Chapter 02: As Expected of a Brave
It was a tranquil night, one that could only come after a storm had passed.
The grass before them was slick with rain, but it released a refreshing aroma into the air. The kind that made a person remember their place within nature. A gentle breeze flittered across the lawn, softly buffeting the trees with a tender rattle.
A dark blanket of clouds that had obscured the heavens parted to reveal a large full moon in all its brilliance. As if suspended by celestial strings, it sat in the night sky. Unmoving, omniscient, the moon brought a peace of mind to the small family sitting upon the veranda.
The evening meal had just finished, the sounds of the maids and their mother cleaning the dishes and the table could be heard around the corner.
"Papa, tell us a story!"
A diminutive voice broke the silence, the impatience that only came with young age apparent to any who had passed that stage of life.
She called out to a man who was robed in a dark blue yukata with no patterns. He had scraggly black hair and the beginnings of an unkept beard. His face was angular, his jaw well defined and sharp, complemented with shallow cheekbones. However, his intimidating visage was mellowed by the soft gray eyes as he gazed upon his children.
"Story?" he parroted in a halfhearted manner, "I don't know about that. What if your brother doesn't want to hear one? You came to interrupt our little moon-gazing didn't you?"
The brother looked away in embarrassment. He wasn't sure how to respond. Wasn't it childish to want and hear stories from your father? But on the other hand he relished the tales of his father's adventures. A small girl with white hair and red eyes squirmed in his arms as she tried to get a good look at her father.
"B-but its boring! Sella won't do anything fun!" she complained and waved her fists around in the air.
"Alright, alright. A story huh…?"
A moment of silence began as the father brought his fingers to rest upon his chin in contemplation.
"Did I ever you tell how I fought with a Brave once?" he asked them.
The siblings' eyes widened in astonishment.
""A BRAVE?"" They both exclaimed.
"Uh huh. Now, I was given a mission by the Adventurer's Guild to investigate a strange artifact that had landed in the Eternal Forests to the North…"
The father's tale was the stuff of childish dreams. A longwinded tale of an adventurer of renowned skill who investigates a strange artifact that had landed within Human territory. Almost as if it fell from the Heavens and the gods themselves, they could not discern the origin of the artifact. Mystery and conspiracy as they discover that there was a traitor amongst their midst, selling information to the enemy in exchange for riches and acceptance into enemy society. The artifact was a Trojan horse of sorts, housing an autonomous weapon that soon began to wreak havoc upon the forest and the villages. A Golem from ancient times, and one that was extremely powerful.
"I'll never forget that feeling. None of my magic seemed to affect it, physical attacks even less so. It felt as if all hope had been lost. And then out of the blue, the Brave had arrived. She was small, almost like a teenager, but her presence sucked the breath out of me. That sort of feeling that makes men feel inferior but at peace, the inspiration of faith you might say. She was majestic.
"With a single slash of her golden sword, the Golem was brought down. The foe we couldn't defeat even with ten veteran adventurers, done in by the Brave singlehandedly. She saved the village and thanked us for assisting her, and that was the last we saw of her."
The lengthy story finally recounted, the father leaned back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the late summer winds that flew through his hair and over his skin. The lack of any response made him open a single eye and saw that his daughter had fallen asleep, snoozing away without a care in the world in the embrace of her elder brother.
"And she wanted the story." The father sighed.
"Sorry Pops, I didn't want to wake her up…" the boy said apologetically, to which the father gave him a smile.
They fell into a quiet lull, simply enjoying the presence of one another. The sounds from the kitchen had stopped at some point, but the light still visible. The soft aroma of brewing tea floated under their noses, perhaps a late-night snack being prepared.
"You know, I always envied that Brave."
The son's eyes widened as he looked at his father, unsure if the man was speaking to him.
"I always wanted to be a hero, I always wanted to save people. But the more I tried and the older I got, the more I realized that it was hard. Very hard. Too hard, almost. But that Brave was different. She was strong…stronger than I could ever imagine being. She never had to choose between saving the many or the few, she was strong enough to save everyone. That Brave was a real hero."
The father chuckled softly in self-deprecation.
"I guess they have to be, right? The Braves can save humanity, they must in fact. Dreaming won't cut it. I could never be a hero."
"You're wrong."
It was a disagreement said with no passion or forcefulness, the type of tone taken when explaining an irrefutable fact. The boy looked his father in the eye as he continued.
"Kiritsugu, you're a real hero too. You saved me from that burning village, remember? It wasn't a Brave that saved me, it was you. To me you're as a real a hero as anyone can become."
The father's jaw dropped in astonishment as he contemplated his son's words. Laughing softly, he reached out and tussled the boy's hair, to his son's dismay and irritation.
"Maybe your right kid, I can't be all bad if I managed to save you at least," his hand stopped as he whispered quietly, "But I couldn't save them all."
"Don't worry Dad! I'll become a Brave for you, and I'll become so strong that I'll save everyone. I'll be a real hero! Just watch!"
Shirou could never get the next moment out of his mind for the rest of his life. The expression of Kiritsugu Emiya at his son's declaration. A man unsure of himself. A man unsure of his son's future. A visage of complicated expressions: pride, sadness, bewilderment and confliction all danced across the face of Kiritsugu's face.
Eyes opened and stared up into a canopy of fabric. Shirou Emiya rolled onto his side from under the blankets to peer at the window to his side, traces of the first rays of sunlight signaling the arrival of dawn. He tumbled onto his back and covered his eyes with his arm, a deep sigh could be heard throughout the empty room.
"It's been a while hasn't it…? Since I've had that dream?"
He sat up, pushing away the blankets and comforter, noticing the night sweat that drenched his body.
"'I'll be a real hero?'" Shirou whispered to himself as he rubbed his eyes, "Pathetic. Even my own dreams are mocking me."
He got out of bed and stretched as he inspected his chamber. The room had pristine white walls with gold trimmings, with a similar colored ceiling nearly four meters above the floor. The curtains were made of tall and heavy linen, covering the ceiling to floor windows. The floor was covered in a dark green fabric that was exquisitely soft. The bed was awfully fluffy, filled with expensive down. An unnecessary number of pillows and large comfortable blankets completed the sleeping device.
It made him uncomfortable, to live in this kind of environment. His family was not poor by any means, the old estate he lived in was a large house of wood and stone, but his father's culture emphasized simplicity and minimalism. Shirou was not used to western opulence, but could do nothing about it. His new social status had demanded that he be treated as his station demanded.
It was something he would have to live with.
Entering the similarly extravagant bathroom he removed his clothing before entering the bath. A connected bathroom and running water were a luxury (his father had routed a river to serve as their moving water source in their old house). He paused briefly in front of the full-sized mirror, reveling in his reflection. Shirou was fit before, but now he could attest that he was in his prime physique. Shirou's chest and abdomen were well defined and chiseled, his arms and legs in a similar condition. All the unnecessary fat removed, leaving behind only the body of a warrior in his peak. However, that was not what had caught his eyes. It was the undulating and sporadic patches of dark skin that littered all over his body. Scars that were remnants of burn wounds that never quite healed correctly. Shirou twisted and turned, inspecting his burnt body from different angles.
He thought it was ugly.
Bathing was a short affair and he exited with only a towel wrapped around his waist. The room was already cleaned, the bed already made, and curtains pulled aside. The maids were like ninjas, entering and keeping his room orderly without making their presence known.
His sleepwear was taken away, replaced with white tunic with long sleeves and golden buttons. Paired with it were brown trousers that were perfectly tailored for his height. And right before the bed was a small table with a silver platter.
Another thing Shirou could not get used to: being served. When he found out he was no longer allowed to cook he nearly had a heart attack. The maids had similar reactions when they saw Shirou enter the kitchen unannounced. He was yelled at by the Chamberlain for quite some time to act "as befit his honorable title."
He ate breakfast alone after he robed, the clattering sounds of forks and spoons echoing throughout the room.
"I wonder how Illya is eating?" he muttered to himself.
Shirou exited his room and entered the hallway of the castle, making his way to the training grounds to the southside. In the passageways, various servants and government officials gracefully stood out of his way, all the while bowing.
"Ugh," he mentally grimaced, glad to finally be out of the castle and out of the stuffy atmosphere.
As the young man made his way to the training grounds, the sounds of ringing swords and shouts became louder the closer he got.
"Ah, Sir Shirou. Good morning," greeted a gentle voice over the din of mock combat, "I see you are punctual as usual."
"Good morning Sir Bedivere, I just wanted to get an early start on physical training." Shirou explained himself.
Sir Bedivere was the residing General of the castle, famous for his intellect and demeanor. He had green eyes and long silver hair that was braided and tied into a neat bun. His effeminate face and body gave him a soft presence, despite the exquisite armor and green robes he wore. His left side was covered with white tarp, hiding a sheathed slim sword at his waist. Bedivere's most notable feature however, was the prosthetic steel arm that attached itself to his left shoulder. It moved with unnatural grace and silence, one that Shirou never got tired of observing.
"Good habits as always," smiled Sir Bedivere, "The Battle Master will return in a few minutes. How about you set yourself up with Armor Set D and begin practicing your forms and swings?"
"Yes Sir."
Shirou moved himself over to the armory shack and wore the equipment he was told to. As he settled himself in front of a practice dummy he was greeted by fellow trainees, all of whom bowed or politely referred to him. He would always smile back awkwardly and respond back curtly. With nothing else to distract him, Shirou entered one of the many forms that were drilled into him and began to practice the movements that allowed him to shift from one form into another as well as the various swings of the longsword that was in his hands.
Life had changed drastically a year after the incident within the cave. Shirou was quickly moved from his sleepy village of Fuyuki in the Eastern Kingdom to the Western Kingdom's Gomag City[1]. Gomag was an economic hub that was centered between four major roads that connected the Northern and Southern Kingdoms of the human lands. Shirou was placed into the care of Duke Thereon, the master of Castle Redcliffe, and was given room within the castle with all the amenities given to someone exceedingly valuable. Shirou was suddenly elevated from commoner to a pseudo knight of sorts, and his training entrusted to the famous Sir Bedivere and the Battle Master of Castle Redcliffe.
The red head couldn't help but think of this as an elaborate joke.
"Shirou!" a voice called out, breaking Shirou out of his reverie. Turning around, he was met with the sight of a tall man in pearl white armor and a flowing royal blue mantle.
"Battle Master Lancelot, good morning."
The elder knight with short trimmed purple hair waved him off.
"None of that polite stuff now. Have you finished your warm up?"
"Yes sir, two hundred swings for all eight forms."
"Very good, now come to the flat grounds, the rest of the squires are pairing up for spars. You will be joining them."
"Yes sir."
Shirou didn't understand why Lancelot frowned at him but followed him regardless.
Battle Master Lancelot was a bit of an ideal for Shirou, not in small part due to the fact that both men were of little words. Every conversation was quick and to the point, something Shirou empathized with. Beyond that, Lancelot's skill could not be denied. Seemingly a master with any weapon from a halberd to a spoon, Shirou could not find a better teacher in swordsmanship.
It was not to say that this made Shirou a good student, however.
"Gareth, pair up with Shirou. Spar will continue until first blood or first yield. Basic [Reinforcement] is allowed."
"Yes, sir." Gareth answered cheerfully as she settled into a stance that Shirou recognized.
Gareth was Lancelot's personal squire, one that had quite the family repertoire. She was the younger sister of one of the current Braves and the half sister of the current Regal Brave. She shared similar features as well, a small stature with a youthful face, further enhanced by golden hair and green eyes. She grasped her sword with an assured confidence, due in no small part to the fact that she was more familiar with a sword in her hand than fish were with water. It was rumored that her training began when she was three years old. A small competitive fire was lit within Shirou as he settled into his own stance, intended to directly counteract Gareth.
"Begin!"
The call from Lancelot signaled the start of the fight, and Shirou didn't make a move. He held no illusions about his capabilities, he was fully aware that Gareth was physically faster than him, making the first move would mean entering combat where she decided the rules. What he could not make due with constitution, he would have to cover with strategy.
Gareth seemed to deduct her opponents plan within a moment and lunged at him, her sword moving in a fluid swing from right shoulder to left hip. Shirou stepped backwards, and then once more to the side, avoiding the follow up attack from Gareth's blade. His chance to counter came when the momentum of Gareth's swing had created a blind spot for him to exploit, and so Shirou swung downward in with measured strength and speed.
CLANG!
Not a chance, Gareth's sword flashed upwards and parried the blow away.
"Blind spots are no good, huh?" Shirou thought as he leapt backwards to create distance, his mind formulating strategies. Gareth spared him no respite as she once again closed the space between them in series of dashes. Shirou tried to guess her next attacks from her footing but it was to no avail. She was simply too fast and rained blows too quickly for that to be an effective strategy.
[Reinforcing] minimally he changed his course of action. His stance moved away from the rigid and stable style of contemporary Western swordsman into a more flowing and variable Eastern one. Lancelot had told him that the basis of the Eastern style was to avoid taking the brunt of the attacks, to force your opponent into a game of attrition. Elongating the fight so as to force them into making a mistake. Shirou hoped that his insight into Gareth's personality would make this a forgone conclusion. Her ditzy and air headedness must certainly manifest in her fighting as well. Every slash she made was met with a gentle parry that used his arms like a sponge, absorbing the initial bite of the blow and then knocking it aside.
Gareth grinned as she realized his ploy, and instead began speeding up her attacks. She had decided to take the challenge directly then.
Blows were traded between both swordsman as they jostled for position and footing. No opening was left to breathe before being exploited. Changes in balance were met with heavy blows while soft feints were made in attempt to coerce the opponent into favorable situations. Gareth's swordsmanship was impeccable, the stances that she and Shirou had learned together under Lancelot's tutorship were subliminal. She shifted between stances and attacks with elegance, incorporating them into attack patterns Shirou never imagined was possible.
"She really is a genius…" He thought as he kept deflecting blows. He was confident in his own skill with the sword…or rather he was confident in his consistency with the sword. Shirou never made mistakes unless he allowed himself to. And today would not be the day he broke that habit. As it currently was, he couldn't foresee Gareth slipping up, they were both students of the same teacher and were intimately familiar with each other's ability.
So, he just needed to try something unexpected.
He poured prana into his body as he blocked one of Gareth's swings directly, trapping the opposing blade on his longsword's hilt. Both swordsmen began pushing, but Shirou was faster in his decision making He slightly lowered his upper body and placed a single foot forward. This shift changed the point of leverage of their clashing blades. And then he shoved, forcing the energy out through his shoulder. Gareth's eyes widened in shock as she was sent flying backwards, albeit landing on both feet.
"This is getting fun!" she chuckled and Shirou could feel the prana envelop her body. It was miniscule when considering her total reserves of energy, but compared to him it was already more than he could imagine achieving consistently. Gareth nearly came flying at him…
And it was all according to plan.
He let go of his [Reinforcement] but maintained his open circuits. He held a Western block stance, fully intent on taking the attack head on. At the moment of impact he dug the heel of his backfoot into the ground and quickly reinforced his entire body in a single motion. A brief tingling sensation of pain throbbed once, but to Gareth's astonishment Shirou had managed to meet the force of the blow. Suddenly Shirou switched to the Eastern stance, his previously stiff arms suddenly becoming fluid as he slid his sword away from Gareth's now stationary blade and spun around, the centrifugal force propelling the blade to attack the empty flank. Unsurprisingly Gareth had managed to save her fracturing form enough to block the first swing but was suddenly pushed onto the defensive as she was knocked off balance.
Shirou's counter attack began in earnest as he mercilessly attacked any opening he could find, all the while making sure to maintain enough pressure to ensure Gareth could never get proper footing to from a proper stance. Hope began bubbling in his chest as his plan began to show results, it was now only a matter of time until the combined forces of pressure and attrition would force a mistake out of Gareth.
However, Shirou failed to notice the large amount of prana that built up in Gareth's body, increasing further with every trade.
The attack that formed from stance A into movement 2 was textbook, your standard two footed double handed attack that started high and ended low. It was simple and easy to execute, generally the default for any aspiring knight or combater. Its singular flaw was that it required the user to move forward slightly, essentially risking a change in balance in exchange for power. If one happened to be able to parry the arc of the swing at the exact moment that the balance shifted, the user's stance would be blown to pieces, leaving no time for a counter attack or to even mount a defense. However, the window was extremely small and would require inhuman levels of skill to exploit.
And of course, Gareth possessed the ability to do exactly that. However, she had something else that also turned the tide in her favor.
Shirou saw the gleaming edge of Gareth's sword in his peripheral vision, but it was too late as he had already invested his energy into his swing. With force akin to a cannon his sword was knocked upwards, his [Reinforced] arms rendered numb with that single attack. A violent wind forced him to close his eyes and his ears became deaf due to the air whipping around his head.
"Mana Burst!" he thought in disbelief.
He barely had time to register the follow up attack by Gareth. At the speed and strength she had moved, the sword would easily hit his abdomen and clear through his light plate armor like butter. He would be bisected like a cow at the slaughterhouse.
CLANNNNNNNNNNNG!
Gareth's sword had made it through Shirou's armor and tunic before suddenly snapping in two, the top half of the blade sailing far behind him. The shrill metallic sound brought Gareth back into reality, a look of abject horror passed over her face as her eyes shifted rapidly from broken sword to Shirou's face.
"Oh my god, Sir Shirou!? I'm so sorry are you alright? I didn't mean to take things so far! I just lost myself in the heat the battle. You started forcing me into all these corners and I stopped thinking and started taking it seriously because it got so fun. And oh my god I broke my sword!? Are you alright!? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" Gareth began to hyperventilate as her panicked speech attracted the attention of the squires around them, as well as a rather enraged senior knight.
"GARETH!?" Lancelot roared as he stomped over, his eyes burning with fury and worry simultaneously, "WHAT DID I SAY? BASIC [REINFORCEMENT] ONLY"
"U-u-uuuuu o-o-o," the young female squire became a bumbling mess as tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. All traces of the battle hungry knight-in-training disappearing into thin air. "I-I-I uhouuuoooo."
Lancelot facepalmed and groaned quietly. This clearly not the first time this has happened.
"It's fine Battle Master, I'm not injured," Shirou interjected, placing a comforting hand on Gareth's shoulders, "It's my fault anyhow. I may have encouraged Squire Gareth into a more serious fight than either of us intended it to be." He lifted his tunic to reveal an unharmed abdomen. "See? Just fine."
Lancelot flashed the red head an analyzing look before turning to pull Gareth aside and began his lecture. Shirou couldn't hear what was being said, but he could see the remorseful Gareth nodding her head occasionally.
"Oi, you see that?"
The whispers of the squires behind them came to his attention.
"He actually managed to get Gareth riled up…"
"Battle Master Lancelot looked really angry."
"Of course he was angry, Gareth just attacked THE Sir Shirou! Duke Thereon is going to have a heart attack when he hears about this."
"What a monster, he took a sword enhanced with Mana Burst…and it broke when it hit his body?"
"Ridiculous, isn't Set D armor enchanted with [Hardness] too? And Gareth cut through it!"
"You know, for a second I thought he was just a normal squire like us when he first came. Guess looks can be deceiving huh?"
"As expected of a Brave."
"Right?"
…
As expected of a Brave.
As expected of a Brave.
Shirou removed his armor and inspected the damaged tunic. The gulf of skill he had just witnessed humbled him once again. More accurately, it had given his already damaged self-confidence a bloodied nose. Every move he made was countered fully, a change in styles was effective until Gareth adjusted her own timings and responses. Shirou didn't want to admit it, but he had also begun to go all out with his [Reinforcement] to keep pace with Gareth. It was all blown away in an instant by the squire's single spell. She was stronger, faster, and more magically inclined than he. If it weren't for his special body, Shirou doubted he'd be alive right now. The young knight sighed deeply before letting out a single frustrated breath.
As expected of a Brave.
"Damnit."
Tohsaka Rin was well known throughout the country as one of the Braves, a genius mage descended from an ancient Vampire. Her beauty was renowned and envied, and added to her allure. She was an upper crust human that had upper crust abilities, a true super existence in every sense of the word. Her white and gold cloak with the insignia of the Braves added to her presence, shocking all those around her into silence and awe. Except for, of course, the man in front of her. She was quite familiar with Bedivere after all.
"So how is our trainee doing?" she asked as she turned her head to observe the person in question.
A red headed teenager stood a distance away, a simple bow in his hands and a quiver of arrows to his side. She watched as he fluidly knocked a single arrow and pulled back the drawstring. Effortlessly he let it fly, hitting the center of a target nearly forty meters away.
"Sir Shirou reminds me of myself to a certain extent," started Bedivere as his eyes traveled the distance between bowman and target, following the path of another arrow. "He has been training diligently and has very good habits. Gets up early, never late to lessons, always puts in hard work. Shirou is surprisingly intelligent, he says his father had made sure to give him an education as well as basic training in magic and combat. I've taken the liberty to introduce him to basic military strategy as well as history. He's adjusted well to it, however…"
"However?" repeated Tohsaka.
"…He is neither a good swordsman nor a poor one."
"Is that right?"
"Yes. Sir Lancelot and I have been quite…surprised with his progress. He is able to perfectly mimic whatever stances are taught to him. Has had no trouble learning the basics and intermediate skills of Western and Eastern styles. But he seems to lack that absolute control over his body that is necessary to tailor fit those techniques to suit his own physique. Statures are unique per person, and the greatest of warriors make the style fit them and make it their own rather than copying what was previously done."
"I see…"
"He lacks that gift, which is a rather crude way to put it. But what he lacks in such skill, he makes up for with…" Bedivere trailed off as Shirou let loose another arrow, it flew through the air with deadly precision, hitting the target dead center, splitting the arrow that was previously there. A frightening display of skill.
"As you can see his archery is far and above anything I have ever seen. I can only call it an innate talent, he possesses a sense of space and depth perception that makes me question whether he is human or not." Bedivere finished, gesturing to the target that was littered with arrows. All of them perfectly centered.
"I have to concur, he can do this all day. Never seen him miss once." A new voice interrupted them. Tohsaka looked over to see Lancelot himself walking up to them. He gave them a small wave in greeting before leaning against the table to Bedivere's side.
"What's your opinion on Sir Shirou, Battle Master?" Tohsaka asked.
"He's quite good for a normal human. Says he has no special blood line or anything like that. However, as a Quasi Brave? I'm unsure if his swordsmanship is enough. I'm beginning to question how he managed to kill that dragon, what was its name again?"
"Gnir" answered Bedivere with a grim smile.
"On that topic," Tohsaka started as she brought a hand to her chin in contemplation, "Medea has sent back her report on what happened on Mount Enzou with Shirou and Gnir."
"What did it say?"
"No elemental aftermath or changes in space or time. She concluded from the corpse that his reverse scale had been hit, but it was several minutes before he died. Also, Gnir was an Elder Dragon."
Silence befell the trio, with Lancelot's eyes widening in shock while Bedivere gaped like a fish.
"That's impossible!" exclaimed Lancelot, "A normal human can't kill an Elder Dragon!"
Elder Dragon, a term referred to in Lazlow's Theory of Hierarchy. Lazlow was a scholar who had studied the intricate workings of the world and developed a theory of the various beings within the Universe. He claimed there was a caste system within the Universe that was upheld by nature. Gods and deities sat atop while Humans and the other beings in the World rounded out the bottom rung of the Hierarchy. Lazlow made the discovery that a being could only be killed by another being of the same or higher level as their own. The higher the level of being, the more they were a representation of an aspect of Nature itself, and so the Universe would conspire to maintain that they live.
A lowly Human had no chance to kill a god, the universe would intervene and ensure that this never occurred. This was why the legends only told of demigods or humans with special lineages being able to take down Phantasmal Creatures and slay gods. And Elder Dragons occupied the same class as gods.
Tohsaka shrugged, "Medea is never wrong. I can hardly believe it myself, but I think it gives evidence to something we've all been wondering about."
She looked over at Shirou Emiya, who had just emptied his quiver and was walking towards them. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Tohsaka. She flashed him a small smile.
"Shirou Emiya has some sort of ability that allows a normal human kill an Elder Dragon. Most likely, it's something he is not aware of himself. And for the battles to come and the enemies we are destined to face, it's our responsibility to get to the bottom of that capability."
Her words caused Bedivere and Lancelot to shiver internally as they faced the person of interest.
"Dame Tohsaka, it's been a while. Nice to see you again," the red head greeted politely.
Tohsaka stepped forward and inspected the specimen before her. She walked around him, noting the damaged tunic he wore. Something he would have to explain to her in the future, as indicated by the questioning glare she sent him.
"Of course, Sir Shirou. I'm afraid I'm on business today, I'm here to fetch you. Prepare yourself, we're going off to the Capitol City tomorrow morning."
"To the Capitol?" Shirou asked.
A cold grin graced Tohsaka's beautiful face.
"Of course, it's high time to have you introduced to the Pope. We're having you inducted into the Braves after all."
Shirou audibly swallowed.
[1] Gomag City is a reference to "Shuumatsu Nani Shitemasu ka? Isogashii desu ka? Sukutte Moratte Ii desu ka?" The protagonist's home town is called Gomag.
Authors Note:
Welcome back dear Readers! It is I, SouBU.
Another chapter is uploaded, and one that I hope I will not have to come back and edit for grammatical and spelling mistakes (I'm still working on fixing Chapter 1, bear with me XD).
Chapter 02 is an exploration into Shirou's thoughts with all the changes going on in his life. After he killed the Elder Dragon, Gnir, he is suddenly elevated to the status of a Quasi Brave Candidate and subsequently is treated like a VIP. He was never used to living luxuriously and being tended to, and feels as if he doesn't deserve the attention and social status he has. Adding to this, he is completely aware of how much of a lackluster swordsman he is when compared to his peers. There is also a hint of homesickness pervasive throughout his actions. I hope i got across the complicated emotions he is feeling, which i can describe as "cynicism."
While Shirou may have achieved his dream of being a Hero, and he did "technically" earn his place as a Brave, but he knows that there was a fluke involved here, and he can't but feel out of place and humiliated. He became a hero by circumstance (heh, see what I did there?).
In the next chapter we will be traveling to the Capitol and having our protagonist meet up with this idolized band of heroes. Please stay tuned for that.
This story started off as a thought experiment but is slowly taking over my creative energies. I didn't have anything planned, but now my editor and friends are saying this should be a complete story. I will most likely not upload for a few weeks as I plan out the plot line. This story will most likely be around 20 chapters long with three arcs and a bonus arc at the end. Pairings and romance have already been chosen.
Shirou's main ability has also been decided, and I hope you will all enjoy the creative spin I take on it. I sat back and wondered what I liked about Shirou in FSN, what exactly made him such a compelling character. Shirou has unwavering views on justice and morality, never compromising even if it costs him his life. My favorite part of FSN was the tension of reading Shirou fighting against Heroic Spirits knowing full well that the likelihood of him dying was significant. He is constantly struggling throughout the story, always fighting opponents stronger than him despite being a normal human with few strengths. Through sheer grit, he persevered and conquered those challenges.
This is why I'm not a fan of the majority of the portrayals of Shirou in the FF fandom, I understand the appeal of making Shirou powerful, but it robs him of his identity to a certain extent. So my version of Shirou will be one that emulates the idea of "challenging those superior with the few strengths you have."
Please rate and review, and I hope to see you all in the next chapter!
Regards, SouBU