Shirou never really considered the fame that he would gain upon defeating both the Marquis Voban and Salvator Doni in a duel. Nor did he consider finding himself being pursued tirelessly by what he could only assume to be magic organizations across the continent. No, he most definitely was not having a good day. Perhaps it would have been better for him to have started off low on the radar, but he could no longer change things as they were now. He sighed, something he would often find himself doing after passing through another town where he was once again called 'the Wandering Saint.' Really? A saint? Him? He was only doing what he knew was right. If that right meant curing an incurable disease, saving people from the brink of death, or producing food out of scraps, then so be it.
Carefully, he pushed himself off of the ground he was lying on to avoid detection from a man wearing a suit and monocle over his face. One would think that after four consecutive getaways that the man would grow tired of his pursuit, but no, it's never that easy. The sound of distant waves brought him back to his earlier musings of how quickly he had adapted to the lifestyle of an escaped convict; something in which he never imagined would ever happen in his life, the upstanding character he was. Then again, he never believed that he would be running all over the European continent with nothing but the clothes on his back either.
Speaking of clothes, he internally apologized to the owner of the pants, and blue and white shirt in which he wore; he had been drawing way to much attention with his previous attire, and needed a change.
He began walking off of the coast in which he found himself residing in, his eyes gazing at the distant city of Sardinia in the horizon. How had he traveled this far? So far away from where he had started at Hungary? Of course he knew it was because of his new found stamina, but then again, questioning himself helped to pass the time. After all, it had been two months since Arthur last spoke to him, and six months since the day of his duel. He did not know what was going on in Arthur's mind, but he would try his best to give Arthur his space to sort out his problems. He couldn't fathom what it would be like to kill someone you considered a friend. Just thinking about what he would do if he was ever forced to kill someone close to him like Sakura, Rin, Saber, or Issei, hurt him like a physical blow. He just wouldn't do it.
Speaking of which, he had nothing to do, no set purpose or goal. Maybe there was a method to return back to his world and Arthur had just been wrong. The chances of that however were slim at best. He would wander then, saving those around him until he determined a course of action. It did not matter how long it would take, just that eventually he would come up with something.
Caught in his musings, he did not notice the emergence of a portal beneath him. He fell of course, a look of surprise plastered over his face as he tried to grab for a hold that was not present. Darkness enveloped him, his sense of balance non-existent.
"You did not tell us that you possessed such strength." Susanoo said, a mirthful look in his eyes. "Nor did you mention that you would go around spreading a tale of a wandering saint."
"Yes, yes indeed." The living Buddha said in agreement.
"How?" Was all he managed to say after he re-orientated himself from his fall. That however, was answered after spotting a large mirror in the room that revealed his location before he was forcefully abducted. More importantly, the woman with eyes of glass sat beside said mirror as if it had nothing to do with her. She looked over at him, and smiled so cheerfully that the annoyance within him began to vanish by the second.
"How, is something I would like to know." Susanoo interjected, a curious gaze being directed at him. "How did you slay the Marquis Voban? Why did you choose to disappear from the divine sighting?"
"So you admit it." He stated flatly. "You were spying on me."
"I do not control what the divine sighting reveals, so spying is not the right word." Susanoo brought a cup of tea to his mouth and took small sips in periodic sessions. "Unintentional is more like it."
"Oh put a cork in it Susanoo, we all know it wasn't unintentional, being as this realm is of your domain." The living Buddha chided good naturedly. The Buddha turned to him, it's face a mixture of calm and excitement. "How did you do it Shirou?"
"Well, even if you ask me, didn't you already see it through that divine sighting thing?" He calmly sat down on the mat he had frequented when residing in Susanoo's realm and faced the direction of the occupants, an exasperated look on his face.
"We would have," The woman with eyes of glass began, her back straight, and her gaze not meeting his. "But you were a mean idiot who decided it would be better to interfere with the divine sighting."
He looked confused for a moment before a thought popped into his head. "My authority?"
"Yes." Susanoo, the living Buddha, and the woman with eyes of glass chorused.
He sat there, stunned at their audacity. How did they expect him to defeat Voban without utilizing his Authority? That he would magically defeat Voban with a single blow? He wasn't to sure on that one, and it wasn't as if he could really know. He waited, his gaze blank, hoping that he did not hear what he had just heard. Reality however, was never dependent on hope. They all sat there waiting for his answer.
"You're all impossible." he said with a twitch of an eye-brow.
"Impossible? No Shirou," Susanoo lifted a flexed arm. "One punch, that's all it would take."
"I see that the years have taken their toll on you Susanoo, you've gone senile from your younger battle-filled days." The woman with eyes of glass said, pouring him a cup of tea in the process. He stared gratefully at it, and drank it to quench the dryness in his throat.
"Fine, perhaps I was a little full of myself, but Shirou could have used a different authority." Susanoo stated.
"I can agree with that." The living Buddha said. "But the past has passed. Right now I would rather discuss Shriou's skills with a blade. I knew he wasn't just good with a knife."
"Such skill does indeed need praise." Susanoo locked eyes with him. "I question myself if I ever had such aptitude with mine." Susanoo mused for a moment before continuing. "To have attained such ability without using an Authority, truly admirable."
"Well..." He shrugged care-freely. "Thanks I guess."
"He just shrugged your praise off like it's nothing Susanoo." The living Buddha laughed jovially, turning to him after the laughter died down. "You must know that to have been given a compliment by Susanoo, a man of reputable sword skill is no easy feat. He has battled many gods, Campiones, and even bested the eight-headed serpent. Is that really all you have to say?"
He nodded his head, after all, the skill he displayed was not really that of his own, but of another man deserving of the praise. A man who practiced tirelessly day after day, and night after night to cut down a swallow in mid-flight.
"Humble seems to be another aspect to your identity as a god." The woman with eyes of glass moved to sit across from him and next to Susanoo. "That, and testosterone filled idiocy. Who decides to fight two Campione on the same day, and consecutively nonetheless?" The woman with eyes of glass looked at him for a moment before blinking. "Forget what I said, I've found my answer."
He shook his head, taken aback for a moment.
"Can I see it? Your sword I mean." The living Buddha waited patiently for his answer, the others also waiting for his response.
He looked at their expectant faces. He had nothing to gain by revealing the blade, but he had nothing to lose either. But perhaps this was a test of some kind. He looked at the Buddha's amused face and sighed. The Buddha did not seem the type to secretly test him. A glance over the Buddha's shoulder revealed to him the curious gaze of Susanoo. Perhaps it would be best to just reveal it, he was after all the guest, and he did owe them. Concentrating within him, he drew it out onto his awaiting hand.
"A brittle blade." Susanoo remarked. "It's long and thin, two things that don't mix well for a sword, but perhaps it is its length that gave birth to such a technique." Or maybe it was just the skill of the user.
He passed the blade over to the living Buddha after accepting Susanoo's remark.
"Ordinary," The living Buddha stated blandly. Perhaps there's a trick to this blade, something not seen on the surface. "Ordinary tempered steel created in the fires of a blacksmith's forge." The living Buddha inspected the sword, running a finger down its length and drawing blood. "Sharp too."
"You talk as if you've handled a sword once before." He inquired. The Buddha looked him in the eyes before smiling.
"Maybe, maybe not." The Buddha tossed the blade back to him, the handle facing towards him.
"Shirou," Susanoo garnered his attention with a grunt. "Perhaps a spar would be in order? It has been years since I was able to test my mettle."
"As much as I would like to continue this trail of conversation, such talk is not fit for tea time." The woman with eyes of glass reprimanded with a stern gaze. "Especially if you were to spar in my garden out front and back."
"Sorry," Susanoo said. "It's just that it has been decades, maybe centuries since my last activity."
"It's alright, but more importantly, we have been neglecting the most important subject of this conversation." The woman with eyes of glass turned her gaze towards him, and bowed in apology. "I'm sorry for placing you in such a situation. After all, the power balance between Campiones has now been broken. There was a careful balance once before you see, one in which was precariously on the edge, but still functioned; and now there is nothing to stop the fall out."
Wordlessly, he placed all his attention on the woman with eyes of glass, evident from the shifting of his eyes. "You sound as if you have an opinion? An idea of sorts?"
"That's because I do. Fact is though, I would feel bad if I forced you into it. Although I would also feel bad for the lives of the innocent that perish due to land wars and in-fighting the humans do. Now take into account that the Balkans no longer has a Campione to defend it from Heretic gods, and the casualties may very well surmount the death toll of what the humans call 'the plague.'"
"Then what would you have me do?" His mind began running through several scenarios, none of which were good. He fidgeted, the subtle movements of his feet, creaking the tatami mats beneath him and doing little to to appease him. He no longer felt right to simply sit and do nothing, he had already wasted six months; six months un-awarely running away from his problems - well, now that he thought about it, perhaps from the eyes of those who pursued him, he was...
"I do not have the power to control your actions, nor do I wish to, but are you sure that you are willing to hear me out?"
The clinking of tea cups against the porcelain saucer in which they lay was the only noise that could be heard within the room. The koi fish swimming in the middle of the pond visible through the nearby window, stopped in their feverish game of tag. Their eyes seeming to stare off into the vast expanse of sky above them.
"Yes."
The woman with eyes of glass nodded and opened her mouth to speak. "Take sovereignty of the Balkans, defend its people from harm. Of course you don't have to remain there, you need only leave behind a reminder of your protection; a symbol if you will, of your affiliation to the Balkans. This wou-"
"You forget," He interjected, the cup of tea in his right hand left forgotten. "That my presence would only draw more danger. My sovereignty would only serve as a catalyst to draw other Campione to battle, in which case, my affiliation to the Balkans would be detrimental."
"That may be true, but you as well seemed to have forgotten," The woman with eyes of glass smiled. "That I am one to think things through clearly. Take for example the cup of tea within your hands. Have you ever noticed why it is that no matter the occasion, no matter your tempera-mentality, that cup of tea within your hand will always suit your taste? That is because I observe, fully understand how it is you feel before taking the liberty of preparing you a cup. My methodicalness also translates over to my suggestions; so before you speak out again, perhaps you should take to heart the liberty of patience and let me finish."
The smile adorning the woman with eyes of glass's face sent shivers down his spine, and froze the fidgeting of his feet and body. He assumed that Rin would be the only woman able to accomplish such an act, but here he sat proven wrong. If the woman with eyes of glass was anything like Rin, he didn't know how he would handle it when he would eventually irk her ire. Rin was bad enough with her Gandr curses, but to the level of a god? He did not think so.
"Understood! Please continue!" He said hastily, bowing his head as further proof of his sincerity in his words.
The woman with eyes of glass's smile wore off and she again opened her mouth to speak, her cherry lips moving to and fro as she spoke. "As I was saying, take sovereignty of the Balkan's, but you must first gain credibility in your actions. Slay a heretic god, defeat local strife, represent a magic organization, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you prove that you are not a Heretic god. After all, the very definition would imply rebelling against your legend, something in which you are not. I would even go as far as to classify you as a true god manifested into the world without consequence, but the world is a petty place filled with fear and greed."
The woman with eyes of glass paused, staring at him to make sure he understood. He nodded his head, her explanations were not hard to follow along.
"A fear and greed in which prevents them from believing, comprehending the truth." A sigh came from the woman with eyes of glass's mouth. "Reality is mired with the convenient past truths. Filled with the egotistical view of right and wrong, good and evil, most of which are unfounded or based on the actions of a few. Were the Muslims really evil to the extent in which crusades were sanctioned by the pope near the beginning of the eleventh century? A matter of perspective I guess, but the point I'm trying to convey is that it's hard to change human understanding." The woman with eyes of glass directed her gaze towards his, his reflection appearing on her irises. "You have a monumental task ahead of you, be sure that you fully realize what it is that your trying to accomplish - and again, you don't have to do this."
"Thank you for the suggestion, it has helped me consider what it is I should do for the time being." He stared into his reflection within the tea cup, noting the way in which his eyes shone with a new determination.
"And?"
"I have no regrets, there is only one path."
"I see..."
The atmosphere in the room steadily began to become more lively; based on how it was when he had first been unceremoniously dropped into said room through a dark portal. He had to admit, Susanoo, the woman with eyes of glass, and the living Buddha were good company - most of the time. A pot was placed in front of him, a ladle and old kitchen appliances inside.
"~Shirou~" The living Buddha said sweetly. "Your duty calls!"
He sweat dropped when he noticed the looks of approval from Susanoo and the woman with eyes of glass directed at the living Buddha. Perhaps it was because of routine, or perhaps not, but he reluctantly took the pot and placed it over a fire; adding water and beginning to make use of any ingredients around him to make a broth. The other's watched, surprised at his actions, before commending him. The living Buddha walked up to him, coughing a few times to clear his throat.
"Shirou," The living Buddha began, a look of seriousness he had not seen since Saber had left plastered on his face. "Did I ever say I love you?"
He faltered in the process of moving the pot off of the fire, and the subsequent result had him cursing as the contents of the pot spilt onto the floor.
"NO!" The living Buddha wailed in despair. The Buddha remained there, on its knees, staring at the sizzling remains of what he knew to be curry. The woman with eyes of glass walked up to the Buddha and smiled.
"Out." She said without batting an eye to the devastation on the Buddha's face. He felt sorry for the Buddha, but did nothing when the Buddha reluctantly left the room. He turned to the owner of the realm and bowed his head in apology.
"Sorry about the mess." He said, his stare facing the ground.
Susanoo sighed in regret. "It can't be helped, maybe some other time. Until then, good day to you."
"Good day?" A familiar portal appeared beneath him and he fell in without protest.
"I think you would find it prudent to remain in Sardinia for a while longer, something entertaining is bound to occur." He heard Susanoo say before the portal closed above him.
Interesting? What did Susanoo mean by interesting? He shrugged, his falling form nearing a source of light that signified the end of the portal. As long as it wasn't Doni interesting, then it would be fine, but his experience told him otherwise. Speaking of Doni - the phantom scar cut vertically across his left eye throbbed. He wondered how Doni was doing, no scratch that; he didn't want to know.
When Salvator Doni, the sixth Campione, stepped fully into his range, the first thing he did was nothing but relax his shoulders.
The strike came, swift and sure in its lethality that it would cleave a man in two. A moment later it struck the ground, cleaving stone and cracking the nearby tiles, its target unharmed. Another moment later, the same result was attained.
Cracked tiles begun appearing on the ground one by one. Each tile being reduced to mere pieces due to the numerous cuts that traveled across their length. Sparks flew, the shiny embers floating in the air, moving to and fro before extinguishing as they met the cold ground.
He breathed in, his concentration stretched to the max, his thin blade diverting the impact of Doni's swings elsewhere. He breathed in again, and in a heart-beat he struck with lethal precision.
One strike. One strike and he had managed to cut a thin line on the blue open-flannel shirt in which Doni wore.
Such was the skill of his strike. Such was the power of his ability to completely enact the skill of another's. Such was the power he alone possessed.
He drew his gaze towards the figure of Doni that stood before him, the sword held precariously by a single hand having saved him from receiving a definite wound.
He relaxed his shoulders once again, letting the tip of his blade fall to face the ground, and waited for the rise and fall of Doni's continuous attacks; something in which didn't come.
Doni stood there, his expression blank, his gaze directed at the cut on his open blue-flannel shirt. Slowly, he lifted an arm to touch the laceration, his hand shaking in the process of running his fingers over it. He laughed, the intonation of his voice echoing across the room until it all but drowned the noise of the quite murmuring of the group observing.
The narrowing of his eyes was the only indication of his response to Doni's sudden outburst of amusement. "What do you find so entertaining?"
"You." Doni's form disappeared, his blue-flannel shirt swaying in the wind as it drifted towards the earth.
The drop in air pressure near the back hairs of his neck, and the tingles that ran up his spine alerted him to the incoming strike. With neigh but a twist of his body and a flick of his wrists, his blade met Doni's in a clash of steel. He felt it, the minute quivering of his blade as it grated against Doni's shorter, but more durable sword. He kicked out with his left leg, swept his arms over his shoulder, and pushed Doni back using the butt end off his blade.
Doni staggered, the blow to his diaphragm sending him back a few paces.
He did not let the opening go. He struck, a hand to the end of his sword's pommel to supply further stabbing power into his thrust.
Doni parried, the vibrations from the impact of his blade sending ripples of wind out into a vortex that scattered the ruble around the room.
He spun, using the momentum gained from Doni's parry to fuel his angular momentum into a downwards cleave that only met air.
"Yer open!"
He felt the cold steel against his skin underneath the hem of his armor, and immediately pulled away from Doni.
Silence. Their gazes met, their bodies ready for another bout, but neither moved. A piece of his armour fell to the ground, the clamour of the steel plate sending shivers down the spines of those observing with widened eyes.
"Now were even." Doni said, his arms holding out his sword in front of him. The necklace he wore naturally fell in place at the center of his chest, the only difference being the loss of his open blue-flannel shirt.
"Is there any chance that you would be satisfied with this?" He asked sedately.
Doni looked startled for a moment, then smiled. "Not a chance, first blood remember."
"Then lets end this in one more strike, there is still something I must do." He breathed, letting his lungs take in a new breath of air.
"Sounds about right." Doni readied his blade.
He closed his eyes, running his mind through the steps, the technique of a skill said to be impossible for mortal standards. His knees bent, his blade drew up past his shoulders, perfectly parallel to the ground; the small dip of the swords tip was the only indication of it's minute curvature. In his mind, was a swallow of the swiftest kind. It's azure silky feathers and it's ivory silky feathered underbelly, swaying to the breeze of a summers morning. Winged pinions stretched out to experience the light of a new day as its head began pruning at its feathers. One flap, then two, it hovered in the air, its gaze now certainly on him who had swooped in to stand next to it.
"Tsubame Gaeishi!"
Feathers drifted to the ground, blood splattered into the air, and on his blade lay the remains of the dead swallow, its body severed in three separate incisions. One for the strike that came over head, and another for the horizontal and vertical slash that came consecutively with the first.
He breathed out, and his left eye flickered open, the other blinded by the dripping of his blood.
"A tie then." He stated, watching Doni's fallen form on the ground, a cut running straight across his chest, but nothing more.
He marveled at Doni's skill, of how he had not only blocked two of his strikes, but countered with one of his own as well. Truly, he was the one more deserving of the silent praise given to him by those observing; because from their perspective, he had won, he was after all the one still standing. He would disprove that notion, he turned to face them, the blood dripping down his face becoming visible. Gasps echoed out through the room, but none voiced their opinions. He walked over to Doni, and extended a hand.
"Quit lying on the ground." He stated.
"But it's comfy." Doni protested even as he took hold of his hand.
They stood facing each other, one smiling, the other maintaining his blank face.
"I've decided," Doni suddenly stated as he stepped aside for him to leave. "That you're my new friend."
He nodded at the time, not really realizing what being Doni's friend entailed...but then again, Rin did call him an idiot.
There's the chapter, tell me what you guys think? Good? Bad? Needs a little work? I'm all ears.
On another note, I will be publishing a bleach crossover and a regular Naruto fic soon; so watch for it if you're interested.
Special thanks to souvikkundu0017