*Smack*

"I told you to never do that again!" My uncle shouted, his face blustering red as he stood over me. He was rather tall and broad shouldered, with the deep red hair that was common in the Irish countryside. As he breathed, his mouth closed tight into a hard line.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Thomas. It was an accident." I said, glancing over at were my aunt's prized vase flouted in the air just an inch away from the ground.

I honestly didn't mean to stop it. I saw the cat knock it over and just didn't want it to break. I wished for the control I once had over such things. Magecraft was just too easy to do without Gaia breathing down my neck, and so, I keep doing it on accident, even managing things that were outside of my element.

Guilt mixed in with the fear on my uncle's face. "My brother should never have messed in the devil's work. Don't let it taint you to, boy." He said, reaching down to try to touch my head, but I saw his hand pull back as if bitten. I didn't need to see a mirror to now that the bruise on my face from the hit was quickly vanishing and magic flooded in from around me in order to mend it.

Mana, the free prana of the world, healing. It was a concept so strange to me that I still couldn't grasp it after the five years I have spent in this life. I wished I had better control over it. It took actual will power to make it stop before by uncle had a fit.

It had not come as a shock to me when I had been reincarnated with my memories intact. It was part of the requirements miracle after all. I must search forever in order to find her. One life time is not enough, not if I don't become a legend. I would have to keep searching, lifetime after lifetime, in world after world if I wanted to find her where I know she waits for me.

My name had been Shirou Emiya, during the first life I can remember. Now may name was Oscar Myers.

I had been born in England, and shortly after my birth, my parents both died. No records were kept about the cause of death. My Uncle says that they dabbled in the devil's power and were taken because of it.

Thomas was a good man, but he was still just a man. He was afraid of the unknown, and magic was something he couldn't accept. His brother had been born with magic and grew up learning it from a secret society of witches and wizards in Scotland. Thomas had been booted out of the family when they found out, since it was a good Catholic family that believed that magic was the devil's work. Thomas Myers had grown up being told that his brother was taken from him by the devil.

After my parents, he brought a infant me into his home and tried to raise him right, regardless. I couldn't exactly blame him for the way he reacted around the unknown, nor could I hate him. He had been raised to fear magic.

"Just... try not to do it again." My uncle said as he bent over and lifted up the vase, placing it back on the table where it belonged. "Tomorrow is a church day. We can ask for forgiveness than... both of us can. I'm sorry." Without looking back at me, he walked out towards his office in the back of our one story house. He was mumbling something about getting his taxes done.

I sighed and started to pick up the dishes. My aunt had been working late in town so it had been just the two of use tonight. We lived out in a small town in the countryside of north Ireland neighbors were few and far between and my Aunt had to catch a bus in and out of the city for her work. I wasn't sure exactly what she did for a living though. It had something to do with shipping but that was as much as I had been told. My uncle worked a construction job a lot closer by. I was usually around the house by myself a lot or over with an elderly neighbor.

My uncle and aunt didn't want people to find out about my weirdness, so they tried to keep me as withdrawn as possible. They honestly were good people. But as time went by they got more and more scared.

The magic wasn't the only problem. They had noticed how differently I acted from other children. Unlike other five year olds, I was quiet, calm, usually thinking or trying to do mundane tasks to help them. I knew that I was causing trouble for myself, but I honestly couldn't act like a small child even if I tried. I couldn't even remember my first childhood and was never much for being around smaller kids. It scared my uncle and aunt who already believed that there was something wrong with me.

Today was the final straw for me. I just came to terms with a fact that I should have realized a long time ago. I can't live here like this. I can't deny myself what I am. Nor could I afford to simply keep ignoring the growing power inside of me. While levitating pot plants was no be deal, if I somehow accidently activated my Unlimited Blade Works, or caught something on fire, it would be a disaster. I could seriously hurt someone.

I had to leave and found a quiet place where I could practice, training myself until these accidents no longer happened. So I packed up some of my looser clothes and some food in a back packet and took a bit of money and left. I left that night and never turned back.

It was for the best.

I pulled the string of my blow back to my cheek, waiting for the right moment to take the shot. A deer stood just under a hundred yards from me, drinking from a stream. It would have been simple enough for me shoot it in a vital spot, even from this distance. But I wanted the shot to piece the head, an instant death, so that the poor animal didn't suffer, and when the flight time of the arrow was added in, that meant I had to take care of predicting its movements.

It raised its head, looking around before turning back to the water's edge for another drink. As it dipped its head down, I let go of the string, letting my arrow fly and piercing the deer's neck, right through the spin at the base of the neck. The reinforced arrow flew a few more feet and buried itself into the ground behind the deer. Dead happened so fast that the creatures body simply hung there with its face a few inches above the water before collapsing.

I already dropped down out of the tree I had been using as a vantage point and was moving in to collect my kill.

This was nothing new, I had done it a hundred times in the last two years. After running away from home I became something of a hermit, living by myself and living off the land, all the while practicing whatever magecraft I could. It seemed that for whatever reason, mana was readily available to some humans. While it couldn't be used to the same degree of accuracy or density as the Od that was produced by the human body, it was practically infinite.

Mana, unlike Od, also had no Origin, and as such even someone like me could use any type of magic with it. The realization was a huge shocker, after an entire lifetime of being restricted to a single branch of magecraft, I suddenly had an entire world opened up to me. The only problem being, I had no idea how to use it.

I could practically hear Rin laughing at me when attempt after attempt blew up in my face. I deeply regretted the fact that I near really listened to her about ritual based magecraft that utilized mana. Most of it was blood magic stuff that I would near have touched with a ten foot pole and would make any decent human being sick just thinking about it. How was I supposed to know that I would be reborn in a world were Mana isn't poisonous to humans?

Now I understand why everyone always complains about having to reinvent the wheel. The problem is, I have no idea where to get one. I need a teacher, but you can't just find such things in the phone book. What would the help wanted add even look like?

I dragged the deer corpse back to my little home in the woods and started to get to work cleaning it, setting out what needed to dry and starting up a fire. Cooking was unfortunately low key, I managed to pick some things from the woods that could be used to add a bit of flavor to the food, and I had set up a garden of potatoes back when I was first starting out, but I had no spices, sauces or grains. What I wouldn't give to be able to magic some up, but even though I was able to make clothes and cooking instruments in a few of my less embarrassing experiments, I haven't managed to make anything edible, unless you count salt.

No matter how good of a cook I am, there is only so much you can do with potatoes, meat and wild fruits and leafs. I was so sick of stew and jerky.

After mixing in everything I needed into the camp fire, I leaned back against my wooden dwelling and closed my eyes, trying to think of something new. Its hard to think of new things after so much time alone in the same place. I had to dig through my memories in greater and greater detail, trying to find a bit of information I've forgotten and that might be handy.

But in the end, all I thought about was her. She was waiting for me, I just knew it, but what exactly was I doing to search for her? I needed to become a hero, one who's name would go down in history. Easier said then done. To be far, I was only seven years old, and it wasn't like anyone would take me seriously until I was older. Still, it didn't feel right to just sit here in the forest doing nothing.

I sniffed at the air. The now familiar scent of wolves was in the air. I hadn't actually seen them, but there had been a pack in the area for longer than I had been there. Though the odd thing was, though I smelled them moving about and heard them from a distance one some nights, I never found their trails or any left over prey or markings. It was odd, but I never really had any reason to go out after the wolves and they never seemed to follow me. We simple left each other be.

It wasn't until today that they had even come in range of me hearing them. The sound was enough to pull him out of his thoughts. They weren't the sounds of wolves.

"...trail leads this way." A clearly human voice came from the thickets. I had to double check my senses because the two weren't adding up.

I weighed my options. If I left, they would still see all of my things and determine that someone was here. That would lead to me not finding out anything about these people who smelled like wolves and I would have to leave my camp. The kitchen wear and clothes can be remade, but my potato plants couldn't. Such a shame to lose them.

In the end, I just opted to sit still and wait for them to come to me, flicking on one of my magic circuits and condensing an arrow to fit to my bowstring, more out of old habit than actually thinking I was in danger of being attacked before I had time to react.

Eight large men came into little garden, each dressed in rather worn out clothes, two were holding hunting rifles but they seemed to be the only ones armed. One of them had a dead raccoon slung over his shoulder, so they were probably part of a hunting party of some kind. Rather outdated but I wasn't one to talk. They didn't appear to be related as far as I could tell.

All of them stopped and stared at me and my little shack home as I sat there in front of the fire and pot of cooking stew. I could almost see their jaws dropping. "What the bloody hell..." One of them mumbled.

Seeing as they had lost their ability to talk, I tried to engage them in conversation. "Good afternoon. I believe that it is costumery to offer coffee, but I don't have any and the leafs here aren't good for tea."

One of them walked forward. He was dressed in a worn out black shirt and jeans but he was the most clean shaven of the bunch. If I had to guess, I'd place his age at around fifty. He wasn't large or small and his build suggested manual labor, but the way he moved was more rigid than you would find from a man with battle training. He looked down at me with a clearly concerned expression as he went down on one knee.

"Kid, what are you doing out here on your own?" He asked me.

"That is... a complicated question." I replied scratching my neck. "Would you mind answering one of mine while I try to think of a way to explain?"

The man smiled and nodded. "Go ahead, ask me anything you want to know." He was trying to be friendly. I couldn't tell if it was genuine or not, too early to tell. It was almost always too early to tell. You could live with a man for years without knowing the skeletons in his closet.

But his puzzled expression told me a lot when I asked him my question. "Why do you smell like wolves?" The men looked rather sad at my question.

"That is... are hard question to answer." The man said sadly. "Did... you run away from home?"

Was he avoiding the question?

"I did, around two years ago." I admitted.

"You've been living out here, all alone?" He frowned.

"Weather isn't kind, but there is plenty of things to eat and drink. I've made due."

"A child your age shouldn't be alone."

"Someone like me has to be alone. I'm different from other people. If I can't control myself, then the people around me might not be safe."

The man looked heart broken. I wanted him to understand that I was not helpless, but I didn't want to give away any of my abilities to him, not before I have determined if he was a threat or not.

"No man was meant to be an island." He said trying to give me a smile. "What do you say son, want to join our pack?"

I could only blink in surprise. It wasn't exactly what I had been expecting.

Trying out the first person writing style. Doesn't feel quite right for me. I think I completely butchered it. Oh well.

This is probably going to end up a one shot since everything feels so awkwardly written, but the basic idea was going to be that Shirou was pulled into a werewolf pack because they believed he was a werewolf. He meets Ramus there and they later go to Hogwarts together (either Ramus first going to school, or during Harry's third year).