Matou Shinji and the Broken Chains
A Harry Potter / Fate Stay Night Story
Disclaimer: Though I wish it were otherwise, I do not own or in any way, shape or form hold a legal or moral claim to elements of either the Nasuverse, the Potterverse, or other works I may reference in the course of this story.
Summary: It is a time of seeming peace, as the British Ministry prepares to host the Quidditch World Cup - the greatest sporting event in the Wizarding World. But unbeknownst to them, a grand army of Giants and Werewolves is gathering in Eastern Europe, under the leadership of the vicious Fenrir Greyback, their sole objective - revenge. In the East, Matou Shinji and his comrades have arrived at the hidden bastion of Mahoutokoro to hone their skills, given that they are likely to become Champions of the two Tournaments this year – the Triwizard and the Potions. And if their struggle against the Acromantulae has shown them anything, it is that only through power can they gain victory - and only through victory can their chains be broken.
Chapter 11. Into the Woods
Silver bolts streaked through the gloomy forest, the cold metallic light of the onmyouji's arrows tearing through a vast cloud of miasma that threatened to engulf the clearing, as the mass of darkness screamed, reeling from the vicious onslaught, only to reform.
"Fred-san! Are you—"
"Never…better," Fred Weasley grunted, sweat running down his brow in concentration as he held his wand before him, desperately pouring his power into a ring of interconnected phantasmal eyeballs that hung in the air all around him, bathed in an eerie crimson glow. That feeble illumination was all that stood between him and utter destruction, given the hungry malevolence he could feel as spears of shadow battered at his barrier, seeking to run him through – no, to devour him. "Fujou – what the hell is this thing?!"
"Onryō," was all Fujou Shiroe said as his string of his yumi twanged once-twice-thrice in rapid succession, launching three arrows in seemingly random directions, his lips curving into a frown as the tendrils of miasma shifted to allow the arrows passage, with quiet thuds echoing as each bolt found purchase in the trunk of a tree.
'A powerful one…'
But that was only to be expected. After all, this was Aokigahara, the Black Sea of Trees, a place that had long been haunted by the spirits of the dead, with the spirits of those that had fallen victim to ubasute – the practice of carrying the elderly or infirm to a remote, desolate place, and leaving them to die, particularly enraged.
All the more so since the forest was like a natural bounded field, a hollow at the foot of Mt Fuji with a powerful spiritual pull, trapping the spirits of those who died – and whose bodies were never retrieved – within its barrier. Unable to escape, unable to seek vengeance against those that had wronged them, unable to pass on and re-enter the cycle of reincarnation, the spirits within turned upon one another, growing more powerful – and more twisted – as they devoured their fellows.
If left unchecked, these onryō would eventually become tatarigami – curse gods capable of bringing forth fire, famine, plague, war, and all manner of calamity.
Onmyouji had risen to power because of the need to suppress and appease these spirits – and so it fell to the heir of the Fujou to go into Aokigahara and prevent any from forming by thinning the population of onryō and helping them pass on.
Through force, if necessary.
"I…can't," Fred gasped, doubling over as the flickering aura of his defense finally went out, with his foe's shadowy tendrils slamming forward, ripping apart the ring of eyes he'd conjured, and surging through the space his head had been but moments before.
'I…I almost…'
He'd almost died – would have died – had he not stumbled from exhaustion. And yet, his ordeal was not over, as barbed, wisp-like tendrils of smoke tore into the flesh of his back with the buzzing of a thousand angry bees, and Fred Weasley screamed.
'Augh…'
His body thrashed – or tried to thrash – at the violation, his muscles twitching, jerking, utterly out of control as wisps of darkness dug into him greedily, drinking deeply of his vitality, his power, his magic and memory, as something else molten-hot and painful took their place.
'…Merlin…I...I should have…'
"Kai!"
Fred barely heard the shout over the buzzing, hardly saw what happened as every single arrow that Fujou Shiroe had shot earlier changed, with dozens of golden chains exploding from their shafts, homing in on the inhuman enemy before them from all directions.
Sensing the threat to its existence, the spirit would have fled, save that it could not, as it was anchored in place by the body it was feeding on – and it would not surrender its prey. So it did the next best thing, with the smoke-like shadows going incorporeal and giving way as the chains passed through them – only to find that as the chains hit, its ability to become incorporeal was sealed, its form becoming dark and solid as the chains hummed an eerie counterpoint to the buzzing of the spirit's power.
The mass of darkness screeched, shrieked, wailed as it convulsed, as the powers used against it sealed the bulk of its powers, leaving trails of golden lightning racing up and down its form.
Desperately, it tried to drain more power, more vitality from the boy trapped beneath it, to take on a form that would let it run away – or at least confuse its assailant – but it could not.
"Guaaaaaaa…"
In the background, a chant of nine syllables could be heard, as ofuda surrounded the onryō, with blades of light bursting forth to skewer the bound spirit, whose form cracked apart under the assault, growing brighter, and brighter and brighter, until at last the exorcism was complete, leaving an unconscious Fred Weasley alone in the clearing with the young head of the Fujou.
Sometime later, as Fujou Shiroe watched his cousin Kohaku tend Fred Weasley's wounds, methodically cutting away the corruption that the foe had left behind, before using her ring of healing to cast a spell of regeneration on the stricken boy, he felt somewhat shaken.
Up until now, all he knew of combat were the training bouts that Kaiduka and his other trainers had challenged him to. This – the clash with the onryō – had been the first time he'd truly seen battle, truly faced a foe that would not relent, no surrender, not stop until it was destroyed – or he was.
…for that matter, if he'd been just a few seconds slower, the Weasley boy, the friend of Matou who had drawn its attention with his barrier made of curses, would be dead, or worse – possessed – with the onryō using the boy of the British practitioner of Witchcraft to escape the forest.
'It didn't come after me because of my weapon, but he wasn't as fortunate…'
In the place of a wand or some other implement, Fujou Shiroe was armed with a hama yumi ("evil-destroying bow"), a mystic code in the form of a laminate bow wrought of bamboo, weeping cherry and leather, crafted and empowered by a powerful shrine maiden.
It was quite a proper weapon for the head of one of Japan's most ancient families of magi, as the bow was a weapon held in reverence in Japan. After all, the first Emperor, Jimmu, who had ushered the end of the Age of Gods on his ascension to the throne, was always depicted as carrying two weapons: the legendary Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi (also called the Kusanagi, the holy sword gifted to Amaterasu by the storm god Susanoo), as well as his handcrafted bow.
Like most such hama yumi, Fujou Shiroe's vermillion weapon granted its bearer protection from evil, rendering him immune to possession, enchantment, or mental domination for as long as he was holding it or it was near him. His, however, had a few unique properties. For one, it was attuned specifically to him, and could be summoned to his hand with a word. And for another, it focused and enhanced his Forge abilities, allowing him to create his own anti-spirit projectiles with minimal effort, so that he had no need for a physical quiver of hama-ya ("evil destroying arrows"), so long as his prana held out.
'I have to remember that just because I cannot be stopped, that doesn't mean that my allies can't be.'
…and of course, that his ability to sense spirits could be easily confounded in a place like Aokigahara, where traces of countless souls and grudges lingered – much as it did in the park in Fuyuki. In fact, the Sea of Trees had almost overwhelmed him when he first set foot in it, given the many shattered lives and grudges he'd felt within.
To his senses, Mount Fuji glowed like the sun, with the forest icy cold and nearly lifeless.
'It is a good thing that Kohaku was here. She doesn't seem to be affected much by the forest…' he mused, as he watched her work. 'Not that it is ever easy telling how she's truly feeling. And the presence of George-san is distracting, since he shifts between being human…and being a spirit.'
Shiroe had originally thought of George as a simple practitioner of Witchcraft, like his Twin, but then the first time the other redhead had gone on watch, the head of the Fujou had seen the boy fade from sight, only to appear to his extended senses as a powerful spirit, making him wonder exactly who the two British boys were.
"I'm finished, Shiroe-sama," Kohaku said softly, her words catching his attention as the boy walked over to her.
"How is he, Kohaku-san?" Shiroe asked, shaking his head. "I know he'll live, but…"
…surviving wasn't everything, as he had seen from his sister. It still stunned him that Matou had simply given him the Water of Life without asking for anything in return – and even more so when the elixir did what the other had promised. Overnight, Fujou Kirie's tumors had melted away, to the utter astonishment of her doctors – who were all the more astonished to see healthy tissue growing their place.
His sister was still in the hospital, of course, but that was mostly for her to finish a course of physical therapy, given that she had been bedridden for years, and needed help training her muscles to walk and move again – as well as for the doctors to continue a battery of tests.
When that was done though, Kirie would be released, and would be able to re-enter the world she'd been separated from for many, many years.
'Of course when that happens, will she be the head of the family, or will I?'
It was an interesting question. While Shiroe had become the de facto head of the Fujou family due to being the only one able to execute the responsibilities of a head of house, Kirie was certainly more powerful than he was…
'In the end, it depends what she wants. I think after so long in the hospital, she'll want to explore the world again, with Hisui and Jinan Tokie looking after her.'
The two had been pulled out of Fuyuki following the incident where the Matou family had been all but destroyed, with the potential risk being judged as too great, though officially, they were being sent to Mifune because of Fujou Kirie's miraculous recovery.
'Life was…simpler back then.'
"He should make a full recovery, Shiroe-sama," Kohaku replied, nodding deferentially to her head of house. "There will be some scars, but he will be fine if he rests. If we had been even a little slower though…"
Fujou Shiroe sighed, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Well, at least no one died," the youth said quietly. "Would you go and tell George-san that his brother will be ok? I can sense his agitation from here."
"Mm, as you wish, Shiroe-sama."
Setting down her instruments, Fujou Kohaku donned her sword and her jet black bow as she stepped out of the tent, with Shiroe's eyes following her swaying hips as she walked.
As Fujou Kohaku stepped out of the tent into the clearing, where a pot of stew was bubbling merrily over a campfire, she felt, more than heard, someone come up beside her.
"Georg-san."
"Kohaku-san," George Weasley's voice came from beside her. "How is he? My brother, I mean."
"He will recover, Georg-san," the redheaded girl replied. "He was very brave to fight for so long, Shiroe-san tells me."
"Well, we're Gryffindors. Bravery is what we do – and what we are," George continued. "Though I never thought there would be anything that horrifying in these woods. Not when it's so…so quiet."
Too quiet, if he was going to be honest. Aside from the occasional crow – and those never stayed long – he hadn't seen or heard any animals here. Nor had he run into anyone else, but then the woods were vast and dark and deep, and they were nowhere near any of the well-worn paths.
"It isn't entirely a natural place, Georg-san," Kohaku noted quietly. "It is a place where the dead walk, and where the spirits have gone mad. You can feel it, can't you, Georg-san? Especially when you're like this."
The invisible youth was silent for a moment.
"…yes," he admitted at last, his voice seemingly coming from the air. "This place…it's a trap for spirits. I've fought a few – less powerful ones – in this form, half-mad and not knowing where they are. It's…disturbing."
"Tell me," Kohaku murmured, as George Weasley took off his ring, stumbling as gravity and other physical forces acted on his body once more. "Georg-san? Are you—"
"I'm fine," George answered, wincing as he waved away an offer for help. "It just feels different, having to walk, and I can't sense nearly as much. Still, it means I can stand next to you without a strange force pushing me away. It comes from…your bow."
"Ah," Kohaku noted, reaching back to touch the ebon bow slung on her back. "My hama yumi."
Like her head of house, she had an evil-destroying bow as well, though hers required a quiver of arrows to use for full effectiveness, which the girl didn't like carrying around.
"I have to ask, do any of you use wands?" the Weasley twin wondered. "I don't think I've seen anyone here with one."
"Sometimes we do, Georg-san," the girl replied. "We just have other things we prefer, like ofuda. Or your ring."
"Well, it's certainly useful," George admitted, studying the delicate features of the Fujou girl out of the corner of his eye. "Out of curiosity, is there a familiar you are hoping to get at the end of this, Kohaku-san?"
"Hm?"
"That is why you are here, right?"
"No, Georg-san," the redheaded girl answered. "I am here carrying out my duty as a Fujou."
"Your duty, Kohaku-san?"
"To keep the vengeful spirits here from gaining enough power that they become a tatarigami," the girl noted quietly, with George starting as he remembered the last time he'd heard the word TATARI. It had been over three years ago, down in the passageways below Hogwarts, and Sialim Sokaris' boggart had become the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen.
A creature far more than human, even if the monster wore the form of a man with blood red eyes that bled endlessly.
"TATARI…?" George whispered, swallowing.
"Tatarigami," Kohaku repeated, turning to meet the Weasley Twin's gaze. "A 'curse god,' powerful enough to destroy an entire city."
"Sweet Merlin. And you're…?" the boy whispered, his mouth going dry as he found himself staring into amber eyes, suddenly aware of Kohaku's warmth and vitality in the flickering light of the clearing. "You're not afraid…?"
"If I do not, then my sister would have to," the girl responded.
"…sister?" George inquired. "You have a sister?"
"A twin," Kohaku confirmed, looking away. "I would do anything to keep her safe, Georg-san."
"I know you would," George said with uncharacteristic solemnly. "Because I would much to keep my brothers safe too. Whether they are brothers of blood, or brothers-in-arms."
"The Stone Cutters you mentioned."
"Yes."
"You are a good person, Georg-san," the redheaded girl said, her dull grey kimono blending in with the stone of the clearing as she shook her head. "Not like me."
"What do you mean, Koahku-san?" the Weasley Twin asked, somewhat puzzled at her assertion. "Aren't you here, helping to keep calamity from striking the land?"
"I'm just playing a role, Georg-san," Kohaku replied distantly, her figure and form seeming a little troubled. "You shouldn't put so much faith in a pretty girl's smile."
"There are few things more worth protecting in this world," George said wryly, a lopsided smile on his face. Still, one could tell he meant every word of it. The boy shook his head. "Look, to be honest, I don't know much about duty, or what it means to be part of a powerful family, or those sorts of things. But I do know that when I was new to Mahoutokoro, you helped me find my way around, and showed me some of the wonders of the city – wonders I'd never have found on my own. And now you saved my brother's life."
"You give me too much credit, Georg-san."
"And you don't give yourself enough, Kohaku-san."
But the girl only shook her head.
"I wonder if you would still say that if you knew…" she murmured.
"Knew what?" George asked.
But Kohaku did not answer.
Gilderoy Lockhart shook his head as he looked down at the individual lying unconscious in the one of his safehouses at Minsk, a man he knew only all-too-well.
"We recovered this one from the battlefield, Mentor," a voice said to him deferentially, with Lockhart turning to see a young woman in a simple blouse and trouser ensemble walking up to him. "Given the circumstances in which he were found, I thought you would want to know."
"Circumstances, Rafiq?" the Assassin questioned.
"The remains of a werewolf and a wand user, surrounded by a ring of corpses – other werewolves, and at least one giant," the other noted. "This one we stumbled over. He was wearing a cloak which kept him invisible. As we did not know who he was, we have kept him sedated and unaware of his surroundings for now, pending your instructions."
"I see," the Assassin replied. "Were there any belongings on him, other than a cloak?"
"Two wands, Mentor," the woman answered, handing him a duffel bag. "Those, and his cloak, are in the bag."
"Two wands?" Lockhart echoed, his voice thoughtful. "I wonder if this was the band responsible for some of the hit and run attacks on the weres. Hopefully with any luck, they will assume they succeeded, given the ones they did kill."
"It is a possibility. It was clear that the three had been hunted for some time," the leader of the Minsk bureau noted, shaking his head. "Mentor?"
"Yes, Rafiq?"
"I have heard rumors that the Templars are moving once again," the woman said softly. "Will we soon be called to fight?"
"If it comes to it," Lockhart answered, shaking his head. "Our order wishes for peace in all things, but if the Templars act, then we will have to oppose them. It is one thing to kill one to save many. It is another thing to engineer a war as the Templars often do, tricking thousands into slaughtering one another so they can gain power. "
"Mm."
"The patient is ready for transport, I assume?" the Assassin asked, receiving a nod from his underling. "Good. Then I will return to my apprentice with this man. Given the circumstances in which our guest was…discovered, it may be best for us to question him in somewhat different surroundings, agreed?"
"Your will be done, mentor."
And with that, Lockhart activated a hidden portkey and vanished from the safehouse, only to reappear, together with the unconscious form of Severus Snape, at the ancient fortress of Alamut.
