A metallic lump floated onto the beach. Calloused and beaten up, it had gotten scratched up by the sand. The remnant of an origin from the distant past, it was not unlike the denizens of the land. Like them, the lump of metal held the shape of a person. A human being. Born from the sea, an old sword had been reforged.
It was in a pitiful state, however. It knew not of language, nor could it remember how to move. It simply observed the area around it in a lazy manner, not truly conscious or awake. Even seeing its own, semi-familiar steely body produced nothing. It felt as if something was missing. Broken. Either it had no memories, or it had lost its former ones in the sea.
Time seemed to pass quickly, as marked by the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon. And another one. And another one. Three moons rose, shining bright, high above the sky. Before the rising of the fourth, he was finally found. The sound of footsteps grew louder, and a distinguishable click followed each and every one. It was akin to the sound of two stones hitting each other. Louder and louder, clicks followed clicks until they stopped behind the lump.
Silence seemed to have caught up. Neither that which had produced the clicks, nor the lump of metal made any noise. Even the sound of bugs quieted down. Floating, silvery droplets seemed to surround the area behind the metallic lump, each one exuding some kind of faint light. A fourth moon rose, as if eager to do it with no sound.
The lump felt a tug at one of its legs. Grunts and pants reached his ears. With great effort, the sword was turned around. Finally, he could get a good view of the mysterious being in front of him.
Translucent, red hair fell over her shoulders. Not entirely dissimilar to a precious stone, or glass. With strange, perfectly white skin, wearing a dark suit. She was quite the beauty, lit up by her silvery light. Even her eyes seemed to shimmer like gemstones. However, in those eyes, the sword was able to recognise something. Its first memory, both in this life and the last. A great fire which had burnt him away, long ago. Two familiar emotions. In her eyes, the sword saw sadness, and in his own, there was a burning desire to help.
The sword now felt complete. This desire to help, this need to protect. A missing piece had been found and put back into place. The ability to move and think came as an effect of his new cause. A sword with purpose, moves and does whatever is necessary to complete its goal. The woman stared at him, analysing and observing. Speaking to herself quietly.
"Cinnabar, you've done it now. I have no way of carrying something this heavy by myself. What would happen if I'd even touch it? Maybe if I ask her…" She trailed off.
The sword could understand her, somehow. Words which were foreign to his ears, yet ones he could comprehend. More distant memories, engrained into his soul.
The woman, apparently named Cinnabar, continued. "No way I can ask that annoying idiot for help. Especially after what happened recentl…".
She stopped speaking. The sound of metal grinding against metal caught her attention. The lump of metal was moving, however slightly. Like a baby walking for the first time, the sword unsteadily rose to his feet. Standing like this, even when hunched over, he towered over the woman in front of him. From his mouth, he let out a hollow sound. Trying to speak, but failing. The woman jumped, visibly startled by the fact that he was up and moving. The sword, however, was mostly just disappointed. He could understand what the woman was saying, but he was not able to replicate the sounds himself. Learning to speak would have to take more time.
Another thought popped into his head. Shirou. That was his name. He tried saying it out loud, but out came more hollow grinding. Trying yet again, with more force than before, he somehow let out a loud and piercing sound. Metal grinding against metal. A loud crack next to him. He was nothing but a big, human-shaped piece of metal. One with a consciousness, but a piece of metal nonetheless. Human speech seemed beyond him.
The woman in front of him, still seemingly confused, was now panicking. There was a large crack in the middle of her face, spreading across her cheeks and towards her eyes. Her arms, too, seemed to have shallow cracks running along them. Within those cracks, gems of the colour of her hair and eyes seemed to be growing. The sword was anxious. Had those cracks been there before? Was he the one who caused them? The woman was not showing much pain, but there was visible discomfort written upon her cracked visage.
"How… How are you standing? It's supposed to take at least a winter before new gems are up and walking!" she spoke with a frustrated, confused voice. "Never mind that, you cracked me with just your voice. I haven't heard of anyone but Master Kongo doing that, so how come you do it after just being born?"
Bringing up a hand to her face, she traced one of the cracks with her finger, as if to emphasize her point. The sword did not reply. He was not able to, after all. Instead, he simply stood still, not making a sound, for fear of cracking her even more.
And so, they stared at each other, there in the darkness, both confused. The woman studied him carefully, while he stood attentively, like a soldier being inspected. After a while, when the atmosphere was on the verge of turning awkward, she seemingly resigned herself to the situation, sighed, and once more made an attempt at communication.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?".
He nodded.
"Good. Then follow me", she then turned on her heel, and promptly started walking towards some far-off location. Without complaint, he followed her, stepping into a new world.
Author's Note: This is my first story on this site, but I'm planning on completing it at around 300k words. I have most of the story outlined for myself already, but I could consider changing it based on reviews. So please, do share your opinions, and thank you for reading.