Chapter 1: Changes
Disclaimer: I don't own Highschool DxD or any properties within the Fate Franchise.
Author's Notes:
This idea has been stuck in my head for quite a while. I always thought Highschool DxD had surprisingly deep lore despite it basically being about a dude who gains power through titties. If anything, the show could have probably been about just a normal guy with a normal libido and it would have done just fine if not better.
To be honest, half of the reason I started to write this story was out of spite for a lot of other stories that will not be named that up and ended up doing nothing with DxD's potential. Hopefully, my take will be different.
Now on with the story!
XxXxX
It began with Fire.
Blisteringly Hot; Angry and Red: A Ravenous Inferno.
Fire, as far as the eye could see; Ash and Smoke choking his lungs; the cries of the dead and dying drowning in an ocean of crackling Cinders.
Hell.
His first memory: the place he had been born.
His form tittered through the Flame like a specter in the evening light: frail and formless. For an eternity he trudged on; his brow blistering where there should have been sweat, his tongue more sandpaper than muscle, his limbs having grown numb from the heat and exhaustion long before he had stepped into this mortal coil.
How then, you ask, had he been able to endure; to press on when those greater than he had already succumb to their fate? Their fading silhouettes nipping at his heels like rabid beasts.
He couldn't say for certain what willed him to take step after agonizing step, but if he were to guess, his motivation would have to stem from an overwhelming sense of awe. The North Star to his desert, beckoning him forward with its guiding light. There, cloistered within a nest of destruction; pulsed a prismatic, glowing jewel. It hovered before him without the aid of earthly logic; shining brilliantly, even to eyes that had acclimated to the radiation of death around him.
He had finally made it.
Weakly, he willed his lead laden hands to pine for the crystal orb. There standing in this wasteland, just as blackened fingers had tightened around the aspirations of their brief existence is when he heard it.
"Hoya? Little Lamb, how did you find yourself here?" A voice: soft and sweet. Like a gentle spring breeze, it threatened to take the charred excuses he called legs out from under him.
"Ah~, ta, ta, ta this won't do, this won't at all." The entity agonized with the same agency as one choosing an after-meal dessert.
"I don't normally mettle with humans but it seems like such a waste squandering someone as delectable as you. Ho!" The speaker's pitch popping to attention "Perhaps that could work…Yes, I think that will do just fine. That child has been rather miserable as of late. Rather bitter indeed. Entwining your fates should surely sprinkle in some much-needed sweetness."
The boy hadn't blinked but before he knew it everything had changed. His reality pulled out from under him and replaced with a chill that soaked to the bone. Rock took the place of Fire; Stale Air where there had been Smog; and the steady drip of Water traded for the crackling of Flames.
Yet, even with his entire world having flipped upside down, one thing remained constant. That tantalizingly beautiful light still shined. Only, rather than a sparkling gemstone, what emitted the light in this plane was an ornate scabbard: royal blue and inlaid in gold.
Just as with the orb prior, the boy casted a hand in the scabbard's direction; enraptured by its majesty. However, before his fingers could capture the treasure within his brittle grasps, the shimmer emanating from the scabbard surged with power. Its divine aura illuminating the cavern in a warmth that eased his aching soul.
His eyes readjusted to the dimness of the cave to reveal a girl unlike any he had ever seen, blocking his view of the scabbard with a guarded stance.
She hovered just above the granite floor; her form fading in and out like a mirage. She couldn't be much older than himself; dressed in a pure white dress and sporting a head of wheat styled into a neat ponytail.
Glistening emerald narrowed at his slack-jawed stare. "Who goes there? State thy name!" She spoke. Her authoritative tone sounded strange with the prepubescent lilt to her voice; like a child playing pretend.
Normally, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the girl's display but it appeared that fate had other plans as whatever force keeping him aloft had finally failed him, his body collapsing like a ton of bricks.
"My word! Stay with me boy!"
As his vision darkened, it was only now that he noticed that the ethereal girl had a single antenna of hair wiggling atop her otherwise immaculate head. He didn't even register the supernatural manner with which she willed the scabbard to her side nor the way it disintegrated into motes of glimmering sand nor the magnificence of an ever-distant utopia embracing his depths with its soothing grace.
"Huh, cute…" Were his last thoughts as he finally allowed unconsciousness to take him.
XxXxX
"Onii-chan's sleeping face. Nice get!"
He awakened with a flash; halting the tiny, pale finger less than an inch from his cheek. Gleaming rubies stare back into his amber, their owner's cheeks puffing into a dissatisfied pout.
"Boo~."
"Imouto~ just what do you think you're doing?" He asked; running a hand through his red hair.
"Does a true trainer allow a shiny to go uncaught?"
"A what?"
The young girl's pout dispelled into a look of utter disappointment. "Never mind." She said, tugging her hand out of her brother's grasp.
"Illya, just what-" A yawn interrupted his question midway through. "-Are you even doing here?" The middle school section of the campus wasn't even in the same building as his own, far too great of a trek to make during a bathroom break.
"Mou," His little sister's cheeks puffed up once more, her thin arms crossing to really cement the look. "Shirou left me all alone."
Realization filled him. He quickly swiveled in his seat. The classroom laying predominately empty sans the occasional loner relishing in its solitude.
"…Ah." He checked his watch; it's face confirming his dread all too well: lunch was already half over. "Illya, please forgive this worthless Onii-chan." He begged, attempting to lower his head as close to the floor as he could manage without getting out of his desk.
Illya allowed an eye to peek in her brother's direction, soaking in his prone form. "It's fine, I guess. The rare drop was really nice after all."
Shirou straightened, "I'm really sorry about that. I promise to make it up to you."
"Strawberry."
"Huh?"
"Strawberry ice-cream with chocolate sauce, whip cream, walnuts and sprinkles!" She said, pushing her index finger close enough that his eyes began to cross.
"Of course." He said, folding to her demands with a smile.
"Hehe," she gleamed victoriously.
This moment would have surely gone down the annals of history had it not been overshadowed by the audible sound of smacking lips.
"Ne Ne Onii-chan, it's not like you to fall asleep during class. You feeling, okay?"
As the two exited the classroom, the elder was immediately blindsided by a concentrated burst of solar energy. His corneas grew taut like elastic bands. Has the sun always been so painfully bright? It was only spring but with how harshly it was shining it might as well have been the peak of summer…in the Mojave Desert…under a giant magnifying glass. It was so blinding, in fact, that he forgot to answer his sister's question…let alone look where he was going; making it all too easy for him to crash into the stray object blocking his path.
And so, he fell, inelegantly and swiftly; his hands too busy shielding his eyes to brace his fall. Luckily, whatever it was that had chosen to get in his way had been plenty soft, otherwise, he may have just been put straight back to sleep after just awakening.
Fearing the sun's oppressive might, he reluctantly opened his eyes but rather than the flashbang he had been anticipating he was greeted with soothing darkness. Relief manifesting in the form of an involuntary groan. The void around him vibrated in delight; pushing him to relish in its splendor for just a bit longer.
"Ara, Ara how forward of you Emiya-kun." Hairs prickled the back of his neck. Like a jolt of electricity, his face shot upward to spy a mirthful, half-lidded gaze peeking out from the valley of her…assets.
He sprung back on to the balls of his feet; taking extra measures to face away from any nearby windows. "Himejima-senpai!"
Her voluptuous form lay strewn about the tile floor like an abstract work of art. The hem of her skirt upturned enticingly. The space his face had taken residence displacing the top buttons of her uniform to glimpse into the soft, supple flesh that lay beneath. From behind her dainty, ladylike hand her blushing expression gazing up at him with a seductive mischief.
He didn't think it was possible but some way, somehow Himejima Akeno: Great Onee-san of Kuoh Academy and Vice President of the Occult Research Club had managed to make even something as unflattering as being body checked suggestive.
He silently thanked the stars for his resilience. Had he been a lesser man he surely would have succumbed to her antics long ago.
"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." He recovered his composure quickly, offering a hand her way. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
"Ever the gentleman Emiya-kun." She accepted it as if it were a precious gift. "Unlike the rest of these boys, you actually know how to treat a lady."
Shirou steeled his beating heart. He was far too experienced in her ways to fall to such low hanging fruit. "I have an excellent teacher."
"Really now?" Akeno raised a brow to meet her bangs. "What else have they taught you?"
But before he could reply, his sister forced herself into the center of the conversation. "Shirou~, lunch is going to be over soon." She whined with hands on her hips; looking every bit as menacing as a twelve-year-old girl could.
"Right, well, as much as I would love to catch up; as you can see…" He directed a thumb over to Illya impatiently tapping her foot. "I have prior arrangements."
The third-year giggled melodically. "That's too bad~. Surely, I'll at least be able to see you this evening at the archery range. The way you handle a bow is simply mystifying."
"Not this evening I'm afraid."
"More commitments?"
"Unfortunately."
"Ara, Ara Emiya-kun~; you certainly get around. How shameless."
"Shirou!"
"Coming Illya." He winced. "I better get going. I'll see you later Senpai."
"Sooner than you think I'd imagine." She said, earning a perplexed look to form on her underclassman's face. However, before he could probe her further, a pair of slender arms wrapped around his own possessively. Illya's python embrace tightening even as Akeno's shapely figure had begun to shrink in the distance.
"So that's Onii-chan's type," Illya whispered with a hand to her chin.
"What was that?" He asked, turning a literal blind eye directly into the sunlight rather than catch the sight of his little sister groping her nonexistent bust.
"What-? Oh! Nothing!" She paused mid scrutiny like a hand to a stove. "I was -uh… just…wondering~…what type~…of dream…you were having?" Her question sounding more directed to herself than the one presented it. She could feel the sweat drop at the crane of her scalp fill to bursting.
"A sword."
"A sword?"
"A sword."
"…"
"…"
"You know Shirou, you're lucky you have a nice face otherwise I'd be worried about your future."
XxXxX
An interwoven mass of tangled possibility.
Tomoe Meguri stared hard into the void with an un-tempered focus. Her mind swimming within a maelstrom of potential futures that had yet to pass. The orange of the setting sun only served to paint the glow of its golden irises in a pallet that tightened the hesitation biting into her wrist.
Her foe had always had a knack for the blade but it had never been so ferocious before. She had long since tapped into the powers gifted to her by her King to match its strength but it still wasn't enough.
The sword in her grasp shook like a leaf. Her pride as a Knight; driftwood against the rocky shore: broken and scattered.
She greeted the calm amidst the storm as one would a blessing. Her lungs taking in oxygen greedily, uncertain of when they would be allowed another breath.
Her foresight proved fruitful as her opponent sped into motion. Her instincts responded in kind, weathering the squall of strikes by a mere hair's berth. Desperately, she searched for a chance to fight back, a misplaced foot; an overextended stroke; anything that could turn the tides in her favor.
That's when she saw it. A lapse in the current.
Unwilling to allow the opportunity to come to pass, she moved to counter attack. Her aim was shift and true; shooting for its exposed shoulder with textbook precision.
Exactly what her opponent had been waiting for.
Just before her blade could reach its target, the shoulder shifted out of harm's way. The blade that she was so certain had been out of position coming up and under her guard. By the time she had come to terms with her error it was already too late. With a flick of the wrist, her sword fell from her grasp. She could only watch in horror as the opposing weapon ascended to puncture her core. The force of the blow knocking her clean off her feet.
"Point Shirou!"
"Mou!" Meguri screamed in frustration as she wretched the protective covering from her head. "I'll get you next time!"
Shirou chuckled softly. "I'm sure you will. Nice match."
"Stop being such a good sport about it! It makes it hard to put any motivation toward beating you."
"Sorry?" He said, retracting his hand with a tinge of uncertainty.
"It's fine." She relented, pushing herself off the smooth wooden floor. "I'll just have to train more I guess."
"I could help you with that."
Private lessons from a dashingly handsome older gentleman? It was a tempting offer but the stern, spectacled look from one of their spectators was all it took to sway her judgment…despite how badly she wished otherwise.
"Thanks, but no thanks Emiya-senpai." Meguri took in the hard stare of her Student Council President with a sense of unease. "I get the feeling that I'm going to be getting more help than I could ever ask for."
"Oh, well…if you say so."
"That's our Shirou for you," The referee, a woman in her mid-twenties with light brown hair and a jolly expression grinned; hooking the teen's head under her arm affectionately. "Always the first one to lend a helping hand."
It was with that statement that the third and final spectator of the match decided to make themselves known. "Excuse me, but since when was he 'your' Shirou? Last time I checked he was a proud member of the Kuoh Archery Club."
"Well, it's clear; with how much time he spends here, that our precious little brownie prefers hanging out with his beloved Onee-chan in the Kendo Club rather than the prissy Archery Club." The woman turned her nose in mock disgust, playfully rubbing a knuckle into her adopted sibling's scalp.
"Fuji-nee, quit it." He grimaced, swatting at the offending fist to no avail.
The darker toned brunette glared down at the woman with a fire in her eye. "Ho~ is that so Fujimaru-sensei?" The student spat at the club supervisor with as much venom as she could muster.
"Oh? Is that apprehension I sense Mitsuzuri-san?" Taiga snickered delightfully. "Afraid that your little golden goose is gonna fly the coop?"
"To where? The Kendo Club? Puh-lease~." Ayako waved off. "Kuoh hasn't stepped foot in the national circuit in nearly a decade. Which, now that I think about it, is the match you lost; isn't it?"
The woman's teasing smile began to strain; the pace of her grinding knuckle increased exponentially. Taiga knew that, as a teacher; she shouldn't stoop to the same level as a student but it was beginning to become very, very difficult.
"…It was a technicality." Goddamn stupid keychain! Stupid stuffy rule loving judges! What did it matter if she had decorated her shinai? She still would have mopped the floor with that chump had she been given the chance!
"Ow." Shirou deadpanned, his scalp beginning to smolder under Taiga's noogie.
"No wonder you're so desperate to get Shirou on your side; you're trying to have him win it all back for you." Had it been any other day, Taiga would have been capable of preserving what little dignity she had left. Unfortunately, today, a certain seaweed headed prick had left Ayako in a particularly toxic mood. "Face it. You lost. Nothing is going to change that you stupid tiger."
"Oh boy." Shirou grumbled, preemptively plugging his ears in preparation for what was to come.
"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME YOU LITTLE BRAT!" The adult screamed, tossing her little brother figure over her shoulder and getting right in the bitch's face.
"I CALLED YOU A STUPID THIEVING TIGER!"
Shirou sighed. Normally, he'd been one to keep the one to keep the peace in these kinds of situations but wrangling Fujimaru Taiga once she had been set off simply wasn't possible.
"I'LL SHOW YOU TIGER YOU LITTLE SHIT!" Taiga roared, brandishing both fists in rage.
"BRING IT ON YOU OLD HAG!"
XxXxX
Their impromptu wrestling match had stretched on for far longer than normal. After slipping away, he'd managed to clean up the club room; take a shower; put away his things and change back into his uniform before everything had simmered down. Honestly, it probably would still be going on right now had Shitori-san not intervened.
He'd have to find a way to pay her back in the future; maybe bake her some nice snacks to go with the tea that she seemed so fond of.
"I wonder which brand she likes?" He thought aloud as he exited the club building.
Depending on whether she leaned more toward herbal or fruity flavors could drastically affect the compatibility of the chosen snack. But before he could plunge any further into his mental archive of sugary confectioneries, the sound of lecherous giggling captured his attention.
"The Kendo Club is sporting some fine specimens this year."
"Tight booties and delectable boobies for days~."
"The perfect combination of fitness and thickness- Hey! Stop trying to distract me with delicious oppai!"
"Shhhh, zip it cutting board. Are you trying to get us killed? You nearly blew our cover!"
"Well, I wouldn't have to if you two decided to be actual friends and just believe me."
"Are we really doing this again? You've been going on about this for three whole days now."
"It wasn't a dream."
"Yeah, right. Next, you'll tell me that Sakura girl isn't pushing Ds."
"Eighty-five centimeters to be exact."
"Woah, really?"
"See for yourself."
"She's only a first year. Imagine what it'll be like when-No! No, no, no, no. You guys are just trying to distract me again."
"Is it working?"
"Yes! But that's not the point…even if they are great oppai."
"Just what do you three think you're doing?" He said hollowly.
The three froze atop their makeshift towers, shifting in the direction of the voice on creaking gears. It was only when their eyes took in the sight of a mere human male rather than the divine wrath of femininity that they were expecting that they allowed their hearts to settle.
"Why isn't it obvious?" The bald-headed one stated boisterously.
"We are merely carrying out our sacred duty." The other boy said, glasses catching the evening light in a menacing gleam.
"Yeah…um…" The slender brown-haired girl turned to face him. The wind in her sails petered out as recollection kicked in. She looked confused; as if she were surprised to see him alive and well despite having spoken so many times before.
"Come on Iseko, this was your idea, remember."
"Oh -uh…right!" She coughed into her palm. "Wherever the female form is, we will capture them within our sight!"
"We will climb any mountain-!"
"-Cross any river!"
"-Face any foe!"
"No matter the hour of the day we are burdened by the Grand Task!"
"The Roguishly Handsome: Matsuda!"
"The Peerless Analyst: Motohama!"
"The Righteous Betrayer: Iseko!"
"And with our powers combined we are-"
"-The Amazing!"
"-The Unshakeable!"
"-The Legendary!"
"-Perverted Trio!" They called in unison, punctuating their declaration with a heroic(?) pose. Their uniforms fluttered in the wind; a beam of light illuminated their forms; and was that thunder?
"Yes! I feel really good about that one!"
"All that practice really paid off."
"You three really worked hard on that."
"Oh, it's nothing special." She blushed, grooming her boyishly short ponytail bashfully.
Shirou had not intended for that to be a compliment but thought better than to correct himself.
He looked at the self-proclaimed "Legendary" voyeurs with a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment and just the tiniest sliver…of envy. It was a strange emotion to have for ones so brazenly deplorable; however, if one were to look beyond the lecherous nature of their bond, they would find a kinship stronger than most. For someone like him, who had few he could even call acquaintances outside of his family, their friendship was a difficult pill to swallow.
"You know, if you three actually cleaned up your act you might be able to land yourself a girlfriend. Then, you can spend more time actually touching them (with their consent) instead of 'admiring'them from afar."
It was a bit far-fetched but he was certain that each of them had some redeeming qualities deep, deep, deep, deep~ down. Whether or not girls would find any of those qualities attractive he had no idea but none of them would ever see those parts of them with all the caked-on layers of lecherous intent in the way.
"Easy for you to say. You make girls swoon without even trying."
"Yeah, whaddya know about being unpopular?"
Shirou directed a confirming look over to the more bearable of the three.
"They have a point, Emiya-senpai." She answered sheepishly. "You're athletic, handsome, hardworking, and you're always helping people out…"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't see myself as anything special, but from your perspective, I must sound pretty obnoxious preaching to you like that."
"Hurgk, so this is the power of Kuoh's Number One Brownie!" Blood dripped down the corner of Motohama's mouth. "I've always heard the stories but I'd never thought you would be this formidable." The man's sheer radiance had nearly made Iseko straight and she was about as flaming as they come.
"Go explode ya damn normie! Being all nice and shit!" Matsuda shook a fist at the upperclassman's audacity.
"It is what it is senpai." She shrugged.
"As if you weren't cursing his name last week."
"Yeah, don't go acting all high and mighty on us just because of your so-called "girlfriend."
"She's real damn it!"
"Like hell she is! I bet you imagined her after one of your diddling sprees!"
"What's this about a girlfriend?" Shirou asked.
"Iseko's been stuck on this dream-"
"-Not a dream!"
"-Dream she had recently. Apparently, some hottie asked to be her girlfriend. Confession on the overpass; shopping together at the mall; cutesy…ice cream…dates!" Motohama appeared to grow more and more aggressive with each passing moment. By the time he had finished making his case his jaws were grinding with a righteous fury.
"What's so unbelievable about that?"
"See! Emiya-senpai believes that Yuma exists."
"Yuma?" Shirou uttered the word with a tinge of familiarity. The sound felt strange to his lips as if he had spoken in some kind of long-forgotten tongue.
"You know her?" Her heart gripped with longing. "She had just transferred here last week but no one remembers anything about her. The pictures we took together are gone; even the ones from the photobooth. There aren't even any records of her showing up in Kuoh!"
"That's because she doesn't exist!"
"Shut up!" She finally snapped, causing the two to shrink back. Any mirth that she may have had previously long gone.
"That does sound strange. Can you at least give me a description on what she looks like?" Shirou humored her. By the sound of it, she was starting to become desperate. He could only imagine how distraught she felt; to believe wholeheartedly that something was true only to be beaten down by the truth at every turn.
"She had beautiful, long black hair that went all the way down to her pillow soft ass; a comfortable set of oppai that caressed your arm in just the right way whenever she tugged you along; full, kissable lips and a pair of bright violet eyes that were even brighter than Himejima-senpai's. Amano Yuma: my girlfriend."
The redhead wracked his brain together to paint the full picture of the girl. Each piece stood vividly within his mind's eye individually but when he began to visualize the whole it was as if the separate colors blended together into one big pile of mush.
"Did she wear a lot of black?" He said, his words not feeling wholly his own.
"Yeah." Ise broached the question tentatively. "She did wear a lot of black. For our first date she even wore this beautiful black dress. I can still remember it…the way those supple curves of hers clung to the fabric: the perfect mixture of casual and goth-loli."
"Hm."
"So, you remember her, right?"
He felt so close but at the same time so far; as if he were staring into a two-way mirror, looking internally when he knew there was more on the other side. "No, I can't say I do."
"…No way." The world shattered. Her one shred of hope slipping through her finger tips.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know anything about this Yuma person."
"But you were there! That night! In the park! When she-When I-!" Wide sorrowful eyes stared straight through open palms in disbelief.
A hand clutched at her heart while the other clasped on to his blazer as if they were only things keeping her anchored to this world.
"You have to remember! Please, you gotta believe me!"
Shirou swallowed harshly.
"Please."
He placed a hand on her own; white knuckles becoming brittle to the touch.
"…Please. Someone, anyone. Please, believe me…" Her voice barely above a whisper, begging him with all her heart.
"I have to go meet my sister." As he turned, he could hear the sound of the girl's legs crumpling beneath her; her friends rushing to her aid.
XxXxX
"Is it good?"
"Um!" Illya affirmed around a mouthful of ice-cream. "Thanks Shirou."
He chuckled. "You're welcome."
The cherubim grin on his sister's face did wonders for his mood but it wouldn't fully cleanse his pallet of the misery that he had left Iseko with. No matter how many detours he took he would always find himself back where he started. She had just seemed so desperately convinced of Yuma's existence that it made him want to take pity on her and agree just to ease her mind.
Lying, though, would have only made things worse.
She was starting to grow hysterical by the end of it. Hell, she was even convinced that he had met the girl. But that's impossible. Three nights ago, he was nowhere near the park. He was too busy…too busy…
…
…
…
Huh, that's strange.
"Illya."
"Hm?"
"Who picked you up last Friday?"
"Sella did. You said you had to help out Ponytail Senpai's club with a broken fridge or something."
Himejima-senpai? "The Occult Research Club?"
"Yeah, that one! Musht of bween a hawd job." She said in-between bites. "You were there so late that you missed dinner. Leysritt wasn't happy about that. She always liked your cooking over Sella's." Much to the older sister's dismay.
Illya snickered at the memory, unaware of how badly her words had caused Shirou's stomach to turn in on itself. He hadn't come home that night? But that didn't make any sense. It had been his turn to cook. He should have been home preparing. Even if he had had prior commitments, he would have been sure to call in ahead of time.
Just what was going on here?
"What's this? A filthy stray so far from its nest." A voice interrupted from the darkness; its owner melting away from the shadows of the adjacent buildings like ink running off the page. "It must be my lucky day."
What materialized into the twilight was a figure taller than even the burliest of westerners; sheathed from head to toe in worn leathers more suited to the monochromes of an old noir film than the full spectrum of reality.
Instinctively, Shirou placed himself in-between the stranger and his sibling. The muscles underneath the trench coat winding tighter with each passing step. "What do you want with us?"
"With the girl?" The figure asked, thumbing the brim of his fedora. "Nothing. She'll be free to scurry home as she pleases. You, on the other hand, -."
In a single step, the man had disappeared from sight. "-Won't be so fortunate." His baritone thrummed from over his shoulder. A full twelve feet of ground covered in an instant.
Their commute home had suddenly become much, much longer.
His fingers itched for a weapon but quickly dismissed the idea. With how fast this thing moved, he'd be dead long before he could wrest the shinai out of his bag. Nevertheless, just because his fate was sealed didn't mean he could afford to roll over and die. Illya was still caught in between them, and while the man claimed that he wouldn't hurt her, his confidence in the integrity of a lunatic was slim at best. As her older brother, it was his duty to protect her and he couldn't do that if he was too busy lying in a ditch.
By the time the attack came only a fraction of a second had come to pass. Pressure waves rippled against the hairs of his neck, setting fire to his nerves. His body moved faster than his mind could think; snatching Illya up in his arms and kicking off the pavement with as much power as he could muster in a single bound. A wind tunnel of force eclipses the siblings form as they propel through the air, forward momentum only halting when met by the sturdiness of the bordering fences.
He rose quickly, inspecting his sister for any injuries before palming his back for any of his own. A thankful breath exited his lips when he was only met with the tattered remains of his bag; its contents spilled about the trench coat clad man's feet in a gory mess of shredded papers and shattered stationery.
"Whoa, Onii-chan how did you do that?" Illya whispered in awe from within his grasp.
"Huh?"
The combination of his sister's prompting and the momentarily delay of imminent peril allowing him a chance to put his actions into perspective. Not only had he managed to avoid the strike of a man fast enough to seemingly teleport but he'd also managed to launch himself all the way to the other side of the street: a full twenty feet away.
"You're a fast one."
Regrettably, he wouldn't have the time to ponder his recent leap in abilities as the sound of hard leather soles clacked about the concrete toward their direction. The distance that he had just made growing smaller by the second.
"No matter. There are plenty of ways of dealing with your kind." A gloved hand pulled to the side as the smell of ozone began to permeate the air. Whatever the man had in store could not be good.
But just as Shirou tried to recall how he did what he just did, a miracle occurred.
"And what would those be Mr. Crow?" A bell-like voice sounded from behind his would-be assailant.
He recognized it immediately; that same ominously angelic tone that had plagued the nightmares of his youth. He turned; looking past the giant of a man and at the shapely profile of a woman looking every bit like an aged up, well-endowed version of the little girl in his arms.
Irisviel von Einzbern had arrived.
"Mom?" He said with a hint of relief before recalling the man's ungodly agility. "You have to get out of here! There's something wrong with this guy! He-!"
"Shirou." Irisviel interrupted. "Adults are talking right now honey."
"But-."
"Leysritt, Sella!" The pale sisters suddenly appeared from parts unknown before the Emiya siblings. "See to it that the rest of the kids walk home is left undisturbed."
"Hm! / Yes, Ma'am!" The two said as one.
It wasn't until the Einzbern sisters were out of ear shot that the man had elected to speak once more. "I wasn't aware that the Einzbern family was in the trash collection business."
"You're behind the times Mr. Crow." She said, flashing an enchanting smile his way. "I go by Emiya these days."
The imposing man's eyes stretched beyond the rim of his fedora. A cold sweat dripped down his neck.
"And that 'trash' you're referring to-" Her expression puckering as if she just got a taste of something foul; striding up until she was looking the beast of a man directly in the eye. "-is my son."
His posture became impossibly straight. "…I see…I'll be sure to…inform…the rest of the flock of this development."
"Be sure that you do." Her sickly-sweet smile never faltered for even a second.
"Have a pleasant rest of your evening Lady Emiya."
"You too Mr. Crow." She sang, waving all the while as a pair of jet-black avian wings burst from his back before shooting off into the skies.
XxXxX
"Man, that was so cool!" Illya raved. "He was all like "Nothing personal kid" and then-."
Shirou did his best to keep up with the girl all the while bordered by his two cousins(?)…aunts(?)…family servants(?). Honestly, he had no idea what their relation was other than their obvious resemblance to the other female members of his family. For as long as he could remember Leysritt had always been there lazing about the house with Sella not far behind to scold her for doing just that. Their formal classification in the household didn't matter. At the end of the day the juxtaposing pair were family all the same.
That being said, he'd never seen them like this. Leysritt actually looked to be wide awake for a change. While Sella, on the other hand, was so stiff that she might as well have been cut from marble. Together they scanned each nook and cranny with painful meticulousness; every single muscle in their deceptively lithe bodies wound a steel trap. With how they were acting, he and his sister might as well be government officials instead of the normal school kids that they were in reality.
He visibly sagged in acceptance. What was one more oddity to add on to an already odd day? To be honest, he just wanted to get it over with. He didn't think his sanity could take it if something else had decided to pop up.
"Papa's home!" He heard Illya cheer; their journey ending much faster than he had anticipated.
"You two go on ahead. We will retrieve Lady Irisviel."
A pale hand clutched on to his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't die."
Was she worried about him? That was rather sweet of her. Perhaps there was a gentle soul behind that stoic-
"You're cooking tonight."
-Never mind.
And so, the pair left the children to their devices.
Shirou entered his family's humble suburban home to find Illya performing her best impression of a barnacle; suctioning herself to the gaunt man's suit like her life depended on it.
"You're home early!" She cheered into her father's navel.
"Haha, I missed you too Illya." Emiya Kiritsugu's tired eyes creased with joy as he awkwardly returned his daughter's affection.
"Guess what! Guess what!" She bounced with excitement.
"What?"
"Shirou has super powers now."
At the mention of that, the man turned to face his adopted son. Opaque black soaked in the surrounding light, settling on him with the same stare the man normally reserved for punks trying to hit on Mom.
"Is that right?"
"Yeah, this weird guy did this crazy teleport thing and went to hit us but before he could Shirou was like 'Whoosh' and we went all super speed of sound before the weirdo could even do anything!"
The grip that Kiritsugu had on his brief case noticeably strained before the fatherly smile returned. "Hey, why don't you run along to your room now? I may have snagged something good on my way back."
Illya gasped. "Is it the new version of Kaleido Heroes RPG?"
"I don't know~." He said, patting her head affectionately. "You'll have to find out."
It didn't take much encouragement for Illya's excitement to boil over, rushing up the stairs in a streak of white and leaving the father and son duo standing there like two strangers in their own home.
"I'm sorry but I didn't bring anything back for you."
Shirou shrugged. "Getting gifts is kind of hard for someone my age."
"You'll be in your second year of High School now."
"Half way done actually."
"That quick? Feels like it was just yesterday that we moved to Kuoh."
"Hm." His father's aura was palpable even as he turned to hang up his coat.
"How is that by the way? The Academy."
"It's~…nice? Way better than Homurahara that's for sure."
"Good. That's good."
A girlish scream filled the home. Shirou smiled. It looked like Illya had found her present.
"Thanks, Papa!" She yelled before slamming her door shut, eager to jump into her next big adventure.
The door crashed like thunder. A primal shudder slithered up his spine. Reality slowed to a crawl; allowing plenty of time to intercept the briefcase careening for his skull.
A cold, unfeeling expression bore into him from beyond his blocking forearm. "W-What the hell Old Man?"
Kiritsugu's brow arched slightly, making a mental note of his son's reaction time.
Wordlessly, he dug his off hand into his makeshift bludgeoning tool to reveal a wicked combat knife the size of his forearm. The blade twirling about the man's fingers into an icepick seeking his son's heart.
Instinctively, Shirou knew just how deadly his father could be with that knife. It had first belonged to the man's adopted mother: Natalia Kaminski. Since coming into Kiritsugu's ownership it had been used extensively over the years. Regardless of the change of hands its primary purpose had remained the same: to kill.
He wasn't certain how to process this information but it was thanks to it that allowed him to repurpose the discarded briefcase into a makeshift shield. The knife traveled with so much downward force that it pierced clean through the layers of hardened leather and business documents, stopping mere centimeters from its target.
"A Knight huh."
"What are you on about?" He said, roaring as he threw the man off of him. "Have you gone senile?"
The action, however, proved fruitless in the end as Kiritsugu used the momentum of his son's throw to ricochet off the wall and transition into a flying tackle that sent the two crashing to the floor.
Shirou gasped for breath only to regret it soon after as a knee slammed into his side at the exact moment his lungs filled to capacity. He wasn't even allowed the chance to cough before a fist slammed into his face, causing his vision to explode into stars.
Pain lit his upper thigh alight soon after; serrated steel now wedged firmly in his flesh. Shirou cried out in agony all the while his father loomed over him like a vernal angel of death.
"Who sent you?" Kiritsugu said, his jaws clenched into a vicious snarl.
"I don't-I don't know what you're talking about."
Kiritsugu apparently wasn't too keen on that answer; ripping the knife from the teens thigh only to administer the same treatment to the unmolested one.
"Is it Beelzebub? Asmodeus? I swear, if you touched even a hair on my son's head-."
"Kiri! Stop, you're hurting him!" Irisviel burst through the door flanked by Leysritt and Sella.
"This is nothing compared to what I'll do to him if he doesn't tell me what they did with Shirou."
"Kiri." Irisviel knelt down to her wrathful god of a husband. "This boy…"
Gently she took his quivering, bloody hand in her own, turning him away from the boy to touch his forehead to her own.
"…Is Shirou. He's our son."
"No." The man's hardened brow grew fragile; a flicker of life returning to his eyes.
Irisviel smiled. A sad, broken smile.
"That's impossible. He's a-."
"A Devil? Yes, I'm afraid so." Finally, Kiritsugu allowed the grip on the boy; his son, to release.
He immediately leapt into his wife's awaiting arms, clutching on to her unbearably tight. If she was bother by the gesture, she didn't show it; motioning for Sella to tend to the boy in her stead.
All the while, Shirou struggled to remain conscious. His father had nicked a major artery on the second pass. No doubt, intentionally if the knowledge from the knife were to be believed. Emiya Kiritsugu never did anything without purpose. He could only imagine what else his father had in store for him had his mother not come to his rescue.
Just as darkness began to creep on the corners of his vision, flecks of golden dust coalesced into an orb of radiant light. It flashed brightly. In the orb's place hovering with the help of tiny, iridescent wings was a miniaturized replica of the mysterious girl from so many years ago.
The sprite let out an adorable yawn. "What did I miss?"
"Oh, hey Saber. I was wondering where you've been." He projected his thoughts to her.
Clarity filled her gemlike eyes with horror as she took in his state. "Don't you "Hey Saber" me Shirou. You're bleeding!"
"So I am."
"Gah! Why do you keep doing this to me?" She said, grumbling all the while as she got to work mending his wounds. She was only offered an unapologetic grin for her services.
Confident in her abilities, Shirou allowed himself to rest easy. He may have just been accosted by a supernatural entity; assaulted by his own father; and just had his world view cracked in half but at least his best friend was back to nag his ear off.
"I heard that!"
Thankfully, no one else could. The world had grown complicated enough as is. He didn't need to stack being contracted to a fairy on top of all that.
"Well, at least it can't get any worse, right?"
Saber held her tongue, electing to doubling down on the healing instead.
He'd learn for himself in due time.
XxXxX
Author's Notes:
Yes, I made Issei a girl. I read a FatexKatekyō Hitman Reborn story that did it with their lead and thought "why the hell not?" Logically, though I did it to release some of the friction that stem from having two main characters existing in the story. Also, Iseko will not be a part of Shirou's harem and will be relegated primarily to the little sister/kouhai role.
For any of you who are aware of my other story Misshapen Spark, I apologize for the hiatus. To be honest, I haven't been enjoying writing that story for a while now. It doesn't help how lackluster RWBY has been since the end of Volume 3. Ice Queendom revitalized the series a bit but unless the entire show gets a major facelift it's pretty much dead to me at this point. I'll still watch the newest volumes for Monty's sake but it's been hard to support them lately.