Valley of the Fallen

Fate Series + One Piece

A/N: Oops I'm back real soon with another part of the introduction, and some replies.

Amatsumi: Concerning the "rebirth of Type Moon characters," I wouldn't exactly say that. Not terribly far off, but not spot on either. As for the Shirou's upbringing prediction, I hate to say it but that hadn't ever crossed my mind, and it isn't anything nearly as interesting as that, regrettably. This whole story was just a half-assed idea that came to me at, what, ten or eleven in the evening? So, it's not going to be anything elaborate.

mx2342: I'm glad you like how the trio turned out, and to answer your question, when I first uploaded the first chapter, I had [Ritsuka, Illya and Shirou] (I think I put Rin on there too) as the featured characters, but I changed it after some reconsideration, so the one including Ishtar and CĂș is the more recent and accurate one, so to speak. All the characters are technically included. You'll see what I mean by "technically" later on. Maybe I'll drop the Ishtar tag and exchange it for another if I feel it appropriate.

happysausage: Well, no, not really. I'm completely (stand-correct, mostly,) adapting them to the One Piece world so Illya doesn't have any of that. However she will have something else that is considerably simpler and less impressive. I think that since this takes place in the One Piece world, is based there and none of them have actually "been" to the Fates Series world per se, giving Illya Magecraft would be a little much.


The world was a blur, the sound of talking a slurred and muted warble in the background. His eyes opened, slowly, naturally trying to adapt to the amount of light hitting them so suddenly.

Where was he?

He tried to move but his body barely responded, the most he got being the twitch of his fingers and flicker of the eyelids. He tried again and again, but to no avail; he couldn't budge. A strangled sound of annoyance crawled from his throat and he stilled.

Who was he?

Come to think of it, he couldn't remember anything. He didn't know how he got here, his name, his age, what he looked like - nothing, except his language. Even then he couldn't remember the name of it. He had amnesia, that much was obvious. Through the ground, he heard someone approaching; the crunching of boots against sand was distinct, stopping just beside him and the light was temporarily blocked by what he assumed to be a person.

The person spoke to him, but he couldn't hear, and it seemed the person realized after seeing his puzzled expression and dazed look. A pair of hands gruffly grabbed onto his arms and helped him sit up, before shouting again. Soon after, another pair of hands grasped onto his ankles and he felt himself being lifted off the ground. Where were they taking him? Away from the salty smell of the ocean, that much was for sure. Before he could try again to clear his vision, he blacked out again when he fell against a hard wooden floor.


Seeing a kid collapsed on the ground, looking like he was literally on Death's Door wasn't something he liked to see. Not to mention something about the kid seemed off; not normal. Was it potential? Haki? He wasn't sure, but something about the boy made him particularly special. Special enough for his senses to warn him, at least. That alone was something, so he had to be careful, regardless of the fact that the kid was dazed and out cold the next moment thanks to his wet body; he dropped him.

"Damn it, Marco! Don't let go of the brat, he's barely alive!" The blond male gave a sheepish smile, going down and holding onto the boy's arms again.

"He'll be fine, Izo, don't worry." Seeing the skeptical look he was getting, Marco sighed. "I'm serious, just trust me, alright?"

"...alright," the man nodded finally and he grinned casually in response. "On the double, bird-brain. If the kid dies, Pops will be furious. He did ask us to take him on board." Marco felt a sigh leave him at the reminder.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. The kid's got something to 'im. Alright, to the infirmary we go," Marco ended the conversation without answering Izo's questioning look, guiding the two males to their goal and laying the boy on the bed. He watched the boy's face as the nurses got to work, hurrying about with bandages to cover up the cuts along his arms and chest, which had been exposed by the rips in his white button-down. It looked like it had been a rather high-end shirt, judging from the lantern sleeves, nacre buttons and fine ivory cloth - satin, he guessed. From his clothes and hands, it seemed the boy had been rich, with the lack of callouses; it was as if he'd never worked a day in his life, but his muscular form beneath the thin fabric told otherwise.

It wasn't the muscle of someone who sat on their ass all day and let everyone else do the work. But then how did he have a body like that? Marco's eyes narrowed, but said nothing as the nurses ushered the two men out onto the deck of the ship so they could get to work. He and his crewmate walked along in silence, Izo glancing at him a few times, probably confused about his suddenly-serious expression.

"Any idea where he came from, Izo?" Marco broke the silence, and Izo shook his head as a confident reply.

"No, however his facial features suggest the Wano Country, from what I can tell. If that's the case, that would mean he's as much an anomaly to us as he would be to anyone else. We can only hope he can give us answers once he comes to." Izo shot Marco a look. "That is, if he wakes up, thanks to the new bruise on his head. He already has enough damage as is."

The man held up his hands with a defeated smile. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that."

"You aren't sorry!"

"Nope."

Izo gritted his teeth, fuming, but let out a shaky breath to calm himself. "Anyways...his body." Ah, Marco saw this coming. "Anything?"

"He doesn't seem to have ever held a weapon in his hands for long, 'might be a fist fighter. No callouses or signs of much physical effort put into anything." Izo nodded in agreement. "But like you said, we can't say anything for certain until he wakes up."

"If he wakes up."

"Yeah, yeah, Izo, I get it. 'If.' "

"No you do not!"


The lights weren't there like he had excepted them to when he opened his eyes again. It took him a moment to process he was inside. Inside?

He shot up, alarmed, before he let out a cry of pain and hugged his chest, agony flashing across his body, from all over. He heard people running to the door, surprised shouting and calling. Panic overcame him and he tensed, eyes wide as they glued onto the entrance of the room as it opened. Who was coming? Did they want to hurt him? What was going on?

He winced when the glare of the sun peeked in, blinding him temporarily, and his breath grew ragged; his wounds had opened again, but he didn't notice.

"Oh, you're awake." came a voice; it was calm and relaxed. It almost brought his heart rate back down, but he was too scared to calm so quickly. Alarmed, he crawled backwards until his wall was flat against the wall, ignoring the shots of pain running up and down his spine and arms. "Woah! Woah woah, calm down there kid, we're not gonna hurt you..."

Finally managing to make the figure out, he took in a tall man with a large frame sporting an impressive light brown pompadour and a friendly smile - a bit forced, but genuinely friendly nonetheless. His voice sounded like he was talking to a scared rabbit.

"...where am I?" he asked cautiously, and the man relaxed a little, seeing the boy had left his panicked state a bit.

"You're on our ship, Moby Dick. We found you washed up on the shore all battered up so we figured we couldn't leave you there to die and helped you recover," he explained patiently as a few more people filtered into the room; all men, he soon realized. "Do you have a name, kid?"

He slowly shook his head and the man sighed, scratching the nape of his neck. "Ah, that complicates things. Do you have anything you want us to call you for now?" The boy shook his head again. "Izo," the man turned to another (the boy had to do a double take to make sure it wasn't a woman), who perked at the mention of his name. "Any ideas on a name?"

"Why me?" he sounded irked.

"Well, you kinda look like him, so..." Izo glared at him, and the man looked away, looking defeated. "Yeah, okay okay...how about...uh...Rits?"

"...Rits?" came an unimpressed voice, and the boy's gaze fell onto a tall man with a single tuft of golden blond hair on the top of his head. "Rits, Thatch?"

"What? Can you come up with a better one?" Thatch challenged, looking offended.

"No, but we can at the very least build off of that one and make it a bit more creative. You don't call a kid Rits just because you found him covered in gashes," the man raised a brow at Thatch, who sighed.

"Yeah, okay fine."

Something clicked in the boy's mind.

"Ritsuka."

The boy's voice was smoother and clearer than anyone had anticipated, even the boy himself. He'd expected it to be at least a little bit scratchy, but it seemed that was not the case.

"...Ritsuka, eh?" The blond man smiled, something the boy immediately decided looked much better than when he was frowning. "Izo, you were right. He very well might be from the Wano Country."

Ritsuka blinked in confusion. "...Wano?"

"The country you may have come from," the man explained. "I'm Marco, by the way. The tall mustache-guy over there's Vista, the cross-dresser's Izo and the guy who called you Rits," he shot the man a look, "is Thatch."

"I'm here too," came a gruff voice with playful hurt laced into it. A large man with curly black hair stepped forth with a grin. "I'm Teach, nice to meet you, kid."

Ritsuka stared at him steadily, studying him. Something about the man put the boy off. But he nodded hesitantly nonetheless.

"Not one for many words, huh?" Izo sounded more curious than annoyed. "Your clothes are on the table to your right, the nurses were kind enough to fix them for you."

Marco gave him a questioning look, but the glare he received was deadly enough for him to bite his tongue at say nothing, looking a little nervous as he looked away. Thatch sniggered, before grinning at Ritsuka. "Well, sorry we scared you. We'll go tell the others you're up - Pops is gonna wanna talk to you. He's the captain of this ship," he added when he saw Ritsuka tilt his head.

The boy nodded before pausing. None of them noticed, save Marco, who stayed behind as the others filtered out, seemingly excited by the boy's awakening, closing the door behind them. The man studied Ritsuka as his gaze grew distant, turning to the back of his right hand, seemingly lost and confused. Marco eyed his hand suspiciously. Was there something supposed to be there? Come to think of it, the back of his right hand had been cut up the worst out of all of his wounds. Had his assailant tried to remove something? A mark? A tattoo?

He was snapped from his thoughts when Ritsuka held his face in his hands, sitting criss-cross and began to mutter to himself.

"Ritsuka." The boy jolted, starting at the sound of his voice. He hadn't noticed Marco stay after, he noted. "You alright there, kid?"

Ritsuka looked up at him almost meekly before slowly shaking his head. "I...would you believe me if I told you that...if I told you I can't remember anything?"

Marco furrowed his brows, squinting at the boy. Interesting. "...with time, I would. For now, no," he replied honestly. Ritsuka took in his answer before nodding and looking away again.

"...I see."

There was silence again before Ritsuka looked up at him again with a gentle smile. It almost convinced Marco he was absolutely harmless. Almost.

"Thanks, Mister Marco." He scoffed.

"Drop the Mister. It's too formal. Just Marco is fine." Ritsuka almost laughed, for some reason. But Marco was happy to see him look alive again, after spending so many days looking at a boy who looked so dead.

"Thanks, Marco."

"Much better."


A/N: Ack an OOC Marco, I feel bad. Whatever. I got another chapter in at least, in record time. So yeah. Ritsuka's here. Oho? I guess?

Well anyways, there's two more introductions to go through before the story actually starts to progress. Thanks for reading, I guess, sorry for poisoning your eyes with my horrible writing.

Thanks for reading,

Microcrane