Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/Stay Night or any of its affiliated characters, places, or names.
Description: This is my attempt at a sequel to Fate/Stay Night. And... that's about all I'll give you. We'll see where it goes from there.
Note: The plot has been divided into arcs. This was once a project of mine under the title My Only Wish, but after making changes and edits I realized the end result was not only a different "scenario," per se, but an entirely different story in some respects. So, I chose to regard this as a separate work.
I've chosen to wait until finishing the entire Genesis arc (tentatively August) before publishing any chapters. That way, I can take care of all of the editing I need to do on a large scale; what will be given to you is the final version of every chapter. I acknowledge the risks of doing this, as well, as if I slip up in anything, it has a fairly large impact on the work, and these things can carry on through multiple chapters. But, I suppose that's to be expected. I in no way assert that my writing is perfect, even if it's been put through scrupulous editing. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.
To those who have read My Only Wish: I remind you that this is a virtually different story, and you really should start from the beginning. You'll find many similarities in the first couple chapters, but I'm sure you'll pick up quickly that much has changed.
Genesis: Prologue
Looking back on it, I still remember how cold that night was.
The snow collecting in my hair, the numbing unfriendliness of the air – I remember it all. I even remember the moon that night. She wasn't quite full yet; it was almost as if she was reaching – grasping for perfection. "You're almost there," I'd whisper to her foolishly.
What I don't remember is why I was there.
Treading aimlessly, I'd watch my feet sink in and disappear into the snow. It must have only been a few inches' worth, but it almost reached my knees. I could feel the cold creeping through all my layers of clothing, and for that reason I hugged myself the whole time I walked, staring into the unending white below me. Winter always comforted me, as chilly and harsh as it was at times. The white seemed to cover everything, like some great unifier.
All the treetops and sadness in the world were the same color in winter.
Two of those men – I know them as magi, now – stood nearby, watching me meticulously. I originally found this uncomfortable, but I was used to it now; wherever I went, they followed. They always wore those steely black trench coats and kept close like ardent guardians; back then, though, they seemed to treat me with a respect so peculiar that I rather took them for faithful dogs. They always called me "Harmony-chama," which I remember frustrated me. I'd puff up my face angrily and put my hands on my waist every time, correcting them haughtily. "My name's Harmony," I'd say, much to their amusement.
I wasn't one to hold grudges, though. I was a relatively happy child, and everyone around me seemed intent on keeping it that way. Until I came of age, I was always addressed with a vivaciously forced greeting wherever I went. Everyone pretended to be ecstatic to see me, and they'd always ask if I needed anything. If I was ever discontent or injured, anyone nearby would fall into panic, rushing to my service without a single word. Always.
They never did that for her.
Every once in a while, I'd stop in my steps and look up the hill towards our oversized mansion. I was happy to be roaming outside, but every time I looked over there, I felt a sort of dismal burden weigh me down. Every time I looked over there, I'd see her face plastered on one of the windows, painted with a sense of longing. She'd cleared the frost from the glass and was peering out towards me, her hands pressing against it as if to push it out from the window. She wanted to be outside, too – I knew.
"Risk, can she play with me?" I asked, hoping the answer would be different from the countless times before.
The man simply walked towards me with the same fake smile everyone had. He must have been less than six feet – I'm sure of that – but he towered like some colossus before me. He had to kneel down before answering me.
"I'm sorry" was all I deserved, apparently. Not even an answer. An apology. He'd pat me on the head consolingly, and I'd return the favor by reaching up and stroking the top of his head lightly. It was always like this. I could still feel the spikes on his hair this time, even through my bulky mittens. I giggled, and for a moment I forgot her. Such a small gesture, and I was able to forget her for a while. For that moment, I had peace of mind, but years later, that moment stings me with a relentless passion.
The man gave me my distance to wander on my own again, and I continued on my wholehearted adventure through the snow-filled backyard. I don't know what I was looking for then. Maybe I was looking for any imperfections in the snow, to uncover some treasure hidden deep within. Maybe I was just playing the part of the explorer, curious and impassioned. I really don't know what I was thinking. I do know, however, that all it took to interrupt my avid wandering was a single look towards the mansion.
Why was I always allowed to play, and not her? We weren't so different, were we? At times, I wondered if she did something wrong – something inexcusable that they were punishing her for. No – that couldn't be right. Whenever I did something wrong, someone always told me they'd fix it. I always asked myself why we were treated so differently. Eventually, I'd concluded it was because she had a different eye color than me. That was the only explanation I could come up with. After all, what else was there to set us apart?
I'd looked upon that mansion one too many times. As my gaze rose to meet hers, I immediately took notice of the droplets flowing down the cold window. Her breath brought a persistent fog to the glass, but her expression was unmistakable; her face was wrenched in pain. Even as a child, I somehow knew there was nothing physically wrong with her. I knew exactly what it was.
It was on that night that I finally asked myself the question I still can't answer today.
Why was I there?
At that instant, I felt compelled by some force to let gravity seize me. Plummeting to the ground, my knees crunched through the snow violently. My hands followed, and I was soon on all fours, with tears pouring forth and melting minuscule craters into the snow. My sobs elicited action from my guardians, and at once they bounded towards me, screaming words I was too feverishly deaf to hear.
It was on that night that I finally realized how spoiled I was.
Why did it have to be this way? Why was I the one with all the freedom, and not her? Why hadn't it been the other way around? These questions assaulted my mind, and I couldn't take it any longer. Nowadays, I'm able to somewhat hold in my feelings. But back then? It was different. Much different.
My emotions rippled out of me in the form of raw, unfiltered mana.
My senses all but left me. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. I most certainly felt something, though; I had never known true pain before this moment. It was as if my insides were being torn apart. A beast was struggling to get out, and it was succeeding. Tearing apart my ribcage with potent claws, gnawing through my lungs with razorblade teeth, boiling my skin with searing breath – 'unbearable' wouldn't begin to describe it. I tried screaming, but I couldn't even hear if it'd worked. I tried crawling, but no sense of sight or touch meant no sense of direction; I was lost in a world permeated with pain. It began to dawn on me that this torture was inescapable.
And then, it all stopped.
The first thing I noticed was the bitter cold of the air. I was completely curled up, needing no conscious cue to get my body to shiver. The cold around me stung like no tomorrow, and I whimpered, tasting the salty remnants of my tears on my lips. The sound of distant yelling crossed my ears, but otherwise, it was quiet nearby.
What lay around me, however, was a different story. There wasn't any snow near me. I remember the image with astounding vividness. No snow for a good thirty feet, at least. Not even the grass beneath it. I lay in the center of some distorted crop circle, with debris slowly settling around me; my two lifeless guardians appeared to be haphazardly strewn across the lawn.
From the dust of the ground, I emerged, still alive somehow. I'd been torn apart, and yet I was still a living being. I was glad for that.
I couldn't do anything but shiver. It might have been out of incapacity, but looking back on it, I think it may well have been out of fear. What exactly had happened?
The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow neared me, but I couldn't even turn my head to look. Yet, somehow, I could feel the pair gazing on me, like two shameless voyeurs. A distinctly different crunching continued even after they stopped – was it chewing?
"Mm. Interesting. So this is what happens," the male commented.
"Unconscious mana release. It's not too different from what we predicted." The woman's voice was strangely methodical, as if she were giving a report.
"Wish I could do that. Heh."
"It's a good thing we took precautions with her. We might have had more casualties if it wasn't suppressed all this time."
The man seemingly didn't care to respond.
"There's no doubt about it, now. This is the stronger one. Once we tame this little beast, she'll prove to be of good use."
I'd heard and registered the exchange, but somehow I was completely and utterly disinterested in it. My eyes remained plastered on the same spot on the mansion I'd been looking over to all night. For the first time, the window was empty.
This whole time I still hadn't truly realized that I was completely naked before these people. I simply lay there, shivering as if it were all I could do. I might have just stayed there the entire time, had one of them not gone and knelt in front of me. At once the source of the crunching was revealed, and the young magus extended his hand, offering his snack to me as he chewed what was left in his mouth nonchalantly.
"Apple?"
It is said that we are created in the image of Man.
It is said that we are the culmination of Him – of our roots.
Why? Why would we be born of such a wicked thing?