[An: The first chapter is mostly from Kiritsugu's point of view, but the later chapters will be from Shirou's perspective (for the most part). A few minute changes often leave lasting repercussions. I started this story with the question of, "If Od is the "magical energy" created from the "soul" where memories are reported to be stored, why did it not have a greater impact on Shirou when Saber's (Arturia) Od contained within Avalon healed the described "empty" Shirou? He had no memories of his former life, his soul was basically reset to zero, so an outside influence can only add onto his existence. At least that's my take on it, fanon and Reddit have destroyed my understanding of what Canon is. Did you know the Indian word "Prana" is actually a similar translation to "Chakra" from the Japanese or "Chi" to the Chinese? I always see it in fanon as the mixing of the internal magical energy Od and Mana from the outside world, Gaia. Shirou is Japanese! Why did they not use Chakra? Were they simply trying to avoid the connotations to the Narutoverse? Sorry, my rant is over. (*whisper*ijustfeltbetrayed!) Oh, and I slightly changed Shirou's eye color from "Amber" to gold. It will be explained later…probably. I just like gold eyes on anime characters.]
Chapter 1Kiritsugu Emiya stared at the writhing shadow of curses contained with the grail. The cup which once shone with golden luster was stained a bloody crimson and black from the miasma of the corrupted servant Avenger. It was wrong. It radiated a sense of death, the end of humanity. It was anathema to Kiritsugu's beliefs, why he had been fighting in the Fourth Holy Grail War in the first place. He knew if he wished upon the grail everyone on Earth would die.
Kiritsugu fell to his knees and laughed mirthlessly. It was the sound of a broken man. The sound only borne from the deepest levels of despair and helplessness formed from his core principals being shattered before his eyes. He had sacrificed everything, everyone, that he loved to get here. And it was all a lie. His laugh turned to a sob before all emotion left his face. His expression could be likened to a statue, as if it was chiseled from stone. He would not let this evil be unleashed.
"YoU arE tHe WiNneR oF THe GraIL WaR. WHat iS YouR wiSh?" the broken tone echoed from the black grail.
"Go to Hell!" Kiritsugu said, turning his back to the avatar of the Persian god of darkness, Angra Mainyu.
"DoN't TUrn YoUr BaCK on ME, EMIYA! I CAn nOT briNG yoU DowN To HeLL, But AT LeasT I caN BrinG It To YOU!"
Kiritsugu's eyes widened at the threat. If the grail was as corrupted as it was, perhaps it could interpret his words as his wish. He didn't have much time. He looked at the back of his hand which still had two red tattoo marks, command seals. That could work.
"Servant Saber, by my second command seal, I order you to destroy the Grail."
Saber, the petite blonde King of Knights Arturia Pendragon, otherwise known as the legendary King Arthur, was battling against the last servant Archer. The invoked command halted their duel as she was enveloped within a red haze.
"What?" Saber was shocked. Why would her master order this? She was so close. Archer was almost defeated, they had almost won! Why would he so cruelly rip away the prize from her grasp? She tried to fight the command as she changed her target with Excalibur from the fallen Archer towards where she knew her prize was awaiting. Her hands shook as she was forced to gather her abundant source of mana from her core and directed it into the Last Phantasm.
"Servant Saber, by my last command seal, I order you to destroy the Grail."
With the reinforced command, Saber could do nothing to stop herself from unleashing her noble phantasm. With a shout of rage at the betrayal from her master, Saber screamed, "Excalibur!" and a golden beam of holy destruction pierced the side of the corrupted grail. The instability along with Kiritsugu no longer having any command seals severed her connection to the grail and the heroic spirit Saber disappeared back to the hill of Camlann to await her next summon. But the Grail would not go quietly.
Angra Mainyu refused to die the moment before it could be revived again on Earth. The hole in the grail unleashed the avatar's rage upon the city of Fuyuki as a black mud filled with curses brought Hell to the surface. Fire erupted in the streets, the cursed flame not just burning, but melting any and all in its path. As a final insult, Angra Mainyu refused to let Kiritsugu die so quickly. It wanted the human to suffer an agonizingly slow death and with the last of its consciousness, cursed the Magus Killer's soul. From his magic circuits down to the marrow of his bones, Kiritsugu was filled by the avatar's taint.
Kiritsugu walked through the hell he inadvertently unleashed searching for someone, anyone, he could save. Minutes dragged onto hours, and as he discarded his hope and despair because he had failed. He felt empty. But it was then he saw it; a hand. It was small, belonging to a child. It was reaching out from beneath a collapsed wall to the stars above before it too started to fall. Kiritsugu used his remaining strength to run and continue his mission in saving people, because it was all he had left.
Heaving the broken wall aside, Kiritsugu stared into the charred skin of the boy. He was nearly naked, the flames had burned the clothes from his body and his hair was blackened by soot and perhaps the cursed mud itself. He had no chance of surviving even if he was admitted into a hospital that very second. But Kiritsugu was no normal man. He was a magus who possessed an interesting artifact, a noble phantasm. The sheath of King Arthur which he had used to summon the famed king could save this child. The broken child stared at his savior with an equally emotionless gaze as Kiritsugu transferred the sheath into the boy. The golden light was like a divine blessing as it restored the child's flesh back to normal, regenerating his injuries and dissolving the taint that clung to his skin like a cloak. The remaining Od from the King of Knights contained within the sheath circulating throughout the empty boy's circulatory system and magic circuits. Minutely influencing the empty container with its own impressions as it activated the boy's own circuits, slowly strengthening them before the Od exhausted itself. The last thought the child had before he fell into unconsciousness was, "Why does he look so…guilty?"
To his neighbors, Shirou Emiya was a strange child. Polite, but strange. He did not show emotions often, "likely an affliction from the trauma of the fire," they reasoned within their own heads. However, their wariness didn't extend to exploiting his help if he offered it. It was because he was an empty child that he tried to fill that void by helping others, but mostly his adoptive father Kiritsugu around the house whenever he could. Whether that help was cooking, cleaning, or any other chore to be done around the house, he put in his full effort towards whatever task was before him.
The only time when Shirou felt as if the void within his soul was diminishing somewhat was when his father sat beside him in their shed and taught him magecraft. Kiritsugu was adamant that he learn to protect himself because of the many dangers in the world and because he had made a lot of enemies in his life as "The Magus Killer," and he suspected that one day he might be found and Shirou was his lifeline he desperately clung to after the Fourth War. To save his son when he failed both his wife and daughter.
Kiritsugu didn't do things by halves whenever he was on the job, so he certainly wouldn't do so when training Shirou in following in his footsteps. "To be a magus is to walk with death," was how Kiritsugu started his first lesson. He wanted to impress how dangerous the world Shirou found himself in, but the nearly unfeeling golden eyes were nonplussed at Kiritsugu's remark. His first memories he had was of a burning hell, of course he wouldn't be frightened of death.
Bounded fields, reinforcement, structural grasp, beginner formalcraft, and gradation air were the basic-of-the-basics, but Kiritsugu forced Shirou to repeat the exercises over and over again. Magi were often scornful of the basic crafts, but he was adamant that they were useful tools especially since Shirou seemed incapable of using the standard five elements. Kiritsugu used one of the few contacts he had left to drop off a few supplies that he could use in a formalcraft ritual to discover Shirou's origin.
Sword. Both his element and origin were Sword. Kiritsugu sighed into Shirou's back as his circuit's protested their use. Angra Mainyu's curse still hurts even months after the war. Every attempt at magecraft seemed to worsen his condition and shorten his already dwindling lifespan. Kiritsugu knew he only had a few years left. He would have to start making preparations before it was too late.
After sending Shirou to clean up after the ritual and start dinner, Kiritsugu collapsed into the cushions at the table as sweat needed his brow. He would record everything he knew about Magecraft during the nights when he should be sleeping but could not when thoughts about the sacrifices from his wife Irisviel and his apprentice, friend and lover Maiya bombarded his thoughts and kept him tossing and turning.
He recorded in several journals about the moonlit world and every magus he had fought in his missions as a mercenary, the spells they had used, the tactics they employed, strategies that succeeded and failed. Everything. The methods he used to circumvent their "foolproof" defenses. Honor, pride, and confidence in their own skills turned to hubris. Something he was all too willing to exploit for an easy kill. Kiritsugu also left a few journals explaining his methods against the mundane but still horrific humans that went against his beliefs. Warlords enslaving their own people and turning them into free labor or indoctrinating them into loyal soldiers. It gave Shirou a healthy appreciation for the destructive power of modern explosives and weaponry.
The last favor Kiritsugu called in was several introductory books on runes. Together the father and son worked together in finding rune sequences that could fill in the gaps for Shirou's missing elements. If Shirou was mostly limited to creating swords as his magecraft then they would use swords as the medium. Swords that were wreathed in fire or lightning that were rudimentary mystic codes acted as catalysts. Shirou would never be called competent in the face of traditionalist practitioners of magecraft, but Shirou had never paid any mind to what others said about him.
Taiga Fujimura, their rambunctious neighbor who often barged into their home and lives with a fiery passion and an attempt to give a sense of "normalcy" to Shirou, was stuck in a meeting with her grandfather the leader of the Fujimura Group, a Yakuza family with a surprisingly good set of morals. Drugs and alcohol were aimed for those older than 16 and murder was usually only committed as retaliation if another group tried to barge into their territory and injured or killed a member of their "family."
As part of his training in structural grasping, Shirou would help them fix or replace parts of their bikes. Oftentimes the problems were minor that could easily be changed out, something that a regular mechanic would have charged hundreds for the same service. Shirou tried to deny any monetary compensation, but if they insisted he felt obligated to concede.
"What would an 8 year old need with so much money?" you might ask. Kiritsugu created three accounts for Shirou that he would evenly distribute the money in. One account was for magecraft experiments, because the costs of metals and other forging materials exploding within their shed was expensive. Another account was for college or any trade school should Shirou desire a different kind of life in the future. Something Kiritsugu was secretly hoping his son would do. He didn't want Shirou to repeat his mistakes, but he also wanted him capable of facing off against any danger the world could conceivably throw at him. And the third and last account was Shirou's "allowance." Kiritsugu doubted Shirou would spend his money foolishly, but still he wanted to impress upon his son the value of money.
His first attempt in using runes was after three months of reading through his books combined three separate runes involving the concept of combustion and an additional five for manipulation. They controlled how much oxygen was being exposed and how far away from the blade's edge it could move. In layman's terms, it meant how hot it could get and how large of a blaze it could occupy. The reason they started with fire was because Kiritsugu had an element in fire and could put out a fire if it spread too quickly, but that was only if it was an emergency and it risked injuring Shirou too badly. A dozen fire extinguishers were in the workshop the next day after such an accident.
The first change in the father and son's relationship happened a year after his being adopted by the elder Emiya. As always Shirou had cooked dinner that night and the two were silently eating their meal. Both were rather quiet by nature and there was nothing that indicated there would be a break from their routine until Kiritsugu's stature became rigid. There was a break in the wards. His bounded field detected an intruder with a not small amount of malicious intent and magical potential.
"Stay here but get ready to run," Kiritsugu ordered. "If I can't hold them off I want you to flee and hide in our safe house." Kiritsugu found an apartment that was dirt cheap two dozen blocks away that could act as a hideaway should it ever be exposed that The Magus Killer wasn't as dead as the magus community believed.
So Shirou sat at the table with tension and slightly reinforced ears, hoping the added protections would give him even the barest of warnings before an attack and he could escape. It ate at him that his father didn't trust him at his side, but there was nothing he could do. Outside of his half failure of a mystic code, Shirou didn't have any attack capabilities. So he gritted his teeth and sat at the table.
While Shirou stewed over his uselessness, Kiritsugu ran to a hidden panel in the wall and retrieved his Thompsen Contender filled with his unique Origin Bullets and a Calico M950. Peeking out the window showed a white haired man dressed in a fine pale blue suit. An Einzbern? Clearly a branch member he hadn't seen before. However to Kiritsugu's surprise, instead of an attack aimed at the house, the magus retrieved from his suit an envelope and politely knocked on the door.
"Kiritsugu Emiya! I bear a message from the Einzbern family. Lord Jubstacheit sends his regards."
With a careless toss he threw the envelope onto the front step and walked as quickly as his dignity would allow knowing his back was exposed to the magus killer. Kiritsugu waited nearly three minutes before opening the door and carefully trying to sense if the envelope was a trap. Letter bombs were a thing and the magical equivalent was often even more destructive. However instead of a weapon, Kiritsugu found a much crueler surprise. Photos. Multiple photos of Illyasviel von Einzbern, his half homunculus daughter ripped to pieces, her white as snow hair colored a crimson as she lay in a pool of her own blood.
Kiritsugu barely moved the photos out of the way before he vomited all over the floor. Illya. His shining light who "forced" him into tea parties with stuffed animals, played hide-and-seek, and "who could find the most walnuts?" in the forest surrounding the Einzbern castle in Germany. Kiritsugu felt his shoulders shaking as he collapsed onto the floor and stared at his daughter's dyed hair. He could almost see the blood slowly creeping across the stone floor. Kiritsugu didn't hear Shirou approach from the table, calling out in confusion and alarm at his collapsed form.
"Dad? Kiritsugu?" he called, hoping his name would snap him out of his funk. Shirou had never had to comfort anyone before, but he had seen people in the street doing so and on T.V. He had spent a couple months trying to replicate the expressions they would make in the mirror hoping it would make him look more normal, whatever that really means. So with his limited knowledge, Shirou sank to his knees and awkwardly wrapped his arms around his father in a hug.
There was no reaction. It was as if Kiritsugu was in another world. Shirou tried rubbing his father's back like he had seen in that drama show Taiga was watching that she insisted he watch with her, going so far as to lock her arms around him and forced him to sit between her legs. Whatddya know, it might actually have come in handy like she said. Kiritsugu's shoulders stopped shaking a few minutes later, but he still refused to turn his gaze from the fallen photo. Cautiously reaching out a hand, Shirou focused his attention on his father's teary face even as his hand descended to grab whatever caused him to break down. A quick glance at the photo showed a gruesome sight to be shore, but Shirou knew his father had witnessed the worst crimes of humanity throughout the world on his many missions and Apostle hunts.
'Why was one girl making him so upset?' Shirou thought. Shirou knew about the Einzbern family when Kiritsugu told him about several prominent magi families he should be wary about. The Einzbern and Archibalds being at the top of the list. Kiritsugu told him that he worked with them for over a decade before they had a falling out over the Grail War.
It was an…interesting night when Kiritsugu revealed that he had accidentally unleashed the fire that killed his former family and erased his memories. How are you supposed to react to being told that the only person in your life you care about was responsible for killing everyone he loved in his "previous life?" But Shirou had no memories of his former family, so he couldn't say he missed them or even cared for them. In the end, he offered a prayer for them even though he wasn't religious, and went on with his life in maintaining his trust and belief in Kiritsugu.
He didn't think it was love, for Shirou didn't even know what that feeling was, but he certainly felt care exchanged between the two. It was shown when Kiritsugu saved him when he messed up the angle of a rune and it almost blew up like C4 in his face. It was when Kiritsugu bought him a special non-stick pan and a cast iron skillet he'd seen in the store that made cooking and the cleanup easier. So Shirou did what he thought was best and remained at his father's side until he was willing to talk, even if his knees were uncomfortably pressed into the hardwood floors.
It was almost an hour later when Kiritsugu's tears had long since dried that he snapped out of his trance. He first noticed his son's golden Irises worriedly gazing into his own. The pictures discarded on the floor were gathered into a pile by Shirou's knee along with the torn envelope. Shirou's left arm was still circling his back in his awkward attempt at comfort. Kiritsugu probably would have chuckled at the complicated expression and movements his son was showing if he wasn't so bone tired and sore. Thoughts of revenge for Illya surfaced before he shoved them down as he focused on the present. First he had to ease Shirou's worry before he could make an action plan.
'And then…who knows?' Kiritsugu sighed, standing up wincing as his knees cracked and he nearly stumbled under the pain that escalated further from Avenger's parting gift. Shirou threw out an arm to steady his father when it looked like he would stumble, but he ignored the arm and fixed his balance.
'With the Einzbern showing up I certainly have to up my timetable of Shirou's training,' Kiritsugu thought. 'Long range sniping,' he decided, would be Shirou's next hurdle. While he would of course help him with what little knowledge he had in runes, it would mostly be trial and error going forward, and he didn't have forever to waste on a skill he might be able to impart over other skills he is already proficient and knowledgeable about.
"Thank you, Shirou. I need to lie down. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
Shirou lifted his lips in a smile before he departed to clean their unfinished dinner off the table and then for bed. He was still getting used to forcing his muscles into such an expression, but the softening of Kiritsugu's own features showed that perhaps he had made some improvement.
That night Shirou dreamed of a golden sword stuck in a stone that was pulled from a shadowy figure. Within the depths of Shirou's soul, the nearly barren landscape filled of iron sand and unmoving, rusted monolithic gears suspended in the sky gained a new sword to its collection. The sword reacted to the "traces" left behind in Shirou's soul from Avalon's influence, and the sand around the sword gained a few buds of grass that slowly poked out to the surface. The mostly cloudy sky broke from above alighting the sword in a halo strengthening his connection to HER. The shadowed figure gained a hint of color in her hair. It was the color of fresh wheat like the abundantly filled plains of Old Britain. Her name was…
Shirou gasped awake as his hand stretched out to the sky. 'What was I dreaming about?' he thought. He looked at his raised hand and likened it to when he was in the Fuyuki fire.
'That's strange. I usually remember those dreams.' It was often that Shirou would wake up with his mind focused on the fire and seeing people dropping to the earth when their limbs gave out. He covered his ears to block out the sounds of their screams and cries for help before all too soon did they quiet to nothing. Whether that was because the fire claimed them first or because they shredded their vocal cords Shirou did not want to know.
So, he continued on. Away from the wailing babe that was held with the mother's arms as a wall dropped sending an shockwave of dust. Away from the brave man who was carrying his wife in his arms because of a broken leg when the fire surrounded the two of them and they could do nothing but watch. Away. Away. He had to get away. He fed his sadness to the greedy fire that followed in his wake. He shed his fear to walk one more step. Next was his happiness. Then anger. Pain was discarded to run through the superheated coals littering the ground of an already burnt building. And then it was disgust he left behind as a man jumped off the roof of a flaming skyscraper and landed only a half dozen meters away. The sound of crunching bone wasn't pleasant…nor the mess. Pride. Embarrassment, shame, and guilt. All gone for ONE! MORE! STEP! Away, he had to get AWAY. He fed his entire being into the cursed flames that observed him with glee like a sadistic cat playing with an injured mouse until he had only one emotion left. Hope. Like Pandora's box, hope was the last emotion to leave his emptied form and he collapsed into the brick, his exhausted and young body incapable of taking another step.
If he still had his anger he would rage at the unfairness of it all. If he was capable of being sad he would weep for his dead family. If he could still feel comfort he would be relieved that he was still alive. But he could feel none of those emotions as a section of a wall fell on part of his legs. The human child had died but still, he lifted dull, AMBER eyes to take perhaps his last look at the sky and reached out his hand. Then he was there. Kiritsugu saved him. A golden light entered into his soul that restored a missing piece of him. The chance to regain some of what he'd lost. A dazzling spark in an awaiting forge rekindling the flame, but also transforming the boy. His eyes lightened into a golden hue, matching the splendor of the sheath invading his body. His skin was cursed by the tainted flames, but his body was blessed in the holy aura of Avalon. He was no longer a human though. He was a sword. He was U***M*#*D *LA*E #*R*S.
Shirou winced, clutching his head at a piercing pain in his head. It felt like he was about to remember something important but it slipped away just out of his reach. Putting the pain out of his mind, after all it was nothing compared to the fire. He nearly raced to fix up a large breakfast after their disaster of a dinner the previous night. It nearly irked Shirou that his efforts were for naught. So that morning after an hour of preparation and cooking he allowed himself to feel a glimmer of pride at the sparkling delight resting on the table. Kiritsugu's eyebrows almost widened in shock at the taste. He heaped his praise that his son was improving so quickly in the kitchen before their front door slammed open. While Shirou tensed at the thought of another intruder after last night his worries quickly eased at the shout of, "SHHHIIIIIRROOOOO! Feed me!"
Taiga, 'call me Fuji-nee,' Fujimura stomped into the dining room with all the grace of a raging bull in a china shop before crying out with glee at the large spread before her.
"I love you, Shirou!"
"No, you love my food," he countered.
"How can I not?" Taiga declared with an unending source of confidence. "You can outperform some of the five star chefs my gramps has taken me to when meeting with some of his business partners."
"I think you're exaggerating. I just copy some of the things I've seen on television on the Cooking Channel™. It's nothing special."
"Well you can consider being a chef as a possible career option," Kiritsugu ribbed. Shirou scratched his cheek in embarrassment at his father's praise.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Oh you're sooo cute," Fuji-nee squealed, pinching his other cheek before abandoning him in realization that she was choking. After comically pounding on her chest and chugging a glass of water she let out a relieved moan.
"I thought I was going to die."
"Fuji-nee, isn't time for school?" Shirou remarked, staring at the clock. While not late, she would be cutting it awfully close…at a normal person's pace. Given her penchant for sprinting like the hounds of hell are chasing her that somehow temporarily borders on the level of a servant though, she'll probably still be early for morning practice in kendo. She slammed her hands on the table in shock as she jumped to her feet.
"You're right! I am gonna be late!" Without another word she sprinted out the door leaving a mess…again. The father and son duo shared a glance of fondness mixed with a sense of resignation at their resident bundle of sunshine. She was kind of like Illya in that way. Kiritsugu winced.
'Illya,' he thought. His hand clenched into a fist as he remembered the photos.
"Dad?" Shirou asked, breaking him from his darkening thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I can learn something offensive tonight after school? I wasn't able to do anything last night. If that magus wanted to hurt you…all I could do is watch."
Kiritsugu walked around the table and set his hands on his son's shoulders. "Shirou, I want you to listen to me. You should never feel guilty if the situation is out of your control. Yes, I will teach you something new tonight, but first we need to find the right fit."
"Right fit?" Shirou's head tilted to the side in confusion like a puppy. Kiritsugu's smirk widened, doing nothing to clear his son's confusion.
"Tonight," was all he said, much to Shirou's chagrin. It would be a long school day for Shirou as he contemplated his father's words.
Shirou stared at a table completely covered in different types of guns and ammunition.
"Choose one," his father had said.
'Which one was I supposed to choose though?' Shirou thought. He had no knowledge outside of what he'd read in his father's journals. How was he supposed to fire it? Just pulling the trigger sounded like a quick way to injure himself…or his father if he aimed poorly. Deciding on a pistol called a Five-Seven, Shirou picked up the pistol by its grip. It wasn't loaded and weighed less than two pounds. It was lighter than he thought it would be.
"Use structural grasp on it," Kiritsugu ordered while sitting down onto a foldable chair. Shirou closed his eyes and activated his circuits. The feeling of electricity circulated within his body but it didn't hurt. In fact it was even mildly pleasurable, like he had just been dosed with a dozen shots of caffeine.
Shirou focused on his task and started the spell, blue glowing lines spread down from his fingers throughout the entire pistol and Shirou saw it all. The weapon was composed of 66 parts, from the frame of the gun to the tiniest of safety and firing pins. It had been fired a total of 42 times before Kiritsugu found the gun lacking in comparison to other weapons he had. However, that didn't make it an ineffective weapon so he mainly stored it in safehouses should his other gear be destroyed or otherwise inoperable. Shirou saw how his father had loaded the gun, the stance he used, and the accuracy he displayed.
Picking up the magazine he loaded the cartridges before standing in front of the target. Trying to copy Kiritsugu's stance Shirou lined up the Five-Seven to the center of the target, released the safety and pulled the trigger…and completely missed the target. He frowned in disappointment. Lining the weapon up again he shot again, and again, and then again once more. He missed every shot. Walking closer to the target he kept firing but it kept missing until he finally hit it when he was only ten feet away.
"I don't think this is going to work," Shirou yelled to his father.
"Try another," was all he said. A submachine gun called the P90 was next. The bullets shot the ground or over the target's head. They were lucky Kiritsugu had set up a bounded field that stopped sound from escaping and another for objects or else the police would long have come running wondering what war had sprouted up in their backyard from the spray of bullets flying out of their complex. The same result happened with a sniper when Kiritsugu helped line up the shot. Somehow Shirou still missed, his shoulder jerking under the recoil.
"Maybe I just can't use a gun," Shirou said dejectedly, his disappointment clear that he couldn't copy his father's weaponry. Kiritsugu wanted to claim that it would be possible with practice before he thought better of his son's comment. Shirou did have Sword as his Origin, so it could be possible that he was simply incompatible with guns. They would need to find something new. Shirou packed the guns away back into their cases that Kiritsugu would return to their safehouse and storage container before he cleaned up and made dinner. Kiritsugu sighed once his son left. Training his son had suddenly gotten a lot harder.
'Archery? Archery? Of all the things Shirou could have excelled in, it had to be archery,' Kiritsugu complained to himself. One of the most obsolete and archaic weapons that existed, yet perhaps it was because it was archaic that Shirou could use it so well. Guns, muskets, and crossbows all had many moving parts that were required to work together. They were "complicated" weapons in comparison to a sword. Over the last week they were trying to find the perfect long range weapon for Shirou to use and almost immediately once Shirou set his eyes on the bow, it was like he started moving on autopilot. He didn't even need to Grasp the bow before he retrieved the arrow and knocked it before the arrow shortly found itself buried in the bullseye. Center mass on the first try. Then Shirou decided on showing off and six arrows surrounded the first arrow in the outer bullseye.
Kiritsugu felt like slamming his head into the wall at his son's misfortune. An arrow does not have much ability in penetrative power unless it is heavily altered with magecraft. The shaft of the arrow would mostly be covered in runes improving the durability and sharpness instead of special effects like his own sniper rifle's barrel. But, they could make it work, they had too. Fortunately Shirou stumbled his way into some good luck. While heading out to the grocery store the two had decided to alter their route and stop by the Fuyuki river when suddenly Shirou stood rigidly. Kiritsugu's eyes scanned the area for any threat that his son could be sensing before his son turned to look directly into the river itself.
"Dad, there's some mystic codes at the bottom of the river." Kiritsugu blinked in shock at his son. Who would just leave magical tools at the bottom of the river? Not only were they usually extremely expensive to make, they were also highly coveted in the event they are found by those not a part of the moonlit world. Magi take secrecy to a whole different level…except when the thought of attaining a path to the Root appears and they recklessly fight a war in the middle of Fuyuki's streets. Real subtle.
Before Kiritsugu could warn his son, Shirou jumped over the fence and into the water below before he grabbed a half dozen weapons from different eras. The magical energy pouring off of them could only have come from one individual who was both arrogant and careless enough to do this, the servant Gilgamesh. Kiritsugu grabbed a duffle bag from…somewhere and berated Shirou for doing something so reckless as they stored all of the weapons in it and prayed no officer would stop them on their way back to the Emiya Residence. They would return for food later.
Shirou was structurally grasping the weapons almost immediately after they entered the shed. They were declared "tainted" by Gilgamesh after they had been used to fight against a monster from another dimension and a corrupted Lancelot. When grasping at their materials, Shirou quickly came to the discovery that one of them came from the Age of the Gods. The magical enchantments bestowed on the rather ornate wood and metal stave granted protection from the elements along with increased sturdiness and strength. He could probably hold the weapon in front of himself before a Berserker class servant and his arms were more likely to break before the weapon splintered. A small smile slowly worked its way across his features. With this, he could live up to his father's dreams.
Alteration. A subsidiary magecraft that involves reinforcing an object and then altering it to the shape of the magus' desire. With his slowly developing skills, he wouldn't attempt to change the stave until he was sure he could change the weapon without overextending its limits. Just looking at the slightly golden aura exuding from the wood had Shirou on edge.
There were etchings of past battles waged in a quarrel between a mountain god and river goddess. The goddess gave this stave to a young fisherman who desired fame and glory as a gift and promised him her blessing if he was capable of destroying the "heart" of the mountain. He failed and the mountain god took cruel enjoyment in holding the boy hostage within the depths of the mountain in the torturous heat of lava coming up a vent in the earth. The stave was retrieved centuries later by Gilgamesh after the mountain god challenged the 2/3rds god. And yet, throughout all that time the stave remained in pristine condition. Magic from the Age of the Gods really was some "next level shit," as some of his classmates would call it…if they ever learned about magic without being killed.
"Shirou," Kiritsugu caught his son's attention. "You can drool over your new weapons later. Taiga is coming in less than an hour and you need to work on your sword forms."
Shirou winced at the beating he would soon be receiving. Fuji-nee had recently required a cursed shinai with a tiger tassel that somehow defied all laws of physics. If she were a servant her luck stat would be rated at EX. It was just absurd. She could run through the middle of a fight between 100 servants all trying to kill each other and not just walk away without a scratch, but probably find a winning lottery ticket on the ground. Whereas Shirou would be ranked as bad as a Lancer. E-ranked. He was more likely to be struck by lightning on a sunny day than win the lottery.
"All right." Shirou set the stave down in favor of changing into protective gear and thoughts of how to attempt to alter the stave. He didn't get very far in the later before the scampering sound of feet opened the shoji door with a not inconsiderable amount of force.
"Fuji-nee, what did I say about opening doors like a normal person?"
"Normal is boring though," she pouted. Shirou deadpanned at her expression. Right, he forgot who he was dealing with. She would never change. Shirou ignored her for the sake of his sanity and finished putting on the last protective guard and retrieved a shinai off the wall. Taiga somehow had her gear on in less than a minute and was fidgeting to start their spar. Kiritsugu walked in then and sat beside the wall to observe. They had started sparring just a little over a month ago, and already Shirou was displaying remarkable improvement. It was like he soaked up skills every time he fought, rarely ever making the same mistake in their spars. The term prodigy couldn't accurately describe Shirou's ability to learn on his feet with a sword in his hand.
'I guess having his affinity with swords can explain most of that but,' Kiritsugu scratched his neck in thought, 'sometimes he shows a move only a master swordsman should be capable of. Where did he learn them?' Shirou hadn't said anything to his father about reading or watching anything that could contribute to his sudden jump in knowledge, and the look on his face sometimes alluded to Shirou not knowing he was going to move just right for a counter attack when Taiga had him on the ropes and the fight suddenly flipped into Shirou's favor.
"Begin," Kiritsugu shouted. The two "siblings" dashed towards each other with Taiga using her taller frame and longer arms to her advantage with a forward thrust before Shirou could even think of landing an attack. Shirou parried the shinai to the right and his feet jerked him forward in Taiga's guard with a slash aimed at her midsection before she easily dodged backwards and a lazy slash was aimed at his head. Shirou just managed to block the slash before he was dodging another jab at his shoulder and thigh. Lunging to her other side Shirou hoped to throw off her momentum, but with a slight pivot Taiga was capable of continuing her assault.
Gritting his teeth beneath his mask, Shirou quickly thought of another plan and led with an obvious overhead strike. Taiga cautiously jabbed into his possible faint and Shirou turned his strike into a hard counter, sending her stumbling slightly as his small frame hit much harder than she otherwise thought he was able to perform. With her on the backfoot Shirou upped the intensity of his strikes going faster and faster chaining one attack after another until he slightly overextended. Shirou cursed internally at his mistake before he saw stars as Taiga smashed her own shinai into his head. Shirou suddenly found himself staring at the ceiling with his back on the mat.
"You hit as hard as ever Fuji-nee," Shirou commented.
"Haha, sorry," she said.
"Don't be. That was great." Shirou had finally found something other than magecraft that he enjoyed doing. He felt…at home holding a sword in his hand. Like a missing piece was temporarily filled before fading away, so he treasured every moment as the rush of adrenaline circled through his veins.
"Again," Kiritsugu said, cutting off their break. Shirou yelped as the striped shinai aimed toward his head again.
"A little warning next time?" Shirou complained to his father.
"Sometimes you need to defend yourself from unseen threats. Do you expect everyone to declare their intentions before charging into battle? The real world doesn't work like that," Kiritsugu lectured.
Shirou found himself on the backfoot this time as Taiga nearly stabbed his throat, shoulder, chest, wrist, and stomach within a couple of seconds. Shirou was barely able to retain his breath as instinct forced him to weave between the strikes before blocking an overhead strike. It was only his acute hearing that heard the slight crack. Three strikes later had Shirou dodging another slash before he lunged for Taiga's exposed torso and Taiga reacted with a counter, the shinai met in the center before Shirou's broke in half as Taiga's momentum continued her strike before she could stop it. Shirou felt the rest of his air driven from his lungs as he jumped backwards just to trip over the broken piece that had fallen on the ground and once again found himself having an excellent view of the ceiling.
'Damn my luck,' Shirou groused his misfortune as Taiga called out in worry at her fallen adoptive sibling laying on the floor.
"Are you alright?" Kiritsugu asked, approaching his son with quiet, measured and steady footsteps.
"Yeah. I just need to catch my breath," Shirou deflected his father's worry, not wanting to burden his father over himself.
"When you are able, do you want to continue?" Kiritsugu asked, meeting his son's gaze, wanting to convey that it was alright to stop if he needed it, but Shirou was stubborn and shook his head. If he couldn't keep up against Taiga then he would never be able to fight against the many dangers in the world his father had described. So after a moment when he assessed he had enough energy to continue he retrieved another shinai off the wall and raised it in challenge to his Fuji-nee who brought up her own with a smirk ripping itself across her face.
"No one else at my club is as good as you Shirou! I can't wait until you can join my club!"
"You do realize I only just turned 8?" Shirou asked. "That's still a long way off until I enter high school."
"But by then I'll be an English teacher and can look after you as your sempai!"
"You are incorrigible," Shirou decided, causing her to be struck comically by an arrow.
"Shirou, that hurts."
With another challenging smirk, the two leaped at each other once again, their shinai striking between them.
A year passed quickly for Shirou and Kiritsugu with their days being filled with Shirou's magic lessons in the morning before school and after dinner once Taiga had gotten her daily dose of Shirou's cooking and sparring. In his training for gradation air that Shirou called "Tracing," he used his father's combat knife. It was a shock to his father when he found a nearly complete replica of the knife in his hand that was almost indistinguishable to the original.
His shock was further lengthened when Shirou used techniques he had used in the field against various targets. With the knowledge that his son could attempt to "copy" skills of other wielders, they had gone to several museums holding armaments from around the world. Shirou had spent a particularly long time in the European section. The Medieval ages had an abundance of sword techniques for his son to try once they returned home. Shirou had found out that not all of them translated over well to a shinai though in his spar that night against Taiga.
The difference in weight and shape had Shirou failing to copy what he'd seen. It was only his experience of dodging Taiga's heavy swings that he didn't immediately get trounced into the ground, but the purple and blue bruises covering his arms made Shirou more cautious in the future for practicing irregular methods against someone both skilled and willing to kick his ass across the dojo.
After a year of practicing his reinforcement to his father's expectations, he was deemed ready to alter his stave into a bow. While he was capable of using a compound bow it didn't feel right in his hand. Kiritsugu questioned Shirou's decision to change such a valuable weapon into something else when there were other alternatives, but this was something Shirou refused to budge on. He knew that this would work.
So, with a deep breath Shirou closed his eyes and cast Structural Grasp on the wood and metal stave and in his mind's eye the weapon was in his sight as the metal shifted from the two ends towards the center like it had melted off flowed down the wood and settled itself in the center. Then the slight gaps in the wood were filled before Shirou shifted it to a slight curve. Next were steel wire that sunk into the wood further reinforcing the curve of the bow and one more wire connected between the arch. Shirou wouldn't be able to use this bow without reinforcing his fingers. The wire would slice straight through his fingers with no resistance. That wasn't even including the physical requirements of pulling back on the string in the first place. The metal threaded wood was almost impossible to bend for even the strongest of bodybuilders. Magecraft was the only reason he could pull back the string with a reinforced arm and rune-enhanced finger guard that could survive a C4 being placed on top of it…probably. He wasn't that good…yet. He would with time, Shirou reassured himself.
Shirou showed his father his success and was met with a stern, blank gaze. Shirou refused to fidget in the face of such a cold expression on his dad, but it still sent a slight instinctual shiver down his spine. Kiritsugu was dressed in his combat clothes which was a black suit over a black button down shirt.
The tensing of a hand was the only warning Shirou had before he reacted by smacking a pistol to the side just as a muzzle flash appeared beside his face. The shock of sound to his eardrums along with the fact that his father almost shot him had Shirou unable to react until the sight of a knife aimed towards his throat made him Trace a copy of his own. The two knives sparked against each other before Shirou jumped away and threw his knife at his father's hand holding the pistol. Kiritsugu was forced to abandon his aim in favor of dodging the knife and shot off two bullets in his son's direction.
"Dad?" Shirou shouted. "What are you doing?"
"Survival training. If you want to live and still follow in my footsteps then you need to show me you can handle this. Do you have what it takes to be a hero? Or, will you be just another number in the countless list of mistakes I've made in my life?" Kiritsugu's tone was as cold as the Arctic as he steadily walked towards the shed Shirou had taken cover behind. The words burned a fire within Shirou. He promised his father he would be a hero in his place. He promised he'd be better than his father, that he would live without being overtaken by the weight of the world.
It happened a month ago. Kiritsugu was staring up at the stars with a full moon over his head when Shirou decided to sit beside his father and enjoy the sky which had an unusual lack of light pollution that night. They were quiet for the most part until Kiritsugu's nails dug into his hand so hard blood started to seep out.
"When I was younger I wanted to be a hero."
"I know."
"You know, it's funny," his laugh dripped in bitterness. "Being a hero is only a limited time thing. The more you strive to reach it the more likely it is to escape your grasp until all that's left is a sense of failure."
Shirou pondered over his father's words before he decided to speak his mind.
"I don't think you are a failure. You saved me so…I'll become a hero for you. Everyone I save will be because of you, so technically you will have saved them too!"
This time Kiritsugu laughed genuinely, his whole body shaking in his mirth.
"Okay. I'll leave it to you Shirou. I believe with all my heart and soul that you can achieve it. I only hope you don't make the same mistakes as your foolish old man. I want you to promise me something. Find someone, someone you can hold onto. And never let them go. Being a hero isn't easy, you'll need someone to lift the weight of the world off your shoulders even temporarily or you'll be crushed. Promise me. Find someone you can love that outweighs even your desire to be a hero."
"I promise, but how am I supposed to find someone like that when I don't know what love is?"
Kiritsugu chuckled once again before replying, "When you're older, you'll know."
"The stars are really bright tonight."
"Yeah." The two sat beside each other in a more comfortable silence than before as the moon drifted through the sky before departing for bed when weariness overcame them.
After that promise Shirou had upped his intensity in learning magecraft to follow his father's dream. No longer would he stop just when he was tired, he continued until he was nearing the point of injuring himself. Kiritsugu tried to curb his overindulgence, but Shirou for once disobeyed his father.
'How could he become a hero if he didn't put in all of his effort into it?' he thought, shaking his head at his father's words. 'He couldn't.' Avalon was his largest help in maintaining his body. Any bruises slowly healed after a day or two. Kiritsugu didn't understand how it was possible, Saber's mana had long since run dry with the sheath, but Shirou decided not to look a gift horse in its mouth. Instead, he upped the training of his body even further.
As the cook of the household, Shirou based his meals around sustaining his grueling training regime with a balanced meal of fruits, vegetables, and most importantly in healing his muscles, protein. Every morning before his morning lessons with Kiritsugu Shirou would run several miles just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Shirou knew he had to have a stronger foundation because reinforcement could only take him so far.
To avoid injury humans only use about ten percent of their muscle strength even when exercising, but are capable of temporarily overcoming their self-made limit in times of crisis. For example if a lion was chasing you, the odds of living would increase if you were using the full power of the muscles, but at the cost of intense strain once you escape and the adrenaline high leaves. When he used reinforcement it was only able to fill in the gaps between muscles and bones to strengthen himself slightly. Using reinforcement was a lot like the body's natural response to danger only he wasn't left with torn muscles after he releases the spell unless he goes past what is called the "peak performance limit" of his body in which he would then happily let Avalon fix his body while he slept to repeat the next day.
This practice led Shirou back to the present where Kiritsugu tried to ambush him from the opposite side of the shed. Shirou traced another of his father's knives and threw it at his father's chest as he prepared to overclock his muscles. Od went through every pore of his bones, strengthening the muscle fibers and ligaments, and furthered the oxygen production levels in his cells to react at a moment's chance of escaping his dad's trial. Shirou charged forward dodging his father's next shot and jumped off the side of the shed to utilize his bow for the first time in combat.
A mass produced carbon fiber arrow was traced and nocked within two seconds allowing his father to get three shots off. Shirou was able to anticipate the first two and just barely missed a graze, but the third punched into his left side. Shirou ignored it. It hurt but pain and Shirou were old friends and Shirou didn't hesitate to shoot his arrow straight through his father's pistol leaving his father with only the knife in his possession.
Using his bow like a bludgeon it was originally created for, Shirou pushed his father backward and the gap let him fire another arrow, but Kiritsugu was done playing around with his son and slapped it out of the air with his knife and copied Shirou's earlier plan and closed the gap between them. Kiritsugu grunted as his first punch failed to hit Shirou's stomach and Shirou used the metal handguard as a shield. Kiritsugu wanted to shake his fist from punching the solid metal but was surprised when his son ditched his bow and threw it at his face. Shirou traced a Chinese one-handed sword called a jian and the two engaged each other with their blades.
Unlike his spars against Taiga, Shirou was unused to having the longer reaching weapon, so he had to remind himself that he did not need to close the distance as his father rushed to the left and swiped at his arm with his knife. Sparks flew as he met his father's blows, once, twice, two dozen, three dozen times before the jian shattered in his grip under the intense combat and Gaia's influence exerting itself on his sword.
Kiritsugu's knife stopped a breath away from his throat, the first layer of skin having been cut. Kiritsugu stared into his son's eyes, seeing the fiery determination that he would never stop fighting even if it killed him. He was conflicted with the feelings of pride and frustration at his son's disregard for his own life in his pursuit of becoming a hero for him. On one hand he knew that Shirou's fearless personality would carry him far, but a shiver ran down his spine at the thought that Shirou would refuse to listen to his warnings of the obstacles in his path of becoming a hero.
'Was this right? Was he doing the right thing in allowing his son to follow his dream?' An even worse thought pierced his psyche. 'Would Shirou continue anyway with his goal even if he were to stop giving his son lessons?' With his resolve, Kiritsugu sheathed his knife and allowed his stone facade to drop as he smiled slightly at his son.
"Well done Shirou. The first year you were here I helped you learn how to defend yourself and in the last month I have allowed you to train to become a hero mostly on your own. But starting tomorrow I will show you how to fight in the field. That means no more safety nets and easier spars against Taiga with wooden swords and protective gear."
"You mean…?"
"That's right. Tomorrow we are leaving on a job."