Disclaimer: Alright, so it turns out that getting ownership of licensed properties is significantly harder than previously anticipated. So for the time being, I still own neither of these two great franchises, and the following piece of writing was only created for my amusement... and because my friend Tommy took one look at the prologue and told me to continue.

Not a lot of action here, this chapter is more of an... well, let's call it an introductory phase, shall we?

Shameless plug time! If you like either Evangelion or Tokyo Ghoul, feel free to check out my other story, The World Unraveled. It's only got a prologue and two chapters, but they total up to 25000 words, so it should keep you occupied for a short while at the very least. And so, without further ado, read, enjoy, and review!

You Have Control

[FRICTION]

"Hey, Emiya. Oi, Emiya!"

"He's been like this for the last two days. I'm really starting to worry about him."

"You're right, this is bad. Who the hell's gonna do the cooking?"

"... I don't know why I still expect basic human decency from you."

"Decency is overrated. I'm frickin' starving over here!"

At any other time, Shirou might have interjected. Really, Shinji and Issei's arguments drove him up the wall sometimes. However, he just couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Instead, he opted to partake in his favorite pastime - namely, cooking.

He stole into the kitchen, his roommates unaware he'd left their company as they were so caught up in yet another argument. He brought out the various pots and pans he would need, and gathered all the ingredients. It was like he was on autopilot, which normally wasn't the case with Shirou, as he was usually enthusiastic whenever he was in a kitchen. Though, he could imagine why that'd be.

It had been two days since he had last gone out for groceries. Two days since a man committed suicide right in front of him by running in the way of a speeding train.

Now, it wasn't like Shirou hadn't seen people die before. Just the opposite, in fact. However, it was the first time that he'd witnessed someone make the drastic decision of taking their own life. And quite frankly, Shirou couldn't see why anyone would make such a choice. It was still bothering him at this very moment, he just couldn't fathom what would push someone so far over the edge.

And the worst part? After answering the questions the police had, which were standard fare for the most part, nobody had claimed the body. The people on the train were actually irritated, even. They were more concerned with being inconvenienced than by the fact that they had practically been standing over a man's corpse. It was that uncaring attitude that pissed off Shirou, the unwillingness to grieve over a fellow human.

I came to this city so that I could help people like that. To save them. He idly grabbed the soy sauce and poured some into the stir fry. I need to get faster. I need to graduate college quicker. If I don't, more people like him will-

"Emiya, you dumbass, the pan's on fire!"

And indeed it was. Shirou had spaced out, and now the contents of the stir fry had been burned to a crisp, courtesy of the giant flame eating away at the pot. It was almost with a pained lethargy that Shirou reached over and grabbed the baking soda before smothering the fire, ignoring Shinji's barbed exclamations and Issei's panicked screams.

He turned towards his two friends, a sheepish grin on his face. "So," he began, looking sheepishly at his clearly annoyed roommates, "you guys feel like takeout?"

[C]

Shinji greedily tore into his ramen, slurping loudly as he did so. "I tell you Emiya, even if it looks like I'm enjoying this ramen, which I'm not, I'm still pretty pissed at you." He tilted the bowl and gulped down the soup, before slamming it down and reaching for a second bowl. "You can't just go burning the food! I mean, it's not like you're the one paying for this, you know?"

"You can't really say that," Issei said, carefully blowing on his noodles. "Considering you've never worked a day in your life."

"That's not true! What about that job I took as a host!"

Issei scoffed, much to Shirou's amusement. "First of all, being a host is hardly work." A vein popped up on the aspiring lawyer's forehead. "And secondly, you weren't even working there! You just wandered in and tricked the ladies into thinking you were a new employee!"

"I provided a service, upon which all parties benefited. The ladies were given positive company for an hour, and I received payment for my efforts." An infuriatingly smug grin broke out across Shinji's face. "Oh, wait, I know why you're upset about that. It's because that girl you've got a crush on ended up asking for my-"

"I refuse to listen to your blatant lies!"

Shirou tried hard to stay out of their argument, he truly did. But he couldn't help but ask, "How did you even get away with posing as a host anyway?"

A proud aura emanated from Shinji. "Oh, it turned out the club's manager was a woman. So, after she caught me all I did was use the old Matou family's secret technique." The blue-haired layabout tilted his head back as he gloated. "After that, she was like putty in my hands. Seriously, the gift I have with women should be weaponi- HOLD ON JUST ONE DAMN MINUTE!" A finger was pointed accusingly at Shirou. "Don't you try to change the subject!"

You guys did that just fine yourselves. "I don't know what you guys are talking about," Shirou said.

"Don't play dumb with me, Emiya. You might be able to get away with that with monk-boy over there," Shinji said, promptly ignoring Issei's indignation at such a demeaning title, "but that won't fly with me. You need to get your head outta the damn clouds! What if you accidentally set the house on fire? Or, Kami forbid," at this Shinji glanced at the giant TV in the living room, a nervous bead of sweat running down his face, "you break little Ayumi-chan?!"

Issei managed to wipe the fluster off his face before turning to his friend. "As much as I hate to admit it, the mouth breather has a point. You've been... distracted, for the past few days." A look of genuine concern flashed on his face. "Is everything alright?"

The whole time Shirou had been idly stirring his ramen noodles. He hadn't told them of what he had seen, of the man who'd just thrown his life away. And there probably wasn't any need to. They had already learned of the suicide by the time he had gotten back, and just like the people on the train, they had treated the incident with a sort of bored detachment. Not that Shirou could blame them. It was easy to see why people would think like that, why they would just ignore the tragedies occurring around their everyday lives.

He was certainly guilty of that, all those years ago.

"Look guys, I'm fine," Shirou lied through his teeth. "Work is just tiring me out, is all." When his roommates wouldn't drop their disbelieving stares, the red-haired part-timer decided a bigger lie was needed to assuage their worries. "Also, I was turned down by another investor."

At this, both Shinji and Issei gave him sympathetic looks. "Yeah," Shinji muttered, "that'd do it."

When the three of them had moved to Tokyo, it had been for various reasons. Issei simply wanted better job opportunities that couldn't be found in Fuyuki City, so that he could live a comfortable life wherein he was financially secure, maybe even start a family. Shinji, who hadn't wanted for anything since he was born, just wanted to get away from his family... and to not have to drive for eight hours to get to the Tokyo Game Show.

Shirou, on the other hand, had moved to Tokyo in order to make the world a better place.

Ever since he could remember, Shirou Emiya had always wanted to help people. It had started small, with him defending weaker students from bullies in elementary school. After that, he learned how to repair all kinds of machinery in order to fix equipment so that his middle and high schools wouldn't have to spend so much money, an act which earned him the embarrassing moniker of 'fake janitor'. Most of his free-time even was spent as a volunteer with certain charities that benefited the poor and homeless. And in return for his services? Nothing. He did all of these things for the enjoyment of it, because there was nothing Shirou loved more than helping people, and the feeling itself of helping people.

If one were to ask the younger Shirou what he wanted to be when he grew up, they would receive quite the odd response: I want to be a Hero.

Now that he was older, that answer had changed, though it was no less odd: I want to be a Savior.

But just how to become a Savior? Certainly, the title itself seemed arrogant, but to Shirou it was a title he one day hoped to be worthy of. His first idea, to become an Ally of Justice, was vague at best. Sure, he could become a policeman, it wasn't like he lacked the smarts or physique, but it didn't have enough impact. Being a politician was out of the question, as not only did he abhor the very subject of politics, but he was pretty sure he would want to kill all politicians his first day in office. He briefly toyed with the idea of joining the JSDF, though he was more interested in saving everyone, as opposed to just the lives of his own country.

Then he had a breakthrough. He would create an organization. An organization dedicated to making the world a better place. It was a juvenile generalization, and he had no idea just how to go about creating such a structured corporation, but that was what Business classes in Tokyo University were for.

Now, while his intentions were pure, and he there was no doubt he possessed the drive, there was one thing that Shirou lacked.

Money.

He hadn't come from a filthy rich family like Shinji, nor did he have any relatives he could ask to fund his venture like Issei did. So, Shirou decided he would take baby-steps.

First off, he would need to pay off the tuition fees for his university and the rent for the house. No problems on that front, that was what the three part-time jobs were for. Plus, his father had left him a modest inheritance before he passed away, so there was also that to fall back on.

Secondly, he needed to find an investor willing to put money towards the organization. This step was, unfortunately, where Shirou's entire plan fell apart. Mainly because...

"I keep telling you, no sane person is willing to fork over money for something like that." Shinji had finished his two bowls, and now he was lounging down on the couch as he flipped through channels on the TV. "Especially with the shape the economy's in right now. Most folks just aren't willing to invest in something that won't turn a profit."

Shirou rolled his eyes. "It's a non-profit organization, that's the whole point-"

"Which is why no one wants to back you," Shinji replied. He turned to look at Issei. "Four-eyes, talk some sense into this idiot, will ya?"

For once, Issei wasn't offended by Shinji's comment, mostly because his attention was focused on Shirou. "He's right you know," the aspiring lawyer admitted, a sour expression on his face. "The chances of an investor being interested in this concept of yours is close to zero. It doesn't help that the amount you're asking for is... quite large."

For once, it was Shirou's turn to act bitter. "It's not a concept, it's just an idea that hasn't lifted off the ground yet." Why couldn't his friends see that this was more than a pet project of his? That it was something he would willingly dedicate his whole life to?

"I'm pretty sure that's the definition of a concept," Shinji commented. "Look Emiya, I'm not tryin' to say what you're doing isn't noble. However, it isn't realistically feasible. Maybe you'll have better luck when we get out of this recession, but as it is, I wouldn't hold my breath." There was a pause from the man, as if he were struggling to get his next words out. "Plus, you've been spending way too much time on it. I get that this is your baby, but with how many hours you put towards it? It's making the both of us worry."

Shirou at first ignored the vitriolic words, only to pause when he saw that Issei's face was, shockingly, set in agreement. Shirou sat there in silence for a while, just staring at his cold ramen. Finally, he got off and made his way to the front door, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket from the wall hanger.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Shinji asked.

Shirou replied just as he shut the door, barely resisting the urge to slam it. "A walk."

[C]

They're wrong. I'll find someone to back me up on this, I just haven't looked hard enough. He placed his feet one in front of the other, unaware and uncaring of where his body was taking him. I'll find a way to make it happen. I've got enough education in business and economics, that should translate to a high-paying job, right? New scenarios made themselves known in Shirou's mind. Yeah, I'll get a good job, hoard away some money, and I'll fund this organization myself! I don't need investors, I just need money! As long as I have that, then... then...

He stopped under the light of a streetlamp, the dark of the night seeming more oppressive than it ever had before. He leaned up against the lamppost, sighing as he leaned his head against the cool metal. I'm in way over my head, aren't I? When no one answered his unspoken question, he closed his eyes in defeat. Yeah, yeah I am. Thought so.

It was infuriating, knowing that his dream was near impossible to achieve. If Shirou were one to get angry, he'd probably be smashing trash bins in frustration right about now. As it was, he merely sighed and rubbed the back of his head. I shouldn't have acted that way towards them. They didn't deserve that. He took a moment, then amended the thought. Well, Issei certainly didn't. For another few minutes he stood there, before walking back towards the house. I should go back and apologize. We're getting low on soy sauce as it is. I'll make a stop at a convenience store. And tomorrow, I'll buy I'll the stuff I burned. Maybe then Shinji will be in a better mood-

"Good evening."

The voice was startling, and sounded as though someone had just whispered it in his ear. Surprised, Shirou turned around, only to face the strangest individual he had ever met.

It was a tall man, maybe seven feet. He wore a comical outfit, a cross between cosplay and lunacy. What looked like a business suit sat over his tall frame, and a pink - seriously, pink? - mantle was settled over his shoulders, and a top hat embroidered with large golden M's sat atop his head. In his hands was a gilded cane, the handle of which was a golden depiction of either a gargoyle or a particularly ugly elf, making the cane more of a scepter than anything else. His hair, as pink as the mantle, and his face was dominated by a Cheshire-like smile, all teeth. However, the man's most intriguing feature?

Are his eyes... yellow and pink? Shirou rubbed his eyes, blinked, and rubbed his eyes again. Okay, I think Shinji spiked my food. Again.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, Mr. Emiya. I assure you, I'm quite real," the man said, his grin somehow growing even larger. "As a matter of fact, I daresay that I'm the most realistic person you've ever seen."

"That..." Shirou tried to find something polite to say. He failed in his search. Instead, he muttered, "... doesn't make any sense. Just who are you?" And more importantly, "How do you know my name?"

The two humans, one of which was dubiously so, stared each other down. Shirou had set his face in a grimace, expecting that this man was either a) one of the many odd individuals that inhabited the nightlife of Tokyo, or b) another hallucinogenic-induced persona that would probably make the next hour or so of his life very confusing.

The man gave a deep bow, the smile never leaving his face. "My name is Masakaki, and I am a representative of the Bank of Midas." He took off his hat and crossed it over his heart. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Emiya."

He didn't answer the second question, Shirou realized, a bead of sweat going down the back of his head. "Okay then... did you want something from me, or...?"

Masakaki chuckled, a bell-like jingle that sounded oddly fitting. "Straight to the point I see, a man after my own heart." He lifted the scepter into his other hand and began to pace circles around Shirou. "You have been randomly selected to become an entrepreneur of the Financial District. You can choose to decline the offer, but I must inform you that you would be missing out on the chance to win big money, not to mention the fact that I'll likely keep hounding you until you say yes." All of this was said with that unnerving smile plastered on Masakaki's face. "So, what do you say?"

Shirou shifted on his feet. Alright, so it's neither A or B. He's just a promoter for a bank, albeit a weirdly dressed one. And blunt. "Sorry, but, I don't want to take a survey," he said, turning his back and walking home. "I've got some stuff to do, you see..."

"Oh, how inconsiderate of me!" Masakaki was at his side now, twirling his scepter around. "I hadn't given a thought as to what you might be doing. Here, let me expedite the process for you!"

Shirou blinked.

And then he was in a Supermarket.

His foot paused in mid-step, before he calmly set it down. He recognized this place, it was the one market he had to take a train to. There were people in the market, browsing the various goods with a bored look on their face. The only difference between then and now was-

"I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of halting the passage of time." Masakaki was, inexplicably, floating upside down in the air, his clothes perfectly straight despite the laws of physics wanting to say otherwise. "This way, you can browse for however long you like!"

Everyone in the store was frozen in place. Some in mid-step, others just waiting in line at the service counter. At first, they could be mistaken for being very, very still, but upon closer examination, he realized that no one was breathing, or blinking, and their eyes weren't contracting. Shirou was willing to bet the little money he held to his name that if he took the time to check, he'd find that their pulse was still as well.

It was quite unnerving.

To say that Shirou was confused would be an enormous understatement. More like he was somewhat terrified by what had just happened. Not only had he apparently just been teleported, but evidently this strange man also had the capability to stop time. And... Shirou couldn't help but notice that he was taking all of this surprisingly well. Maybe it was another of the man's strange abilities? Though it was possible that all of this was just a dream, and he'd wake up sooner or later. With this knowledge in mind, Shirou grabbed a cart and made his way down the aisles.

Masakaki followed him, walking upside down as normally as if the air were a ceiling of some sort. "I must say, you're taking all of this remarkably well. Normally the prospective Entre's are, how do I put this... ah! They're usually panicking and asking my identity right about now."

Shirou shrugged his shoulders. "Something tells me you wouldn't give me a straight answer. The way I see it, you're just a figment of my imagination, and as soon as I wake up, you'll be gone." He stopped in front of a display of lettuce and cabbage. "And entertaining the fact that you are real, than it's not like I'm in any position to demand answers. Generally speaking, I make it a policy not to upset people that can stop time and teleport." Shirou frowned in dismay. "I can't believe how expensive this is. I could get twice that amount at Yoshinori's for half the price. Maybe it's organic?"

"Quite the sound mind you have there, Mr. Emiya," Masakaki remarked. "And I wouldn't worry about the expense, it's not like you'll be paying for it."

Shirou stopped the cart and sent a glare towards the bank representative. "Well, I'm certainly not stealing anything."

Masakaki laughed out loud, a truly disturbing sight. When the otherworldly being ceased his chuckles, he stared at the prospective Entre in delight. "And I never implied such a thing! I simply meant that the Bank would be covering your purchase here, a gesture of good will you could say."

Satisfied that he wouldn't be stealing anytime soon, the would-be-savior turned a corner, and started to head down the meat section. "So. What exactly is your deal?"

"As I have previously stated, I am a representative of the Bank of Midas."

Shirou turned towards Masakaki, who seemed to be juggling a pair of oranges and his scepter. "Okay, that's good and all, but what does that mean?"

"I suppose you could think of us as just any regular bank, the difference being we're more liberal with who obtains money." Masakaki hopped down from the air and set his legs down on the linoleum-tiled surface. "Like I said, you've been randomly selected by the Bank to become an Entrepreneur, or Entre for short."

"Okay, so what does that entail?"

"When you get right down to it, it's all a simple question, is all." The dapper representative leaned in close to Shirou, causing the young man to take a step back. "How would you like it if I told you there is a place you could earn obscene amounts of wealth overnight?"

There was a saying in the West - don't make a deal with the devil. While the Japanese might have have reworded it a bit, the message was still essentially the same. Shirou himself had never had to heed those words, mostly because he'd never found himself in a situation where he'd have to make a deal with said proverbial devil. But the longer he considered Masakaki's words, the more that old saying repeated itself in it's mind. "I'd say that's grand, but I'm not sure if-"

"You're welcome to refuse the invitation, if you'd like," the representative spouted, turning in place and marching comically away, "though, again, I'll just hound you until you say yes. And anyway," Masakaki swiveled around on a dime, a strange predatory glint in his eyes, "wouldn't starting up that organization of yours be easier if you joined up?"

To hear someone speak with so much - Shirou wasn't sure what else to call it - enthusiasm about his project set something off in his head. "You know about that?"

"But of course! The Bank knows nearly everything about you, Mr. Emiya! And I must say, it's quite the noble venture." Masakaki was behind him now, having moved there when he wasn't looking. "Someone who thinks of others before himself? The Bank would love to have you!"

Several thoughts ran throughout Shirou's head. Somewhere in the conversation he had stopped thinking if anything was real, and instead focused on the one particular thing Masakaki had mentioned: Money.

Normally, this would be too good to be true. But, if I had enough money, I wouldn't need to look for investors anymore. Shirou's fists clenched, anticipation running through his veins. I could... I could finally start saving the world! His mind set, the college student looked determinedly at Masakaki. "So then, if I accept, there's a chance that I could win a lot of money?"

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Masakaki's grin become more pronounced for a moment. "Well, it all depends on how well you handle yourself in a Deal, my boy." The otherworldly being stretched out his gloved hand towards Shirou. "Of course, there is something I must tell you. In order to become an Entrepreneur, you must be willing to hand over your future, which the Bank will hold onto as collateral. Knowing this, are you still willing to join?"

My future as collateral? As ominous as the sentence sounded, the statement was so vague and open-ended that Shirou didn't even bother thinking over the specifics. "Yeah." He grasped Masakaki's hand in his own and shook it vigorously. "Yeah, I do!"

The groceries lay forgotten on the floor.

Masakaki leaped in joy twirling in delight in mid air. "Excellent! Then it's settled!" The strange man snapped his fingers.

Shirou blinked.

And then he was in a parking lot.

The sensation of standing in one place when being yanked somewhere new was still a disorientating feeling, but he managed to keep sound. Masakaki was standing right beside him, his scepter held in front of Shirou's chest. "Watch your step, please."

Just as he was about to ask what the representative was talking about, the sound of an old engine sounded throughout the nighttime air. He looked to his right, and was surprised to see an old beetle-like black cab speeding towards them. The brakes were hit, and the tires screeched against the asphalt as it came to a sudden stop in front of them. One of the back door's opened up, revealing a leather-clad interior.

Masakaki ushered him into the cab, and as they sat inside the vehicle, an old man wearing a chauffeur's uniform stared back at them. He had a head of grey hair, atop of which was a cabbie hat decorated with the same figurine that was on Masakaki's scepter. His eyes seemed impossibly huge, and he talked with a gravelly voice. "Where to, boss?"

"Why, the Financial District of course!" Masakaki pointed his scepter forwards, with Shirou narrowly lowering his head in time to avoid it. "Quickly now, we mustn't dawdle, Mr. Emiya over here has a deal scheduled immediately!"

The old cab driver switched the vacant sign to occupant before flipping a switch on his dashboard. "The Financial District it is." And then the engine was again roared to life, the car driving ahead at breakneck speed.

As Shirou looked around for a seat belt in vain, he noticed that the car was headed straight for a concrete wall. "H-hey, wait a minute!" he sputtered out. "You're gonna cra-"

There was a flash of rainbow light, with Shirou's arms held up in preparation for a crash that never came. As he realized that he was miraculously still alive, he opened his eyes and beheld a truly magnificent sight.

They were on a gold-paved road, seemingly suspended in mid-air, with statues of a donkey-eared figures lining the sides of the pavement. A crimson red sky loomed above them, though astonishingly it was more calming than ominous. White-scaled building towered in the background, looking for all the world an almost perfect replica of downtown Tokyo's skyline. Further ahead was a large open structure, with three other roads seeming to intersect at that point. The detail that most captured his attention however, was a giant golden coin hanging in the sky, a series of ever increasing numbers displayed in center, with an inscription reading Total Assets of the District in English directly above that. There were strange creatures, too, some walking side by side with other humans, and some floating about in the air, none of whom appeared to be hostile.

It was otherworldly. It was impossibly real. And for whatever reason, Shirou found himself absolutely fascinated with the place.

"It's quite the sight, isn't it?" Masakaki said, Shirou barely able to keep the wonder off his face.

"Welcome to the Financial District, Mr. Emiya."