The silence in the Rockbell home was unusual. Normally filled with the clang of tools, the hum of automail motors, or Winry's cheerful complaints, today it sat like a moment before a storm.
Edward lay in bed, his automail arm removed, shoulder twitching with pain. Auron sat at the edge of the same room, arms crossed, watching the rain trail across the window glass. His golden hair gleamed faintly under the flickering lantern light. His bandaged fingers rested loosely in his lap.
Neither of them spoke. Not for a while.
"You're not sleeping," Ed finally said.
"Neither are you," Auron replied without looking.
Ed smirked bitterly. "Kinda hard when your bones feel like they're fused to steel."
"I warned you not to push the repairs past tolerance." Auron finally turned his head, silver and gold eyes sharp. "You didn't listen."
"You don't get to be the only one obsessed with fixing this."
"I'm not obsessed." Auron's voice dropped to a murmur. "I'm responsible."
There was no bite, no anger—just fact. Truth had marked them both, but Auron carried an extra weight: he had awakened something inside the Gate, something not meant for this world. He had touched power not bound by alchemy. And now, it whispered constantly in the back of his mind.
"You're hiding something else, aren't you?" Ed said suddenly. "What really happened when you linked to Al?"
Auron didn't answer for a moment. Then, he stood slowly, lifting his shirt.
Edward's eyes widened.
Auron's body was marked with something between seals and scars—concentric ripples branded over his heart and shoulders, trailing down his back like lightning burns. Faintly glowing, even now.
"This appeared after the link," Auron explained. "The Gate took something from me. But it also left something inside me."
"You're talking about more than just your chakra, aren't you?"
"I'm talking about memory. Knowledge. Not mine. Something ancient. Violent." His voice darkened. "It wants to be used."
---
The next day, despite their wounds, training resumed.
This time, it was different.
Auron had prepared a new series of chakra scrolls and alchemy-infused seals—designed to push their limits without endangering Winry or the house.
"Today," he said, unrolling one of the scrolls across the earth, "we test pain tolerance, healing control… and discipline."
He placed his hand on a seal that looked deceptively simple. In an instant, vines of blue flame erupted around them—chakra fire that didn't burn the body, but seared the mind.
Edward hissed, gripping his temples. "What the hell?!"
"It's illusion chakra—genjutsu woven into the air. The Rinne-Mangekyō lets me create constructs directly into the nervous system."
"So we're training with nightmares now?"
"Yes," Auron replied. "Because we need to be ready for the real ones."
He stepped into the fire himself, allowing the storm to warp his senses. Voices screamed. Shadows danced around his vision. Echoes of Trisha's dying breath. Al's empty armor. Winry crying at a funeral that hadn't happened yet.
But Auron's feet never moved. His eyes burned red-violet and unwavering.
Edward staggered but gritted his teeth and stayed upright. "You… think this will… scare me off?"
"No," Auron said. "But it will teach you focus."
The fire receded.
They both collapsed into the grass, exhausted, mentally shredded.
But stronger.
---
That evening, while Winry patched Ed's wrist again, she cornered Auron in the hallway.
"You're changing."
He looked at her calmly. "I'm evolving."
"No. You're… hardening." Her voice cracked, more from concern than fear. "You used to smile more. Laugh. You weren't so… cold."
"I don't have time to smile, Winry."
"You do. You just won't."
He turned to her fully now, eyes glowing just slightly.
"I've seen things through the Gate no one should see. I've felt what it means to be ripped from your body. To be more than flesh and yet not whole. If I have to become a monster to save Ed and Al, then so be it."
Winry stepped forward, her voice quiet now. "And what if we don't want you to become that monster? What if we just want you?"
Auron's mask slipped for the briefest second. He looked away.
"You'll get me back," he whispered. "When it's over."
---
Later that night, he stood before a mirror.
His reflection showed a boy too young to look so tired, with eyes far too ancient for a fifteen-year-old. He reached up, activating the Rinne-Mangekyō. Lightning crackled silently in the mirror as the red-violet chakra flared behind him.
He whispered to the room:
"What more do I have to give?"
And from within the reflection…
For just a split second…
Truth smiled.