A/N: Hello! Welcome to this disaster fuck of a story. Yippee. This is following the FMA:B storyline and the MHA anime.

Let's just start off with this- this is MY story, I get to decide what happens. I love reviews, yes, but even just one person yelling at me about how much this sucks or how much it's not following canon or whatever bullshit will absolutely ruin my day. You. Don't. Get. A. Say. (Let me clarify that constructive criticisms are welcome and appreciated, and saying you wish this or that will happen make me very happy and I might include them.)

There will not be any romance. No. Don't ask, I'm not writing that.

This is actually reposted onto here from my Ao3 account, I'm not stealing it, I promise. I apologize in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors, I tried my best. The whole thing won't be written in non-linear storytelling, but the first parts are so I apologize if it's too confusing.

Disclaimer: I don't own MHA or FMA:B, and I make no profit off of this. If I did, I wouldn't be here. Probably. DO NOT REPOST!

Without any further ado, onto the story!

Tsukauchi Naomasa had expected a lot of things going into his first meeting with Musutafu's newest vigilante. Then he met with Aizawa outside the interrogation room, and he changed his expectations. According to the underground hero, he needed to brace himself for the unexpected, and that he made no sense sometimes.

So he thought he was prepared when he opened the door.

He wasn't.

Instead of a middle aged, bitter woman with a grudge against the world, he got almost the polar opposite. A young teen sat at the table, maybe thirteen at most. This was the infamous vigilante? What was the quirk that allowed a child to take down a Noumu?

Then he looked up, and Noamasa's breath caught in his throat. Those weren't the eyes of a child, those were the tired eyes of a pro. In that moment, with his life on display, feeling like this kid was taking him apart atom by atom, he could only think one thing.

"Aizawa, why is he out of the cuffs?"

The crackling voice fills the speakers, sounding a strange mix of amused and frustrated. "Every time we put them on, he somehow gets out of them. We have no idea how."

The moment ended, and the boy rolled his eyes at the ceiling, giving off a strong feeling of apathy. "I can get the officer, but why are you here, scruffy? I doubt you're a police officer." His accent was vaguely European, with a tinge of otherness to his T's and W's. Naomasa took the other man's sputtering for the opening it was, and smoothly inserted himself into the conversation.

"Hello there. I am Detective Tsukauchi of the Musutafu Police Department, and I'm here to ask you some questions. Please answer honestly. I am obligated to inform you that my quirk is a lie detector, so I will know whether you are honest or not."

A sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I will be honest. No point in lying if you can tell, detective."

Oh, good, he was being cooperative. From what Aizawa had told him, he should expect that to change soon. "Alright. To begin, who are you?"

"Edward Elric."

Truth-

Naomasa hummed thoughtfully as he wrote that down, careful to not move too quickly. For all the apathetic, bored air Edward had, the detective had noticed when he tensed at every movement, more alert than anyone had a right to be at these ungodly hours of the morning. "Thank you for not lying, Edward. Where do you live?"

"Nowhere you will recognize."

Truth.

Well, that was concerning. His hand wrote that down from muscle memory alone, the man's mind still caught on the dangerous implications both that answer and the child's evasion of it brought up. "…okay. How old are you?"

He was leveled with an unimpressed look, a steely tone and clipped words following. "I am sixteen."

Truth.

Apparently, his shock had shown up on his face before he could quench it, because the teenager leapt from his seat, screaming unintelligible curses and what seemed like threats in another language. It wouldn't have been concerning, except for those unsettling golden eyes. They seemed layered, like a dragon's, shifting colors and hues in rage and frustration. It was unnerving.

Edward seemed to catch on to Naomasa's uncomfortableness, and sat back down with a smug look.

They went through question after question, and the vigilante didn't once lie, even though he refused to give a straight answer to some of the questions. Then the time was up, and Naomasa realized he didn't have any more concrete information then they did at the start.

So just before he closed his book, his eyes settled on the first note he had written, and he sat back down, once again the object of that golden stare.

He sighed. "Edward, you didn't answer my first question fully. I asked who you were, and you gave me your name. But that's not entirely correct, now is it." He had the kid's full attention now, with his aurum eyes focused unwaveringly on the detective, like a hawk stalking its prey. He met them.

"So, Edward Elric, who are you?"

The boy froze for just a second too long, then opened his mouth.

"I am… the Fullmetal Alchemist."

TRUTH

The Being spread it's arms. "Why, little al~chem~ist, do you not like my deal? Would you rather settle your debt with blood, or with this teensy-tiny little errand?"

His boy scowled, but the Being could tell he was weighing the pros and cons. "You promise that I won't be gone at all for them? You'll return me to this exact time, with my arm, leg, and Al? And both of our alchemy?"

It laughed. Their alchemist was so funny! "This errand is worth more than that! Your teacher's toll, your commander's eyesight, now those as well are equivalent exchange." It's boy smiled with no amusement, all pointy teeth and sharp angles, a sad mirror of the Being's own grin.

"You can do that? For just a small favor?" Oh, so naïve.

"This isn't just a little favor. No, in another world there is a great man, blessed with power. But he is evil, deadly, and he took too much and gave too little. He refuses to come here, even for death, and is long past his natural date. Recently, he figured out how to make homunculi without visiting me, and instead combining multiple souls to create simple, mindless creatures, much like ones you have already faced."

The boy was now frowning, running his smart, little, mortal head through the implications. His eyes widened. "You want me to destroy the research. Bring him to you."

Oh, its alchemist was so smart! The Being clapped their hands in excitement. "Exactly! For this purpose, I'll give you some more information about the world, and a few helpful arrays, the cost being your arm, which I can replace with automail. Be warned, though, I'll remove that knowledge and return your arm when you complete the task. So be prompt!"

Did they scare him? No, the golden child just looked determined, though a little apprehensive. "Do you know what's going to happen?" he asked as if he feared the answer.

He should.

"Of course, dear little al~chem~ist! After all, this is where all stories begin

Shota could only look up. He couldn't move, could feel the blood pooling in the crater his body had made, every sense was fading.

But he could look, and he could still use his quirk. He could save his kids. He wouldn't let them get hurt until he himself was dead.

"You're so cool, Eraserhead."

"Hey, asshat!"

He recognized that voice. Of-fucking-course it had to be problem child #1.

And a hand of stone shoved it's way out of the ground, like an eldritch god come to life, and wrapped around the blue-haired villain. It would only last a short time before it was disintegrated, but it gave Shota the breathing room to blink, focus on staying conscious instead of fighting.

Did Midoriya even know he wasn't the first problem child? He didn't think so.

He felt himself being lifted, and a sad voice filtered in through the rush of blood and pain. "I'm afraid I don't know many healing arrays, but I can temporarily close your wounds. You can rest."

He blinked at a flash of light and a ringing sound, and didn't open his eyes again as he was set down on the edge of the stairs. Before his hearing cut out entirely, he was only able to catch a few cries of rage, inhuman bellows, and numerous crashes.

He struggled against the encroaching black, ever the stubborn fighter, but eventually the adrenaline faded away and he drowned in the numbness.

"Truth, help him."

where they change

Why were they fighting for him? They shouldn't shed blood on his behalf! Tenya felt his eyes tearing up, the only part of him he could move, as he watched his friends be beaten down again and again, only to get back up and keep fighting.

For him. Useless him, who got them all into this mess and couldn't even help.

"Oh! It's you kids again."

Everything froze, in a paralysis even stronger than Stain's quirk, shock. Midoriya was the first one to break out, but he still didn't move, staring in wary curiosity at the short figure in the alleyway entrance.

"It's you. Fullmetal, right?" Tenya finally understood. So this was the vigilante who had shown up at the USJ and fought the villains? He didn't look like much, in an obnoxiously red trenchcoat, black clothes and boots, and pristine white gloves. The only thing vaguely menacing about him was the mask of twisted metal that covered his whole face.

Or not, as it seemed to melt down his face into a half mask covering his mouth with a flash of blue light, revealing sparkling golden eyes. Was metal supposed to move like that?

Even though he couldn't see the vigilante's mouth, it wasn't hard to imagine the snarl, especially when an inhuman growl echoed through the alley. The piercing eyes narrowed in cold fury.

"Stain. Why are you working with the League? I thought I told you how much of a bad idea that was. And attacking kids? Low, even for you." Each word was punctuated with a step, his left leg sounding a bit strange on the stone floor. Stain took a step back, and suddenly Tenya found he could move again.

Stain gave an answering glare, but very obviously didn't attack. "What are you doing here, child? This is my territory, and I need to dispose of these fake heroes. I'd prefer not to harm children, especially one as heroic as you, so leave."

Tenya tensed himself to get up, but one look at the dangerous vigilante in front of him, and he decided against it. He had obviously been mistaken before when he said that the boy seemed harmless. The color of his coat blended with the blood on the dark ground, the gloves were spotless in the dirty alley, the black clothes made him look like a demon that absorbed the light.

And the mask, he just realized, looked like a sharp smile from this angle, so out of place in the murderous aura that it seemed to fit perfectly. "Killing kids, huh? Asshole, you say you're doing good? Nothing good can ever come of death, the end never justifies the means. I won't let you kill anyone else, Mr. Edgy Vigilante.

Stain took another step back, and suddenly he wasn't the most dangerous person in the area.

The hero killer lunged forward with a pair of knives, and Fullmetal didn't even bother to move. One knife lodged itself in his right arm, and the other was caught in that same hand. His left hand rested lightly on Stain's face, glove off. The villain stayed perfectly still, for some reason that Tenya couldn't fathom.

Both knives clattered to the floor, suspiciously blood-free. The hero killer gaped, still held in place by the teenager. "How? I cut you, where's the blood?"

Those dangerous eyes glinted with misplaced amusement, and he set his golden gaze on the man in front of him, frozen.

"Metal arm, bitch."

and where they end."

Katsuki wasn't mad because he was tied up. Backwards as it may seem, he was actually a bit impressed, if begrudgingly, at the sheer audacity his kidnappers obviously had. To tie him up was ballsy as shit, since they knew that once he got free, he was gonna blow their motherfucking faces off, but he certainly wasn't impressed by the stupidity of his captors.

He was impressed by the figure next to him.

While Katsuki may only have restraints around his middle and extremities, as well as the manacles and gag (biggest mistake of their fucking lives, he was going to burn this crappy bar down when he got free), the kid next to him was absolutely covered in bindings. His hands were suspended in the air, separated, and his feet were off the ground. Plus, he was covered in bruises and other wounds.

The unconscious teenager must have done something especially bad to get this kind of restraint, and judging by the bandages on Shigaraki and most of the other villains, Katsuki could tell the kid put up a real fight before going down.

Things were quiet, until the seriously fucked up other boy groaned, and raised his head groggily. He looked mildly alarmed at his bonds, before rolling his eyes at the apparent overkill (Katsuki was liking this boy more and more). A few half-hearted tugs followed, before Goldilocks finally noticed him. His eyes went wide with fear that quickly turned to pure rage, which Katsuki was perfectly content to echo in his own crimson gaze.

After a half-assed staring contest, the other boy sighed, turning away. "Hey. You a UA student?"

"Mhmf."

"Cool, cool. You wanna leave now?"

"MMHFM."

It must have been the weirdest conversation Katsuki had ever had, and that was saying a lot. Pretty boy seemed perfectly at ease being kidnapped and waking up with severe wounds, which brought up some uncomfortable questions.

"Name's Edward Elric, by the way," the teen said as tried to roll his shoulders fruitlessly, the European accent blending strangely with the matter-of-fact tone. Like he would care about this extra's name! Now, if he managed to get himself free, then he might be worthy of name privileges.

"Aha!"

And right on cue, Goldilocks' right arm popped, and a small hissing sound came from his hand. Suddenly, there was a small blade where his pinkie should be, easily slicing through the rope. A bit of awkward and painful-looking contortions left the blade scraping up against the glove on his other hand, where he pricked himself through the fabric. The boy then began to... doodle? Was this fucker actually drawing right now? They were in the motherload of shitty situations, why the hell was this moron painting on his glove with his own blood?

Why had Katsuki ever though this asshat might be a cool guy? Nevermind, he didn't. Useless waste of trash, they should have taken-

And there he stood, all 4'9" of little kid, somehow free of his bonds. He carefully removed the gag from Katsuki's mouth, and it took all his willpower to stay quiet. If he exploded now, literally or figuratively, they would be caught before even reaching the exit to this room.

When all his bonds were off, he stood and stretched, unable to prevent a manic, bloodthirsty grin from breaking out over his face. He cracked his knuckles.

"Hey Elric, name's Bakugo. I'm about ready to blow this place sky-fucking-high. Wanna help?"

The teen stood up, wounds somehow almost entirely closed. He looked positively exhausted, but returned the smile tenfold, close to a mirror image of Katsuki's own.

"Oh, hell yes. These bastards have kidnapped me twice in the past two months, let's burn this shitty place to the ground."

"Now, of course! Some ground rules. First, you cannot explain alchemy as a science, and your power is now called Atomic Manipulation. You cannot teach anyone alchemy, and I can help a little bit with that. Secondly, you cannot tell anyone about me or the Gate, or Amestris, nor explain how to get there. Third, you cannot take a person's energy for yourself when coming back through the Gate. Are those reasonable? Hmm... you could be forced to tell them... Ah! I will put a failsafe so you will not be affected by compulsion quirks."

And as their boy fell, he didn't make a sound.

The last thing Truth saw from Edward Elric was a smirk, full of determination and dark humor, composed of predator-like canines and white teeth.

Maybe this was a cruel joke, the Truth thought. Defeating the two people who embody the boy's only philosophy, his whole life of give and take.

All For One and One For All, they mused. How... fitting. All is one, and one is all.

It (had) (has) (would have) to see this.

Naomasa looked at the paper in his hand, then up at Nedzu. Back at the paper.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fix the circle in his mind. His instincts screamed at him, that the circle was dangerous, that he should let it go, forget about it, leave the unnatural circle behind and move far, far away.

Why? He looked back up at Nedzu with a look of suspicious confusion. "What... what is this?"

The rat chuckled. "Oh, just a little present from Edward. He gave it to me before he left, said that if we ever needed help, we could draw the circle perfectly, activate it, and he would know to come help us, even if it comes with a price."

Naomasa looked back at the paper. "You think we need him for the 8 Precepts mission."

"I do. And that's the Truth."

Edward stood and dusted himself off. The new information sloshed around in his brain, and he had to take a moment to adjust to the... 'off' energy in the air. The alchemic energy he was used to feeling as an invisible pressure on his skin was nowhere to be found, and he felt exposed without it.

Oh, oops, he was still covered in wounds. At least Truth had left him with a functioning outfit.

Plus, he was in an alley, so he wouldn't get too many weird looks before he could fix his cuts and bloody skin. He clapped, envisioning the skin healing array he had just gotten, and couldn't help but marvel at the tingling energy under his skin, like the energy he was used to drawing from the Earth for his transmutations was now trapped in his bones. It felt invigorating, like he could do anything.

Is this what being a Philosopher's Stone felt like, all the time? No, it was a bit different, this energy more calm, from what he could remember of Pride's stone. The comforting pins-and-needles sensation had faded along with his wounds, but he could still feel it in the back of his mind, buzzing about.

He smiled happily.

Is this what a... quirk was? The limitless pool of energy that made him feel invincible? He noticed something odd, though. He doesn't remember learning this array, meaning it must be a new one. But what was it for? He brought the rushing, flowing feeling out to the tips of fingers, then released it without clapping, which shouldn't have worked unless...

He twisted as far as he could, and sure enough, there was now an array tattooed on his back, looking uncomfortably scar like. He could feel it, and when he touched it a jolt of energy shot through his nerves, topping off the alchemic energy pool in his soul. So this was how he was getting his energy! He fished for the array in his mind, and. Oh.

Okay, so this was an array that changed any ambient soul energy (quirk energy, right) in the air and manipulated it so he could use it. That was certainly interesting, but it brought up a lot of other questions that he didn't want to think about right now.

He stumbled out into the street, and, oh wow. It was one thing to be told about their advanced technology, and another thing entirely to be standing at the foot of a building as tall as the clouds, surrounded by people who each looked completely unique and special.

Wait.

Well, shit.

They were speaking a different language.

He disregarded the plan to avoid attention and groaned into his hands. It was so similar to Xingese that he could get the gist, but just different enough that he was having trouble ten seconds into a nearby conversation. And the writing system was completely separate.

It was time to find a library, if he could. He didn't know a thing about this place, and he needed a way to make money, a place to stay, food. Which he couldn't do if he didn't even know what currency they used.

If worse came to worst, he could always pawn off some old 'family antiques'. But that would have to wait, since his wounds weren't fully healed, just covered up with a thin layer of new skin. It would take weeks at least for him to be back in fighting order.

At least he still had his pocket watch, the comfortable weight at his hip and in his heart was soothing after the anxiety attack he almost had in front of basically God. Yeah, that fucker can kiss his atheist ass goodbye and give him presents, but it wasn't going to disguise the fact that he was pretty much blackmailed into helping.

He ducked back into the alley he had started in, and had just sat back down when he heard a crash. Something spiked in the ambient energy, and he scrambled to his feet, sticking his head around the corner, jaw practically hitting the pavement at the spectacle.

A large man stood on the high-tech train tracks, looking around wildly. Edward watched as the 'heroes' showed up, proceeded to beat up the 'villain', and then posed for the crowds with disbelief, more focused on the sou-quirk, right, quirk energy he felt in the atmosphere. When the large woman in the skintight suit had shown up, it had spiked to a fever pitch, he assumed because people were using their quirks, as it also increased when the woody boy released his ~special attack~.

That was actually worth looking into. Was it possible he could permanently remove someone's quirk and give himself energy at once by tagging them with the reverse array on his back? It would be an effective way of dealing with criminals, and was an effective way of dealing with the pseudo-homunculi. He shook his head. That would kill someone, and he refused to kill.

Right, focus.

Even places like this had to have underground fighting rings, right?

That wasn't a terrible idea, actually. So what if Truth fucked him over with this deal? He was going to succeed. He had too, for Al. For Teacher, for the Colonel.

For himself.

Besides, if he could save lives while doing it, then it was worth the risk. He took a deep breath, and walked to the back of the alley. After a few moments of finding the right array, he clapped and pressed his hands to the edge of a dumpster.

Dirt fell to the floor, the carved metal mask shining brightly against the grungy walls. He clapped again, and a small array carved itself right over where his nose would go, so he could manipulate it at will. He sighed, and fixed it onto his face. It fit perfectly.

He would do anything for his brother. But he refused to take a life. He was here to save them, after all. He couldn't do that just looking like himself, his features were unique even here.

Fullmetal stepped out of his brick-walled starting point, already planning ahead.

The readings were off the chart.

What could cause this much of a spike? The doctor honestly didn't know, had no clue about the showed up in the middle of the morning rush hour, on a busy street, a few minutes before a villain attack. There was no way to pinpoint the energy readings.

Unfortunately, All For One didn't like that.

The doctor had one month to deliver the cause of the spike to All For One, or… well. Not 'or else', exactly, his employer was much more creative and detailed than that. More like 'or your entrails will decorate my newest Noumu's neck like festive garlands on a holiday, with your head as the present to rip the skin off of.'

So, yeah. The readings. Kind of important.

At least he had the ability to delegate. That brat Tomura and his babysitter have some use after all, and he could utilize the numerous other small-time villains they had acquired recently. Surely someone had to have seen something, with these readings, the doctor was surprised there weren't news reports about giant monsters tearing up entire cities.

What could even rip the fabric of space and time like this though?

Nothing like this had ever been recorded.

The doctor turned back to his work, still contemplating possible courses of action, but couldn't shake the unsettled feeling at his back.

An inhumanly wide, white smile crept at the corner of his mind.

The first night was spent under a store overhang, before he was kicked out in the morning. Thank Truth he hadn't been wearing his mask, or he probably would have gotten more than a few disgusted looks. He cleaned his clothes with a few claps under an overpass, to hide away the bright blue alchemic light, and set out on his search, mask resting heavily in his pocket.

Nothing.

The second night, it was under the same overpass as before. The third, a soup kitchen. And so on.

Did these people not have libraries anymore? Edward needed somewhere to stay, but few places would keep an unaccompanied minor in a room with no pay to show for it. A few days of living on the streets was not doing him any favors in the health or language departments.

He needed to find somewhere mildly illegal. Thankfully, being a State Alchemist has its perks.

He always knew where to find illegal stuff.

Dabi wouldn't exactly consider himself a regular at the bar, but the people there knew him, and he knew them. The owner had even offered him a job at one point (as a bouncer, of course, because who would take drinks from someone as hideous as he was?), which he graciously declined. All in all, it was a nice little hole-in-the-wall place that had reasonable rates for his broke ass and a very low chance of being found by any hero other than Eraserhead, Blind Eye, Gray, or some other morally-grey underground.

Honestly, if Eraserhead had found this place, he'd be more likely to sit down and get a drink than arrest any of the patrons or workers.

A chair flew over his head and broke against the wall, prompting a new wave of shouts as Dabi sipped his drink. Well, maybe arrest some of them, then ask for alcohol.

Just then, the door slammed open. A few people looked over, most disinterestedly, since the others were either drunk, passed out, in a fight, or some combination of the three. Dabi was still plenty sober, so he was the only one to really get a good look at the newcomer before losing interest.

He did a double take once his brain processed what he had seen, and he noticed the bartender do the same.

A kid stood in the doorway. A literal child had just kicked down the door with all the confidence of a top dog villain, not even flinching at the obvious violence or drinking, and the most coherent thought Dabi could put together was that he didn't care if he was supposed to be a villain, he was not going to sit by as a baby faced teenager drank themselves into oblivion.

His newest headache strode confidently over to the counter he was seated at, and began spewing barely understandable Japanese, nearly drowning everyone in earshot with his incredibly thick European accent. Dabi couldn't quite pinpoint it though, like a mix of French, German, English, and an otherworldly sharpness.

"Do you haf room me kan rhent? Me kan help as… ah, vat vas zee vord, guard? No, bounscher. Me kan fix zings ash vell." …and seems like he wasn't the only one feeling a little lost. The bartender, who Dabi knew was just an overworked college student whose parents had been on the darker side of the law, smiled awkwardly, like he didn't know whether to laugh, ask him to leave, or go hide in the back room and call the owners while crying.

After about a thirty-second pause of just, absolute silence, the boy rolled his oddly colored golden eyes and huffed, before turning right around and walking out again.

But the boy who willingly entered a known villain hideout, wearing half of a metal mask speaking broken Japanese never truly left Dabi's mind. So when he came there a week later, only to see the squirt standing outside the door protectively, wearing an insufferably smug look, he wasn't even surprised.

He made a beeline for the counter, where Koeke was cleaning cups, and knocked on the top. She looked up, followed his pointed line of gaze to the door, and snickered. Which was a bad sign, as she cared very little for human sanity.

"Oh, the kid. Yeah, I wasn't here when he first showed up, but according to Misaki, he was barely understandable, yeah? So then he comes back in like five days later during my shift, speaking very good japanese with not much accent at all, asking if he can work here for a place to stay and some money. Now he's our bouncer, since the last one got stabbed."

He… didn't know what to say to that. "You're sure that he can hold his own? He looks about 90 pounds soaking wet." Another snicker.

"Nah, that kid's surprisingly ripped. Broke up a bar fight yesterday, by the end he had only gotten hit once, while all three guys, professional villains, mind you, were unconscious in the corner. Apparently he had knocked one of them out only using his legs. Squirt's got a temper."

Dabi glanced once more at the door, contemplatively. A teenager who knew how to fight, hanging out in places like this, with a shady mask on? Either a runaway becoming a villain or a homeless vigilante. Either situation isn't good.

Just as they both fell silent, the aforementioned kid strolled in through the door. "Off my shift. Hello, scarboy."

He didn't even bother to look at the flying chair.

Definitely a vigilante.

"Hey, kid. Your fashion sense is horrible. I mean, red coat, yellow contacts and dye, black clothes? Tell me your name so I can report you to the fashion police." At least it got a snort out of him, muffled as it was by the metal mask.

"The name is Fullmetal, and I do not do dye or contacts, jackass." This time a bottle came flying out of the back corner, which the boy fumbled to catch before it socked him in the head. "I'll be right back, burned-bastard." Dabi was left sputtering as the kid turned around.

Koeke looked over. "Yeah, can you-"

"WHICHEVER ONE OF YOU CRACKHEADS DECIDED IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO LAUNCH THAT BOTTLE, PREPARE TO HAVE THIS BOOT UP YOUR ASS."

That was all Dabi caught before Koeke couldn't hold in her laughter, and collapsed on the floor shaking with the effort.

It hadn't even been two weeks since he was dropped here like an unwieldy sack of potatoes, and yet the self-proclaimed vigilante Fullmetal had already caught on to a few very important details.

Quirks are absolute bullshit, and he will gladly pronounce that to anyone within earshot. Hell, his current best friend over here was just a sucky Colonel Bastard when it came to power sets (And wow, wasn't that just depressing. His best friend was a tired 20-something year old villain with a flair for the dramatics and some messed up daddy issues [Not like Ed could complain, he'd met some shitty fathers.].).

Memes are pure hell and the internet is the vengeful god that allowed it to exist, and trust him, he has a love/hate relationship with a vengeful god. He would honestly not be surprised if the Gate demons were whispering bad 200 year old vine quotes as he passed by. He'd originally started looking into the internet after he had walked in to see Dabi… t-posing? Is that what it was called? And made the mistake of asking about it.

This society is even worse than Amestris'. Which was saying a lot, considering his home country was run by literal immortal monsters. Seriously though, the whole thing with heroes, and villains, and quirks… ugh. It was enough to give him a headache just thinking about it, not to mention trying to understand the clusterfuck that was Japan.

Well, at least he had a job now. That didn't involve illegal fighting rings or being a repairman forever. It had decent housing, plenty of easy-access (drunk) sources of information, and a few good friends.

Meaning he did feel a little bad about planning to hunt down some police officers or heroes for information, and opening the risk of leading the person back to his current living quarters. If the person Ed was sent here to hunt was so powerful and evil, then someone had to have heard of them, right? Maybe some of the professional people in muted colors he saw hanging around the underground sometimes, they should have the scoop about villains.

All he knew was that the 'villains' he saw on a daily basis don't know a thing.

Really, another thing he would feel compelled to fix. He stifled a groan in his head, mentally cursing his inability to leave well enough alone. Great, so not only did he have to kill an immortal bastard even trickier than Father, now he had to fix an entire society and people's outlook on things, as well as reform the lower echelons of the ladder to erase the concept of 'hero' and 'villain' from the social structure.

Some of the hardened criminals he saw constantly were only forced into this by others, or had to provide for their families. Did that make them evil?

Fullmetal didn't think so.

"I think I should go to U.A. The entrance exam is in like nine months, right?"

Dabi spit out his drink.

"... uh, kid, you do know that not only will you be a wanted felon in a few weeks, you don't have any papers, still haven't told us what your quirk is, and are living with straight up criminals. You wouldn't get through the door before being arrested."

Fullmetal pouted, mumbling something about doing it anyways, before straightening up. "Hey, Dabi, you know what I realized recently? If I do actually start vigilant work, I am going to need backup sooner or later." The golden-eyed boy gave him the most shit eating grin he had ever seen on a child's face, the request evident.

Yeah, he wasn't buying it.

"No way kid. Just because I'm not your stereotypical villain does not mean I'll ever be anyone's hero."

"Oh? Then why have you been coming here more recently, huh? It could not have been just to see little old me." He had to hand it to him, only a few days of perfecting the language and the kid had the inflections almost perfect. Ha! Jokes on him, Dabi lost his feelings years ago.

But on the other hand, this was one of the first people (no, straight-up villains didn't count) who didn't immediately flinch away from his burned features and abrasive personality. He didn't want this tiny buff child to die.

Damn it, he planned this, didn't he? Dabi groaned and put his head on the table, ignoring the smug snickers next to him. "Bastard," he huffed into the table, and the snickers turned to full on whoops of victory.

He threw his hands up. "Fine, fine! I'll help you, at least until you figure out a way to get into U.A., which I don't doubt you will."

They both quieted down, listening to the background bar noises, before Fullmetal turned to face him, face completely serious. "Hey, Dabi?" He nodded cautiously, telling him to continue.

"If you go in the ocean, will the salt water corrode your staples and make your face fall off?"

"IF NOT FOR THE LAWS OF THIS LAND, I WOULD KILL YOU RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW."

"COWARD, DO IT, I DARE YOU. WHAT LAWS? WE ARE VIGILANTES, WE DO NOT FOLLOW LAWS."

"... oh, yeah. Okay then."

"No no no I take it back shit SHIT SHIT-"