Matou Shinji and the Heirs of Slytherin
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: Trouble is brewing in the Wizarding World. In the wake of the Stone Incident, Albus Dumbledore has begun quietly preparing Britain to survive the coming war. The Stone Cutters, a new organization at Hogwarts for the most talented and distinguished of students, seek new blood to bolster its strength. The Boy-Who-Lived seeks his destiny as the Heir of Slytherin. And a boy from the east meets a specter of the past.
Chapter 25 Akatsuki no Kuruma
He looked out into the darkness of the night sky as the world hurtled past, traces of civilization hidden by the evening gloom. It was New Year's Eve, with the winter holidays nearly over, and once more he was on a fast train to Kyoto, the City of Ten Thousand Shrines. He'd never travelled on the eve before, never traveled on a train before, but there was a first time for everything.
Not that he was not alone on the journey here, for with him was his maybe-friend Matou Shinji, who had invited him to the old city, apparently at the behest of those who knew his heritage. The other hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details, but knowing what he did of his father, Shirou supposed he wouldn't have been either.
Knowing that the other probably wanted to avoid drawing any unwanted attention from the Second Owner, he'd hardly been surprised when Shinji simply showed up at the Emiya residence with tickets to Kyoto earlier in the day. Nor by the day he'd come over, given the significance that the coming of the New Year held in Japanese culture. For them, it did not merely signal that the winter holidays were nearly at an end (though that they were was not in question, with the Hogwarts term beginning in a matter of days), nor was it simply a time to make resolutions that would inevitably fall by the wayside once January ended.
Being quite honest, it was probably the most significant holiday of the year, holding the significance of the Solstice celebration of other cultures, Christmas in the West, and more all rolled into one. But one wouldn't know it from the trappings of the holiday. Unlike Cherry Blossom Festival, Tanabata or even Christmas, among others, the New Year's – and New Year's Eve – celebrations were much more somber.
There were no fireworks, no equivalent of the ball drop in Times Square, no booths and stalls with yakisoba, takoyaki or other delicacies. Because for the Japanese, New Year's Eve was a day of reflection and purification, a day usually spent with family, a day when one's actions were fraught with symbolism, as through them, they expressed their wishes for the coming year.
Eating soba noodles, for instance, as a wish for a long, long life (though only on the eve, as eating it past midnight brought bad luck instead).
Visiting a temple to purify oneself of the shadows that hung over them from the year before – and to wish for long life and happiness.
Decorating the entrances of homes, stores and buildings with pine and bamboo adornments so as to welcome the blessings of the spirits, and symbolize a wish for strength, virtue, and prosperity.
And staying up to see the dawn, so one would live to see one's ambitions fulfilled.
Given the revelation that the family he'd lost in the fire had practiced some manner of magical art, and that Shinji had promised to inquire after those who had known them, Shirou had been thinking about what might have been once.
Who had he been before the fire stripped everything from him? What had he been? Did he have siblings? Did he have friends? What was his name?
Certainly, he was grateful to Emiya Kiritsugu for saving him, both from the fire and from whatever fate the other orphans had suffered, for giving him a full measure of care, as if he'd been the Magus Killer's real son. There was much he owed to the man, with his continued existence not least among those, and his rationale for becoming a magus was that he wanted to save someone, to balance the scales if nothing else.
But his adoptive father wasn't around to train him, as the man had finally succumbed to an ancient curse, and so he needed to find a path towards the future he wished. And if that path were one that would restore to him some of the things he'd thought forever lost…
…he'd take it, even if it meant leaving Fuyuki.
Because in the end, it wasn't as if Emiya Shirou had many attachments to the place called Fuyuki, aside from the Fujimura clan, who he wasn't actually that close to, and his adoptive father's house. He was taking a chance by trusting Matou, but so far, it seemed to be paying off. And it wasn't as if Matou hadn't already known, else why had he sent the odd armor as a gift?
He wanted to learn more about his adoptive father's world. A world that was to be his world – and had apparently been the world of his family before the fire, when everything had ended, and everything had begun anew.
As for Matou Shinji himself, the dark-haired youth had his own worries and concerns as the train made its way to Kyoto. He'd been rather ill at ease since Christmas morning, following his encounter with an inhuman boy who apparently knew the players of the Fourth War on a personal level, given that he'd casually referred to Shinji's uncle – the Matou master in the war, as well as Tohsaka's late father.
There was a thing as too much attention, after all.
Such wasn't something he had to worry about too much at Hogwarts, where practitioners of witchcraft tended not to have a magus' level of suspicion, but back in Fuyuki, the backwater city that teemed with secrets, plots, and barely-veiled treachery, it was an unfortunate reality.
But then, he supposed that was only to be expected given how many had come to Fuyuki seeking the power of the Holy Grail – the omnipotent vessel which could grant any wish – and how twisted those seekers tended to be. He did wonder sometimes if he would have become one of those seekers had he not received a letter inviting him to Hogwarts, and what he would have done as a Master.
'…probably died an ignoble death…'
Pitted against monsters like the Magus Killer or his grandfather, there could really be no other alternative, unless he became even more of a monster, left his human mindset behind entirely. But then he wouldn't be Matou Shinji.
And in truth, that still probably wouldn't be enough anyway, especially given the existence of beings like that boy – beings who could kill him on a whim, despite all his training. Belonging to the Order of Merlin and being thought of as a hero suddenly seemed more than a bit hollow when he realized there was still so far to go.
Being honest, he reveled in the attention, enjoyed the respect – even the reverence – that students at Hogwarts held for him. For someone who had been thought of as worthless for most of his life, the attention – the glory – the success, had been a heady brew indeed…even if he knew that much of that glory was due to the ignorance of his peers in Magical Britain.
…and that even in the fullness of his power, he was not a match for someone like Quirrell or Lockhart, to say nothing of Tomas, Hijiri or Touko. True, they had each had the advantage of being masters of their chosen crafts with over a decade (at least) of practice on him, but that was really no excuse – and in a true confrontation, no one would go easy on him because of his relative inexperience.
No indeed. Like Quirrell had done last year, they'd simply crush him to accomplish their objectives, and this time, he didn't have Sokaris by his side. Having obtained the Philosopher's Stone (her objective from the beginning), she'd returned to Atlas Academy as its Director, and even now was preparing her fellow alchemists for a war against the TATARI.
He had the Stone Cutters, but as powerful as they were, as much as they accomplished together, they still fell short of what their foes could do. Besides, even if Harry had the unexpected ability to deflect Voldemort's Killing Curses, that wouldn't matter if they faced more than one foe – and Shinji was reasonably sure they would if they declared Voldemort their mortal enemy.
As feared as Lord Voldemort was, the practitioner of Dark Arts hadn't terrorized Magical Britain all on his own, after all. He'd had followers, allies, support.
…this was why Shinji was seriously considering Lockhart's offer, why he had labored to make sure he gathered a great deal of information for Kaiduka, and why he was escorting Shirou to Kyoto at the request of the fox familiar.
Oddly enough, the instructions from the fox had not been to take the other boy to Mahoutokoro, which he found curious, but he supposed that the familiar had his reasons. If he had to think about it, it was probably a test for both of them – both checking to see if Shinji could follow instructions, and to give the fox an opportunity to see how Shirou would respond to the lack of a messenger.
Would he follow patiently? Would he leave? Would he demand?
All in as neutral a setting as Kyoto could be anyway, given that he suspected that as old as he was, the fox probably had a good deal of influence in the city above, as in the City Below, but it was a concession, at least.
And if there was one thing that could be said about Matou Shinji, it was that he wished to impress those who were themselves impressive. It was one thing to gain praise from those who were followers, people who had no idea what he could do and simply accepted it as fact. It was another to gain praise from the praiseworthy, to take the first tentative steps towards acceptance and recognition on a larger scale.
So far, he'd received that from Sokaris, and her patronage had been invaluable. It had led to him becoming Touko's apprentice, learning how to protect his mind, and more than he could have imagined only a year and a half ago.
Yet, he needed more.
He was quickly learning that in the moonlit world, unusual beings attracted other unusual beings. Actions had consequences, and one could not play the game of power, pretending to be more than he was, without attracting more attention than he was probably prepared to deal with.
Attention from the priest who controlled Fuyuki and the Tohsaka family fortunes in his role as Tohsaka Rin's guardian. Attention from Lord Voldemort, a dark practitioner of witchcraft who apparently did not like to stay dead, perhaps due to his practice of storing parts of his soul in other objects – much as some magi had something like a phylactery that served as a true body, while the body people interacted with was something like a puppet.
…which also made him wonder as to how human his master, Aozaki Touko, truly was, but that was neither here nor there.
And of course, attention from the golden-haired boy he had met in the park, a being who Shinji instinctively recognized as extremely dangerous and who represented (possibly) another party taking an interest in his games.
To balance that, Shinji knew he needed allies of his own, as well as more training, and he wouldn't be able to get that if he alienated those who might be able to provide that for him. Those like his Master, and like Kaiduka Shiosai (and if he was being honest, it was probably not a good idea to annoy a centuries old being anyway, given the nature of phantasmal beasts).
He'd need their help to survive the next few years.
Of that and that alone, he was reasonably sure.
They rode in silence, neither saying anything that could be heard over the white noise of their troubled thoughts. But the ride itself was soon over, given the speed at which bullet trains moved, and the two disembarked, walking side by side into a terminal that was nearly devoid of activity.
'The last time I was here, there were people everywhere…'
But then, that had been before the holidays began, and certainly hadn't been during the night of the eve. Beside him, Shirou was looking around, trying to conceal an expression of surprise and wonder similar to that Shinji had worn his first time here, to this place so much bigger than anything in the sleepy town of Fuyuki.
Shinji, likewise, was looking around, but in his case, it was to see if he could spot Aozaki Touko or anyone else who might have come for them. But the station was almost empty, and he didn't see anyone coming towards them.
'Besides, I think Kaiduka-san has something else in mind.'
The Aozaki magus tended not to show up when she wasn't being paid to, and now that he thought about it, it might not be wise to have Shirou's first introduction to the world of magi outside Fuyuki be his master.
"Let's head outside," he suggested, feet retracing the steps he had taken long ago when he first came to Kyoto, with Shirou falling into step beside him.
It took a few minutes, but soon enough, they exited the station, where they came face to face with a bluish crow, perched on a snow-covered post box.
"Yasaka Shrine," it croaked, its beady black eyes staring at the Matou boy for a long moment before it took wing and flew off to the northeast.
Fortunately, Shinji knew where the Shrine was, as Maruyama Park lay just beyond it, with the aboveground entrance to Mahoutokoro hidden within.
'I can't say I expected to play host and messenger, but I suppose that is a test too…'
"Follow me," he told his friend, as the two walked along the snowy roads of the city, seeing nary a soul there.
'Yasaka Shrine, eh?'
He hadn't expected to be directed to the Shinto shrine often thought of as the spiritual heart of Kyoto, given that it would be a popular destination for Hatsumode, the first shrine visit of the year. But he wasn't about to argue, not when there was no one to argue with, so he walked along, noting the absence of others.
It wasn't a particularly long walk – a little over three kilometers – and soon enough, the shrine was in sight atop a hill, its bright colors and soft lantern light welcoming on a cold winter night.
And as they approached, the silence of the night was broken by the deep sound of ringing bells.
Once. Twice. Thrice, the bells tolled.
Four times and more the bells rang out from all directions, 108 times in total, as the city of ten thousand shrines rang the passing of the old year, and the coming of the new.
Once for each of the 108 human desires, feelings, and temptations in past, present, and future. Once for each of the hopes, dreams, and failings. Once for every wish of good fortune and to expunge the wrongs of the year before.
Side by side, the two walked up the steps to the ringing of the bells, making their first shrine visit of the year, as the geishas in the Gion district which surrounded the shrine had done so in centuries past.
They purified themselves at the gate, following an ancient ritual where they took a long-handled scoop and poured water over one hand, changed hands to cleanse the other, and then changed hands yet again to pour water into a cupped palm – from which it was drunk. What water was left was drained away by holding the scoop vertically, letting the handle itself be cleansed.
Having done so, they paid their respects, joining the cue to ring the bell themselves and say a prayer for a good year ahead, partaking of the shrine's amazake (a special sweet alcohol-free sake) to help ward off the chill, and writing their wished upon thin slats of wood which were added to a special fire – a fire made from the kindled okera herb.
This fire was used to light the stone lanterns of the shrine – as well as pieces of bamboo ropes that pilgrims received, which they could use to make a fire at home and prepare ozoni (a traditional Bew Year's broth with vegetables, chicken and mochi rice cakes) over it, conveying the blessings of peace.
In a sense, it was akin to the traditions of the eternal flame in other cultures, and outside the shrine after the New Year began, one would see people swinging the ropes about so the fire would not go out, the embers glowing red against the darkness of the sky.
Matou Shinji and Emiya Shirou both partook of this as well, taking glowing bamboo ropes for themselves, which they carried with them further into Maruyama Park, where a grove of eight hundred cherry trees stood surrounding the Hitoe Shiro Higan Shidare Sakura – the great weeping cherry tree that was the most celebrated in all of Japan.
Recalling what Touko had done the first time he had come here, Shinji thrust his arm forward, letting his wand of cherry fall into his waiting hand. He tapped a certain knot on the tree, and the wood came to life, shifting somehow to become a portal, the surface of which shimmered like a one way mirror.
Emiya Shirou tensed at this display, but there was no reason to. No one had seen them – would see them that night.
"After you," Shinji bid his companion, and the redhead simply did as told, with Shinji following after, stepping through the mirror onto the great ledge above the geofront of Mahoutokoro.
This time, it wasn't the bustling city or the buzz of prana in the air that caught his attention, but the sight of a young boy with five bone-white tails and a bespectacled girl – somewhat older than he – with a bluish crow perched on her shoulder, sitting on cushions around a kotatsu, one of the low, heated tables covered by a heavy blanket.
Only in this case, there was a stove as well and lanterns besides.
"There is a power in ritual, even for those who do not believe," the youth said without preamble, his deep red eyes, looking up at the two who had entered. "Symbols, images, actions – all these affect us in ways beyond what meets the eye."
"So the shrine visit," Shinji concluded. "The purification and the wishes."
"Indeed," Kaiduka affirmed with a nod. "They may only be symbols for most, but these traditions carry with them the human wishes for blessings and continuity. Even if they are hollow, backed with little in the way of belief, they have a power all of their own."
"Do they?"
"If intent has power, why not the structures we create to bind and evoke intent?" the fox asked quietly. "The traditions we practice, the crafts we use, the languages we speak – these define us as much as anything else we choose, as each have meanings, implications, conditions. They reflect how we see the world, and thus the way in which we shape it."
With that, the youth stood, with his companion following shortly thereafter, with both bowing slightly to the newcomers.
"Matou Shinji, I see you have arrived. Emiya Shirou, blessings of the New Year, and welcome to Mahoutokoro," he intoned. "I am Kaiduka Shiosai, Second Owner of Kyoto and Guardian of the City Below. And of course, this is my apprentice, Sajyou Ayaka."
The bespectacled girl stepped forward.
"Sajyou-san, please take the ropes from these two."
She did so, using one each to light two of the lanterns around the table, and both to light the stove, after which her crow snatched up the pieces and flew off into the distance.
"So even you practice these rituals," Shinji noted. "How interesting."
"As I said, there is power in tradition," Kaiduka spoke quietly. "And I of all people respect the wish for longevity, fortune, and purification."
"But you're…a fox," Shirou said, blinking as he noticed the youth's five tails.
"…a most brilliant deduction," the kitsune familiar stated blandly, his red eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Is that a problem, magus?"
"Ah…no."
"Good. It was not one for your ancestors, after all," Kaiduka said more gently. Shirou's eyebrows surged upwards at this remark. It was the fox who knew who his family was. "Or at least those I believe to have been your ancestors. I will need a final confirmation, however."
"Oh?"
The fox handed Shirou a slip of paper, which the boy took gingerly, not knowing what it was. Shinji, however, recognized it as one of the prana-reactive slips made from the branches of the weeping cherry tree, which Hijiri had used to test him for his elemental affinities.
"One of my abilities is to distinguish the scent of prana, for lack of a better term," Kaiduka explained. "Each individual's is different, but there are similarities depending on one's abilities and one's lineage. And as I have lived for centuries, I am familiar with most of the great lineages in this land. If you truly are a lost child of one of the families, then I will know."
"…ah," Shirou said eloquently. "What do I have to do?"
"You were taught how to open your circuits, correct? Then do so and push prana into this slip of paper."
Shirou frowned as he looked at the paper, which seemed innocuous. He looked at Shinji, who nodded curtly, and sighed, for he wasn't used to displaying his craft in front of others.
"I'll do it too," Shinji allowed, reaching out for a slip of paper as well. Kaiduka raised an eyebrow, but handed Shinji another anyway. "Together, ok?"
Both of the human boys took a deep breath, with one opening his circuits, the other drawing his wand and both channeling prana into the piece of paper.
Shinji's crumbled into a black mud, as it had the first time he was tested, but this time it seemed more viscous, the whispers just a bit clearer, lasting just a bit longer, before the construct vanished.
Shirou's, however, endured for longer, the paper's edges taking on a metallic sheen, becoming sharper almost to the point of drawing blood.
"Enough," the fox commanded, moving to examine the papers, or rather, what remained of them. "Interesting. I suppose you are more yin than yang, Matou, in addition to your water and earth affinities. Not unlike my apprentice. Hijiri mentioned an incident with your wand when it was crafted, yes?"
Shinji nodded.
"Then we will work on training your abilities in that this summer," Kaiduka stated, before shifting his focus to Shirou. "As for you, child of Emiya – your birth family is one I know well – a lineage of shamans, who excel at being the vessels of spirits, gods…worlds. Your base affinity is metal, but it is slowly shifting even now because of something within you. Something powerful. It smells of the West, of the fey."
Shirou swallowed under the kitsune's unnerving stare.
He could smell Avalon? And more than that…the sheath of the holy sword was changing his affinity? Perhaps…his plan to simply conceal it within him until he needed to remove it as a bargaining tool was not the wisest after all.
"What was my name?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Fujou," came the answer. "Fujou Shiroe, with Shiroe written with the kanji for 'fortress of wisdom.' But what name you carry forward is your choice."
With that, the kitsune waved to the empty spots on cushions by the kotatsu, where Sajyou Ayaka had just begun to set up a pot and retrieve a stash of ingredients from what looked like an oversized mokeskin pouch.
"In any case, I bid you two welcome. We have much to discuss, but I hope you two will join my apprentice and myself for a New Year's meal of ozone as we wait for the sun to rise."
For in the land of the rising sun, sunrise on New Year's had a special meaning, especially for those who practiced the mystic arts, and one often said a prayer to the sun – to Amaterasu, the great goddess who shone in heaven. Kaiduka especially was careful to respect that, given his origins and nature. For as a spirit of the land, he was empowered by the traditions of those within it, and as a kitsune, like many of his brethren, born when a certain stone shattered long ago, he was well aware of what might become if reverence turned to fear, and fear soon to wrath.
"It would be our honor," Shinji said, speaking for himself and for Shirou – who seemed a little unsteady, having been told too much for it all to sink in. "Kaiduka-san. Sajyou-san."