A Heart of Steel
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Fate/Stay Night.
AN: Hello all my loyal readers. This is a thought that has been percolating in my mind for a while, blocking inspiration for my other stories. If I get enough good reviews, I will will delete 'Sword, Sheath, Steel and Sea' and replace it with this story. I have, sadly, lost my will to keep writing it and have lost what sense of plot and ideas I had for it. If any of you wish to take it up, please give me holler.
Either way, I hope you enjoy this. A Shirou that is more a Shirou, with a few tweaks, but still the same heart-obtuse and suicidal idiot we all know and love.
Please enjoy the show
The boy staggered through the burning flames, tired and weary. Each step he took, drained him that much more, made him lose something precious to the hungry, devouring inferno.
Step.
An image of multicoloured eyes on an ever-shifting face, each one more beautiful than the last, meshed with a soft, yet radiant, perfectly white smile. Soft coos and giggles passed the figures delicate, yet rosy and full, lips as a delicate finger tickled his chin, making him laugh and twist.
An image, a memory, of happy times.
It was cast into the mental void, sacrificed to allow the boy to take one more step, to survive one more moment as the inferno engulfed a hysterical mother trying to save her already dead, and burning, children.
Step.
Brown hair, bristly and thick, filled the boy's mind now, bright sparks leaping from it as it rubbed his face. A set of matching brown eyes, ringed with the glow of a flame, accompanied it. Craggy features and an misshapen head finished the image. To a normal boy, it would have been either an ugly or frightening sight. Instead all he felt, was a sense of peace, joy and protection, matching the awed mirth of those brown flamed eyes.
An image, a memory, of safer times.
It was cast into the mental void, sacrificed to allow the boy to take one more step, to survive one more moment as the voracious flawing maw, from the seeming depths of Hell itself, devoured an elderly man, praying before a small statue of the Buddha for salvation. Only for it to fall on deaf ears.
Step.
A proud, tall figure with electric blue eyes peered down at him, weighing, judging his worth.
Step.
Brown hair again, more elegant and silky, falling down across the face of a stern, yet motherly, face. The matching eyes, lacking the burning of the previous, showed surprise and a small amount of satisfaction.
Step.
A sneer on a scarred face with oiled black hair. The sneer was swiftly removed as a slim hand lashed out with a sharp slap across the scarred cheek, knocking the sunglasses askew, revealing eyes filled with the flames of destruction.
Step. Step. Step.
More faces appeared, more places were seen.
All of them were cast away, an offering to the gluttonous gods in hopes of survival.
Soon, the boy lacked memories, destroyed in his desire to survive, and started giving away his heart.
Love was the first to go. Followed by hate. Happiness. Sorrow. Grief. The emotions flowed from him, paving a delicate path of survival, bought with the feelings of the heart.
Soon, he was down to his last, the one emotion, the one feeling, that was both the gift and curse to mankind.
Hope.
And then even that was spent.
A last step, more of a stumble, and the boy fell, his blank golden eyes towards the ash-filled sky and his crimson hair mixing with the blackened mud upon the ground. There was nothing left of the boy now, his past erased by his actions in hopes of staying alive, his mind was void, his spirit was hollow, his body was broken.
But, worst of all, was his heart, clear and empty, made of glass.
Open, yet uncomprehending, eyes stared at the veiled stars, the clogging smoke and burning heat not deterring him, they were of no matter to him. The screams of the dying and the vicious roaring of the accursed flames faded, they were of no use to him.
A slow apathy took over the small boy, his eyes sliding shut, the soft golden glow, that once had wreathed him, dying down, weakening.
Vanishing.
...
...
A soft wet noise stirred the boy awake, his eternal slumber broken. He could feel something, something powerful, caressing him, holding him, like a mother does their child. The scent of flowers, something he couldn't put a name to, even over the ash laden air filled with the smell of burning destruction, like a forest after a fire.
Not understanding, and indeed, not caring, his eyes opened.
Black hair, wild and unkempt, surrounded a male's face, his features young, but his eyes, pouring both with tears of absolute sorrow and profound joy, filled with age. Those tears poured even more freely as they peered into his own, a smile, so deep and joyous, crossing the grief ravaged face.
The empty boy, with a heart of glass, let a thought drift over him.
'I wish I could smile like that.'
Ten years later
"Here I come, o King of Heroes. Do you have enough weapons in stock!?"
These words, spoken with defiance and challenge, echoed throughout the barren wastes, filled with weapons, of the mighty and the weak, of the heroes and villains, planted in the crimson earth. Steel grave markers buried in the soil soaked with the blood of the defeated.
The speaker, a golden eyed teenager, strapping and tall, crafted from thick bone, ropey tendon and toned muscle, the body of a warrior born. His face, set in a focused and a determined rage, his short crimson hair rippling in the wind created by his charge, even as it brushed and danced across his tanned skin. His simple torn T-shirt and tattered jeans belied his actions and nature as he propelled himself at speeds that were beyond the realm of humanity, a single sword, coloured blue and gold, of magnificent make, at his side as he charged his foe.
The apathetic child with a heart of glass had come a long way.
His adversary, however, hadn't changed at all.
"Don't get confident, Mongrel!" the so-called 'King of Heroes' roared, ripping two long swords from the golden portals that surrounded him, and charged the teen, weapons in hand. His rubies for eyes glittering in hatred and disdain and contempt for the plain dressed teen advancing swiftly before him beneath golden flame-like hair. His black jacket and untucked button-up white silk shirt billowing against his frame and flapping against his black trousers while his polished black shoes drove him forward
They met in the middle, swords meeting swords in a contest of strength, of power, of dominance as old, or older, as the concept of man and sword.
Shoving the Hero back, The teen then swayed back from the scythe-like motions of the King's twin weapons, countering with a slash that would torn out the arrogant warrior's guts, only for it countered in turn by a step back out of range and a sudden lunge.
Back and forth these two warriors struggled. Despite their apparent skill, neither were true weapons masters. There was no knowledgable form or practiced style within their movements, even as swift and powerful as they were. The weapons they used were too numerous, too different from another for it to be feasible to have true mastership of all them. They were, after all, merely 'owners' of these treasures of war.
The King, in particular, held himself as a 'Collector', only the finest of things, be they weapons or wine, found a way into his Treasury.
The boy, on the other hand, while also coming under the category of 'owner', had a particular trick, a side effect of his own distorted nature, that gave him an advantage over the King. One that allowed him to begin to push back the ancient legendary despot.
He could use the skills of the weapon's previous owner.
Clash! Crash! Bang! The ring of steel on steel echoed across the wastes repeatedly.
The King snarled wordlessly, not believing that a mere Faker, was able to push him back, to challenge his might. Another was wordlessly blocked by the determined human, driving him back a step. Then Another. Another. And Another.
"Impossible!" The King of Uruk hissed as he was pushed back in full retreat, his twin swords, nameless yet ancient and powerful, barely coming around fast enough to fend off fatal strikes from the Faker's blade, solitary and fragile compared to his own.
Yet he was still driven back.
Finally, despite his royal power, physical might and the strength of his blades, he was sent flying back with an exertion of strength by the mongrel, his two blades cracking and shattering under the force, barely saving his own hide at the cost of their existence.
The Bull Slayer rolled to his feet quickly, his face red with wrath and his breath coming heavily out of sheer rage and hate, directed at the dog before him.
"Worm!" he roared, his power escaping his tightly held control as his temper reached boiling point.
The golden vortexes appeared again, numbering in the hundreds, weapons ancient when the race of man was still young, protruding from them, like cannons on a ship preparing to fire upon the enemy.
The teen had not chased down the King, which would have placed him in range to strike down the arrogant blowhard and too close to be fired upon by the weapons of eld. He had felt something, something that was disturbing and wrong, filling him with dread. He felt he had lost something, a connection forged by battle and circumstance, by blood and tears.
His golden eyes drifted to the bright blue markings visible on his arm, the long sleeve torn from the bicep. They were the symbol of a bond, a bond between equals, between man and woman.
In another universe, they would have been a contract, a way to supply power to the weaker party, set in place by the stronger, allowing the weaker to strengthen themselves at the cost of thee stronger.
But that did not happen here. Here, it was only a mark, a warning sign, a way for both parties to have an indication of the current state of the other. Granted it was made relatively the same way as a contract, and required the parties to be of different genders, but it was all in the intent.
Wide golden eyes watched as the mark slowly dimmed, darker and darker, before it vanished, leaving only his bruised skin to be seen.
Rin... Saber...
Something had happened to Rin, to Saber. Whether they were rendered too weak to keep up the connection or, he dreaded, they were killed, or had disappeared in Saber's case, was something that remained to be seen.
The teen hoped to the Root that it was merely a lack of prana.
An ugly bout of contemptuous laughter drew the teen's attention back to the arrogant King.
"So," the despot drawled, cruel amusement dripping from his tones, "she disappeared," he continued, referring to Saber.
Cold chuckles fell on the ringing ears of the teen, his, the teen's, heart pumping hard and his expression hardening in rage.
"Such a worthless woman."
Those words stoked a flame in the teen's chest, his lungs surging like a smith's bellows as his face darkened with hate. Strength spread through his body as his anger flowed. This arrogant bastard dared to insult Saber!? Dared to call her worthless! Not even having the courage to say it to her face!
Flickers of memories of times spent with her flickered through his mind. Eating at his table in his home, awaiting him to come home from school, seeing him to the door, fighting alongside her, defending him from Assassin, standing before him mere minutes ago to protect him from the King's armoury until he sent her to aid Rin.
And this bastard dared to spit on her memory, discarding her like trash!
The teen, full of rage and hate, could feel his circuits burn, filling with power as they reacted to his emotions, surging through his body, making it stronger, faster, more durable.
All so he could crush this piece of shit beneath the weight of his blades.
"Bastard!" the red-haired teen roared leaping towards the King of Heroes, seeking battle once more. He moved fast, practically a blur, as he wielded the blue and gold sword, a legacy of Saber. All the more appropriate to crush this bastard!
"Don't get carried away, boy!" the King roared in answer, two new blades, torn from the Gate behind him, in his hands as he charged towards the teen again.
Swords clashed again. And again. And again.
Despite his strength, his speed, his power, the King of Heroes was being pushed back. Each sword swing from the teen coming faster, stronger, more skilful than the last, the teen's rage and anger driving him onward.
A litany of words spilled from the teens lips as he continued his rentless assault.
"Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!" the teen yelled, his voice growing louder with each repetition, stoking the flames of his rage.
"BASTARD!" a final roar, practically in the face of the Ancient Sumerian ruler, erupted from the boy's throat, the beautiful fake sword clashing hard against the crossed twins used by the King of Uruk.
Crack! Shatter!
The three swords met firmly, before cracking and shattering beneath the force of the teenager's rage.
The teen merely pulls a set twin swords from the barren and cracked earth he stood on, coloured black and white, swords forged without the desire to fight, named Kanshou and Bakuya, and continued his onslaught, never giving an inch.
The King felt his own rage grow as he was forced to retreat. This mongrel dared to defy his King! Had the gall to challenge him! He was not worth the time to look upon, and yet he dogs my steps like a rabid hound! How could he dare to be able to fight the One True King!?
"Enough!" roared Gilgamesh, the First King of Man, as he leapt back to create some room to move. This dog will pay for his insolence!
Gilgamesh reached for a particular weapon, extending hilt first from his Treasury.
The boy's eyes widened slightly. He knew that sword as information poured into his mind. An impossible blade. A sword so powerful as to be able to cleave heaven and earth asunder. His mind screamed in pain just looking at it, his body ached and wailed at it's sheer presence. And it hadn't even been drawn yet.
Deep inside the boy, buried beneath the sands of time and the curses of a demon, a golden ember, so small and fragile, began to grow anew after being banked for almost a decade, only reappearing briefly a mere four years ago before returning to dormancy, made to live again so as to protect the host, as Divine met Divine.
The teen felt the pain fall away, disappearing as if it had never been. But that was a minor detail, irrelevant to him. The teen sprinted forward, the swords of yin and yang flashing out toward the King of Heroes as he reached for the most powerful weapon to ever exist.
"Like hell I'll let you!" the boy cried out as he swung his swords.
Slish! Spluuuurtch!
The arm holding the damned blade was ripped from the body of the King of Heroes, and sent flying until it landed, the impossible blade first in the ground, quite some distance from the dueling warriors.
The King's eyes widen in disbelief, "Wha-?!"
The teen didn't give Gilgamesh time to recover, a second slash of both swords was swung, aiming to end the now defenceless King of Heroes.
Unfortunately, the King was able to dodge, leaping backward even as he fired a volley of several weapons from his Treasury. Only for them to be knocked aside by their mirror images, alike in all respects.
The King retreats even further, "Guh!" he practically snarled, "you are stronger than me here," he says, admitting his defeat as he retreats still further.
The teen doesn't let him, charging down the King as fast as he could, knowing he had to end this now.
"I won't-" the teen grunts, pushing his body to keep fighting now that victory was within reach, "- let you go, dammit!"
More swords were swung as the teen was now within striking distance, the weapons just grazing the flesh as the King frantically kept trying to retreat.
"-Damn!" the King curses as he seems to realise that he was unable to retreat, not in this world, not from this foe. He desperately pulls another sword from the Treasury, trying to defend himself.
But the boy, the young man, was too fast, too quick. The teen's sword is beginning to swing, the King's sword rises to feebly defend.
"Huh-!"
"What-!"
The two warriors voices overlap as a startling change happens in an instant.
The makeshift world of Unlimited Blade Works, a manifestation of the very soul of the teen, rocks violently. Spiderweb cracks,like a pane of broken glass, appear across the scarlet sky, the great churning gears high above shifting out of alignment. A blast of pure light is seen between those cracks, coming from the direction of the lake, from where the cursed Grail was coming into existence.
A heartbeat passes, and the light, a beam of magical power, bright and powerful, destroys the Reality Marble, leaving the two warriors back within the greatly damaged courtyard of the ruined temple.
Before either of the warriors could react, a second change occurs.
A massive spot of darkness, like a void, ringed with a crimson darker than blood, appears. It is easily large enough to be able to swallow a man whole. It is a gaping abyss no one could escape.
And it appears directly upon Gilgamesh.
Right upon the stump of his sliced off limb, it manifests. It swirls, like a whirlpool, drawing in all of those around as a great wind kicks up. The teen could see the King struggle against the void's inexorable pull, trying to plant his feet firmly on the ground even as his skin seems to melt and stretch and the rest of his body begins to be devoured hungrily.
"ARRRRGH!" the King yells, wrath instead of fear in his voice, "YOU STUPID CUP! WAIIIIIIII-!"
The yell fades of as the void spins, drawing the King, deeper and deeper, as it grows smaller and smaller, until it finally vanishes.
Taking the last words of the King of Heroes with it.
The teen, sweat pouring down his forehead, slumped onto all fours, gasping desperately for breath in exhaustion.
He had won. The King of Heroes was defeated, consumed by his own ambition.
"Shirou!" a female voice yelled, high pitched and worried.
The now identified Shirou turned to the sound of the familiar voice, a look of relief crossing his features. It was Rin, supporting, and being supported by, a worn looking Saber.
They were safe.
Shirou closed his amber eyes for a moment, thanking whatever higher force there was that they were both still alive and well.
Rough steps made him open his eyes, looking up into the aqua one's of a concerned, yet hiding it behind a frown, Rin Tohsaka. They stared at each other in complete silence, Saber also eying them both as well she could despite her own tiredness.
"You look like crap, Emiya," she stated bluntly, not mincing her words.
Shirou could only smirk slightly. Typical Rin, as blunt as a club to the face, especially after everything is said and done.
"Then I look exactly how I feel," he chuckled softly, Saber also giving off an exasperated yet humourous sigh.
"I can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?" the King of Knights said, half-mockingly, half-serious.
"I hope you never will," he responded, swiftly and seriously, as he managed to sit back on his legs and reach out to grasp her now uncovered hands, her armour having disappeared, possibly due to a lack of prana.
He looked at both the women before him, one regal and tired, blonde as wheat field and eyes of meadow green. The other with long black hair as dark as the night, hung in two loose tails tied by black ribbons, and eyes of worry veiled by irritation.
He may want to be a hero, even after Archer had told him what awaited him should he walk down that path, but he didn't want to do it alone. If he had his way, they would be with him with every step he took, every decision he made. A balance for his drive, a check against his actions.
Something to fill his heart of glass.
The two girls blushed slightly at his statement and the serious eyes that held their own.
"What happened to Shinji?" Shirou asked, changing the subject and practically growling the name. From what the crimson haired teen had heard, the blue haired boy's actions were beyond reprehensible, even for Shirou's forgiving nature.
If the boy was still alive, he would either soon be dead or thrown to the mercy of law enforcement, if Shirou had any say.
"Dead," Rin said flatly, with a toss of her head as she sat on the cold stones, "I managed to remove him from the putrid pimple that the Grail had become before Saber destroyed it. Unfortunately," Shirou could cut the sarcasm in that word with a knife, "the stress of his body caused by being the Lesser Grail, and it's subsequent abrupt removal, was too much for his body and soul, leading it to give out and die."
"I believe we can call that 'justice served'," Saber spoke quietly, also now sitting on the cracked stones of the Temple, "his actions, vulgar and distasteful, were all in aid of attaining the Grail. He got what he desired, just not in the way he hoped."
Shirou hummed slightly in agreement. Good, that was one less thing on his to do list.
He slowly rose to his feet, looking at the soft light of dawn as the sun began to rise above the ocean in the distance, casting a grey light over them. They all looked at it for a time, feeling as if this dawn represented more than just a new day. It felt like a whole new life was about to begin.
"Well," he spoke to both of the females, extending his hands down for them to grasp, "I believe we should leave. No need to leave even more evidence of this whole debacle around in the form of our insensate bodies after all-"
Schwiiing! Rattle! Rattle!
They all felt the danger too late, their tired bodies unable to react in time to dodge the long chain as it wrapped around their linked arms. The chains snapped tight, drawing them all together even as they attempted to brace themselves on the cracked to prevent being dragged off.
"What the hell?!"
"In the Lord's name-!"
"Doesn't he know when to die!?"
The final words were snarled by Shirou, his eye for weapons easily allowing him to identify the chain and it's owner. Even braced, chest to chest with his female companions, he turned his head toward where the chain had originated.
The culprit snarled, his once handsome face partially melted as he extended his arm and chain, Enkidu, from the abyss that had devoured him.
"Grrrr," Gilgamesh growled gutturally, his voice obviously distorted from being partially dissolved, "Fool vessel. Does it not know Servants cannot become the core!?"
The King of Heroes pulled on the chain, seeming to attempt to draw them in, aided by the howling wind of the void as it drew them all like a magnet.
"Can't you just DIE!?" Shirou snarled, frantically attempting to cling to the broken stones, as were Rina and Saber. If it were any other time, it would have been easy, or at least probable to resist the chain and blackened maw of the abyss. But, with all of them on their last legs, they didn't have the power, together or individually, to completely resist it. All they could do was delay it, and hope that Gilgamesh lost his grip first.
Seeing the vice-like grasp the King of Uruk had on the chain, Shirou wasn't too hopeful.
Twisted laughter leapt from the King's throat, "I won't die yet! I can't die yet! So just stay there, you lowlifes, even you Saber, while I drag myself out!"
Were this any other time, or any other person, Shirou might have admired such tenacity to live.
Now, he was just pissed off and frantic.
"Lean forward!" barked the King of Knights, commanding even in her weak state, "we may heave the bastard from his home in the abyss, but we will save ourselves. We can kill him after!"
"Those are my words, Saber!" Gilgamesh growled ferally, his face twisting even further as his voice was heard over the howling air, "Go ahead! Your King commands you!"
"Damned blowhard," snarled Rin, even as she struggled to retain a grip on the ground.
The struggle kept up, the trio slowly sliding back toward the hole in reality, driven by the howling wind and the strength of Gilgamesh's pulls, losing ground despite everything they did. Gilgamesh, however, was laughing in cruel joy, his torso now completely out of the emptiness that was the Grail.
"Come dogs!" he roared, "Pull harder for your Only King!"
"SHUT UP!" they all snarled, even as they tried to dig in their heels, only barely succeeding.
Finally, with their strength waining, a mistake was made. A small slip, caused by the sudden shifting of a stone, threw Rin off balance.
"AIEEE!" she yelled, falling into Saber and Shirou, knocking them off balance in turn.
The King of Uruk's remaining eye, the only one not melted by the contents of the Grail, widened in shock and anger, realising what would happen next as the chain went slack, depriving him of the leverage needed to lift himself from the darkness.
"No!" he roared, letting go of the chain and desperately attempting to grip the sides of the whole leading to the Grail, trying to escape it's dreadful grasp, "Damn you! Damn youuuuu, Fakeeeeerr!" the Kind's roars trailed off as he disappeared into the depths of the Grail.
Forever.
The portal was beginning to close as the trio were knocked off balance, still wrapped up in the Chains of Heaven, but it wasn't closing fast enough for their liking. Now off balance, they were soon thrown off their feet, their bodies hanging in the air for a moment.
Then the portal began to drag them, through the air, towards it's gaping maw, hungry for their souls.
Deprived of what little leverage the ground could give, Shirou could only watch as the demise of himself and his companions drew near.
Despite this, his soul, his very being, struggled for a way out. A way to survive.
And something answered.
As they approached the event horizon of the dark portal, the golden ember, deep within the soul of the one named Shirou Emiya, so long ignored, or perhaps forgotten, flared brilliantly, for that one brief moment.
As they began to touch the cursed doorway to the Grail, Suddenly exploded into golden light, making the two women shut their eyes instinctively.
And suddenly, they vanished.
The next day, the golden light was reported to have been seen from as far as twenty miles out to sea. Early reports into the incident by the local law enforcement were inconclusive as they were unable to find any traces of materials that could have caused the flash in the reported area of origin. They were, however, able to find the body of Shinji Matou, dead by causes as yet unknown but are suspected to be linked to the mysterious events that had destroyed much of the temple grounds. Investigations were still ongoing.
Executioners from the Clocktower also looked into the incident, linking it to a sudden shockwave of Prana that was felt as far as mainland Asia. There report, given to the Vice-Director, indicated that an unknown spell, on the level of a Divine Mystery, had been cast in the area, resulting in permanent damage to the leylines and complete destruction of the Holy Grail. Answers were sought from the Second Owner, Rin Tohsaka, only find that she was missing. Further investigations, backed by the intact nature of her home, revealed that her missing status was not of her own design.
With her missing, a new Second Owner was chosen, one Sakura Matou formerly Tohsaka, due to blood status as a sibling to the previous Owner and all of the previous Owner's holdings and knowledge were also bequeathed to the young lady. The Enforcer's had also tied up the loose end in the form of one Zouken Matou formerly Makiri after it was revealed by one of the accompanying Enforcers that he had strayed into forbidden research. Despite his wraith status, he was quickly put an end to after the Queen of the Clocktower and Zelretch had got involved. Sakura was given counselling on Zelretch's order, his crimson eyes burning an unholy light, after it was revealed what the child had been put through and was placed under his personal protection as his Apprentice.
None had dared to gainsay the Wizard Marshall.
The whereabouts of Rin Tohsaka, and Shirou Emiya, who had also been reported missing, was destined to always remain a mystery to both mundane and magical society.
At least in that world.
Percy Jackson Universe
June 21, 2007
Washington DC, USA
A small breeze blew through the quiet alley, scattering the loose bits of newspaper and other light trash. The red brick walls were scrawled with graffiti as colourful as the rainbow and a small black cat was foraging in the trashcans, looking for the tasty salmon it could smell among the rest of the reeking garbage.
The quiet was broken by a sharp bang and a burning flash of golden light, causing the small feline too flee with a loud yowl of fright.
The sound and light disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving a small pile of tangled and (mostly) unconscious bodies in the middle of the alley. A confused tall red-haired male, glowing a soft gold, was the only one still awake, buried beneath a the two smaller sleeping females and a long chain wrapped around them all.
Shirou looked around, confused as all hell, his glow fading out without his notice.
"What the heck happened?" he spoke aloud, looking around a bit before he noticed the graffiti as colourful and vulgar as it was. But that was not what held his interest.
The fact it was in English did.
"And where the hell are we?"
Same time,
Unknown place.
"One has returned."
"I noticed."
"We all did."
"Unexpected...Can he still play his part?"
"Easily enough."
"But will he play his part?"
"...We will have to see. Even we are not all-knowing."
"...What if he doesn't then? What we will do?"
"...Let us see what happens first. If necessary, we will work around him."
"And if he interferes with that?"
...SNICK!
So how did you like the story? I can see this one going places better than by 'SSS&S' story, mainly because I already have a way for it follow, going along Rick Riordan's well traveled path with a few deviations, major and minor, along the way. This will also allow the main character of PJ, Percy, to still flourish instead of getting sidelined like in my other story. I plan to take this up to the end of Last Olympian and, if I get enough requests, make a sequel that will span HoO.
P.S. In case you haven't figured it out, this is UBW Shirou with a few tweaks. Those tweaks will remain hidden, mostly, until I can give you guys a good shock. I just need to have a talk to few of the better guys on this site to get some advice/permission.
Please review,
kujikiri21
