The days that followed were quieter.
After the failed transmutation and Alphonse's body disappearing into the unknown, the remnants of their childhood fractured. Edward spent his waking hours buried in books and formulas, his new automail arm and leg aching from every adjustment. The fire in his heart now burned with focused fury.
Auron, however, found himself torn between two identities: the boy Trisha raised, and the entity the Gate had begun to awaken within him.
He sat alone in the barn-turned-laboratory, tuning a device made from scraps: copper wires, tuning forks, coils of steel, and an alchemically modified battery core. It was a sensory amplifier—meant to track lingering soul frequencies.
It was also the first invention he'd made entirely from the fusion of chakra and science.
"Auron?"
A soft voice broke the silence.
It was Winry Rockbell, younger than the determined mechanic she would become, her hair tied in two messy pigtails and grease smudging her cheek. She peeked through the doorway with wide eyes.
"I brought sandwiches," she said, holding a tray.
Auron offered her a rare smile. "Thanks."
She tiptoed over and sat beside him, watching curiously as he adjusted the tuning fork device. "What's that thing do?"
"It listens for things most people can't hear. Souls. Residual energy. Lost fragments."
Her nose wrinkled. "That sounds scary."
"It's not. It's… comforting. It tells me Alphonse is still out there. Just quiet."
She was quiet for a moment, then set the tray down. "You're always building stuff. More than Ed, even."
"I have to. It's how I make sense of things."
She glanced sideways. "You're different from them. From everyone."
Auron didn't answer. He just turned a bolt with a tiny wrench. The tuning fork pulsed softly, picking up a low hum in the air. A flicker of Alphonse's soul.
Winry looked closer at Auron's eyes. "Sometimes your eyes glow. Like, red and purple. But not in a scary way… in a 'protect someone' way."
He froze slightly, caught off guard by her innocent observation.
"…Thank you," he said quietly.
Winry grinned. "You remind me of a lightning storm. Loud on the outside, but kind of gentle inside. Like it's trying not to break anything."
Auron blinked. No one had ever described him like that.
They ate quietly, the soft buzz of the soul tracker humming in the background. Winry's childlike chatter bounced between fixing automail, sneaking cookies from Pinako, and how Edward had cried once because she beat him at arm wrestling.
Auron chuckled. "He still gets mad when someone mentions that."
"You laugh more when you're around me," she pointed out boldly.
"…I guess I do."
"Good. You're cooler when you're not brooding like Ed."
He rolled his eyes. "You sound like an old woman already."
"I live with one," she giggled, "so I get to practice."
They laughed together, the sound a gentle balm in the wounds left by the Gate. In that moment, there was no chakra, no transmutation, no soul lost in another plane.
Just invention.
And innocence.
Later that evening, Auron watched Edward tinker with a broken transmutation glove at the table. The spark in Ed's eyes was back—but now sharper, more determined.
"I'm going to join the military," Edward announced suddenly.
Auron frowned. "You sure that's the right move?"
"If I become a State Alchemist, I'll get access to their libraries. To classified research. I can find a way to get Al's body back."
Auron's silver-and-gold eyes narrowed. "And what will you sacrifice for it?"
Edward's jaw clenched. "Whatever it takes."
Auron stood slowly, walking past him, placing a hand briefly on his shoulder. "Then don't do it alone."
Edward looked up in surprise.
Auron's eyes were calm. "We're brothers. I'll walk this road with you."
And from the doorway, Winry watched them—three children molded by loss, fire, and the need to fix what had been broken.
But in their bond, in their brilliance, in the light they carried—
She saw the spark of something extraordinary.