there truly be any tale of shattering the void, living forever, and becoming a god?

Perhaps the appearance of the Philosopher’s Stone was a rare exception that broke the boundaries of the world. Yet with it came the very principle on which this world of alchemy stood: equivalent exchange.

This fundamental law of alchemy may seem to place no restraint at all on those who wield alchemy by relying on the Philosopher’s Stone, and yet if one thinks about it carefully, whenever they disregard equivalent exchange and borrow the Stone’s power to perform alchemy, are they not merely consuming the energy within the Philosopher’s Stone to offset the price of using alchemy?

So in essence, even the Philosopher’s Stone has never truly escaped the limits of this world’s most basic rules. That is why, in the end, the Homunculus’s attempt to become a god and seize “Truth” ended in failure, because from the very beginning this world could never accept anyone else becoming Truth, becoming completeness, becoming a god, becoming... the world, apart from the existence of “Truth” itself, the embodiment of its own rules.

This is a world doomed to be without gods.

And so, likewise, it is doomed never to have true immortality.

That is determined by the nature of the world itself. Without power great enough to break free of the shackles of that essential nature, the pursuit of immortality is nothing but a distant fantasy.

Just as formidable as the Homunculus at the final stage of the tale of Fullmetal Alchemist.

By then, he had nearly dragged “Truth” down from beyond the heavens and into the mortal realm, into his own body; and yet in the end, he still fell without the slightest room for resistance.

His defeat could be said to be yet another entirely predictable result under the iron law that the protagonist group must win, or it could also be said to be the inevitable outcome under the constraints of the world’s rules.

And unsurprisingly, the Homunculus was already the most powerful being in the native world of Fullmetal Alchemist.

Even he could not become a god, could not truly attain immortality, let alone a little girl like Mei, or her aging emperor of a father, who was already close to death’s edge.

“To seek immortality is only to invite calamity.”

Meeting the little girl’s eyes, which were full of sorrow and disbelief, Kurama’s voice was gentle, yet the words he spoke were mercilessly sharp.

“At least, for this world, that is how it is.”

“But...”

Mei trembled her lips, instinctively wanting to say something in rebuttal.

And yet, gazing into those calm, tender emerald eyes, listening to Kurama’s earlier analysis of the Homunculi and of the man they had seen in the hidden hall beneath the Central City, the one the Homunculi called Father—

“In Mei’s eyes, do they count as immortal?”

“If they do, is that the kind of thing Mei wants to pursue?”

“The Homunculi seem no different from normal people at a glance, but Mei must have noticed by now, haven’t you?”

“Each of them actually has serious problems.”

“An obsessive personality is one thing, but what is hardest to accept is their attitude toward human beings, isn’t it?”

“That haughty bearing, as if they were the superior race, yet in truth, from angles we cannot see, they look at us with eyes full of envy and yearning, without even realizing it themselves...”

“Deep down, they also want to become real ‘humans,’ even though they were created through the Philosopher’s Stone and possess bodies that are almost ‘immortal.’”

“And as for that ‘Father,’ there is even less need to say.”

“Didn’t Mei herself immediately judge, when she first saw him, that he was ‘human in form, but not human’?”

“If immortality means becoming an existence like him, then... is such immortality really worth pursuing?”

“............”

The little girl’s eyes flew wide open.

Stubbornly letting tears tremble in her eyes without allowing them to fall, she pressed her lips together and looked at Kurama.

“What is Mei supposed to do, then!”

If, as Brother Kurama said, such immortality should not be sought, then what was the meaning of her journey to this country? What of her people, waiting for her return beyond the far side of the desert?

If she, as a princess, gave up here so easily, who would save her people?!

The little girl lifted her face and stared blankly at Kurama. Her large black eyes, round as grapes, blinked twice, and in the end tears still overflowed, rolling down her apple-cheeked, endearingly round face.

The fox’s answer was a sigh, followed by his hand gently ruffling the top of the girl’s head.

“Does Mei love His Majesty the Emperor of New Country?”

he asked softly.

Comforted by the gentle palm, the little girl shook her head as she sniffled.

“E-even though he is Mei’s father, Mei... Mei...”

She did not love him at all.

No.

Perhaps, when she was younger, she truly had loved her father.

She still remembered one time when she had braved the winter wind and snow, standing in the garden for a very long time, just to catch a distant glimpse of her father.

It was a pity, though, that her father had never cared for her filial affection.

Well, of course.

He was the emperor, and he had far, far too many children.

Even Yao Lin, whom they had encountered in the Central only recently, as the second prince and someone who ought to have been deeply valued and favored by the emperor, had never received the slightest warmth from their imperial father.

It was not merely because he had too many children.

Deep down, Mei was unwilling to admit it: her father simply did not care about any of his children. All he had pursued for so long was the method of immortality.

So...

“Mei does not love him. Mei only...” Only wants to save her family.

At her words, Kurama’s hand paused for a moment, then he rubbed the top of the little girl’s head with even more force.

“Mm. I understand.”

“Mei.”

He crouched down so that their eyes were level, the corners of his mouth curving into a gentle smile.

“Then, since Mei does not love him, why insist so stubbornly on perfect immortality?”

“...Huh?” The little girl froze at once, almost forgetting even to cry.

Before her, however, the red-haired fox’s smile only grew warmer and more tender.

“As long as what you bring back is a plausible method, something that could be carried out and has even a precedent of ‘reasonable success,’ isn’t that... already enough?”

Unconsciously raising a hand to rub her eyes, Mei seemed, for an instant... to see several fluffy fox tails swaying behind the young man opposite her.

*

What was said that day to Mei, and the understanding the two finally reached, naturally did not remain known only to Kurama and the little girl. This was proven sufficiently by the change in Doctor Marcoh’s gaze toward Kurama starting the very next day—

Before, it had been the ordinary look one would give a mild, harmless young officer; now, however...

Touching his chin, the fox once again confirmed that he had no intention of becoming some chaos-spreading demon king.

“Hey... Doctor.”

After trekking through the snowy mountains for a long while and finally digging up Scar’s older brother’s research notes from beneath a small wooden cabin in the mountains, Kurama watched as the little girl joyfully ran off to prepare dinner for the three of them, and sighed before calling out to the doctor, who was staring absentmindedly at the notes in his hands.

The other man started, nearly dropping the precious notebook.

Kurama could not help finding that amusing.

“Doctor, you know I only wanted Mei not to think too much about it.”

Ignoring the old man’s uneasy expression, Kurama lifted the white bundle from his shoulder and tucked it into his arms, holding it close—this would make the little thing feel warmer—and spoke in a relaxed, casual tone.

“She’s such a tiny girl, crossing the desert alone to come to this country in search of immortality. And though she really did find it, is the Philosopher’s Stone truly something Mei should be pursuing?”

Lifting his eyes, Kurama quietly looked at Marcoh’s evasive gaze.

“The material used to create that thing is a sin even an adult like you cannot bear. How could a little girl like Mei possibly take it back without a care and ask the Emperor of New Country for a reward?”

“So... I merely offered Mei another possibility, so that she would not have to make an even more painful choice.”

“I thought... what I did came from goodwill, but with your reaction now...”

Blinking, the fox’s expression was innocent, yet helpless.

“It really puts me in a difficult position, Doctor.”

“You know, I’m hardly some dreadful beast.”

At that, the old man coughed violently several times.

He certainly knew the young man opposite him was no villain.

In fact, the suggestions he had made to Mei a few days earlier were, even if the girl herself had reflected on them later, undoubtedly more playful and reassuring than serious.

But...

Unable to stop himself from shuddering, the old man gave an awkward laugh, unable in any case to say that he had nearly taken the other’s “joking words” as truth.

Were they really jokes?

He had wondered that more than once.

Because this young man’s expression when he said those things was genuinely so earnest, so chillingly serious, that it was enough to make anyone uneasy.

Still...

Well.

Probably, “I am the one overthinking this.”

With a sigh, Marcoh said hoarsely, “You know, because I took part in the research at the Fifth Laboratory, because I did those things on the Ishval battlefield, so...”

So he did not want to see children like Mei also blinded by the lure of the Philosopher’s Stone and suffer the same spiritual torment he felt now...

Silently shaking his head, exhaling again, and suddenly feeling that he truly was getting old, Doctor Marcoh opened the somewhat worn notebook in his hands and began to study it carefully.

*

For the following period, the three of them lived in the snowy mountains with remarkable routine and peace.

Aside from meals and sleep, Doctor Marcoh and Mei spent their days studying the notes left behind by Scar’s brother. The combination of alchemy and alkahestry within them repeatedly stirred the alchemist’s soul to rapture.

And with Mei’s explanations of alkahestry, their research progressed rather quickly.

But soon they encountered the first bottleneck: the notes contained many passages in ancient Ishvalan.

This was a field neither Doctor Marcoh nor Mei understood, and although Kurama, as an outsider with a built-in translation system thanks to Mokona, could read it, he could not explain the source of his knowledge, so he simply pretended not to understand anything as well, quietly staying beside the two of them and learning by observation.

At first, he had assumed he would not develop any interest in alchemy and need not spend the effort to study it.

Because unlike other special power systems, alchemy is not a kind of power one can cultivate simply by mastering a method of training.

While the strength of alchemists is partly determined by talent, the accumulation and breadth of knowledge also influence their power to a very great extent.

Kurama, thanks to the naturally gifted body of the fox, had no trouble with learning ability, but the knowledge required for alchemy was far too vast and varied. It was not something one could master in a day or two, so from the beginning he had simply not planned to put his mind to it.

Yet by listening in on Doctor Marcoh and Mei’s discussions in the mountain cabin, he unconsciously learned a great deal. One day, on a whim, he tried it for himself and discovered that he could already use some alchemy, and even alkahestry, with considerable skill.

The fox fell silent for a while, and in the end had to confirm once more the fact that he was indeed naturally gifted...

However, their peaceful life did not last much longer.

One day, Scar finally arrived at the cabin later than expected and reunited with Kurama and the others.

He also brought an unpleasant piece of news: soldiers of the Briggs Northern Army had discovered Kurama and the others’ whereabouts, and for some unknown reason, they seemed to be searching for Mei.

The group immediately decided to relocate to another site, an abandoned mining area near a mountain road.

However, Kurama no longer intended to continue traveling with Scar and the others.

“The counteroffensive horn... has probably already sounded by now, hasn’t it?”

Lifting his head to gaze at the clear winter sky, blue and distant to the north, Kurama turned and smiled gently at Scar, Mei, and the others.

“I want to return to the Central.”

“—Back to Colonel Mustang’s side.”

Because only by staying beside that man could he enjoy this grand performance to the fullest, could he not?

With a silent curl of his lips, Kurama’s face lit with a long-absent smile, bright with anticipation and keen interest.