/
This is a parody of Fate/Stay Night.
I have no connection to Type-moon or Kinoko Nasu, who hold the rights to the Fate universe.
Fate/Stay Night: Cursed Sword.
Prologue: Transmigration
フェイト・ステイナイト:妖刀。
False transmigration of the mind (music) /wSjHRKBfl94
~ This is a nightmare: my usual dream.
My mother has me in her arms, cradling me. She speaks softly to me like she always does. The words carry no meaning, only sentiment. Love, confidence, satisfaction. This is the doting mother I am familiar with, the firmest existence in my young world.
The basest want, to be comforted and protected. To be enveloped in the warmth that a mother can only provide.
It is an empty happiness.
We are not alone here, never alone.
My family is there too, father and sister both, they sit watching, unmoving, just staring at me unblinking with vacant eyes.
Even a mother's love goes so far; how could anyone tolerate what I am? Nevermind love.
Her eyes darken, and the compliments lose their sense of love; I know what comes next. I am both spectator and a victim, perhaps even a perpetrator.
The kind mother that had shown her love twists into an agent of spite. Her gentle cradle becomes a suffocating hold, and the words that carried subtle love shift into intense hate, what had been words without meaning become a cacophony of clear denunciations and blame.
She scowled at me; it was a look of complete disgust. She blames me for everything. I never knew why.
"You are not my son!"
She scratches my arms with claw-like nails.
"Why did you kill him?!"
She bites into my neck.
"It's all your fault!"
She rips into my eyes with her fingers.
Even dreaming, I have always vaguely recognized the abuse to be fake; thus, it has never brought true pain, but this time it is excruciating.
My father and sister simply watch. However, their eyes communicate a desire that was not present before.
"Is this how it is? that no matter where we go, you will follow me you-u...you demon!"
She cuts into my throat.
"Bring."
She elbows my nose.
"Him."
She knees me in the stomach.
"Back!"
The dream ends. The pain disappears, but the memory of it is like a phantom on my body.
This is the point where I would usually be woken to the warmth of my real Mother shaking me awake and comforting me, overwriting my fears by cradling me in her arms.
That has been the occurrence since I've been born. Awakened to this curse.
But this time, no such savior comes.
There is no catharsis. My mother, for the first time, is not there.
My mother had once brought me to some kind of expert on dreams, an old lady who lived in the place mom came from; it was very far away.
She couldn't stop the nightmares, but she did teach me how to stay in a state of….. Lucidity? I think it's called.
The hope was that I could control the dream myself through effort.
Unfortunately, all it ever accomplished was making the dreams even more clear and frequent.
I am here; I am lucid. But I don't control the dream, and I know that I will never be able to overcome it. Even waking up is just a postponement for the continuation of this dream.
I am falling. It is the sensation of no control.
Falling. Falling. Falling.
I am falling to my center, the place where I center my mind. It's the method that the dream lady taught me.
Falling. Falling. Falling.
I fall straight into the only other dream that I have. 'Dream' may not be the word for it because here I am in control; it is my world.
There is no landing; the falling just stops abruptly. It is a dream, after all.
I am sitting on a hill.
A typhoon encircles this place, keeping a small flicker of a stick out of the ground in all directions. It is the place where I center my mind.
Wind howls in all directions, but I don't mind. It's soothing.
For some reason, blades have always fascinated me.
It is not so crazy, Dad likes to talk about how he can trace his lineage back to some famous sword maker. Muromazo or something.
It's only natural for them to appear here then, It's much cooler than any girlish thing my sister would have, hah!
All sense of humor is lost here.
Out of all the strange things that the old dream doctor lady tried to teach me, this was the only one that I succeeded in learning. To visualize my inner world, to strengthen my sense of self, even while dreaming.
I just have to wait for mom. She's... never taken this long to wake me before. I can't help but be nervous.
I want mommy.
Perhaps the dream is real, and she really does hate me…
'No! Don't think of fear!'
If you bring fear into your dream, you will summon it to you. That was a clear rule of a dream.
A world of swords has been my fortress, the place where I am safe and strong.
Impenetrable: that is what it is supposed to be...
But today is different, something wrong here. Something horribly wrong.
A dark mud is dripping in.
Like how rain comes through the cracks of a window in a storm.
Forcing itself in through sheer volume.
Murkier than what should be allowed in a sane world. Something that is out of place even to a nightmare.
First a drop and then a stream.
Then finally a river of black, coiling around the few swords that surrounded me on the hill.
'It shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be here. It shouldn't be here! It shouldn't be here!'
Mud soaks into my world; It covers the ground thinly like water in a rice field. But it stops short of coming to me.
That doesn't mean that I am completely spared from it; there is an unbelievable heat.
The wind started to die down. It could not live with such an intruder.
By then, it had already been too late.
What truly scared me was not the mud, nor the heat but the simple understanding that I was no longer alone here.
I could feel it... a presence. It took some time, time in which the heat only became more apparent, for the off feeling to manifest.
The mud, which had stopped right short of me, coalesced into a creature… no- a woman, about my mother's age.
Her skin was ashen, lacking any blemish. She wears a black and red dress that seemed to move like it was made of mud. But her face revealed a far more startling sight.
Wide-open red eyes with a tint of yellow, and snow-white hair.
A black crown holding a black circle radiating the feeling of a hole straight to hell. In two words, she was mesmerizing but grotesque.
Her smile entranced me; it was nothing like my mother's kind smile or my sister's dopey one. It conveyed no mirth, more akin to the twisted scowl I saw from Mother in my dreams than any real smile.
It was that grotesque smile that moved to form two words. Her mouth moves out of sync with the sound.
"Found you." So I am swallowed whole, snuffing out that part of me that could not live with wickedness.
The Hurricane clears, leaving a world entranced by the night.
"Hah..."
A sigh echoes out in the now empty world.
'Unfair, in all the endless worlds, what are the odds that such a thing would happen? One prison to another.'
(Music stop)
The dream ends there.
I am awake, but the heat and smoke don't disappear.
Author's notes.
This is the intro to a story I have got in my head.
Some background: This is Shirou dreaming, parallel to the start with the fight between Kotomine vs. Kirutsugu and ending with the start of the fire.
The reason why the perspective is wonky is that it is a dream. Shirou has been trained to a small degree to lucid dream, which leaves his perspective In the dream as a combination of a first and third dimension.
Please leave a review, this is my first story, and I can't improve without feedback!
