Shirou, Blade of Emiya

[Mr.Nobody]

Now he just needs to work on his swordsmanship even more.

After all, he stills need to pull off a certain dance most fowl.

 

[NeverGonnaGiveYouUp]

A click resounded around the room as the case opened to reveal a collection of seemingly regular bullets painted in brass. They were anything but ordinary, of course. Every single one of them was an Origin bullet made from Kiritsugu's own lower ribs. Apart from me, not a single soul on this planet knew of its true power—as everyone who've seen it had perished. There was originally 66 pieces, but 37 had already been used by the Magus Killer in the past; each bullet having successfully killed their intended target.

Click to shrink...

the protag can turn his father's remains into a sword

 

[HyrulerSage]

I'm confused on an adjective, "Malevolent" is a show of ill intent or "Evil". Malevolent is used to describe Shiro's holy energy in several chapters. I think chapter seven has it showing up the most.
If someone could tell me if it's something else that'd be nice.

 

[Dunno.]

I mixed up benevolent with malevolent. Sorry about that.

 

[HyrulerSage]

I mixed up benevolent with malevolent. Sorry about that.

Click to shrink...

Oh that's fine obviously, I just thought I was missing something.

 

[Quenster06]

The energy combined into a malevolent pillar, casting a radiant light upon my entire figure.

Click to shrink...

I don't think you mean malevolent here, unless you do want the pillar of holy energy to be evil, but I'm pretty sure you don't.

Edit: I see I've been ninja'd, oh well.

 

[SSIntrinity]

It's a bit late for this, but maybe you should consider sticking to one pov? It's a bit jarring to be reading from on character's pov only for it to switch to another's thoughts mid-interaction.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 11: Sword Saint.

A few kilometers to the north, a snow-covered small settlement comprised of over a hundred people lay in peace. Nothing unusual could be seen happening inside, the people went on with their day like normal; some could be seen clearing the heap of snow off their property, while others idled with their companions.

In the distance, a group of people clad in a priest's ensemble huddled together amidst the hail of flakes, their neat robes fluttering in the wind. They were Executors—heretic inquisitors of the Holy Church. Appearing nonplussed by the low temperatures, they looked on, eyes piercing through the curtain of snow and peeked at the town not too far from them.

"A hundred and eight souls has been confirmed to have been ensnared by the monster hiding within. Do not falter, my brothers. Tonight, we shall give them mercy," the man at the very front said in a gentle, yet commanding tone. He turned around, glancing at the person directly behind him who looked no older than 14, and gave out an order, "Hortensia, take your team to the most eastward building and flush out that monster into the woods."

Caren Hortensia, a young priestess with amber-coloured eyes and long, muted hair that appeared nearly invisible thanks to the surroundings, gave a simple response that carried not a shred of passion, "Yes."

With that, the man gathered the majority of the people there and took off in the direction of the small village, leaving Caren and four others, who were in the same age-range as her, behind. Without wasting another moment, the remaining group made their way east-bound.

Upon entering the settlement's borders, cries of murder erupted from all directions, followed by the distinct noise of steel cleaving through flesh. Despite it, she along with the ones following her showed no concern for the events happening around them and continued walking towards their destination.

Soon enough, they arrive at a rather inconspicuous structure situated near the edge of the town, appearing no different from the one beside it. Stepping in front of the entrance, Caren felt a prickling sensation spread across her skin. It felt revolting—evil, even. She was deeply familiar with it, for she had come across it a bunch of times in the past during many other excursions that she's participated in.

"A daemon is somewhere in here," she relayed to her associates. Daemons were beings who take control of humans to fulfill their desires, whether through ordinary or distorted means. Caren Hortensia was born with a unique constitution that allowed her to detect those who has been possessed by said creatures when nearby. Due to this, the Church had her be part of any mission that even suggested of demonic activity in order to confirm it.

One by one, the young deacons gave a nod and brought out a broadsword that was expertly hidden under their garbs. It appeared to be of ordinary craftsmanship, but they all knew these blades were anything but; they were tools given by the Church's idol—the Saint—for them, and only them, to use in order to exterminate the creature who had taken full control of this town and everyone unfortunate enough to live in it.

The five of them went inside the abode and was immediately assaulted by a drove of humans carrying an assortment of weapons that let off an ominous feel, as if they'd been expecting their arrival. Having been under the tutelage of the Saint himself for a short while, the four holy swordsmen reacted swiftly and defended themselves, deflecting their blows with finesse, before delivering a retaliatory strike at the attackers.

The weapons these people carried were plagued by some form of curse, but not a hint of worry could be seen on the priests' faces even after this discovery; their vestments were blessed by the Saint, preventing such accursed powers from affecting them.

One after another, lifeless bodies dropped onto the wooden floor with a sickening thud. The crowd stood no chance against the priests; they were stronger, more skilled, and carried superior weaponry that struck their very essence. Caren's face betrayed not a hint of emotion as she witnessed her comrades slaughter the people inside the building without hesitation.

Soon enough, they cleared the area and continued onward. Opening a door, they went inside a space illuminated by a singular lit chandelier hanging from the ceiling, bloodied tools could be seen scattered all over the ground, creating an uncanny atmosphere. At the very end of the corridor, a man—nay, a daemon who's taken control over a poor man's body, stood by his lonesome. His whole being emanated a wicked feel, causing a chill colder than the biting gales blowing outside to crawl up their backs.

Caren took a sharp breath, feeling a sudden jolt spread across her body as she looked at the monster before her. While certainly useful, her body's special ability had its own set of drawbacks, mainly being unable to stand in close proximity of a daemon for too long, but that didn't deter her from her objective.

She calmly pulled out a deep-red cloth - the Shroud of Magdalene, an item capable of restraining men with ease - and equipped a pair of silver gauntlets personally created for her by the Lord's chosen, along with her current form-fitting apparels, then assumed a martial arts stance. With a thought, the shroud moved as if it had a mind of its own and hovered over her shoulders, prepared to pounce when needed. Her company did much the same and brandished their weapons while glaring at the monster with unwavering determination.

Not a single word were exchanged as they studied one another. After their brief staredown, each side threw themselves at the other with a burst of speed, kicking up a flurry of dust. Caren and the holy swordsmen's moves were fast and natural, flowing into one another with grace and coordination, brought forth by their familiarity with the act. Meanwhile, the daemon fought with nothing but his clawed hands, swiping ferociously with a crazed smile. He possessed enough strength to match the Executors' combined might, keeping them at bay despite the sheer difference in numbers.

Sparks came and went as the Executors pressed forward with relentless strikes, but was expertly deflected and countered by the daemon, never yielding an inch. In one decisive moment, the man slipped past their defensive circle and landed a blow on a deacon's chest, which sent them crashing through a line of furniture, before slamming back-first into a wall.

Turning his head, the monster dodged a clenched fist aimed for his face, then engaged with his adversaries in another deadly dance. Without wasting another second, the injured young man briskly recovered with gritted teeth and joined the fray once again, seamlessly integrating back into rhythm with his allies, a testament to their competence as a team.

In the midst of their clash, Caren threw a well-timed feint, which led to a successful breach of her opponent's guard. Mentality commanding the Shroud of Magdalene, it lashed out and wrapped itself around the man's outstretched limb. The daemon immediately reacted by attempting to drag the cloth's wielder to him, but to his absolute shock, he found himself unable to move no matter how much strength he exerted onto his muscles.

Taking the opportunity, the deacons circled him and raised their blades up high, then swung them down at once as if planned beforehand. The attack sliced the man's flesh with ease, causing a mixture of blood and tissue to splatter all over the floor. They had not managed to sever a limb, however, they did not need to do so in order to inflict pain upon the creature; a simple graze would be enough.

"Kuh!" the daemon's grin twisted into one of agony as he let out a scream. He felt as if a swarm of hounds had sunk their sharp teeth that bore the heat of the sun into his flesh, tearing him apart from all angles. His resilience should've numbed the pain, yet it did not, which threw his mind on a swivel.

Taking advantage of his stunned state, Caren's figure flickered out of sight and reappeared right before the monster. Clenching her right hand tightly, she pulled her arm in preparation for a powerful punch. A resounding crack echoed throughout the space as her fist connected to the daemon's chest, catapulting him backward at breakneck speed. The walls of the home could not stop his flight and broke past it in a blast of stone and concrete. The destruction compromised the building's frame, causing it to slowly collapse in on itself. The holy squad immediately vacated the area before it fell on top of them, sparing their clothing from being caked in grime.

They paid no mind to the fallen abode and trained their sights on the daemon who rose back to his feet while grabbing his chest, wincing in pain. The group of five carefully created a semi-circle around the bloodied creature, forcing his back to face a forest blanketed in snow.

"What kind of sorcery is this?" the daemon shakily uttered, his eyes warily scanning the the sword in the Executors' hands. For the first time since the demonic entity's incarnation, fear swept through his mind. He'd long since anticipated the Executors' arrival and had thought up of various ways to eliminate them. But the plans he'd constructed was built around their ability to harness holy energy, not whatever this was.

Caren launched the red shroud forward, causing a leathery snap to echo across the open field. Sensing the danger, the creature bent his legs, crouching, and narrowly evaded the dangerous red fabric from capturing his head. Thinking, the man pivoted on his foot and spun around, bolting into the frozen woods behind him, hoping to use the terrain to his advantage. However, instead of entering a pursuit, Caren and the holy swordsmen chose to remain in place, watching the daemon flee without a lick of concern.

The white-haired girl faced the deacons and spoke in a monotone voice, "The daemon is en route with the Saint's position, join the others. I'll go pick up the Saint after he's finished." The four gave her a bow and went on their way to aid their fellow members of the Church around the town.

---

The demonic entity ran through the forest while shooting a glance behind him to see his pursuers, yet found nothing. He stopped, thinking he might have lost them along the way to give himself time to figure things out. Out of the blue, a voice pierced through the harsh winds and reached the man's ears. "Ah, I was wondering when you'll arrive."

Alarmed, he quickly turned around, glaring at the source of the noise. There, he found a man nearly fused with the surrounding environment. He adorned a white robe, enriched with gold accents in the shape of a cross, and was covered by an aura that made the monster's skin feel as if it were being bitten by ants. The stranger was poised atop a rock, his figure leaning forward with a smile that's both calming, yet forbidding on their face.

The daemon did not know how this person escaped his senses, but it did not matter. If the Church thought a single one of their people is enough to take him down, then they'll be mistaken. The one making a mistake in this situation, however, was himself, as he'd later find out.

"Another Church dog," the daemon said with a scoff. He looked around just in-case he was walking into an ambush, but failed to detect anyone else apart from the two of them, then shuffled towards the supposed Executor, his gait filled with confidence.

"Well, not really. I like to view my relationship with the Church as purely professional," the stranger responded, not at all worried by the daemon's approach. Next, the person lifted himself up and nonchalantly removed the robe he was wearing before draping it over the rock, letting his full figure be seen by the daemon. The human was of impressive stature and a had slim, yet muscular build. He possessed a head of silky red hair in complete contrast the world around him, and a face blessed with features that that showed a perfect blend of beauty and maturity only few can match.

"How about we get this over with? I have some stuff to deal with back home," he spoke while extending his right arm to the side. With a swirl of magical energy, a brass-hued curved sword longer than he was tall appeared in his grasp, releasing an air of menace.

The daemon's eyes narrowed as a frown formed on his lips, feeling a bit insulted by his words. From the sound of it, this human was dismissing his entire existence as a mere annoyance that needed to be dealt with.

"You will regret walking amongst those fanatics, human," the daemon stated right before launching at the red-haired man, his claws primed and ready to rip the holy man's throat.

"A bit rude, don't you think?" the redhead voice out in complaint. He raised one foot off the ground and took a step back, dodging the strike with ease. The daemon followed with a kick to the man's shins in an attempt to mess up his balance, but was unsuccessful in his endeavor. The human moved faster and deftly weaved around his swings, making light of the daemon's attempts at his life.

The two sides then entered a deadly clash that displaced the dirt and snow around them like confetti. The monster raised his arm to intercept a swing directed at his head, but his opponent smoothly withdrew at the last second, carrying the momentum to spin around and landed a powerful kick to his chest, blasting him off his feet. The blow sent the daemon hurtling through the air like a ragdoll, smashing through a dozen trees, splintering them into pieces, before slamming into a sturdy trunk with a deafening crash.

Rising off the ground, he drew a sharp breath and leaped forward without delay, crossing the distance between them and entered another fierce duel with the holy man. The daemon twirled, striking in multiple in angles like a maddened beast, while the defender swayed like a reed in the wind, skillfully deflecting each blow.

The swordsman appeared unbothered, his features calm as the ocean itself, which angered the daemon more than anything. The monster increased his efforts by many folds, straining his mortal shell to its limits in order to land even a scratch on his adversary. Yet, despite all that, the demonic entity could not vault over the redhead's defenses and was instead being pushed back with each passing moment.

With an extraordinary display of skill, the human broke the daemon's flow and went on the offensive, taking full control of the battle. He brought his weapon to bear, striking with precision, while the daemon did all he could to mitigate the injuries he was amassing.

In one fluid motion, the holy man brought down his sword in a sweeping swing. Reacting swiftly, the demonic entity avoided the telegraphed attack by moving to the side, but was caught wholly off-guard by what came next; another blade, a mirror image of the first one, came from another angle and lacerated his stomach, staining the pristine snow with blood that gushed out of the wound.

Much like before, the cut was excruciating, but he clenched his teeth, pushing the pain away. On the corner of the creature's vision, he noticed the glint of steel heading his way. Bending at the waist, the human's burnished sword missed, swiping harmlessly at the air above him.

As if expecting this, the redhead's knee was already raised, on a collision course with the daemon's face, much to their surprise. A loud crack reverberated across the icy woods as face met knee, resulting in the monster's broken nose and dislocated jaw. In the next instant, the holy man grabbed the daemon by the collar before they could recover and tossed him into the sky with a mighty heave. With a flourish, he stabbed his sword upward as gravity took hold of the daemon's body once more.

The creature collected his scattering mind then twisted mid-fall, properly orienting himself, and was greeted by the red-haired man's sword. The blade's point plunged itself through his stomach and came out the other side, causing a fountain of blood to exit his wound and slide down the blade's length. Unable to keep his lips shut, an agonizing screech bellowed from his mouth that rang throughout the indifferent forest.

Twisting his wrist, the swordsman flung the daemon's body off his weapon, letting them roll across the snow-laden ground. To his credit, the daemon didn't let the searing sensation stop him and immediately went back to his feet with laboured breaths, determined as ever to take the human down.

With a burst of speed that kicked up the snow beneath him, the swordsman appeared before the creature, executing a seemingly straightforward slash that even the untrained could easily deflect. As the daemon raised its arm to do just that, the space around them mysteriously rippled. With a flicker of light, the air cracked open to reveal two more sets of burnished swords, all slashing from different directions.

"What—!?" Startled and unable to react in time, the demonic entity failed to block any of the incoming strikes. Simultaneously, each attack landed; one blade sliced through his left thigh, another carved a deep line across his chest, and the last cleaved his arm clean off, sending it flying through the air.

"Hm," the holy man hummed, sounding displeased about something. "Not the greatest, there's still some tweaking need to be done." The move he had employed was something the swordsman had been working on for years. Devoid of any magical phenomena and using nothing but his supreme mastery over the blade, he had pierced through the very fabric of space itself, sending his strikes to separate points at once, an achievement only few in mankind's history had attained. At the moment, the limit on how many slashes he could shoot through the boundaries of reality was two, though a bit unstable. But with enough time and effort, he'll get better.

"Oh well, at least it did the job," he shrugged. Why was he treating such an insane feat of swordsmanship like it was nothing? Well, he had already celebrated enough when he first successfully did it 2 years ago. He couldn't function properly for a week, gushing over it to the point of worrying his acquaintances.

The daemon dropped to his knees with a pained grunt, clasping the stump that was once his arm. Coughing, he pushed himself to speak, "You… I was supposed to use this on that village, but you give me no choice."

Digging under his ruined clothes, he took a gem that gave off an arcane feel. Injecting mana into the bright object, it suddenly glowed a red hue. Lifting his head, he glared at the man who pushed him this far, then uttered with a menacing smile, "With this, your life-force is mine."

The gem was an expendable item he's made for the sole purpose of stealing the vitality, or life-force, of everyone in the village, including the Executors' after he's taken them out, and use the reservoir for himself. But that plan keeled over when he realized that those priests were using something he had not taken into account.

"My life-force? Well, goodluck on that," he casually replied, not at all alarmed by the threat, almost daring the daemon to do so.

Upon the gem's activation, the holy man felt a tinge of his energy leave him, yet he remained unperturbed and observed the daemon, who began using the stolen life-force for himself in order to recover. His wounds, from most grave to the slightest scratches, quickly closed. Even his missing arm regenerated with a grotesque squelch.

A laugh escaped the daemon's lips, before he suddenly fell forward as if paralyzed, slumping onto the snowy ground. He gasped as the amount of energy flowing from the swordsman to himself did not stop as he'd thought—nay, it was even accelerating as it went on. The energy was he was pulling upon felt unending, causing his flesh to be overloaded by vitality and spasm uncontrollably.

"What… what is this? This is too much!" he exclaimed, panic seeping into his voice. Before he could turn the jewel off, it was swiftly taken away from his hands by the redhead, keeping the flow of life-force from being closed. Seeing this, he pleaded, "No—no! Stop this!"

"Nope, you asked for it. Who am I to refuse a man clearly in need?" The man swiftly pocketed the gem. Powerless to stop the transference, the daemon continued to receive an unparallel amount of energy that his body cannot possibly support and thrashed around as he lied on the ground.

As time went on, the daemon's cries drifted off into soft whimpers that one couldn't help but feel bad for. His mortal vessel was unable to hold the sheer volume of vitality, leading to various lumps to form all over their skin, adding to the sufferring they're going through.

"You need Jesus, my friend. Don't worry, you need not to do anything; I shall personally send you to him," the holy man spoke in a playful tone. The curved blade in this hand vanished in a puff of magical smoke, before being replaced by a dark greatsword with a jewel embedded on its hilt, emanating untold amounts of power.

"O' sword, let thee be filled." the man raised the weapon over his head, its sharpened edge glimmering under the fading sunlight. Responding to his call, the blade discharged an explosion of mana into the sky, parting the clouds above, before coalescing into a single column of pure energy, brightening the forest in an ethereal glow.

"Balmung!" The red-haired swordsman announced its name for the world to hear, his voice resolute, before flexing his arms, prompting the pillar to fall forward—right on top of the wriggling daemon, who could only watch as he was engulfed by its brilliance.

Balmung, the legendary dragon slaying sword's majesty came down with a fury that can only be matched by the very dragon it had slain—the Evil Dragon, Fafnir. With a deafening roar, the ensuing collision with the earth unleashed a cataclysmic burst, rendering the earth asunder and tore through the landscape with a cacophony of destruction. The earth crumbled and the winds howled in protest against the chaotic upheaval, as if nature itself recoiled from the unleashed energy.

It took a while, but the forest eventually regained its silence, eerily so, as if even nature itself paused to acknowledge the prowess of the holy swordsman. Snow swirled around him as he stood over the vanquished daemon, the fabled sword in his hand dissipating with a faint shimmer.

"Are you done, Shirou?" Caren Hortensia, whom arrived just as the duel reached its climax, broke the stillness by asking the victor—Shirou Emiya. Looking outward, she could see that an entire hill not too far had been cleaved in two, still smoldering, but paid it little to no attention for such occurrences were all too common when the Lord's chosen was involved. She did not know what caused it, but she knew better than to ask questions relating to the Saint's power.

"Yep." Shirou turned, facing the yellow-eyed albino with a warm smile, then asked worriedly as he neared her, "Did you find any trouble in the village?"

"No." Caren shook her head and pushed her hand forward, giving Shirou a neatly folded robe. She then spat out in distaste, "Those priests were still annoying, though."

"Ever thought about simply avoiding them?" he suggested while taking the cloth he set aside earlier from her and waved it around, ridding it of snow.

"But I live with them," she rebutted, the corner of her lips curving slightly downward.

"Oh, yeah." Shirou raised his palm, smacking his forehead, then donned the priestly garb once again with familiarity. "Thank you," he said to the young girl, then gently caressed the top of her head, a small habit he'd picked up over the years.

"But I didn't do anything, though," Caren replied, doing nothing to remove Shirou's hand off her person, a small part of her even welcomed the physical intimacy. It was strange, his touch felt oddly comforting, as if her entire soul had found solace under the Saint's presence.

"Well, let's go meet the others." He stopped his action and walked past her, not before being ambushed by a familiar screen, invisible to anyone but himself, appearing in front of him.

[Skill 'Head pat' has leveled up to C - 2]

Using his mind, the partition vanished from view and he continued walking back to the settlement along side the white-haired girl, Caren Hortensia.

---

"Has the town been cleared?" I asked the Church member before me, who looked all too clean despite having committed a massacre moments earlier. I'm glad that my lessons about cleanliness had some effect on them, it took me a while to beat the importance of hygiene into them.

The priest felt a shiver run down his spine for reasons he could not understand. Shaking the odd feeling off, he responded with a bow, "That is correct, holy one. All the unfortunate souls in this village has been put to rest."

After some more words, he took out a phone and contacted the team put together in order mop this place up. Ending the call, him and I recouped with the other Executors of the Church who were stationed beside the nearest highway, most having already entered their designated vehicle while a few chose to stay out for some fresh air.

With my arrival, the group stood up, paid their respect to me, then entered their cars. A sigh left my lips, having grown tired of their antics. I, along with the man beside me, hopped inside a van and found Caren Hortensia comfortably sitting on one of the plush seats near the back.

"Hey Caren, you doing alright?" sitting down beside her, I asked while scanning her form for any anomalies like an over-protective brother. She responded with a low hum and a nod. Smiling, I took out a basket from the back and gave it to her. Receiving the container as if it were some sacred treasure, her eyes sparkled with anticipation. She opened it, revealing an assortment of sandwiches made by yours truly, before getting lost in her own world as she took a bite out of the heavenly delicacy.

A little later, the car finally turned on and started moving on the road. Turning my head, I glanced at the shifting landscape outside the window as my thoughts began drifting into the past. After my first meeting with Garcia Cane, another 5 years had elapsed in a flash. On that fateful encounter, the Holy Church had extended their hand to me, offering their aid to whatever endeavor I pursue.

After a bit of thinking, I chose to refuse their help and instead chose to sign a contract with them, keeping myself from being under one specific group. To my absolute surprise, they actually agreed without causing a scene, as if they've been warned before hand. The contract signed between us was a rather simple one; I get to join any and all expeditions they have that involves killing things, netting me a ton of Experience Points, and to use my God given abilities to help those in need—something they found no trouble accepting. Obviously, there was more to it than just that, such as keeping my identity a close-guarded secret, but that was the gist of it.

Of course, despite our association being strictly professional, that did not stop those affiliated with the Church from treating me like some sort of object of worship that needed to be praised every waking moment of the day. Combined with my 'willingness' to aid others, my image as a Saint had more or less solidified in the eyes of the masses, which lead to an existing Title of mine to evolve: [Sword Saint], spawned from my prowess with the blade and my ability to utilize God's light.

'System,' I mentally commanded. Not a second later, the System's interface appeared before me.

—

-Shirou Emiya-

Title(s):
Wanderer of worlds, Sword Incarnation, Bearer of Avalon, Saber-face, Fuyuki's Helping Hand, Sword Saint, Homurahara's older brother.
-Collapse-

Level: 50

STR: 30
VIT: 152
AGI: 35
MAG: 40
Stat points: 90

Skill(s):
-Expand-

Reality Marble:
Unlimited Blade Works.

Noble Phantasm(s):
Gate of Babylon (E)

Quest:
[29 days remaining until the next Quest]

—

By killing a myriad of monsters that the Church had delegated onto me, I had reached level fifty. Not much progress was made after that, though, since the amount of EXP I needed became steeper with each level up. To nobody's shock, the supernatural world had caught wind of the existence known as the 'Saint', but the Church halted their probing, keeping my name and appearance out of the public eye, thankfully.

On another note, my sole Noble Phantasm, Gate of Babylon, has been filled with all sorts of random trinkets and armaments I've either made in my workshop or collected over the years. But unlike the original treasury, not a single item worth calling an actual treasure could be found within it. With Projection, I could store multiple copies of various Noble Phantasms inside, but they were nothing but replicas and would eventually break down, returning into a state of pure mana.

Then, there's my parameters. I am unable to increase them through normal means anymore; intense physical labour just wasn't doing it. I could run around the entirety of Fuyuki city for multiple days without rest and not even break a sweat thanks to Avalon adding an additional 3 points into VIT per level up. That only left me with one option, to manually place my unallocated stat points, which I have no plans to do yet.

"Holy one," the man at the front spoke up, breaking my train of thought. Giving him my attention, he continued, "I've received notice that the Matou manor's refurbishment has been completed, cleansed of the filth that once occupied it. The ownership of the abode has also been transferred to you, but the paperwork will need a few more days to arrive."

"That's fine." I waved my hand reassuringly, then inquired, "What of the boy, Shinji?"

"As requested, the memories of his time there has been wiped. However, he was rather adamant in joining the group who rescued him, becoming a deacon of the Church." I almost choked on my own breath hearing his words. Shinji Matou of all people as a priest? That had to be some bad joke, right? But I didn't say anything and left the boy to his own devices, there was no need to antagonize a clueless teen who had just recently 'lost' his family.

Side note, Zouken's demise was kept firmly under wraps by the Holy Church, though some individuals in the Mage Association's higher circles managed to obtain the information. Even so, they brushed it off as unimportant. To the wider world, the Matou family was nothing more than a dying line of mages. They remained completely unaware of the kind of monster Zouken had become, a testament to the old worm's ability to stay undetected, if nothing else.

"I have no problems with that, but do keep an eye out; he still possess the blood of a once prominent magi lineage. You never know what a magus would do in order to get a sample of him," I warned, to which he acknowledged with a tilt of his head. With that, our conversation ended right then and there.

To the side, I heard Caren let out a delighted squeal, showing the most amount of emotion I've seen her muster for the whole day, as she took another bite of a sandwich, making me giggle.

With my contractual obligation completed, it's time to go home—back to Fuyuki.

END.​

A/N: Ello.

 

[Nicohals J Westerberg]

Nice, kinda forgot about this not gonna lie, can't wait to see what happens from now. I think the Grail War is soon right?

 

[Forgottenpain]

Great update. I'm really looking forward to where you go with this one

 

[Phantom Blaster]

Considering that Shinji's talent is everything but magecraft. It seems like a good path forward and making the world a slightly better place

 

[Aravis]

'Ello to you too! So, time skip? Trying to get to the main story line a bit quicker? Seems like quite a few potentially interesting things might have happened during the skip, can't wait to see if much of it has an effect on what's coming... besides Matou already being taken care of, I mean xD
Thanks for the chappy!!!

 

[ProtoSovereign]

How old is Shirou now?

 

[Flippedhouse546]

Hopefully he visits the clocktower and atlas I have not seen one fic that involves the atlas alchemists

 

[Monsterboy]

Shinji Matou of all people as a priest?

Click to shrink...

You know, Shinji is a genius. Just incapable of magecraft, yes, but a genius nonetheless. In other words I think he'll end up doing bizarrely well there.

 

[Monsterboy]

Hopefully he visits the clocktower and atlas I have not seen one fic that involves the atlas alchemists

Click to shrink...

There's one that I know of - the long as fuck Matou Shinji and the Philosopher's Stone series. He's basically Sion's HF Shirou-level determined simp, potential love interest, underling, while he regularly interacts with her. Hermione was in the running at a point, but questers will be questers and effectively threw her under the bus at a point. Still, she ended up in an arguably a much more interesting position, dropping out of Hogwarts for a theatre/magic school, becoming a bit more morally ambiguious. and summoned Shakespeare later on.

 

[OverReactionGuy]

Considering that Shinji's talent is everything but magecraft. It seems like a good path forward and making the world a slightly better place

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Sad but true.

 

[Orphus]

Seeing as how in this universe every shirou is an SI that is also an expy, would it be possible to have omakes of various different shirous?
Like say a shirou adopted into taiga's yakuza family and being an expert of kiryuu?

 

[Orchamus]

Nice update, looking forward to what you plan next for Shirou. Also if Arturia meets him what her reaction will be

 

[xbox432]

Heh, I wonder how impressed Sasaki will be at Shirou's progress with his technique?

Also... Yay! The Exorcists, and the Church in general, are still refusing to pick up that idiot ball they saw bouncing pass. And Caren gets both headpats and sandwiches. She's finally winning at life.

Lastly... Shirou's Stats. I'm guessing that 35-40 is the peak that a human in the current era can reach without some sort of Divine Relic, special family technique, or extenuating circumstances of some sort? I can't help but wonder what he'll be like once he's breached 50 in each stat... Maybe he'll make more progress on it during his next Quest?

[Skill 'Head pat' has leveled up to C - 2]

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By the time the Grail War begins, Shirou's Head Pat skill be of such a level as to instantly defeat Illya.

"Hey Caren, you doing alright?" sitting down beside her, I asked while scanning her form for any anomalies like an over-protective brother.

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But... He just saw her in the forest? You'd think he would have noticed/checked on that right then, rather than after a leisurely stroll through an already cleared village... Just a bit odd to have this delayed response.

 

[Flippedhouse546]

In surprised he didn't try to save Ilya yet it feels as if he forgot

 

[Dunno.]

Non-Canon extra 1: Shikuna.

"Archer, take point." Rin Tohsaka ordered me, her Archer-class Servant, to prepare. Instead of gaining distance, however, I shuffled over towards the Berserker-class Servant standing at the end of the road, surrounded by an air of untamed power. Seeing my action, Rin barked at me, "Archer, what are you doing? Move!"

"Don't worry, Master. I can take care of him, easy-peasy," I reassured. Taking my hands out of my pant pockets, I lowered myself, nonchalantly stretching my legs.

"That's Heracles, you dolt! You don't stand a chance, you'd lose!" the Magus of Thighs yelled in incredulity, unable to see where her Servant's confidence was coming from. She knew her Servant was odd since she had summoned him, but she didn't think he'd be crazy enough to challenge the famed Greek hero alone.

"Nah, I'd win," my words came out as if it were a fact, not an extremely imperious comment. Finishing my warm ups, I shot to my feet and glared at the towering giant before me, my figure brimming with utmost confidence.

"Your Servant doesn't seem to know who he's up against," Illyasviel Von Einzbern, Master of Berserker, commented. She leaned forward, arms folded behind her back, then ordered in a soft tone that did not fit her next words, "Berserker, kill him."

With a burst of speed that belied his size, Heracles' figure flickered out of sight and reappeared right before me in the blink of an eye, arm extended skyward. Reacting swiftly, I raised my reinforced arm and deflected the stone-axe he brandished with ease. The force of the impact shattered the ground beneath me, sending shards of stone flying in all directions.

Moving, I went out of the Greek demi-god's sight with a flurry of dust and materialized to their flank, arm pulled back in preparation for a powerful punch. Before he could respond, my clenched fist embedded itself on the Servant's face, launching him backward with incredible force. The Greek hero crashed through the brick wall of a nearby building, debris rained down around him as he tumbled across the floor, before finally skidding to a halt.

With a crazed smile, I leaped forward and landed near the Servant's rising form. Taking a closer look, he appeared to be unharmed despite taking a direct hit to the face. I wasn't discouraged by this, a simple punch like that wouldn't be enough to hurt a demi-god such as himself.

"Cleave," I whispered while throwing my open hand in a diagonal sweep. Following my act, a deep slash suddenly ran across Heracles' chest, causing their blood to splatter in the wind like confetti.

Due to my body's unique properties as a "sword", I was able to develop the ability to cut and slice through anything within a certain range with either a thought of a simple gesture. Even the System acknowledged my efforts and created a Skill known as [Dismantle and Cleave], much to my surprise and delight.

The Servant ignored the wound as if it never existed and swung his weapon at me. Anticipating it, I quickly crouched, letting the axe pass harmlessly, then delivered a retaliatory strike that knocked the demi-god off his feet.

Undeterred, Heracles swiftly recovered and released an ear piercing roar that made the surroundings quiver like a terrified child. He twisted his wrist, directing the jagged edge of his stone-axe in my direction. Lifting a hand, I intercepted the weapon and threw an attack of my own that he effortlessly blocked.

Our scuffle quickly turned into a clash of sparks, limbs blurring due to the inhuman speed in which we delivered our blows. With a flurry, the demi-god aimed to breach my defenses with his superior strength, but my impeccable timing and reflexes allowed me to weave through every attack. Despite the madness that plagued his mind, removing his ability to make rational decisions, he still retained the majority of his martial prowess.

Even with my dexterity, however, the son of Zeus proved to be my better in single combat, capitalizing on a mistake I unknowingly made and managed to break through my guard to land a decisive hit. The power behind it flung me across the room like a missle, smashing through the structure, before slamming into a parked car with a deafening crash, denting the metal and shattering the windows.

A cacophony of screams erupted from all directions accompanied panicked shuffling of footsteps. I payed the civilians no mind, letting their voices blend into the background in favour of pushing myself off the vehicle.

Out of the blue, my instincts sent warning signals in my mind, prompting me to jump to the side and narrowly evaded a weighty chop aimed for my head, splintering the car into pieces.

"Cleave," I said, aiming to deprive the giant of his sight by gouging his eyes. In response, the Servant let out nothing more than a growl. Bending his knees slighty, Heracles lunged forward while sending a torrent of wide cuts and slashes at my figure. Using nothing but his sense of hearing to pin point my location, he charge at me with determination.

I deftly maneuvered around his axe using the surrounding buildings as cover, taking advantage of every opening I could find to deliver swift cuts and slashes. Our duel tore through countless structures, resulting in our preceded path to be bestrewed with death and destruction. In the midst of our clash, I made a simple slashing motion at his neck, which in turn caused his head to fly off his shoulders, killing him instantaneously. His body slumped forward as it lost strength, dropping to the ground with a thud.

Instead of relaxing, however, the air around me only grew more tense. I watched as a burst of smoke engulfed the demi-god's corpse, sealing his wounds shut and regenerating his lost head in the blink of an eye, before rising to his feet the next second without issue. Heracles' Noble Phantasm, God Hand, was a tricky one; not only did it give him 11 additional lives to spare, but also gain an exceptional amount of resistance to whatever killed him upon resurrection. Taking a breath, I spoke, "That's one. Eleven more to go."

Kicking off the ground, the two of us launched ourselves at each other without hesitation, engaging in another fierce battle that sent shockwaves across the busy streets of Fuyuki. The Servant raised his arm to intercept a swing directed at his head, but I pulled back at the last second and used the the momentum to spin around, landing a powerful kick to his face.

Without pausing, he snatched me off the air and sent me hurtling like a leaf in the wind. I flew through several walls before crashing into a storefront. Shards of glass rained around me as I rolled across the tiled floor, finally coming to rest amid the wreckage of shattered displays.

To the side, the partition crumbled to reveal the sprinting form of Heracles. He tackled me off the ground and drove through the wall behind me, which shattered under the impact. Raising his hand, the demi-god took hold of my clothes and brutally hammered me into the asphalt road, scraping my head as he ran along. With a twist, I slithered out of the giant's hold and delivered a cut through his neck, followed up by another, then another, until his head got lopped off once again, killing him.

"Two," I announced. Before he could fully regenerate, I grabbed him by the arm and threw him over my shoulders, sending him to the sky. Sifting through my Reality Marble, I summoned a dozen swords of immense power and launched them at the airborne Servant, hitting them with precision, resulting in another extra life being lost. Before he could touch the ground, I crouched low, knees flexed, and then propelled myself into the air, shouting, "That makes three. Is that all you got, Heracles!?"

Regaining conciousness, Berserker bellowed loudly and brought his weapon to bear, swinging in a deadly arc as I neared his position. Dodging it, I then delivered a horizontal cut to the Servant's neck, but failed to inflict any lasting damage for he had gained some level of immunity to my technique.

"Tch," I clicked my tongue as I dodged his ensuing attack. Using Projection, I created a sturdy line of chains and lashed out, enfolding the towering giant with it. Using his weight to accelerate my spin, I tossed him to the ground at the apex of my rotation. The following collision cratered the earth and produced a loud boom that shattered all nearby windows.

I fell down as gravity took hold over me and made a graceful touchdown. From under the dirt and rubble, Heracles emerged with a vengeance and rushed towards me, axe in hand. However, he was denied from moving any further by the chains wrapped around his chest.

Taking the opportunity, I empowered my next slash with more magical energy and pierced the demi-god's heightened defenses with a bit of struggle, killing him for the fourth time. Heracles came back to life shortly after, brimming with renewed vigour. Roaring in defiance, the shackles that bound him creaked as he exerted more strength into his muscles. Through sheer physical might, he broke the chains and ran, executing a storm ofr destructive blows at my figure.

I ducked and rolled, avoiding the majority of his strikes, but not all. However, I was not at all worried; even if I did get injured, Avalon—the Ever Distant Utopia, immediately went into action and let out a subtle glow, mending my wounds.

Spinning, I threw a downward chop at my opponent. Seeing this, Berserker raised a hand to block it, but the attack never came. My figure faded, revealing itself as nothing more than an after image, while the real attack came from the opposite direction. My left hand delivered a cut the giant's center, flinging him back with force and tearing the ground like paper.

As he tumbled across the road, a tsunami of swords showered the Servant from above, pinning him onto the ground like a pincushion. Using another drove of blades, I riddled his head with holes, taking his fifth life. As he lied down on the ground, regenerating, I stood before him, hand grasping at a beautiful sword that invoked a sense of elegance and dignity.

I waited for his cranium to reform, then acted. "O Sword of Selection, give me strength," I held the brilliant sword high above my head, then brought it down while calling out the weapon's name, "Merodach!" The Original Sin, Sword of Choosing, decapitated the Servant in one clean slice, removing his sixth life.

"Another six to go," I said, dismissing the blade. Taking advantage of my momentary lapse in attention, the newly revived Heracles gripped my ankles and hurled me to the other side of the street. The Servant released a roar laced with rage and gave chase, obliterating everything that obstructed its path towards me.

Halting my roll, I spun and made a cutting gesture, successfully removing my opponent's right arm off their shoulder. Unperturbed, Berserker caught the stone-axe with his other hand and threw it at me with a mighty heave, taking me by surprise. I hastily raised my arm to redirect the weapon's trajectory, which in turn shattered my forearm from the sheer force behind it. The axe flew past me, smashing into a random abode and destroying it.

After some more exchanges, he retrieved his weapon and our battle went on uninterrupted like a natural disaster, terrorizing the citizens of the city. We passed through many roads and structures, causing an incalculable amount of damage and the deaths of hundreds of people unfortunate enough to be in our way. He broke a pillar from an elevated highway and casted it in my direction, letting the road collapse. Flicking my wrist, I chopped the column into small slabs, preventing myself from being struck.

Using everything in my arsenal without reserve, I managed to kill the demi-god for the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth time, but was unable to continue the streak due to an unexpected move my opponent did.

"Kuh!" I pained grunt escaped my lips as Berserker's fist dug into my stomach, followed by an overhead strike that buried me to the earthen ground. Lifting his legs, Heracles kicked me off the floor, launching me across the dirt at high-speeds. With gritted teeth, I Projected countless armaments in the air and fired them, but the demi-god skillfully deflected and evaded them, making light of my projectiles, only keeping him in place for a few seconds.

However, that small window was all I need to employ my next move. While raising my hands, the world seemed to gradually still, all noise fading into obscurity as if bracing for what's to come. I folded my pinky and ring fingers, leaving the others open, and pressed them together. With a smirk, I pronounced with resolution, "Domain Expansion: Shrine of Unlimited Blades."

Without warning, everything within a 200 meter radius with me as the center disintegrated into non-existence, minced by an invisible force that repeatedly cut and sliced through anything that there was, including the famed Greek hero, Heracles, leading him to lose another life, the eleventh one.

Shrine of Unlimited Blades was something I've developed over the years by using Unlimited Blade Works as a reference. Instead of creating a whole separate dimension like a usual Reality Marble would, a 'Domain Expansion' takes what already exist in the world and transforms it to manifest the caster's inner-self for a limited amount of time.

"One more," I said while keeping my hands together. The grin on my face quickly morphed into one of surprise; in the distance, I watched as the demi-god defied all odds and restored his form amongst the discord of slashes, slowly trudging towards me with an unstoppable gait. After dying over half a dozen times from my [Dismantle and Cleave] Skill, the Berserker-class Servant had become effectively immune to the technique no matter how much I increased its output.

A smile reappeared on my face as I pulled my hands apart, steadily weakening the effects of my Domain Expansion. If cutting him wasn't enough, then I'll just use something else. The ground beneath me suddenly glowed an iridescent orange and turned into molten slag as a large sword etched with intricate symbols that shone like a second sun manifested in my grasp, accompanied by a bow that released a wave of divine essence.

Using Alteration, the sun-like blade stretched itself into a more aerodynamic form before being notched into the divine bow with familiarity. The bow of Artemis, goddess of the hunt, one of the few genuine Noble Phantasms in my possession, groaned as I pulled the string back. My arm quivered under the strain, but I pushed through and aimed at the demi-god in front, who just happened to have finished his resurrection.

"Laevateinn!" I called out while letting the blade surge forward. The sword of Surtr, bringer of Ragnarok, tore through the air, soaring across the sky like a beacon. With this, I can confidently say that my qualifications for the Archer-class has been proven.

The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, stirring the winds into a frenzy. It was as if the sun itself had appeared on Earth, melting the ground and filling the air with nothing ash and cinder. The buildings, whatever remained of them, crumbled into fine dust as pillars of flame that ate anything it touched exploded outward. It was safe to say that Heracles did not survive the cataclysmic explosion, eliminating him for the last time.

"Ah, I shouldn't have done that." My mind was going in and out of conciousness from the rebound of using a Divine Construct—Laevateinn. Why did I immediately resort to using such powerful armament when there were other things I could have used? Was I just that desperate to use it because I never did so back when I was alive? Oh well, no point worrying about it now.

I turned around, gazing at the apocalyptic landscape with a blank stare. Raising my hands, I clapped, prompting a stream of magical energy encapsulated the entire city in an instant. Opening my mouth, I commanded the world, "This never happened."

With that, the threads of fate stirred as history shifted to fulfill my wishes.

---

"I'm dreaming… that's the only logical answer; I am inside a dream." Rin Tohsaka paced back and forth inside her abode, the events that occurred earlier still fresh in her mind. Not only did her Servant kill Berserker 12 times in a row, but he also utter obliterated most of Fuyuki with his Noble Phantasm.

'Who the hell is he?' the magus wondered. Had she unknowingly summoned the Devil, perhaps? She didn't think it was even possible to do that! And that wasn't even where it ends. Just when she thought the whole city was doomed, her Servant spoke some gibberish words she could not understand and restored everything to how it was in the blink of an eye. Scratching her head, she shouted in frustration, "How!?"

"What's going through your mind, Master?" Speak of the... Devil, her Servant appeared from the kitchen with a tray of delicious meals. He gently placed the dishes on the table and spoke, "Here, sit-sit."

Not wanting to defy the being before her, she immediately sat down, shaking as if an earthquake had accosted her body. On the other side of the table, a little girl with snow-white hair stared at the foodstuff, then nervously asked, "Uhm, sir… what is this?"

"This, Illya, is a gift before I leave this place." Archer neared the albino and caressed her head, causing her to let out an adorable squeal. Rin, unable to resist the delicious aroma, was already stuffing her face with a face full of joyful tears. After a bit of hesitation, Illya joined the feast.

A while later, after cleaning the dishes, the three sat down in the living room in silence.

"So, anything you guys want to ask?" Archer asked, breaking the stillness between them.

"Uhm," Illya spoke up, raising her pallid hand. "Who… who are you?"

"Oh, you know me," the Servant returned, smirking.

"I do? I-I don't think I k-know anyone like you…" the young girl responded, her words tripping over themselves.

"I am Emiya Shirou, your brother," he revealed, deciding to not beat around the bush anymore. He stood up and placed the young Einzbern onto his lap, pulling her in a tender embrace and scaring the living daylights out of her. "Well, not exactly. I'm from the future, after all," he clarified to his astounded companions.

Much, much later, after they had calmed down from the revelation, the group once again sat in silence. Illya was still sitting on Shirou's lap, now in a state of utter confusion and disbelief.

"So let me get this straight." Rin pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're a different version of that idiot?" The Servant responded with a simple "Yep" while continuing to rub the albino's hair.

Illya interjected, her voice shaking, "But-but…uhm, how did big brother get so strong?"

"Training," the redhead cooly replied, before playfully pinching Illya's cheeks.

"Unbelievable," Rin voiced out her thoughts, directing her eyes at the man. "That worry-wart of an idiot became a Heroic Spirit, a pretty strong one at that. Just how did that idiot do it!"

"I love you too, Rin," said the so-called idiot. Rin faltered after processing his words, her cheeks flushing bright crimson. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling herself melt from the myriad of emotions sweeping through her mind. The young woman couldn't help but feel more self-conscious even more so than before, how can she look at Shirou's face after this? Her heart just wouldn't stop beating loudly inside her chest.

On the other hand, Illya could only slump in Shirou's arms, still shocked by the information he's told her prior; her father, Kiritsugu Emiya, never left her and was actively searching for her since the end of the Holy Grail War, but failed in the end due to her grandfather's interference. Her eyes were misting over, swimming with unshed droplets. But then, she felt the comforting presence of her brother wrap around her form. She soon found herself drifting off into a deep slumber, encased by the warmth of her family, a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time.

END.​

A/N: I was bored and wrote this in one sitting without much planning.

 

[Orchamus]

What a fun o make, might be the interesting to see someone do something similar with JJK Shirou for a fic.

 

[Kolarthecool]

Due to my body's unique properties as a "sword", I was able to develop the ability to cut and slice through anything within a certain range with either a thought of a simple gesture. Even the System acknowledged my efforts and created a Skill known as [Dismantle and Cleave], much to my surprise and delight.

Click to shrink...

This would make for a pretty interesting story. An Emiya Shiro that instead of projecting Fakes, bases his magecraft around the conceptual aspects of a sword. Cleave and Dismantle for attacking, but also abilities like Parry, Block, Riposte, Quick Draw, etc. Then he starts copying abilities from Noble Phantasms and applying them to his body.

 

[Finale]

Nice story, and the omake was funny. I'm mostly amused because you answered Orphus's request for alternate Shirou omakes with one about the Fate/Apocrypha Shirou.

 

[Spelloyal]

There's one that I know of - the long as fuck Matou Shinji and the Philosopher's Stone series. He's basically Sion's HF Shirou-level determined simp, potential love interest, underling, while he regularly interacts with her. Hermione was in the running at a point, but questers will be questers and effectively threw her under the bus at a point. Still, she ended up in an arguably a much more interesting position, dropping out of Hogwarts for a theatre/magic school, becoming a bit more morally ambiguious. and summoned Shakespeare later on.

Click to shrink...

It's a good story? It's worth reading?

 

[Monsterboy]

It's a good story? It's worth reading?

Click to shrink...

Pretty damn good, albeit incomplete and occasional idiotic decisions by questers, though it does get through all Hogwarts and there's a shitton of content. It's also a full fandom fusion too.

 

[sickboy398]

This would make for a pretty interesting story. An Emiya Shiro that instead of projecting Fakes, bases his magecraft around the conceptual aspects of a sword. Cleave and Dismantle for attacking, but also abilities like Parry, Block, Riposte, Quick Draw, etc. Then he starts copying abilities from Noble Phantasms and applying them to his body.

Click to shrink...

Also what is the rank of cleave and dismantle? If not at A rank it would not affect Berserker even if it was an overloaded B+++ rank attack due to god hand being bullshit and it's refusal, goes beyond rules of reality

 

[OverReactionGuy]

Also what is the rank of cleave and dismantle? If not at A rank it would not affect Berserker even if it was an overloaded B+++ rank attack due to god hand being bullshit and it's refusal, goes beyond rules of reality

Click to shrink...

Dude it cuts anything. it's ex rank. Outside the bounds of ranks.

 

[Dunno.]

Chapter 12: School life.

Straight ahead, past the sprawling landscape, lie the sun in all its brilliance, illuminating Fuyuki's skyline. After disembarking from the plane, I mixed in with the environment to prevent people from seeing me and sprinted home. The run took no more than a few minutes at best, not even tiring me in the slightest.

Passing the walls of the Emiya residence, I felt a Bounded Field, one of my own creation, wash over my whole being. After a decade of incessant studying, I finally became skilled enough to erect my own barriers on the same level as Kiritsugu's. It sure took a while since the intricacies of the craft kept turning opaque in my mind due to the effects of [Sword Incarnation].

Pulling the front door open, I was greeted by a small Shiba Inu - a type of dog breed - happily swaying its curled tail from side to side. In its excitement, the dog stood on her hind legs and pawed at me, prompting me to crouch and catch the animal, welcoming it with the same amount of enthusiasm.

"Hello there, Rou," I said to the dog, my tone waggish. After playing some more, she turned around and bolted deeper into the house in order notify her creator of my arrival. That's right, her "creator." Rou wasn't an ordinary animal—nay, it was no animal to begin with, but a construct made from clay and needed no more than magical energy to function.

Standing, I trailed behind it and entered the living room where a purple-haired girl, dressed in a resplendent dress, awaited alongside Rou, who calmly sat on the floor. The young woman—Sakura Matou—sported a smile, equal in radiance with the sun itself, as she approached me. We pulled each other into a loving embrace, separating shortly after. The two of us exchanged some words; I asked if she was doing fine, shooting a swift glance at the magical construct lounging on the wooden ground, to which she positively replied, stating that nothing was wrong.

'That's good,' I internally sighed. Though admittedly, worry still plagued my mind. After a long time recovering, Sakura mustered the courage to utilize the Matou family's Magic Crest - the ability to bind oneself to another - that was quite literally engraved into her body by Zouken all those years ago. I tried dissuading her, but she remained adamant on using it to help however she can.

To my surprise, her application of the magecraft was entirely different from her predecessor. Instead of binding an existing familiar to herself, she plucked a strand of her soul and fused it with the earth itself. From there, Sakura molded its shape how she saw fit and created a myriad of artificial life-forms, all the while avoiding insects for obvious reasons. Rou, the adorable Shiba Inu, was one of such creatures made from her ability.

Then comes the cause for concern; unlike Zouken's methods, hers was extremely dangerous because Sakura's familiars are in-part an extension of herself, for a piece of her soul dwells within them. If they were to suddenly perish, she would feel their sufferring as if it happened to her. Due to this, she made sure to limit the amount of constructs she made to stop me from worrying too much. At the moment, she had 10 beings at her command; five being birds that flew across the vast skies of Fuyuki like a watchful eye, while the remaining ones were small mammals that could roam the streets without garnering much attention. In case something awry did arise, I was fully prepared to give her a copy of Avalon.

"Hey, Sakura," Shirou called out, catching her attention. He then spoke of his recent acquisition of the former Matou estate and offered to pass it to her. But Sakura refused with a head shake, allowing Shirou to do whatever he wishes with it. She'd long since considered the Emiya manor to be her one true home, as it contained everything she needed in life. The young girl peeked at the red-haired boy, her eyes filled of yearning. Throughout the years, Shirou had become dear to her, irreplaceable by anyone or anything.

Sakura already knew of the deal he had struck with the Church, but that doesn't mean she liked it very much; these religious folks were stealing her precious time with Shirou. The desire to keep him surfaced in her mind, ignited by the entity hiding within. Blinking repeatedly, her cheeks flushed pink upon catching herself forming such embarrassing thoughts. She placed a hand over her chest, quelling her pounding heart. There's no need to be possessive, Sakura knew that Shirou would always be there for her—like always.

Nodding, I went deep in thought, thinking on how to turn the vacant abode into my ideal workshop. The shed at the back had served me well enough, but some upgrades would be welcome. Smithing wasn't the only art I was pursuing, after all. After our brief reunion, we went on with our day like usual and started cooking food together.

Right on cue, the door flung wide open to reveal a familiar short-haired brunette wearing casual clothing—Taiga Fujimura. Sending us a quick hello, she captured Rou in her arms then dropped to the floor. Cuddling the furry animal, Taiga felt all the piled up stress in her body melt away. Watching her antics, Sakura and I let out a heartfelt giggle. If there was one thing that didn't change throughout the years, it was definitely Taiga's energetic personality.

"Look at you two, acting all lovey-dovey. Why can't you just get married already!" Taiga comments while gazing at the boy and girl pair working in the kitchen. Shirou and Sakura's inseparable bond was well known around town, but rarely does anybody mention it, instead choosing to watch from the sidelines with knowing looks. Though when someone did, the two would wholly deny it. Hearing her words, Sakura faltered for a brief moment, while the boy simple ignored it in favour of plating the finished cuisine.

I set the dishes down on the table and poured Rou her share of food inside a bowl. Taiga begrudgingly released Rou from her grasp and felt as if a big part of her had vanished. While she might not be a real animal, Rou still possessed the ability to consume food by turning what she eats into usable energy. Sitting down, the three of us spoke a short prayer before eating.

Gulping down a mouthful of rice, Taiga spoke of a gossip she learned before coming here, "Hey, did you guys hear about the amount of priests suddenly popping up around the city? Not the Shinto ones, but from the Church."

"Did something happen?" despite knowing the reason herself, Sakura still asked with mild interest.

"I dunno. Some say a demon had been spotted hiding amongst the people," Taiga replied, her voice uncertain. She was never the type to start such talks, but the presence of foreign clerics around the city did make her head turn.

"That doesn't sound good, be sure to keep youself safe, Fujimura-san," Sakura expressed her concern, like the ever gentle girl that she was. While not as much as Shirou's, the young girl still cherished Taiga's addition to her new life.

"Now that just sounds ridiculous," I chimed in, shaking my head at the idea. The congregation of priests over Fuyuki was due to my request, in preparation for what's to come. "Are you sure it wasn't your cursed bamboo sword that they caught wind of?" I mentioned with a chuckle, pulling the conversation elsewhere.

"Why you—my shinai is not cursed, why does everyone keep saying that!" she voiced out in complaint. Pointing her chopsticks at me, she spoke, "Why can't you be as worried for me like Sakura, Shirou. It's like you don't care for me at all!"

"Hey, don't get all heated up, I'm speaking nothing but the truth. If it really wasn't, you wouldn't have been disqualified for the Kendo championship for, and I quote, "being in possession of a wicked tool" yeah?" I pointed out, jogging her memory about the incident. Some time ago, several people were hospitalized after competing against Taiga, resulting in her ban from Kendo tournaments.

"Those kids were just weak, that's all. And I did not get banned because of that, stop making stuff up! Help me out here, Sakura. Your Shirou isn't showing respect to his guardian one bit!" Taiga turned to the purple-haired girl, pleading. She had been my legal-guardian for a while now, which I had no problems with.

Processing Taiga's words, Sakura stumbled a bit, "S-Senpai, p-please don't bully Fujimura-sensei." At that, I quickly shut my mouth. On the other side of the table, Taiga raised her chin high, appearing victorious, causing the corners of my lips to twitch.

We bantered some more, enjoying in each other's company, until we emptied the table. And due to her responsibilities as a teacher, Taiga had to leave first. She waved at us by the entrance before riding away on her scooter. With the dishes cleaned, Sakura and I switched to our school uniforms then vacated the house, and together we walked to Homurahara highschool. Upon arriving at the school campus, however, we had to split off to different buildings; she was still in her first year, while I was in my second.

---

The hours went by in a flash, and the bell rung to indicate the start of lunch break. I exited my classroom, passing by many students flushing into the halls, and made my way down to the Archery Club.

I stepped into the archery range and found a brown-haired girl, dressed in a kyudo uniform made up of a white tsutsusode top paired with blue hakama pants, standing by the foyer. Ayako Mitsuzuri—Captain of the Archery Club—spoke up upon seeing me, "And who do we have here? Did you change your mind, maybe?"

I greeted her with a polite smile, then stated, "No, Mitsuzuri. I already told you this many times; I am not joining the club." In response to my firm refusal, I heard her audibly click her tongue. "Did you just click you tongue at me?" I alleged.

"You must be hearing things. Have you ever thought of getting your ears checked?" she denied without breaking character. From under her breath, I caught her saying something that made my mouth tremble in agitation, "So much wasted potential. Should I ask Sakura to convince him?"

Since the start of my highschool years, I went through many clubs out of boredom and, to my regret, tried out the Archery Club. Familiar with their choice of armament, I struck every target's center, no matter the distance, without fail, much to the shock of its club members. Ever since then, Ayako had been pestering me to join everytime I pass their clubroom, but I've refused everytime.

"Whatever," she grudgingly accepted my answer. Then, as if her disappointment never occurred, her attitude made a full 180-degree turn and asked in a teasing tone, "So, what brings you here, Emiya?"

"I'm here for Sakura. May I please go now?" I conveyed the purpose of my visit without playing into her little game. As if recalling something, I added, "Is Rin inside by any chance?"

"Yep," she delivered a one word reply while popping the end of it. "A flower in each hand, eh? I didn't think you hand it in you," she remarked with a smirk.

"Stop. It's not like that," I sighed, waving my hand in dismissal. As I was about to brush past the young archer, her next words gave me a small pause.

"Whatever you say, Nii-san." She laughed at my reaction before patting my shoulder. Due to my tendency to act like an older sibling towards everyone else, stemmed from my adult frame of mind, I had built up quite an endearing reputation around the school. In fact, a certain nickname of mine had gotten so prevalent that the System even gave me a title for it, aptly named [Homurahara's older brother]. It boosted my parameters by a single point whenever I'm inside campus. It wasn't a lot, but better than nothing.

Sighing once more, I went further into the space and neared two indivuals speaking to one another at the end of the corridor—Rin Tohsaka and Sakura Matou. As for why they're here, the former often comes to visit the latter, who's taken interest with the art and was even one of the club's best archers. Sensing my approach, the pair turned around and warmly welcomed me.

The situation between the two siblings, to my surprise, had not changed. Well, it'd be a lie to say that no progress had been made; Rin actually interacts with her younger sister more so than her television show counterpart, however, this level of intimacy betwixt them never went outside of the school grounds. Additionally, Sakura's opinion of the twin-tailed lass wasn't terrible as it was. I gave the two sisters their lunchboxes, as I've always done, and invited Rin to hang out, but she declined and walked away after talking some more.

As the twin-tailed magus crossed the halls, she shot a troubled glance at her younger sibling, before moving on. She wanted to get closer, bridge the gap between her and Sakura, alas, she could not because of an agreement made by the Tohsaka and Matou family. At the very least, the knowledge that Shirou would be there for Sakura eased Rin's mind.

Lunch time eventually came to an end, making Sakura and I go back to our respective classrooms. Even more time passed, and the bell went off much like earlier. But this time, its rings signified the end of school hours. Standing, I crossed the busy aisles and arrived at the teacher's lounge in search for one person in particular. I quickly found the man on his desk, placing a bunch of papers inside a folder.

He had black hair and a robust build covered by a fine suit. Finishing his task, the man rose from his chair and faced me, his expression detached with eyes pitiless as the sun. We acknowledged each other with a simple nod and headed out.

END.​

A/N: I was making some food and messed up, almost burning the kitchen down. I am not good at cooking.