Title: Wings of Justice (subject to change because I suck at titles).
Fandoms: Fate/Stay Night & Sekirei.
Warning: This Shirou will be very different from most Shirous in fanfics, and vastly different from the canon Shirou for reasons to be revealed soon~
If you hate non-canon Shirous, leave now, and forever hold your peace! If you flame me for your personal tastes I'll…! I'll…! Er. Go all female-Gilgamesh on you!
(Oh yes I'm so convincing aren't I? =w=").
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own FSN or Sekirei or Homura would have stayed male and disturbing guro-BL would have ensued for kicks XD.
(You're scaring away your readers…).
Anyway, ON WITH THE SHOW!
Prologue
In several of many worlds, the hero-in-progress Emiya Shirou would be held up at an airport due to experimental MBI technology, and run into #04, Karasuba. In others, the Executor Kotomine Shirou would appear in Shin Tokyo, purging the Dead – more for pleasure than any kind of justice – and run into Homura. But in this world, the boy born of fire would not have his first encounter with Sekirei in either of these ways.
No, this Emiya Shirou is different from the majority of Shirous across the many worlds and universes.
This Shirou is no pyromanic.
This Shirou is no an ally of justice.
This Emiya Shirou is, without a doubt, JUSTICE.
Yes, you read that right, he is NOT an ALLY of justice, he IS justice itself.
The story of how this came to be will be told another day, for now, our (anti-)hero, or rather, self-righteous-justice-maniac, has a bit of a situation on his hands.
Wait, let me correct myself: situations.
Namely cabbages. And an empty wallet. And also another little problem.
"… Sir*?"
His eyebrow twitches.
The girl, probably around the same age as the white-haired youth, stared expectantly at him.
"Ah. Yes. Won't be a sec."
Raising an eyebrow, the doe-eyed girl would only feel a brief gust of wind (inside a supermarket no less) before being handed a handful of cash. It took all of her self-control not to gape and say "huh?".
"Here you go."
His sharp, angular features softened, and a pleasant smile adorned the tanned youth's face.
A blush rose on the girl's cheek. How eroti-I mean exotic-looking!
She counted the money carefully, and then handed him his change. Her fingers lingered a moment more than they needed to. Just a moment, but both of them noticed. He didn't show it though. He had more things to worry about than a love-struck girl.
"Thanks."
"Thank you for shopping here, sir. Please come again."
Giving a small bow, the girl handed him his plastic bag, filled with vegetables. Or rather, one type of vegetable. It was chock-full of cabbages.
What was he going to make with that many cabbages anyway?
Nevertheless, Emiya Shirou left the supermarket feeling a bit… apprehensive.
It wasn't the first time that someone had been excessively polite to him (especially given that the girl who had just bowed to him was now growling at the next customer's inability to remember their PIN), nor was it the first time that a woman had stared at him with intentions that looked far from pure, but it was certainly the first time that he had to stand with his back facing something reeking of blood and steel for that long.
Glancing over at the counter, as he leaned against a pillar, he observed the woman giving off the dangerous smell. If he didn't know better, he would've swore she was related to the Matou girl – Sakura. Both had purple hair, innocent-looking features, and held themselves with the grace of a classical yamato nadeshiko** - a mask no doubt, but a convincing one, concealing what was definitely monster within. Unfortunately, the shared feature that drew most of his attention was… was…
That bustline.
No yamato nadeshiko should have a cup-size that large! It's against every Japanese custom that every existed! Kimonos were made for the flat-chested!
Well, according to Ayako, at least.
Though, Shirou noted ironically, she was hardly a washboard herself.
Nevertheless this woman managed to pull off the busty-kimono look as if it was only natural. Then again, she made purple hair and red eyes look natural. And-
Wait a minute, red eyes? Could she be a Dead Apostle?
She certainly smelt of enough blood to be one, but, lacking the scent of a corpse, Shirou didn't feel that this conjecture was right. But she was definitely not human.
Hm… could she be a new Type?
Worry began gnaw at his heart, which sank when he realised she had spotted him staring.
Great. Just great.
Shirou considered escaping from the shopping mall before the woman/monster/alien finished paying for her groceries, but his instincts told him to stay, and, given that she was trying as hard as she was to blend into human society, he would probably be more likely to survive in a public area than in some back alley. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the worst.
"Ara, was there something on my face?"
Unexpectedly, no death threats or warnings to 'keep silent or else' were shot towards him. Instead, a gentle, feminine voice appeared from in front of him.
Which in itself was disturbing, since he hadn't sensed her presence – her smell was also a poor indicator of location, since it was pretty much stinking up the whole mall, and he had had his eyes closed for a moment.
"Er. No, sorry for staring."
She tilted her head, her eyes asking 'then why were you staring at me?'.
"Ah."
"Hmm?"
"Well," he rubbed the back of his head, feigning embarrassment, "purple hair isn't something you see everyday, and a friend of mine," ha, a thick-faced lie right there – how could a Matou ever be my friend? "happens to have purple hair, so I thought you might've been her for a minute."
"Ara? But you were staring at me for more than just 'a minute' though, and," a mischievous grin lights up on her face, an expression that he had never seen on the Matou girl's face, "that's a poor excuse to hit on a married woman!"
If it wasn't for his training for maintaining a poker-face, he would have started frothing the mouth.
"Married?!"
Alas, no amount training could stop his mouth before it said something stupid it seems. Damn mouth.
"… yes? Is there something wrong with that?"
"No, nononono! Of course not! I was just surprised, since you seem so young!"
"Ara, but I've seen women marry younger?"
So have I, but they weren't nuclear-warhead-level-powered inhuman beings.
"Ah. That's true."
"But I'm flattered you think I look young – but," she pouted, almost cutely, "you should really stop trying to flirt with me."
"Ah," unable to conceal his blush any longer, Shirou reverted to behaviour more fitting of his age – namely, embarrassed panicking, "I really wasn't! I really do know a girl who looks like you!"
Okay, now it's starting to sound desperately pathetic, even to me.
She arched an eyebrow. Sighing somewhat… maternally,
"Ma, we'll go with that lie then."
"But it's not a lie!"
Really, how many years has it been since I've acted so childishly?!
She giggled slightly. "That aside, my name is Asama Miya. It's nice to meet you, Mr.-?"
Swallowing his embarrassment, Shirou replied: "Emiya. Emiya Shirou."
"Well then, Emiya-kun, it was amusing talking to you, but I must be going now."
"Ah, indeed, I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time, Asama-san."
"It's not a problem," waving slightly with the hand carrying only two bags of groceries (appropriate, since the other carried three), the purple-haired, kimono-glad creature departed.
Once he was sure she was out of earshot, Shirou breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well, that was interesting."
At least I confirmed she doesn't appear to have any significantly hostile intentions to humans, and either she is unable to detect or also has no ill intentions towards magi. Regardless, she is not an immediate danger.
Nodding slightly to himself, Shirou set off.
And stopped about three steps later.
I forgot to book accommodations.
And the mission was going so smoothly too.
* = she doesn't really call him "sir", but "okyaku-sama", which is how normal, polite salespeople would talk to their customers, but there isn't really an appropriate equivalent in English to show how polite she's being, so meh.
** yamato nadeshiko = the 'ideal' Japanese woman i.e. a demure, homely yes-woman.
A/N: Er… I'm not sure what the proper way to go about this is, but I extend my thanks to writers such as gabriel blessing, SatireSwift and many others who have written (and/or are currently writing) superb F/SNxSekirei fics. You've all been hugely inspirational ^u^