Prologue: Transmigration.
Grunts of pain reverberated throughout a cave filled with darkness.
Fists clashed, drawing blood.
Two individuals, filled with opposite desires, clashed in their bloodied and battered bodies.
Everything hurts!
An auburn-haired boy, whose golden eyes filled with determination, fought; his teeth gritted.
He must now allow the priest to hit his head.
His fists then slipped to the other's bloodied face. Upon impact, however, he pulled off his arms in pain; the metal-like defense of the other shattered his tightened fists.
I might not last any longer…I need to finish this quickly!
Shirou followed up; his fist shredded through the weakened defenses of the other, pushed back by such a bashful force.
The other vomited copious amounts of blood but held his ground; he smirked at Shirou's desperate actions. He had short brown hair that stopped at his nape; the only layer of clothing he had to defend against his piercing blows was cut up; blood gushed out of the deformed pieces of flesh.
And yet, he stood, smiling.
"̸Y̷̶̷̶ͤͪ͢O̴U̶ ̸A̵̴ͣN̷D̴҉̷ ̷I̵̷̵ͭͨ ̷̴͢A̵R̵̶ͣE̵ ̷҉̵T̸̸̵ͪͬH̸̷ͧE̵ ̴̵͢S̶A̶̴̴ͮͨM̵E̸,̷ ̵E̶̶ͪM̷̶ͪI̴̵ͥY̸A̵̵ͥ ̵S̷H̷҉̷I̵̵ͣR̵O̶̸̸̵ͬͬ͢U̵!̴̸ͮ"̵̴̴ͣͪ ̴The priest roared in escalation; he charged at his mortal enemy as he cocked back his fists that met metal in retaliation.
"̷K̸O̵T̶O̷M̵I̴N̷E̷ ̶K̷I̸R̶E̵I̵!̶"̶ Shirou roared; swords began to grow at his tightened fists.
Kirei was targeting his head; one blow was enough to crush his deformed brain. Fortunately, Shirou reacted in time. But his body was still pierced by Kirei's precise and stinging blow.
Goddamn it!
Shirou felt unbearable pain; his muscles were slowly being altered and eviscerated as seconds passed by. But he persevered. He cannot just let go of the effort that he and his allies spent, the blood and sweat he cried, the lives lost.
He let out a rageful battle cry; he delivered his fist to Kirei's stomach, effectively piercing the other's tattered body.
Kirei widened his eyes; he coughed up blood and faltered in his steps, but he remained defiant; he stood and went on the offensive. Though he was beginning to slop at his movements, his grace reduced to a messily combined chain of sloppiness; his attacks began to weaken, with some not proving to be as effective against a skin littered with thousands of blades.
Unfortunately for him, Shirou did not relent on his punches. In an explosive force, he released a flurry of hard-hitting yet piercing blows; it slowly turned the other into a shredded sack of bones and mutilated strands of muscles.
But surprisingly, he still held his ground; a smirk proudly smeared his face. "You..." Kirei let out. "Win…" He did not even try to retaliate; he knew this was his end. Besides, he had already used the limited time set by the Grail's corrupted host.
Shirou gritted his teeth once more; he cocked back his fists. He intended to finish it once and for all; one final blow would end it all. But ultimately, he halted himself from doing so, seeing the priest's lifeless eyes.
A gasp came out of his mouth, trying to catch his breath.
He won. It was over.
No, he realized it.
Shirou slowly and robotically craned his head to the source of all malice; a massive, gruesome creature stared at him with rage as if angered after seeing his mortal enemy's demise.
E̸̲̭͔͐̀ḿ̶̢̇͊̈́I̵͈̅͑Ỵ̶̧͔̠̾ǎ̸̱̪̪̈́͋̒͜ ̷̦͋̈͛͛S̶̳̽͆̅͆h̷̙̘͠͝͠Ȉ̶̛̭̜͍̮r̷̐̋̇̌͜Ǒ̵͙̑̔̍u̴̞̲̇ͅ!̴̼̻̓͛̀ ̸̖͖̭̲̕͝ The screech came as an unrelenting wave of pain to him; it ruptured his eardrums. He felt millions of slain souls cursing him.
A scream came out of his head littered with countless blades, agony. It was a scream that was supposed to be words, lessened to a mere screech; blades had long punctured his diaphragm, riddling him of the ability to talk.
He felt the blades piercing his brain, his neuron activity slowly fading to nothingness. Despite such a disadvantage, he forced his body of metal to move against their will.
"Trace…"
A sword, familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, flashed through his mind, its history processed by the decaying matter formerly known as a brain. The color of golden ran through its surface with a beautiful hue of blue: Excalibur, the sword of promised victory.
"On…!"
His circuits flared to life; a wave of ethereal green light momentarily saturated the cave. A visage of a sword formed by light appeared and began taking shape.
Seeing the weapon's gradual assimilation, he forced his limp and lifeless body to hold on to such an artifact. He wielded it over his head the same way S*ber would.
C̸̥̫̏ŭ̴̥̦̰͍̎̓͝R̵͕̝̾̾͊s̵̖͍̼̈́͂͝͝ͅE̸̖͗̾͗͜͝ ̸̡̮̦͑̋̆̒Y̶̳͈̟͋̍ö̵̩́̒̏U̸̦͍͌̅!̸̼̝̀ ̷̱͎͈͇͆̅̕É̶̩̘͔̮̓ḿ̴̺̜I̵͇̻͑y̷̦̪͖̒A̷̺̎ ̸͇̇̒̀͑Ş̷̩̔̋͜h̵̭̭̫͐ͅḮ̸̦̝͓̑̈̇r̶͙͈̲̣͂͗O̵̦̗̪̓̓̕u̶͇̥͆͒̅!̸̨̑̿̇̔ ̷̨̰̲̈ It roared in rage; it sent thousands of deformed arms to the one that it deemed to be a threat.
But the searing light emitted by the sword's formation seared the arms immediately upon impact. Seeing its attempt fail, it tried, only to have the same result.
"Ex…!"
He roared into the heavens. But his posture was wrong, everything about it.
However, to his surprise, a gentle pair of hands corrected his posture, guiding his stiff body to form a familiar stance; he gasped. With the last strength he had, he forced his unmalleable neck to look at the receding pair of hands. It led to her face.
She smiled. "Shirou." She greeted gently, her soothing words numbing the suffering. "You can do it!" She cheered. "...After all, you are my Master, my scabbard."
Those words empowered him. But the second he blinked, she disappeared; it was as if it was a figment of his fading imagination.
Nevertheless, it was enough.
"Thank you, (?)."
"...Calibur!..."
At that moment, the sword of promised victory was brought down by someone other than the King herself; the energy it held came by as a storm to the desperate beast that sank into itself, trying to avoid the energy being brought upon it.
But it served no purpose.
A golden light engulfed the entire cave. Reality itself was punctured and shattered. Tears and a bitter smile were burned off, perhaps never to be seen again.
Then.
Darkness.
A world filled with nothing but black meets Emiya Shirou.
...
...
Not a speck of dust. Not a speck of light. Only black.
He snapped his head left and right, or so he thought; he had already lost all sense of direction and balance.
He died, right?
...
Much to his surprise, the grueling pain that came consequently to installing (?)'s arm dissipated. He felt his brain being put into place, piece by piece. He felt as if the blades were plucked away from his being.
The pain was dissipating, every ounce of it.
...
Avalon (?) is all that he can think of at that very moment - an artifact capable of sewing any wound no matter what the intensity. But what confused him was that it should not be possible since S*ber was gone.
...
Confusion filled his mind as he tried to come up with an answer to no avail; it only turned to frustration. How was he even alive at that moment?
...
However, to his surprise, the sound of an alarm met his ears.
His eyes immediately opened; he sat in a room unfamiliar to him. It was messy, with clothes scattered on the ground, posters of different anime franchises plastered throughout the room, and a full-body mirror. A desk lay near him, with differing book subjects. On top, it had a dusty-looking computer and a wardrobe near it.
Panic filled his being as he frantically viewed the room. Raspy breaths came off his lips as he stood up, flipping the blanket over. Perhaps the strange thing is that his body's composition felt too frail.
It felt too weak.
He was confused. But when he accidentally cast his vision to the full-body mirror near him, he gasped in shock. What met him was the visage of a boy with messy-styled brown hair and brown eyes. "This is not me. This is not me at all!" He murmured, panicking as he averted his gaze from the mirror. His body began trembling in frustration as he sat on the bed aggressively. He was supposed to be dead. But instead, he was inside the body of a boy he had never met.
Just what was happening?
Did he? Wait, who? Who was that monster?
He gritted his teeth as he gripped the blanket.
His thought was interrupted when a surge of pain came through his head, brought by flashes of memories he had never done (?)memories he had never witnessed in his life (?). It felt as if his brain was being fried from the inside out. He clutched his head in pain; it was almost impossible for him not to scream in pure agony; the pain was comparable to that of having his brain pierced by thousands of blades.
But finally, for what seemed to be an eternity, the pain dissipated.
"What the!" he gasped.
He took the time to look through his memories, his new memories. It was not just there, no. It fused with the memories he had left.
"Who am I?"
Emiya Shirou (?)
He was having difficulties telling which of the memories was his.
The memories he had prematurely lost by using Archer's arm were replaced with unfamiliar events that he had a feeling did not even happen; the remaining events of his life rambled along with someone's own to the point that it was unrecognizable to him.
However, this confusion did not last long.
"Senpai!" A girl, whose face had been blurred beyond recognition, called out for him; her light violet hair danced in the wind. Despite this, he knew her name; it was Sakura.
"Can you keep up with me?" It was a voice that challenged him while his body cut through the dust and storms like gigantic blades waving air.
A red figure. Archer (?) Emiya Shirou (?)
He does not know. But what he could remember was that he gave him the arm that caused his life to go downhill. But now, he felt his arms were fine, but they felt frail; it was as if the boy he took over was not physically adept.
"Protect her in my stead." a herculean force demanded of him as he dissipated into motes of light. The promise he had made to this force of nature had its validity left unanswered, unaware of Illya (?)'s fate.
"Oh, Shirou," a woman whispered slowly, her pale golden eyes directing themselves at him weakly as he leaped into the air, a dagger in his hand. It was she who saved him on multiple occasions. And yet, in a twist of fate, he had to take her life away. S*ber (?)
Even so, he felt that those memories he had recovered (?) were nowhere near complete. As such, the abundance of names within his memories whose origins are unfamiliar (?) made his mind raise questions that would be left unanswered. However, it did not change the fact that the memories were disheartening. These people, though unfamiliar, are important to him; it was instinctive.
He was naive; he was stupid.
Tears began falling from his face.
How can he forget the blood spilled in front of him?
How can he forget the allies he made and lost?
He forced himself to wipe those tears away as the realization dawned on him. He was in another person's body. If so, how would his loved ones and his friends react? How would they react that he killed Hyoudou Issei when he overtook his body?
"Issei! It is time for school! Get down here quickly!" a feminine voice called out, irritated.
He felt regret and sorry to the highest degree for the soul he had overtaken.
But he needed to go with the flow.
In his mind, he had to find a way to go back to those whom he deemed to be important.
He will find a way to restore his body, and this boy's soul, no matter what it costs him.
He stood up and slowly reached toward the doorknob; his expression depicted the utmost determination.
Wind bristled through his hair as it danced along with it.
His face depicts a jumbled vein of emotions; he cannot stop worrying about the people he unknowingly left. Apart from that, he must bear the responsibility of handling Hyoudou Issei's body.
Such a weight on his shoulders...
When he arrived, he forced himself to throw all those worrisome thoughts away. It is a large chain of buildings; the size of it outmatched Homurahara Academy. Flocks of students passed him, donning the same uniform he wore. This academy, based on Hyoudou Issei's hazy memories, was Kuoh Academy, an academy that was previously all-girls but converted into a co-ed as its funding and student count was down low.
There was one problem.
Something was troubling him.
An eerie feeling of being stalked made his skin crawl; sweat trickled down his face as he gazed at the surroundings, finding nothing noteworthy.
It would seem that a bounding field enveloped the entire academy.
He gritted his teeth in remembrance. Nevertheless, he forced his body to move against its will.
Taking a step, he was held back by the bombardment of stares that promised death; he was expecting. Because the previous owner of this body was a shameless pervert who peeks if given the chance. It gave him the first goal he must accomplish - to fix Hyoudou Issei's reputation.
Without a word, he approached the student building while unaware of someone gazing at him from afar.
She had a look of interest on her face.
"Ara ara~ you seem interested in the 2nd year student, Butchou?" a voice asked.
"Earlier, my rook reported that Hyoudou Issei's presence had changed dramatically. It went from barely being undetectable to being all over the place; the scent of metal." A firm voice responded to the other, earning a chuckle.
"What will be your action Butchou~? As far as we know, he could have already awakened his sacred gear." The soft voice chirped out curiously.
"I'll have my rook and my knight to observe him. Hopefully, we could find an opportunity to recruit him for ourselves."
At that moment, a new feeling loomed over his consciousness, a familiar feeling. His skin crawled as sweat trickled down his face once again. The act of observance made it clear that something was not right. However, instead of letting it weigh on his thoughts, he let Hyoudou's instincts take over him; he swiftly made his way through the corridors and halls, passing by other students as well.
"2-B" is the class number if Hyoudou's memory serves him right. He arrived at the door; conversations he did not comprehend leaked from the openings. He opened the door carefully to attract no attention but to no avail. The whole class stared at him as if he were a sore thumb.
"Uh?" Shirou uttered, going on with Hyoudou's presumed personality. Strangely enough, most people disregarded him; they continued their conversations, except for two people at the back who seemed to recognize him, not as Emiya...
...But as Hyoudou.
"Yo, Hyoudou!" a bald boy greets Shirou.
"Yo, do you know that a new Ero-VN is coming out?! I am so FUCKING HYPED!" A boy with glasses and long bangs roared out, much to the disgust of the girls around them. Then he looked at his "friend". "…Are you too?" he asked.
"Matsuda, I am feeling quite sick right now, so would you please?" Shirou asked sincerely.
He knows about this "ero-vn" seeing Hyoudou has a box of it hidden within his room; he is the only one who knows where it is. Of course, Shirou knew of it since he overtook his soul. But he would rather not entertain them and their perverseness; he does not want the thought of exposing his vessel to such activities once more.
His response caused an uproar among the students.
"Am I dreaming or what?"
"Is this Hyoudou?"
"Oh, thank God! A miracle indeed!"
"Seems like we're not beating him today girls."
Shirou then took off to the designated desk of the one known as Hyoudou. He settled himself and set down his sling bag on the floor. He tapped his fingers on his desk; uneasiness filled his being. The stares he was receiving now could bore a hole through his soul.
"What happened to him?"
Was this the Hyoudou they knew? To them, even though he had the same face:
They knew that something was not right.
"I don't know." The other answered truthfully. "…Let him rest; God knows if this sickness is real or some bullshit he created."
...
...
A few minutes have passed.
The teacher has already made his way to the classroom and has started the class. Hyoudou Issei used to laze around and doze at whatever moment he wanted. But he was completely and utterly different as if they were the exact opposite; seeing the once lazy pervert taking notes is unheard of.
The class went by over Shirou's head, a comfort he needed to experience after the hellish Grail War he went through.