Chapter 1- Seven I
AN- Well, this is the first official chapter. The seven Self Inserts will be introduced over the course of this and the next chapter, allowing you the audience to get a basic knowledge of who the protagonists of this story are, what their basic character is, and a small insight into what role they'll play in the story. Again I reiterate that there isn't a single main character; they are all important, and will all get development and screentime in this story.
Disclaimer: I don't own the setting of the Nasuverse or the canon characters that will make appearances, nor do I own the franchises of whatever references I make. All I own are the original characters I introduce in this story.
From a young age, I have always been a scared person. You could point out a phobia and I would probably have it. Snakes, spiders, heights: there were few things that failed to make me cry out to my mum in the night and demand that the bug that was bothering me be dealt with. Even as I got older, this fear seemed to follow me wherever I went. I never seemed to get over my crippling dislike for most things capable of rendering harm to me, small or large, and I think that the events when I was eight only made this fear large.
'What happened?' many people would ask, but honestly, I don't like to talk about it. After all, its not very often that your parents die. Nothing particularly special, just a car crash. A truck collided with our Jaguar and threw our battered piece of metal half way across the street, or at least that had been what it had felt like at the time to my small, eight year old self. It was an accident, and the truck driver had been very apologetic about what had happened, but the fact remained: I was alone in the world. My mum had cracked her head against the glass window and had her body crushed when the car practically imploded, while my dad ended up dying on the way to the hospital.
I had escaped unharmed, luckily. Rather, it was unlucky, since I didn't have a mum or dad to take away the creepy crawlies anymore.
Life carried on though, as it always did. I moved in with my grandma, and while the accident left no physical marks, the emotional wounds ran deep. Even the things that didn't openly go out of their way to could kill you, and my paranoia grew three times that day.
So I became a recluse. I played video games when I wasn't at school, surfed the internet and even began to watch anime. I liked the types of series where people could take serious injuries- like getting blown up with a mine, or punched into the stratosphere with a Megaton Punch- and come out unharmed, the attack played off for laughs. I watched other series though, more serious ones. It was hard not to become a nerd without confronting plenty of 'must watch/play!' things that don't involve things like character death, and I suppose that the screen between us was enough of a deterrent for me to stomach it. That shit happened to them, not to me, so it was perfectly fine. I was safe at home, looked after by my over protective grandma, and such things couldn't touch me.
Which was why when events like what occur in anime's happened, I was pretty damn annoyed.
It had started shortly after I had finished my A Levels (When I got an A in Maths, a B in Physics and Chemistry, and a C in ICT), when I had followed in my parents footsteps and died.
Let me tell you, dying is hard. You don't appreciate the blood pumping through your veins, or the synapses and electrical impulses that make you up, or all the other things that make up your human body until you loose them and become an ex-member of the Being Alive Club.
Ironically, I was hit by a bus when I crossed the road. Another way that I took after my parents, my method of death. From all my years of Physics, I could tell you, buses pick up a whole lot of momentum and carry a whole lot of force, and it had been travelling too damn quickly.
One moment I was alive, the next I was slipping away, blood drowning my lungs. Then I died, and all my fears had been for nothing. The world went dark, and I was scared. Truly terrified. I didn't want to die, nobody does. One fear I had above all others was of the dark, and of what was in it...
But it was what came afterwards that was the worst. Fire. A world of writhing flames and dancing sparks, maliciously tormenting the urban sprawl. Everything seemed to loom above me, and for a moment I blinked, not knowing if I was conscious or dreaming, wondering if I was in hell, or if my death had been a dream, or if I was even alive. My worries on my mortality went out of this window. It didn't matter if this was real or not, or if this was hell or just a dream. Those flames looked nasty, and I could feel the heat around me, parching my throat and already beginning to make my skin sweat and burn.
So I ran, as fast as my uncontrollable body could take me, trying to avoid looking at the raging element destroying all that crossed it, and trying to stop the pounding of my heart. I think I failed, but horror wasn't freezing me dead in my tracks, only propelling me on faster, reminding me that I had to run the hell away!
I fled the fire, and along the way I saw others try too. I saw people die. Dear god, I saw them DIE! Saw their life snuffed out of them like a dying ember, their lives over in a flash of heat and terrible, terrible burning!
Lovers killed in one another's embrace; the religious wiped out as they prayed; the brave scorched as they rushed into the blaze to save another. All died, but not me. I was stubborn, and I was scared. There were a few close ones where the burning death almost reached me, but it always fell short. My slow pace was barely able to outmatch it, my mind numbing panic narrowly allowing me to avoid acknowledging how everybody else was dying and how I was choosing to live instead of trying to help someone else, just like those people that arrogantly threw themselves back into the death and destruction, believing that they could save another.
Hell yeah I was picking myself! Not like I could do anything to help them anyway, and my own fear was much more important. So while their screams seemed to accuse me, I ignored the voices in favour of living.
I fell. Maybe I tripped. Maybe I was tired. Perhaps the flames had gotten me. Who knows? I fell though, and then I was certain I was going to die-
Up until he came anyway. A man in a trench coat. He brought light and peace and saved me from the fear that had been consuming me, and I think I fell unconscious after the anguish of dying once and nearly dying a second time was over.
I wasn't actually that surprised once all the pieces fell into place. Dead or not, it mattered little once I woke up in a white room surrounded by soft sheets. I was alive! I could breathe and talk and look, and that was good enough. It didn't matter why or how!
Then I figured it all out once the man that had rescued me entered my hospital room. I knew that man. I hadn't ever met him, but I knew him. I had seen him, once, and I could remember his identity as if it was my own. As funny as it was, I think I had watched him on the TV. Once he spoke, I knew my hunch to be right. His name was Kiritsugu Emiya.
Yes, that Kiritsugu, the one from the Fate franchise. Somehow, death had not been the end. This was still my body; I hadn't reincarnated or anything like that, but it was undeniable that someone or something, some weird cosmic force, had plucked me from my own world and dropped me here- into this fire- for some unknown reason. And then I wasn't dead anymore. And much to my growing horror, I had realised that something terrible had happened.
Kiritsugu had pulled someone from the Fuyuki Fire- someone who by all rights should have died- but it was the wrong bloody person! Someone in the universe had a sick sense of humour, because if I of all people had been drafted in as Shirou's replacement, then Fuyuki was probably doomed.
"What is your name?"
"My name," I told the Magus quietly as I had to push down the rising panic inside me back down. "Is Farrin. Just Farrin."
XXXXXXXXXX
"Owwwws..." I murmured, crying out as I came to in an unfamiliar room, with a pounding headache. "What did I do last night?"
Oh yeahs! I got together with a few of my friends and we had all decided that it would be a fun idea to drink copious amounts of beer until most of us threw up. Not me. Nopes, of course not. I'm much to ladylike to ruin a potted plant in such a fashion... besides which, Anna was probably worse. Bad drinker. I for one may not be able to hold my liqueur, but at least I'm a sleepy drunk and not a clingy one.
Moving on, my head still feels like a brass orchestra came a marchin' in and began to play the Flight of the Valkyries. I could swear that the music was still playing...
No, there really was music playing. A droning, blaring noise. "Shurrup!" I roared, shifting on the hard surface I was sprawled on, trying to find the noise without my sight, 'cos my eyes weren't very happy with me.
Paper, chalk, a rock, more paper... odd stuff to find on the floor (Not to self, gotta hit Sophie for not moving me from her floor to somewhere actually sleepable!), but oh well, STUPID NOISE!
"BWAH!" Shifted around too quickly and Mrs Headache came back like a bitch. "Bitch!" In all fairness, she was. God, I haven't been this hungover since the great comic con of 09...
THE DAMNED NOISE IS STILL THERE!
"That. Is. It." I hissed, wincing as I attempted to stagger to my feet, but only failed and fell back to the floor. I must've been reeeaaally drunk! I feel like I have pins and needles everywhere (And I means it!) and my body isn't responding like it should. "Gonna. Burn. This. Racket!"
I checked out my surroundings closely from the spot on my arse (And what a lovely arse I have, might I arrogantly state), and wondered at just where I was. "Pretty sure this ain't's Sophie's place..." Unless she had a secret basement or something, because I was definitely underground. I mean, this place was creepy! It was lit by candles and everything and OMG! Is THAT a satanic circle or something! It has squiggles and stuff, so probably! Does this mean Sophie's a Satanist!? No, Anna was a more likely Satanist. Bitch.
"There it is!" It was an alarm clock of all things, right next to the skull... yes... there was a skull. I hopes it isn't real... and... its turned off. Much to my relief. I think my own skull was gonna split open from migraine alone if I hadn't shut it up. "What sort of idiot sets an alarm this early!?" It was, like, six o' clock, which is like the middle of the night to me. I'm so gonna find Sophie, give her a wallop, then sleep this headache off. Once I finish nosing about that is. Its creepy, but this place has a skull! That IS pretty cool!
Wow, I really am disorientated. I also seem to have changed clothes, though I'm not worrying about that, and I still feel funny even with the head pounding starting to vanish.
"OOOOOHHHSSS!" There were jewels! Like, proper jewels! Rubies, sapphires and some of those green ones too! Though mostly red un's. "Daaaammmn girl, she's been holding out on me!"
Other stuff. Lots of books, in piles, shelves and otherwise. They all had odd sounding science-y names, which I couldn't figure out since I'd dropped sciences ages back to focus on arts and graphics. A few occult things too, and from what I could see of the pages that were scattered across the cold floor when I bothered to bend down (On legs that felt oddly small), they too were on occult topics, and involved things like circles, blood and other stuff.
Nexts thing! Contraptions! "Oooppsss..." Think I broke one. Okay gal, leave the complex, delicate, expensive stuff alone. Lets get on with it and just leave this basement...
The door swung open anticlimactically once I had scaled the stairs, almost falling down them twice due to the candle lit room being quite dark, but then I was through, and just wowzas!
It was fancier than any of mine or the others house, I could be sure of that. I lived in a dorm for gods sake, while Sophie was the only one of us to have a proper house to herself (Something to do with grandma's and inheritance)- shiny thing!
I swear, I REALLY want to know what we did last night now. Must've gone to a university party that went pear shaped up, because this is the sort of house a rich, posh boy'd have and-
-Nearly fell over again. God, I thought you were supposed to be able to walk in a straight line better when you weren't gurgling whiskey like it was going out of fashion...
Back on topic, mind! Facts aren't adding up though. If it was a party, where's the mess? Believe me, you don't have a part without a mess. Tisn't done! And where was everyone else? They should have heard my cursing by now...
I feel like an extra from the Hangover...
Next room, we can marvel at the décor later.
A hallway, and over there's a full length, ornate mirror. Lets see just how messy my bed (Floor) hair is...
"WAAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!" I didn't even bother catching myself from falling this time. That- well- that wasn't me! I looked again. Yep, still not me. I screamed again.
The reason why I was in this house, why I felt so odd, why there was so much occultic stuff; it all made sense now!
No, scratch that. None of it made sense. The face I had seen in the full body mirror wasn't my own, nor was the form that I was wearing. Too young for one thing, wrong shaped face, wrong hair colour.
The gormless mug glaring back at me could only be identified as a cuter/younger version of everyone's favourite tsundere: Rin Tohsaka!
XXXXXXXXXX
Blood runs thicker than water, but memory is the thickest of them all. Blood is a bond that ties you to the lives of others, those whom you call 'family' and name you 'family' in return, so this bond often motivates you to act. However, it's your memories that make you up as a person, and its these thoughts that ultimately determine what actions you choose.
In another world, Aodh Fraga McRemitz and his wife Fiona Fraga McRemitz would have brought a child named Bazett into the world, whom would have one day become an Enforcer for the Clock Tower and become a Master in the Holy Grail War.
Somewhere else, Kieran Fraga McRemitz was born in her place, and no doubt he too would live an interesting life.
But within this world, Kieran was not born with just blood ties, but a connection to a former life. In short, while I may be named Kieran, and the world knows me only as the son of a successful pair of mages in the Fraga clan, I know the truth. This is my second life. A second chance. No matter what, the person I was before I reincarnated will always be a part of whom I am.
And so it was almost natural that from the day I figured out that I was in the fictional universe of the Nasuverse (Due to divine Glitch, a trolling God or accident- who cares?) I would have a agenda. That my path would already be decided before my parents or anyone else had a chance to shape me.
I am my own person. My goal is my own. My motivation my secret to keep.
You see, what I desire is power. Not physical power, or political power, or even mental power. What I need is Power. Notice the capitalisation.
A selfish goal, yes, but humans are selfish. But is wrong that I want to live? That I want to stand out among the rest? Or that I dream to be at the top of the food chain?
I'm in the Nausverse. Its a World of Badass, where literally everyone is is capable of kicking ass and there are so many different things out there capable of killing you.
Being born into a family of Mages, I was taught from a young age what these threats are, while this association ensured that even if for some odd reason I decided to turn my back from these dangers I would be unable to. I am a part of this danger, whether I want to or not.
I refuse to be Prey though. If this is a world of Badasses, then I'll just have to become one then, won't I?
Here Magecraft allows you to defy the Logic of the world, Dead Apostles are the apex of strength, True Magician's can level mountains, and just out of sight Spirits and other Impossible entities lurk.
So I said to myself, 'I've got to get me's some of that'.
At two, after I had gone through all the basic stages of babyhood until it was reasonably acceptable to be able to start talking and learning, I immediately pestered my parents to try and get me started down the path of a Magus. That was the first step- learn Magecraft. Its the minimum anyone in this world would need to be able to survive.
But I didn't want to survive. I needed to be much stronger than that to achieve my goal.
So with all my time and effort I threw myself into my studies. I read every book, I opened my Circuits as early as possible (I ended up with 38 Rank A Circuits- which was natural for someone born from a line of Magi that had descended from those in the Age of Gods), and practised opening and closing my Circuits until by the age of five I was already able to access and use 18 of them- a number truly unusual for someone as young as myself.
The Fraga clan itself was a collection of Magi all living in the same Irish coastal town and who shared common descent and bloodline. Unlike most Magi families, our goal was not the advancement of our craft and the pursuit of the Root (The spiral from which all in the world originated from) but to preserve the knowledge that the Gods themselves had shared with our ancestors. Commitment to the Clan came first, and loyalty was expected and enforced. This plus the way that the Fraga shared knowledge amongst their ranks so widely led to the Fraga being disliked by the Mages Association rather than supported as a Ancient family like ourselves should be.
But enough of clan history- this was good for me. There was always someone willing to teach me, and before long I was even brought to the Runes expert in our Clan to be taught the basics of the Runecraft.
I was considered without doubt to be a prodigy. I far exceeded the performance of all of the other Clan children around my age, and was even better than some whom were older than me. My parents were proud of just how quickly I was able to pick up knowledge with my adult like ability to process information, and under their encouragement my Magical skills grew.
The first time I was able to set something on fire purely through inscribing a Rune into a surface and powering it with my Magic, I let out a rare laugh and smile.
'Just another step closer.'
Being able to give the laws of physics the middle finger was fun and all, but it was only a side course. The main dish of my research focussed on those areas that interested me much more.
The Greater Magics. The stronger beings. The deadlier spells. And at eight I was finally given access to the beginnings of the first of many things I truly lusted over in my quest for Strength- the foundation for creating my own Noble Phantasm, one born from the bloodline I carry in my Veins. Fragarach, the Gouging Sword of the War God.
This always leads back to what I desire. It always ties back to becoming more powerful than everyone else.
That's what I never got. The Nasuverse is filled with such artefacts and powers that one could become practically invincible if only they had the will to reach out and grasp it, so come so few people actually have the ambition to become as strong as this universe allows you to? And I did have the will. While I wanted power, there are certain avenues I could travel and would travel down. Become an Enforcer. Gain a Noble Phantasm. Obtain a pair of Mystic Eyes. Master the art of Runecraft.
But why settle for second best? Why settle for average in this world of Monsters in human flesh?
In the Nasuverse there are two main stories. The world of Fate, where Heroic Spirits are summoned within a vast ritual to do battle for the Holy Grail, and Tsukihime, the moonlit night where Dead Apostles and True Ancestors stand tall.
So if I am going to live in this world, I'm going to go Big or go Bust, and become the strongest of both sides. For the pursuit of power, I'll do everything that I have to, no matter how distasteful. While selfish, my survival is more important.
I'll become a Dead Apostle, and by discarding my Humanity I'll gain so much potential Power its unreal. One way or another, I'm going to become a creature that can reverse TIME ITSELF to recover from injuries, and is able to distort reality through sheer Inhuman perception of the world. The 27 strongest of the Apostles are known as the Ancestors, and it is those that are the true threats out there that I must stand as strong as.
My counterpart, Bazett, took part in the Heavens Feel, and so will I. I will learn everything I can, and then I'll summon a Hero to fight by my side. I will slaughter the competition, and as I stand before that tainted chalice I will make my wish. I'll obtain something that is spoken of reverently amongst all Mages, a power that is considered more monstrous than even the act of becoming this worlds equivalent to a Vampire. I will obtain the Heavens Feel, the Third True Sorcery.
These are the two goals I strive towards. To become so fucking overpowered that the world itself can't possibly stand against me. I'll become one of the predators that are on the level of the Twenty Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors, if not higher. Because with the body of an Apostle and the skills that will naturally accompany it once I've had a few centuries as one and with the Magic governing the manifestation of the Soul, I could truly be considered a foe formidable enough to survive against the higher level threats in this world. Only then will I able to truly live- when I can damn well kill anything in this world that can threaten me.
"You're going to do great things one day, my son." Encouraged my mother (A caring women whom perhaps lacked the ruthless streak that is encouraged amongst Magi) as she hugged me tightly as myself, father and her celebrated my ninth birthday quietly in our home. "I just know it, Kieran."
"I know, mother." I told her with a smile. Because she had no fucking idea just how right she was. That quote from Harry Potter fluttered through my mind 'After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great'. To make an omelette, you need to crack eggs, and likewise in the path to greatness I am certain that I too will do terrible, terrible things.
XXXXXXXXXX
Life is full of boxes, both metaphorical and literal. I'm used to boxes. I see them wherever I go. When myself or my mum has to fill in one of the multiple medical forms that need to be done regularly, all I can see is the tiny checkboxes, and just what they represent.
My room is another box (Or maybe a prison cell). A nicely decorated box, sure, one plastered with a multitude of anime and video game posters, but a box never the less. I can't really leave and I feel like I'm always restricted, because I am. As much as I love my mum, she's really overprotective, especially since the accident happened. I can barely wheel myself outside without her breathing over my shoulder. I have no privacy from the moment I leave my little box, so I normally stay in there.
And the figurative boxes are worse. My life is trapped in a box, unable to go beyond the boundary of the walls- limited. There are so many things that I can't do and will never be able to accomplish even if I really wanted to, and it sucks, but that's just how it is. I'm limited. Not broken, handicapped or any other way you want to say it. I'm just like I was before I fell, just more limited. I'm always trapped. Yeah, that's the word for it. Trapped. From the moment that I broke my legs and had my lower body become forever unresponsive, I felt trapped day in and day out. I loved to move around and be independent, and while I was never sporty, I would sell my soul to the devil just to be able to play a game of football.
While I might be dissatisfied with the last four years of my life where I have been unable to have the simple pleasure of walking, I can say that I am happy. Melancholic sometimes, and in my dreams I can almost imagine the phantom sensation of sand running past my toes, but happy. Happy in how I had made the best of the situation ( taking advantage of my lack of mobility to watch plenty of films/anime and play many games), and resolved on how even if I wanted to walk, I never would.
"Or will you?" The sudden voice made me shoot up in surprise from my bed. It was dark, too late to really do anything, but too early to sleep, so I was unfortunately in that half awake sort of mindset when the words were projected into my mind, bypassing things as trivial as ears. "Are you so sure about that?"
I looked around in the semi-dark, searching for wherever the voice could have possibly originated from. There was no one there, aside from the various figures from nerd culture looming down at me from the grey walls. "Pardon?" I asked the comfortable darkness, not really sure that I wasn't imagining the voice.
"What would you give up to have sensation returned to your frail lower form? Just what would you be willing to sacrifice, to pay?"
That time I was sure. The message didn't come from anywhere around me, but from inside me. It was almost like the sound was vibrating through my whole body. "Who are you?" I demanded, feeling a bit silly for talking back to the voice I had probably conjured up to keep myself company.
"I ask of you, what are you willing to loose to gain much?"
"How are you doing this?"
"Do you wish to make a contract?"
"Shut up!" I barked into the darkness, trying to squash the slight hint of hope that had blossomed within me. Things like this don't happen. End of. And in particular, when a mysterious voice asks you to make a contract, you should normally run away screaming from whatever cute, fluffy animal is offering you candy. "Who do you take me for, Faust?"
"Rejoice, for I can grant your wish." The voice said with... irritation? Yeah, sounds like the voice is getting annoyed.
"Like hell." I whispered, suddenly very conscious of how my mum was still in the bungalow we share together, and that this wasn't the sort of thing I wanted her to walk in on: me cracking up and talking to the walls. "My legs are mangled, and I have frigging spinal damage. My mum took me to all kinds of experts; they all told me that I would never walk again."
"Will you stay here forever, trapped in your little 'box'?" The voice mocked. "Or will you stand up, and walk out of the cage you have forged..."
My throat was dry and I was breaking out in sweat. My God, I was actually starting to consider what the freaky voice was saying, wasn't I? "What- what is your price." I finally asked, managing to croak out my response, my mind already aglow with possibilities.
With legs I could climb up stairs unhindered; we could live in an actual house. With legs I could actually go around society without everyone treating me like a dog, pitying me or giving me special treatment, further shoving me into social boxes. With legs I could be free to just start walking, and then continue walking until my feet fall off, I die, or I choose to stop. I could-
No- practicality first. Even if this voice could do the impossible, all contracts go both way. As mum always says, 'There is always a price. Nothing in life is free, my son.'.
"The price is for you to live."
"Wha-"
"Do what you want with the life I give you; just make things interesting, and I will happily give you the legs you want, and much more..."
A price of living? How vague, does this mean that its free? No, there's ALWAYS a cost, and just because I can't see it, doesn't mean that there isn't one.
But even so, it would be so tempting to just say 'sure'. I mean, it couldn't hurt. Its not like anything will really happen. Its more than likely that I'm loosing my mind than it is that some sort of supernatural force is talking to me.
"Okay." I said, at long last, after contemplating some more in the darkness of my box. "Beam me up, Scotty, or whatever it is you need to do."
"So do we have a deal?" The voice responded eagerly.
"Yes, Mr Voice. We have a deal." A loud laugh began to rise in volume, and a crackling sound began to strike me in the same way that the voice communicated. Something was happening!
"Excellent..." It decided. "How interesting..."
A sudden feeling of weightlessness as the world faded to white around me, my body falling limp around me as my awareness expanded. I could see void, a world of white- no, lack of colour, not white- then beyond the void there was something. I don't know what, its impossibly inhuman. Like a God. I couldn't comprehend it, even with my new state of awareness. I wanted to cross the void and visit that place of impossibility, but something inside me instinctively knew that if I went looking for a God I wouldn't come back, and that I would join whatever was there. This was a place of origin, I could tell that much. I could practically feel knowledge and understanding bleed into me just by standing here. This was the Origin, or as close as one could go to where all comes from before they too are reduced to their roots.
Then a lurch as I was pulled in a direction that can't be sensed in three dimensions. Pins and needles in a place I hadn't ever felt before, but was so damn familiar, like a face that you knew as a kid but couldn't quite recall as you met fifteen years on...
To the crescendo of impossible music, in a world that shouldn't exist, as I was pulled by a force similar to gravity but so much different, I smiled.
Then I stepped forwards- out of my little box- and into the vast, wide yonder.
AN- So those were the first four Self Inserts who will play a key role in the story. Each of those that appear before the Grail War starts will have a chapter or two of their own later before the war starts where I explain what shenanigans they get up to before the actual story starts with the war, where I will go further into detail on their motivations, goals, ambitions and armaments that they will be using for the war.
Next chapter we'll meet the final three characters, then after that we'll have a bunch of pre-war chapters to develop some of the characters (Maybe one or two per Insert), then we'll dive head first into the madness which will be the Fifth Holy Grail War. It will be excellent. Things will explode.
So if you have any comments, thoughts or opinion on what I've done so far, feel free to leave a review. Hell, if you have a question you could even PM or drop it into the review box as well while you are at it. Undying Soul out.