Hello there!
Firstly, I hope you're doing well.
I just wanted to let you know that I have decided to do a crossover with Re:Zero, but DanMachi is still on my radar. However, I need to catch up on the light novels before writing (I've seen the anime, but I heard many things were omitted from it).
Secondly, I'd like to warn you that this story is rated highly for a reason (Not sure this is the correct rating, but I chose the highest to be safe. However, there is graphic stuff). I won't go into more detail as I don't want to give away any spoilers, but if you're uncomfortable with what that category entails or aren't of the appropriate age, please don't proceed any further. That's my first and last warning.
Lastly, I apologize in advance for any delay in updating this story. I'm currently working on two other fanfics, Dreams Never Die, and The Hero of Mystic Falls, and once one is finished, I'll have more time to catch up on this one. I should've waited, but I was too excited and wanted to get it out before the holidays. So, remember that this story isn't the priority on my list.
I love you all! Wishing you happy holidays, and be safe!
Joie de Vivre, Monte Carlo, Monaco
They say, 'A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any moment.' If there was any man who exemplified that saying to the fullest, it would have to be Shirou Emiya.
From the Fifth Holy Grail War to the Clocktower, exploring Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg's treasure chest, to run-ins with the Mafia and Dead Apostles. Not to mention the numerous missions he'd be sent on by either Rin or Luvia, one of which he was currently doing. He has experienced and done more than anyone his age.
War. Death. Blood. Loss. Grief. Heartache. Shirou has touched the bottom of the cesspool of humanity and come back to the surface multiple times. Although he'd like to admit it hasn't changed him, he could feel a little bit of him left behind after each dive.
Surely, if he were to drop dead right now, no one could say he's led an uneventful life. He could write a series detailing his adventures and live out his remaining years off those funds. No one in their right mind would blame him for that decision. This may even be the path most would've chosen.
However, Shirou Emiya wasn't like most people. The way Rin succinctly put it was, "A hopeless, unselfish moron who values others over himself." Altruistic and idealistic, many called him at the Clocktower. However, Shirou didn't heed any of that.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to help others." Repeating the phrase over and over again till it became a mantra.
Although Rin had gradually tried to curb his tendencies, it appeared to be a herculean task. Rin realized that Shirou was hardwired this way. Trying to get him out of it would be akin to teaching predators not to be predators.
"You can't escape it. You could fight many enemies and survive, but you'll always lose if you fight your biology."
However—
Fate has burdened him with glorious purpose. But that purpose might not be reached with his current mission. To call it suicidal would be an understatement.
Shirou was sitting across from a man…well, more like a Dead Apostle. Not just any Dead Apostle, either. He was one of the oldest and strongest of their order: a Dead Apostle Ancestor. Van-Fem has been around since the Age of Gods and was not one to mess around with.
Over two thousand years old, he had seen empires, religions, and society grow and advance. Likewise, he had outlived most of those things as well. He had a plethora of knowledge and experience. Now, this person was face to face with him.
The mission wasn't intended to be combative. Luvia wanted him to go in her stead to investigate this casino that has been around for hundreds of years. It was a simple observation and report back type of ordeal. This meeting wasn't part of the itinerary, but he was led here after a few wins at the casino.
"He's strong…." His nose burned in the magical atmosphere. Nothing in the room was free from it. Van-Fem's scent was ancient and overpowering—far more so than any Dead Apostle or, frankly, anyone else besides the Wizard Marshall himself. Shirou knew this wasn't a problem he could solve by fighting.
"We Dead Apostles deny human history. We exist to defile your rules. Yes, that's right. And therefore, we are capable of negating the protection of Noble Phantasms created by humans or those prepared for humans by the gods. A Noble Phantasm created by a god for a god might be a different story, but you can't get your hands on one of those so easily. It's purely a question of compatibility. I'm a snake, and you're the frog. That's all there is to it."
He remembered his encounters with the Dead Apostles and how most of his Noble Phantasms were ineffective. Dead Apostles have a conceptual advantage against humans, as they are their natural predators. Thus, they weaken Human Order. If a Heroic Spirit wielded the Noble Phantasm, that would be a different story, but that's a story Shirou didn't have the luxury of reading.
Although, he wasn't completely helpless against these sorts of enemies.
Weapons were humming within his infinite world. They were responding to the existence of this man. They wanted to erase it as it offended them. The weapons were eager to be called and spill Van-Fem's blood across the ship. There was one thing in common among the weapons resonating in his inner world: they possessed undead and vampiric slaying properties.
Since learning and working with The Clocktower, he's picked up a few more tools to increase his armory against this specific enemy.
"Although not my style, I can use alteration and shoot them as arrows." Black Keys were The Church's answer to Dead Apostles. They were extremely versatile and came in handy. "Even if I do make it past him by some miracle, I'll still have to deal with dozens more throughout the casino."
Envisioning the fight play out, not even a second in, everything turned upside down for him. Akin to an eruption from a volcano, a geyser of red liquid gushed from his throat as his head was thrown back. It stung as the liquid touched him, like tiny needles jabbing into the skin's surface. It was hot, unusually so. Red like you've never seen red, one wouldn't mistake what this was.
"M-My blood…."
So fast that he didn't even have the time to process what happened. His throat had been slit. Feeling it rise from inside him, he coughed up blood as it frothed at the corners of his mouth. Every sensation happened simultaneously as his heart threatened to leap from his chest.
Shirou wanted to pull his collar up and tighten a scarf around his neck. Combating this chill creeping within him, he wanted to curl up in a ball. Every hair on his body stood upright like he was standing in front of a frigid breeze wearing a tank top. It was like an unseen, cold hand was taking hold of him.
Conversely, outside his body, the more the blood washed over him, the more he felt he was in a sauna room. The assault was becoming unbearable by the second. Even though this was occurring, it ironically didn't help warm Shirou up as he continued to shake involuntarily.
As he coughed up blood, the sound of air escaping accompanied it. Almost like a balloon deflating, the helpless feeling of drowning was comparable to this. His lungs and brain cried out for oxygen as they felt they were about to die. Lifting a finger and keeping his eyelids open required more energy than it used to. Even his consciousness was escaping him. Sitting, he cringed when he felt the gash on his throat from lifting his head. Shirou fought a hard battle to lift it back upright.
"A-All….th…is…." He continued to see the source of his waning life leave him as the puddle of blood grew. He didn't need to stare at the puddle to figure this out as the sensation underneath the soles of his shoe was verification enough. The stickiness was becoming more noticeable by the second as he grew weaker. He only had a short time before he would die.
His injury was far beyond what Avalon or any healing could solve. However, survival wasn't even the first thing on Shirou's mind. Van-Fem was a danger he had to take out.
Across from him, he burrowed his sights at the man responsible for this. However, he was seeing double, no, triple. Shirou didn't know which was real as he outstretched his shaking hand. With whatever strength he had left, he uttered, "T-Trace. On…"
Before anything more could happen, he keeled over, and everything became dark. Unfamiliar with his surroundings, the helpless feeling of dread and loneliness was palpable. Did he really die when he had so many people counting on him? What about his dream? What about "My promise….."
Blinking once, twice, thrice. "What…" Still in the same chair, Van-Fem stared at him curiously. Looking himself over, Shirou realized it was all in his head: no blood, slit throat, or the overwhelming feeling of despair. Using one of his hands, he rubbed his eyes as he allowed himself to breathe. "Well, at least I know fighting won't work."
Ending this on a peaceful resolution was his only option. He was outnumbered and in enemy territory. Shirou moved his hands lower till he could feel the sweat on his neck. His racing heart calmed once it realized it was safe, while his breathing steadily reached normalcy.
Thanks to his mental simulation, he confirmed he was indeed out-powered. However, the downside of it was that it disoriented him, so he refrained from using it in combat. Rin mentioned it was a technique most fighters developed over time. It was like a sixth sense that showed the optimal path in a fight. However, he didn't like where it took him; it was akin to dunking one's consciousness in and out of water. What was real and fake blended until one couldn't be distinguished from the other.
Refocusing, Shirou gazed at Van-Fem. He would be cut down if he even thought of making a move. A zero percent chance was being optimistic. The negatives were where his chances lay.
Van-Fem looked upon the boy inquisitively. Unlike Shirou, who was sizing the man up and trying to gauge a plan, the ancient Dead Apostle sat back. Why stop this entertainment from unfolding before him? He saw the boy's face go through a myriad of emotions but opted to say nothing. Indeed, he was captivated.
The man was 'of the world,' so to speak.
He enjoyed the finer things in life, in contrast to his peers, who disdained humanity and anything associated with it. Van-Fem didn't mind the company of humans and even opened his casino to them. He kept up with human politics and news. His signature white suit and blue tie were tailor-made and recommended to him by a human.
This boy, Shirou Emiya, beat his Casa. He could count on one hand the number of people who have won this event since its conception. Although not meant to be impossible, the tasks were far from easy. His interest was piqued, and fascination gripped him as he was at the edge of his seat. He wanted to know more.
Pushing aside his blonde bang hanging over his right eye, he asked, "So you beat my Casa? That's quite impressive, young man. Can I inquire about your name and age?" His voice was elegant but carried incredible depth to it.
"Shirou Emiya. I'm nineteen, sir."
Although he never gambled, he needed to fit in. On top of that, from what he heard, Luvia had to shell out a lot of cash for him even to step foot on the boat. Almost one million Euros worth, to be exact. Shirou hoped he could earn some of it back by playing a few rounds. One round turned into another and then another, and before he knew it, people started accusing him of counting cards and being a shark. After seeing the string of victories, he was selected to compete in the Casa.
The Casa was a series of three events that started as a regular poker. Afterward, Shirou had to participate in an arcane game. Lastly, the final game was of Van-Fem's choice. This kept everyone on their toes and eliminated the prospect of relaying information to outsiders on how to win the Casa.
"Extremely young. The youngest one yet, I believe." Looking over his attire, the challenge winner wore what he considered subpar for his establishment. With a simple cardigan, dress pants, dress shoes, and a cheap watch to boot, Van-Fem wondered if this was the first time the boy had been to a high-profile event.
Deciding against mentioning his drab attire, he asked every winner the same question. "What is it that you desire, Shirou Emiya? Tell me, and I'll make it come true to the best of my ability. You have my word."
Shirou, who was no stranger to wish granting, had already decided. This man couldn't get what he wanted—no, what he needed. Even if he could, Shirou wanted to earn it through his two hands rather than take a shortcut.
Beyond this, Shirou also had inherited distrust of wish granting since the Grail War. The last time it was offered, the wish-granting device was corrupted. The saying, 'If something seems too good to be true, it probably is,' was proven correct multiple times in his life.
"Thank you, sir. But I don't need anything. Give it to someone in need."
Like a fish out of water, Van-Fem's mouth opened and closed. Words seemingly became difficult for him to form. This was the first time someone turned down the Casa's reward. Who would? Having a wish granted to you by a two-thousand-year-old Dead Apostle would have anyone salivating at the prospect. The knowledge and money gathered over all that time was enough to entice people. It was the main reason people came from all over the world to compete.
No words were exchanged as they sat and looked at each other. Abruptly, Van-Fem roared out in laughter. It was so out of left field that Shirou was caught off guard.
"You truly are a unique one, Shirou Emiya." Wiping a few tears from his eyes, he continued. "If that's your desire, so be it. Just know that the offer still stands until your death. However, only you can make the wish. No one else can in your stead."
It was apparent that Shirou misinterpreted the man when he wished to speak to him in the boat lobby. "I thought they caught on to me spying."
Shirou agreed to the terms as both men stood up. "It was fascinating to see you, Shirou Emiya. Do stop by. It gets boring occasionally." The man outstretched his hand.
"I will, thanks." Shirou reciprocated the gesture as both men ended the meeting with a handshake.
"I'm sure you know the way out? If not, I can have one of my men escort you."
"No need. You've been more than hospitable." Waving the offer off, Shirou left the room and returned to the ship's main deck. Death, blood, and decomposition filled Shirou's nostrils. Dead Apostles were everywhere, serving as bartenders, dealers, and security.
The scent contrasted greatly with the yacht. Beautiful wouldn't do it justice. White, with gold trims, everything looked expensive as light reflected off the boat's hull, nearly blinding onlookers. A work of art put on the water, the craftsmanship was something to behold. The size was just as daunting. It was like a small city but only housed a few people. "I'm sure a Golden King would want this in their treasury."
Off in the distance, the bustling city was alive. Shirou, at first, mistook the situation as he was under the impression the sun was still out, but it was very much deep in the night. The brightness resembled the color of gold as the city shone like a lighthouse past the dock. The lights reached the dock where the yacht was parked and offered something of a light post for people who wanted to fish off the pier. The skyline symbolizes the immortality of the city as it never truly dies.
Stepping on the gangway connecting the yacht and dock, he felt a vibration in his pocket. "A phone call?" Looking at the caller ID, he voted against his best interest and picked up. "Hey, Luvia."
"Shero~~~!"
Shirou had to back away from the phone, fearing losing his hearing. Although he didn't understand why Rin hated Luvia, he had to admit the girl could be a little much at times.
"It's been an hour since you last talked to me, Shero! You called me a while ago, and you acted like you didn't know anything about Fem's banquet. Something about a treasure chest and that gorilla was with you. I was severely angry!"
Nervously chuckling, Shirou scratched the back of his head. "I guess that series of events still played out, eh?" He knew nothing about time travel or parallel worlds and how they operated. As such, he decided to stay in his lane and not say anything, lest it ruin something or cause a butterfly effect.
"Enough playing around. You're there as my representative. How's Fem's banquet? Did you score a crushing victory? I hoped you'd come back with more money than you started with."
"Well, speaking of that, I won a couple of tournaments and then won this Casa thing."
As soon as the words left his mouth, an unholy screech escaped through the phone. Once again, Shirou moved the phone from his ear so he wouldn't go deaf.
"I didn't know you were that lucky…."
"I'm not." Shirou was just as shocked as she was. He always pulled the short end of the stick in every situation. It was like fate was doing its best to get rid of him.
"This calls for a celebration, Shero! Why don't you come over when you land in London and cook something for me? I can give you an equally valuable reward in exchange for being a good representative." The tone did not betray her intent. Shirou could pick up what she wanted from her suggestive tone.
"I'm sorry, Luvia. But I don't think Rin would like that very much, being my girlfriend and all."
If one could hear a heart shatter, Shirou would be the first. The silence after that declaration was deafening as he waited for Luvia to yell or scream, but nothing came. "Maybe this wasn't the way to break it to her?"
"So you guys made it official?" The words came out barely above a whisper.
"We did."
"Why her?"
"Because…..I love her…."
Shirou, who wasn't forthcoming when expressing emotions, finally broke the wall. Much to Rin's ire, it only took two years, and he expressed it to a woman other than his girlfriend, but that's still progress, right? Having it come off his chest freed up a weight he didn't know existed.
This declaration caught Luvia off guard; she felt like her heart was stabbed repeatedly in this conversation. Although, deep down, she knew she couldn't compete with Rin, she still had to try. They had more history and spent more time together. Shirou only met her by chance when he saved her from a group of assassins. She remembered the ridiculous scene where he had Kanshou in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other.
"So hot…" Blood rushed to her face as it began to heat up at the thoughts running through her head. "What am I doing? I'm the heir to the Edelfelt family. I must stand tall and proud." Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she said, "Well, I'm happy for you, Shero. Even though you could've done better than that gorilla."
"...thank….you?" Not sure how to respond, the conversation ended with where Shirou could rendezvous to discuss the casino situation once he was in London.
As he stepped foot on the dock, a vibration again halted him. "I just finished talking to her. What could she want?" His heart nearly stopped when he saw who the caller ID was. Answering in a meek tone, he said, "Hey Tohsaka, how are you?"
"You got a lot of explaining to do, mister. I remember telling you to call me as soon as you step foot off that boat."
Shirou looked back and saw he was on the dock, now he couldn't save himself by a technicality. However, this brought up an important question…."How do you know I stepped foot off the boat?"
"I have your location, silly. Remember? You were all confused about the phone thing we did a while ago. I swear, you're an old man when it comes to technology, Shirou."
Not knowing if that was a good or bad thing, scratch that; it was terrible. He'd have to remember Rin had a hawk-like vision on him now. "I was so preoccupied with Luvia calling that I forgot." Once Shirou dropped the name, he knew that he screwed up.
"What~~~!"
Shirou pulled his ear back at the screeching from the other side. "What's up with females and screaming?" He began to sweat profusely when he remembered he would have to deal with this for the remaining years of his life if he wanted to be with her.
"What did that rich bitch want, huh?!"
Once he could pick up on some comprehensible question from all the yelling and cursing, Shirou answered. "Just checking up on the mission. Everything should be wrapped up, and I'm heading back tomorrow."
Letting out a sigh of relief, she was glad. Sleep was hard for her since Shirou started going on missions alone. Especially the current one he was embarking on. Things involving the Dead Apostle Ancestors turned out poorly. Much to her ire, Shirou chose Flat Escardos over her to tag along on the mission.
"I see you didn't have to use that."
Looking at where Rin branded his new magical crest, he blushed slightly. He understood why she did it. Going up against a Dead Apostle Ancestor while not having the sufficient mana necessary to use Unlimited Blade Works effectively was suicide. The crest served as insurance if he was ever pushed to that position.
However, that wasn't why Shirou couldn't keep the goofy grin off his face and was red all over. Getting the crest back on led to a series of events that Shirou wasn't too mad about. After getting a close and personal view of Tohsaka's thighs, he could finally understand why all the boys in school ..."Bad Shirou!"
"Um~~~, are you still there, Shirou? You better not be ignoring me. I'll be mad at you—"
"I'm here, Tohsaka. I was…..um~, I was caught up in something, okay?"
Letting out a huff, Rin relented. "Fine, I'll let you get on your way then. I have stuff to do for Lord El-Melloi anyway. Oh, speaking of which, Flat borrowed some of your video games. I said you wouldn't mind."
"He bailed on me so he could play video games?" Shirou couldn't be too mad since he was a gamer. However, he wasn't so irresponsible that he'd quit a job so he could solely game. "He just bought a Japanese video game from me a while ago. Did he finish it that quick?"
"Well, he wanted to play it with Lord El-Melloi, but he was away, so he got bored and wanted something else to play."
"That kid is something else." Shirou was concerned he'd never see his games again.
"I have to go fight that rich bitch now. I'll see you then."
Shirou let out a sigh. He hoped Luvia wouldn't get a beating due to him, but knowing those two, they would be at each other's throats even if he wasn't in the equation. So he decided to kill the guilt rising within him. "Okay. I love you."
All the wind in Tohsaka's sail died down. She felt like she was punched in the gut, and her stomach was doing flips. She knew Shirou had feelings for her since he confessed them during the Grail War. Hell, they even got a flat together in London. They became a real couple not too long ago. However, hearing the words come out of the mouth of Shirou, of all people, was surreal.
"W-What are y-you saying you—you…..jerk!"
"You're in for a bumpy ride, kid." Thinking back on it, Lancer was right. However, what is love without a few quirks? If what Tohsaka said was true, quirks only added to the charm.
"I-I Love you too, I guess." Silent, but Shirou was able to still pick up on it. Rin was the type of girl who wasn't honest with her feelings. However, he was used to it by now and knew Rin cared for him.
As they ended their call, Shirou finally left the ship behind. Digging through his pocket, he found Rin's pendant and lifted it to get a better look. It nearly blinded him as it refracted the light from all around. To call it beautiful was an understatement. It was one of a kind.
Shirou didn't realize he was staring at it for so long. It simply snatched his attention away from everything else around him. He's never seen a gem stand out from the rest. Its radiance was a cut above even a diamond. For someone like Shirou, he wouldn't even be caught dead with something that looked so expensive. He felt too poor even gazing at it. The pendant was similar to a water hemlock—a beautiful plant on the outside but deadly underneath.
"Just like Tohsaka." Chuckling to himself, he shouldn't be too surprised since her family passed it down. It stored a lot of energy within itself that could potentially be used if it came down to it. However, he'd never daine to use it as it was special to Rin. "A heirloom, she'd call it." But for an heirloom, it was ironic that the person who wasn't part of the family was carrying it around. "Well, we both have one now, thanks to him."
"Get out of the way, kid!" Shirou was abruptly pushed to the ground as a group of men ran past him.
"The pendant!" He quickly grabbed it before it fell into the drainage system. Before he did anything, he put the pendant back into his pocket and stood up. The group of men seemed to be running after a little girl.
Everyone who was around to see the chase moved out of the way and wanted nothing to do with it. Terror contorted their features as they went in every other direction than where the men were going to escape what was unfolding. Finding this development interesting, Shirou was soon in hot pursuit of them.
Making their way into an alleyway, the girl was trapped as a dead end was on the other side. "Seems we got you cornered now, little girl. Let's get her boys. The boss wants her back as soon as possible."
"That's enough."
Everyone turned to see a nicely dressed redhead at the alley entrance. His voice cut through the tension of the alley like a hot knife through butter. The voice was heroic and gallant, as there wasn't an ounce of fear or mercy in it. It was overpowering that it assuaged the little girl's fear as it perfectly matched the owner's intention.
Shirou, being a healthy young man, helped. It carried the intention of his tone with a lot more weight. It appeared he could back up whatever he said, and it wasn't just meaningless drabble. His unique flaming red hair stood out like a sore thumb, while his sharp amber eyes could only be described as 'daring.' Good looking and someone you could tell was not to be messed with. The atmosphere of the alleyway shifted significantly.
In shape, Shirou's muscles could be seen through his cardigan. Tall, but not so much that you must strain to look up at him. The young man dressed as if he came from a nice dinner or high echelon party. He carried no weapons. Ironically, this didn't relax the Mafia.
"Whatever is going on here, no one is getting hurt. So let's all go home and forget this even happened." Shirou knew this wouldn't work, but it never hurts to try.
The Mafia men laughed at the boy's proposal as they approached Shirou—five nicely dressed men who meant business. Shirou couldn't pick anything up with his scent, but his other senses warned him that they were dangerous.
As they closed in, a brawl broke out in the alleyway. The nearby civilians who hadn't made their escape yet had an extra pep in their step with the ensuing scuffle.
"How are we getting our asses kicked? It's five of us and one of him!"
The men were discouraged but still had a trick up their sleeves. All of them reached into their pockets and pulled out pills. They were instructed to use it as a last resort, so they saw no time but the present to pop them.
"What is that?"
Before he knew it, a strong bestial scent took over the entire alleyway. The men took on a more feral appearance as they grew in size. Shirou, not waiting to see the outcome, instantly rushed to grab the girl while the men were occupied.
The sound of bones snapping and reconnecting, accompanied by the occasional bloodcurdling scream, haunted the alleyway. The scene put Shirou on edge while the little girl visibly shook. Running through the group and dodging out of the way of their flailing arms as they contorted in inhuman ways, Shirou grabbed hold of the little girl.
She had a diminutive frame and was shaking helplessly. From her weak frame and how light she was, it wouldn't be a leap to assume she was malnourished. Shirou imagined he could see her bones if it wasn't for the giant sweatshirt that was multiple times her size that she was sporting. Before Shirou could say anything to help cull her fears—
—"Something's wrong."
He couldn't pinpoint where this discomfort came from, but it nagged at him. He knew it wasn't coming from the girl or the Mafia, so where? Has his senses betrayed him? Was it reacting to something that wasn't there? Has someone hijacked his senses? No, it couldn't be.
"…..what is this?" Shirou took hold of his heart as if someone was holding on to it from the inside. A gripping pain that he was alien to. He didn't even know how to react to this.
"Am I being attacked? B-But how?" Had he been careless not to have realized? Surely he would've been alerted before it connected? So how?
As the feeling of fingers brushing against his internal organs was felt, stroking his heart, he nearly dropped the little girl in his arms. He could feel every movement in his soul. He had never felt so violated and exposed in his entire life. Looking over to the girl in his arms, staring back at him in concern, he resolved himself immediately. "I need to get her to safety…"
The ominous and dreadful feeling that washed over Shirou was palpable enough that the little girl could feel it. Almost like a dark cloud had set upon Shirou and wasn't letting up. The feeling was similar to prey running from a predator but knowing it was hopeless. Or the pointless struggle of someone drowning in the ocean but still fighting nevertheless. Escape was futile in this situation.
Shirou's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest as cold sweat poured off his face. He came to an abrupt stop as he looked around in all directions. The hope that he could find this individual who levied this attack on him was burning up in smoke. Checking up on the little girl, her bright blue eyes looked back at him in confirmation as strands of platinum hair made their way from her hood.
Closing his eyes briefly, something he'd regret for the rest of his life, his world turned upside down.
Reports from citizens who last saw Shirou Emiya would corroborate in police questioning that he fought five Mafia men to defend a little girl before their mysterious disappearance. Five months later, his disappearance, along with the little girl, would be ruled as another Mafia execution.
Somewhere in the Augria Sand Dunes
The Witch's Miasma reeked within the place. Anyone who could sniff it was jarred by its aroma, like a strong perfume; oud notes were present, but the combination of a swampy smell, like stagnant water, negated any wonderful scent it would've produced. However, The Witch of Envy's scent was completely different. Aromatic, sweet, almost gourmand, one would want to eat the scent if they could.
"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you—"
Repeating the phrase to herself nonstop as if they were prayers on a bead was the only solace she could find in this infinite darkness. Doors upon doors sealed her shut and stopped her from entering the outside world. However, she persisted.
The Witch of Envy peered into another world to find her love. She wouldn't allow him to be separated from her for too long. Not even the seal put on her by the Heroic Trio long ago could hold back her power when her obsessive nature took hold.
Snatching him up and bringing him to where she believed he belonged, they would soon reunite again.
Kararagi City-States
Blinking once, twice, even thrice, the scenery refused to change. He rapidly blinked, but it still failed to yield what he witnessed. Pinching himself to ensure he was dreaming, this method also appeared fruitless.
In shock, Shirou seemed to have been transported in time. He walked through the marketplace as if through a dream. Salty seawater and spices rode the air as he ran his hand through the fur of a creature that looked similar to a wolf on steroids. To onlookers, he seemed like a zombie or someone who had taken a hallucinogenic. He was wide-eyed and mouth agape, almost like a fish out of water.
"No no no no no no no—this cannot possibly be happening again!"
Moving his hands through his hair in frustration, Shirou realized something even more critical. "The girl!" Looking around frantically, he ran around the marketplace like a chicken with its head cut off. Hassling everyone he encountered, Shirou didn't even falter when he met people who were half human and half animal.
After a few minutes and some threats of violence, Shirou slumped by the docks. Aimlessly looking out, realization after realization began to hit him like a cudgel.
"I failed, again…"
His heart was as heavy as iron, weighed down by the memory of his past.
He promised the people in the fire that he would save as many people as possible. However, he was too weak during the Grail War to save Illyasviel. Now, he failed to rescue a little girl from the Mafia's grasp.
Was this a trap placed by the Mafia or Van-Fem? Did the Mafia capture the girl after he was transported here? What will become of Rin and Luvia? What about his promise to the people in the fire? His dream…..
The more he thought about it, the darker his thoughts got. A helpless and cold feeling washed over him as his emotions became numb. For a second, nothing seemed to matter. Not even life. All his hard work seemed to be for naught. He could not get out of here without Rin's assistance, and Rin didn't know where he was.
He slammed his fist into the pier, "Goddammit!"
"Hey Hey now, we still need this here dock. Don't go damaging property, you ne'er-do-well."
An old man with a toothpick in his mouth rode up next to Shirou. To call what he was wearing rags would be putting it nicely. Better clothing was found in the trashcan of a dog shelter than the attire the man wore. Santa…no. He looked like Santa if Santa had gone through a messy divorce and suffered from chronic alcoholism.
Although a reasonable distance away, Shirou could still pick up his scent. Musk, mixed with alcohol and fish, was an unpleasant combination that should never be combined, but here we are. It was obvious that showering was a luxury for the man.
Bringing his boat back to shore after a long day of fishing, his appearance told that he was fishing more for sustenance rather than commercially. As he got off, he tied a rope to his boat and a fixture on the dock to prevent it from pulling away.
"What is someone like you doing over yonder? Aren't y'all big shots working and sticking your nose up at us common folk?"
Cocking his head to the side, Shirou could hardly understand the man. Instead of annoying the elderly, he decided to get up and leave. "I apologize if I had offended you. I'll be going now." Slightly bowing, Shirou made his way off before being called back.
"Hey, come back here, young buck."
Stopping, Shirou glanced back at the man. Heading back over, he was handed a paper.
"It looks like you're going through a tough patch. I know a guy in Banan town who can help you if needed."
Looking at the paper, he couldn't read anything on it. "This has to be a joke." A single sweat dropped while he scratched his cheek with his index finger. "Um~, thank you, sir. You've certainly been kind."
"Ya Ya, quit your yapping and get lost why dontcha."
Leaving the dock and putting the paper in his pocket, Shirou decided to make the best of his situation. Rin would find him. She had been practicing the same magic as Zelretch and could even ask for the man's assistance since the Wizard Marshall was close to the Tohsaka family. Hopefully, he wasn't doomed to this world. "Wait! This couldn't be one of the Old Man's pranks now, could it?!"
He wouldn't put it past the man who caused turmoil and chaos within the Mage's Association. Being a bored old man, he pranked and snooped around to dull his monotonous life, much to everyone else's ire.
Stopping, Shirou instinctively placed his hand over his heart. "That feeling?"
No. There was no way this was Zelretch's doing. It was something darker. It had to be. Whatever he was feeling at that moment, he had never felt such discomfort in his entire life. Having his internal organs grasped while all sound and color faded, it was like all hope had left the world at that moment.
"I could try to find who brought me here." It was better than nothing. Relying on Rin to bring him back may take a while. So why not at least take a stab at it?
Returning to the marketplace from before, Shirou stopped to take in the sights. Instead of being in a trance, he stopped and looked around. "Strange…..it doesn't look much different than from back home."
He knew he wasn't on Earth. That much was evident through the Demi-Humans and the weird transportation they used. Sensing for Thaumaturgical energy or Gaia's influence wasn't even needed. However, the scenery in the area was telling another story. Excluding all the peculiarities, it was like he was walking through certain parts of Japan. Fuyuki was more modern, but cities with similar architecture weren't far.
The small workshops lining the streets acted as stores. They had products lined up in rows, going for what seemed to be an eternity. The stores were protected by sliding wooden panels, which acted as shutters—a weatherproof roof made of tiles and bark. The roofs even had overhanging eaves, and the main entrance had its covering. It was safe to assume the homes followed the same principle.
Wooden posts were up every several feet with hanging toro lanterns that presumably provided lights when it got darker.
Being close to the water combated the humidity. As he stared at the sky, there wasn't a single cloud in sight. The intense rays of the sun beamed down on everyone unobstructed.
As he continued to make his way through the marketplace, a conversation he was walking by caught his attention. It stood out above all the other noise in the area. After all, he was a bloodhound when it came to people needing help.
"Dem Oni village folks up north being attacked."
"I'll be damned. What's going on?"
"It's dem .… dem sumbitches from that Witch's Cult….they at it again."
"What!? Should we leave?"
"No. They don't attack big villages like ours. So we should be safe."
"Should w-we call someone? I mean….they could use help…"
"They never respond to those calls. They never do."
Before the conversation could continue, Shirou immediately butted in. "What village?" It wasn't a request, more of an order. He needed to know if people were in danger.
"Um~~, it's just north! If you continue on that here path, you should get there no problem."
"Ya, b-but you aren't going there….right? You'll die…"
"I'll be fine."
Shirou turned his attention back on the path and rushed to where he was directed. Forgetting everything that was weighing on his heart. Whether it was the brief pause he was receiving from his dilemma or the prospect of saving others, he was almost thankful for this opportunity. Just as soon as it came up, he quickly killed that brief joy just as fast.
The air circulation caused by his dash lifted skirts and pushed products off the shelf, which caused a cacophony of insults to be hurled at him. None of this deterred the young hero as he continued on to the Oni village.
Oni Village, Kararagi City-States
Fire.
The village was once home to the Oni. The mightiest of all the humanoid races, their race is small due to their emphasis on quality over quantity. They took pride in their strength. However, just like everything else, that pride was burning up in this fire.
The village yanked a blanket of blood, corpses, and fire over itself.
Cultists, who said no words, their entire body shrouded in black clothing to where their eyes couldn't be seen, went on a killing spree. No emotions or life could be found in any of them as they continued their depraved acts. Their victims were crying, screaming, begging, and calling out to their loved ones, yet they deafened their hearts to it all.
An Oni mother tried shielding her daughter only to have her throat slit in one swift motion. Her eyes were wide whilst blood gushing out from the laceration on her neck. Despite this, she continued to protect her daughter, who was distraught as she saw her mother being repeatedly stabbed in the back by the Cultists. The young Oni couldn't move to help her needy mother as if rooted in place. Breathing lagged as her stomach twisted and turned. She could feel vomit rising from within.
Before she knew it, one of the only people she cared about in the village, the source of her humanity, was violently killed in front of her.
A warm liquid covered her face as hints of iron assailed her taste buds. She wiped her face to look down at it, now red. She was involuntarily shaking as she yelled out, only to muster up a small whimper instead. With iron and now salt from her tears being tasted on her tongue, she realized she wasn't hurt. The blood on her face spurted out from her mother's slit throat as she was defending her and having her back towards the Witch Cultist.
Gazing at the men who murdered her mother, an abnormal amount of silence was produced by the Cultists. While in a wild frenzy, knives in hand and running about on the ground, jumping, leaping, doing anything and everything to reach their targets, even driven to alien forms of locomotion, they seized the hair of the living and dead and passed their blades through their skulls. Even while hacking and chopping at the deceased bodies, ripping off limbs and heads, gutting the torsos, and holding up great handfuls of viscera to appease someone, the girl didn't see or hear any of them breathe.
The young Oni girl's stomach lurched as she could no longer hold back the vomit. She felt her guts would've come up with the bile if she wasn't careful. Such barbarity was unimaginable. As she slowly crawled forward, she witnessed something even more depraved. She didn't even believe it was possible, but here she was. These Cultists proved to be the grim representation of evil and war as they lit young Onis on fire and watched them run around to try to extinguish the flame.
Although the screaming scratched at her eardrum and carved its way into her psyche, it was the smell that would resonate with her for the rest of her life. A scent that was hard to describe and should never have been smelled at all. It was rancid. Burned hair, bad barbecue, melted plastic, all cumulated and amplified tenfold. It was a distinct scent one would never forget.
Despair, sadness, and regret were all set aside. Now, all that remained was unbridled hatred and anger. Her fingers bled from clenching at the ground as horns began to protrude out. Unimaginable power and mana began running through her body as she directed it toward the source and epicenter of all the terrible things brought onto this world: The Witch Cult.
Not even a gradual progression, the young Oni went animalistic, allowing her instincts to take over and guide her to her revenge.
Engaging with the Cultists whose robes were slathered up with gore that they might've rolled in like dogs, she cut them down like a katana through a thin paper. Using a knife she picked up, she went through the Cultists one by one as she continued to get drenched in their blood.
Above, overseeing all this mayhem, a certain red-eyed girl stared intensely at the Oni cutting down her men. On top of the only building not caught up in flames, the individual had the best vantage point. "Bwa-ha-ha-ha!" She picked up a fiddle and played as she continued looking at the display. "So sad, really. Your race used to be able to pick up the Witch's scent. Through years of stagnating and isolation, you lost the ability and were caught by surprise. So much for the strongest race, but y'know what they say: pride comes before the fall. Your sin is pride, meatbags."
The fiddle playing could be heard through screams, fighting, and sheer chaos. It played as the village continued to burn all around it, and smoke rose. The musical display became the final curtain fall on this once mighty village.
After a few minutes, the red-eyed girl decided to meet the last survivor. She smashed the fiddle and broke it into pieces, no longer interested in it. Although valiantly fighting, the sheer number of Witch Cultists overwhelmed the young Oni. She lay battered and bruised as the rest of the Cultists bowed to their leader, flying down on black wings.
The Oni grunted and roared as she tried to get up to fight this leader who made her appearance.
It wasn't easy to gauge how old she indeed was. She had short golden hair with a string of hair down her right and a rose attached at the end. She wore revealing clothes, hot pants, leggings, a bikini and nothing more. It was obvious she liked the attention it garnered her. On command, she could make the wings she uses to fly appear and disappear.
"Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" She stuck out her tongue and laughed in utter disdain for the Oni before her. Taking it further to degrade and humiliate her opponent, she stepped on the Oni, who didn't have the wherewithal to fight back. "It's pointless, you meatbag! Savor the soles of my feet as they belong to the Sin Archbishop of Lust, Capella!" With a shrill voice, she continued to trample on the Oni.
"You were a good meatbag, so I'll give you a present."
The young Oni could only glare at her. She couldn't move, talk, or even breathe in her direction as a way to combat her, so she did the only thing she could do and tried to glare her to death.
"Not too baaaad, I'd say. That's the kind of glare that I like."
Capella stepped on her head as she poured something disgusting into her while prone. Her soul, body, and even existence rejected this substance poured into her. The Sin Archbishop didn't care as she continued pouring the moisture into her ear. All the young Oni could do was cry, not from sadness, but due to her sheer anger as she gnashed her teeth to the point where they could crack due to the pressure.
"Work's all done! Now, bastard, what do you like about me?"
Almost on cue, a new scent she couldn't smell before caught her nose. It was revolting as it surrounded her. Everyone around her smelled like it except for the deceased Oni.
"Ah~~~, smell it now? That's the distinct smell your ancestors used to be able to pick up on us. You meatbags used to be a real threat. Can't move around if we can be sniffed out?"
This was the voice of a crazy, insane woman who wasn't all there in the head. Time and time again, it will forever repeat her shrill voice in the Oni's mind as it continues to reignite her hatred for the Witch's Cult.
"I'll kill them all!" Her resolve allowed her to get up barely as she looked at the scorched village. An avenger and arbitrator of the injustice done to the village, she'd kill every Witch Cultist she'd find. This was a vow—a promise made in fire and blood.
Capella threw back her head and laughed. "Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" A rickety display that amused her to no end. This was a meatbag she could continue to punish and return for more.
"Enough!"
"Huh?" Capella looked to where the voice came from. Off in the distance, by the village entrance, a well-dressed young man made his way through the destruction. "Who the hell is this? There wasn't a mention of this in the Gospel."
Taking out a tome from seemingly nowhere, the book was as large and heavy as a dictionary. With a black covering, it looked like an ordinary book one would carry if they didn't know the dark connotations behind it. She skimmed through the pages recklessly, not worrying about rips or tears. If one didn't know any better, they wouldn't think she was reading through the Holy Book of the Witch's Cult from how she was handling it at the moment.
The fire engulfing all things indiscriminately dared not touch this new individual who made himself known. The fire knew better than to court this man as it'll be put in its place. Standing tall and fearsome, the hooded Witch Cultists rushed to surround this new individual but were at a loss.
This man smelled like their leader. Although it was mixed with steel and fire, the scent of the Witch still lingered, even if it was more of a waft than anything else. They turned back and forth, not knowing what to do.
"What the hell are you meatbags looking at? Kill him!" With the order given, they engaged the red-headed man.
They circled Shirou to the point where he could see multiple afterimages of the Cultists. Despite their numbers and looks, they were each strong enough to defeat the average person. However, Shirou was far beyond average.
Ignoring the impending onslaught from the hooded men, Shirou turned his gaze to Capella, who had a fang-like tooth poking out of her mouth as she continued to laugh manically. "Did you do this?"
Unintentionally, this scene brought back memories for Shirou, who had been long dormant. "This is like…..that night." The fire. The smell. The innocent lives lost who all had dreams, ambitions, and a will to live. All of it was snuffed out due to needless evil. Curling his hand into a fist, he stared wistfully at the girl who was bloodied not too far from him. "I'm sorry."
"I sure did. Who are you anyway? You smell like us, but you can't be one of us. I know everyone within the Cult, and I've never seen you."
Right on cue, the hooded Cultists began their assault. They were swiftly disarmed and dispatched with minimal effort by Shirou. Although he wasn't the best at hand-to-hand combat, projecting a weapon wasn't needed for these guys.
"What is she?" Shirou never lost sight of the young girl. He couldn't get a good reading on her through smell. It was a weird, never-before scent that didn't help him discern her ability. Speaking of scent—"What does she mean 'smell like us'?"
Before Shirou laid a pile of Witch Cultists, quickly dispatching them, he turned his sights toward Capella, who was now flying through the use of her feathered black wings whilst holding the book in one hand. The new text that appeared within the Gospel made her frown. "Hn. For a book that supposedly tells the future—nevermind."
Shirou moved to engage the Sin Archbishop of Lust as he projected Kanshou and Bakuya to his side. This woman was a much greater threat than the lackeys he just defeated.
"Oh? What exactly are you planning to do with those thick, hard things in your hand? I know my fair share of nobles, and if you're anything like them, that mouth will be the biggest thing on your body."
Seeing no reaction from Shirou, Capella arched her eyebrow. Rage contorted her features before she reconstructed her face to its adorable visage, which betrayed what she felt inside. "You must be a total virgin! Keep ignoring me; it'll be satisfying once I crush you and make you lick my feet. Kya-ha-ha-ha!" Cackling, her adorable visage was replaced by a look of absolute madness.
As Shirou launched Kanshou at the flying girl, she swiftly moved out. "You really are a man if you have lousy aim like—"
Before she could finish her sentence, the blade returned and punctured her back, striking at her heart and stopping it. Spurting out blood, it frothed at the corners of her mouth as she stopped flying momentarily, beginning to fall. Almost seeming like it was the end of the bout, Shirou would soon realize what it truly meant to be a Sin Archbishop of the Witch's Cult.
Eyes wide, it looked like life was depleting from them before recognition and rage burned in them once again. Reaching backward, she pulled the blade out, and the puncture wound healed back up as it was never there. A smile plastered her contradictory face. It was beautiful, yet repulsive. It was inviting but had a sinister undertone, almost like a venus flytrap waiting for a fly to enter. "I guess you weren't all talk, meatbag."
"Is this some form of regeneration?" Shirou blocked out whatever the girl had to say. He could tell immediately that buying into her words was what she wanted.
"If you don't talk to me, you won't be getting this back." Waving Kanshou around as a consolation prize, it soon turned to motes of light and disappeared from Capella's hand. "What—"
Looking as Shirou had the blade right back in his hand….
"—that's no fun."
As Shirou prepared to advance again, Capella said, "Although I'd love nothing more than for you to ravage me up, I simply don't have time for that right now." Her head elongated as it turned scaly and black. What used to be a girl's cute face was replaced with that of a black dragon head. What jarred Shirou to no end was that the rest of the body was unchanged. It was the head alone that became dragonic.
A black stream of fire breathed out from the girl's mouth. Almost immediately, Shirou's senses told him not to block but dodge. As he did, the fire blast whooshed past him and destroyed a good chunk of the village, furthering the destruction into the forest and beyond.
"Ah~~~~, I missed. Oh well. I'll let the little Oni meatbag and my friends care for you." Her dragon head changed back as her regular features became present again. Blowing a raspberry, she tried to fly away, Shirou attempted to stop her but was intercepted by the bloodied girl he saw not too far away from him initially.
"Die Die Die Die Die~~~~~"
Repeating the phrase over and over again, it was obvious to Shirou that she was blinded by rage. Every attack delivered by her was meant to kill. She attacked like a man possessed and only wanted for one thing: to kill him.
"Calm down! You're going to allow her to escape!"
Watching Capella fly away would take some miracle to catch up to her now. He could shoot her out of the sky if given the opportunity. However, Shirou didn't expect this much fight to be left in this Oni. Although she had sloppy form, and he could tell she was untrained, her speed and strength were incredible.
With her horns out, she began collecting mana to enhance her physicality. She could smell it, that wretched scent. It was on him. That's all she needed to know to give her judgment of death. Blasting towards him with unbelievable speed, she tried shanking the man with the bloodied knife she used to kill the other Witch Cultists.
"Die Die Die Die Die~~~~~"
Shirou parried all her blows with his twin blades. He didn't want to hurt the girl since she's been through a lot. Her eyes were filled with pain and suffering, the same look he saw on his father before he realized he was alive when he picked him up in all that rubble.
As they continued their bout, the village continued burning around them as the fire threatened to spread further into the forest. The bodies of the deceased were burning up in flames as the stench permeated throughout. What caught Shirou's attention was that the black flame produced by Capella seemed to be overtaking the regular fire. Shirou sees this and is fully aware.
Backing up, he felt a hand grab his ankle as he stepped back. What he saw as he looked back would forever have a place in Shirou's mind.
An amalgamation of Oni parts mixed with inanimate objects, neither dead nor alive, but something in between, an affront to nature itself, was staring back at Shirou. One? Two? No, there had to be at least a dozen—all surrounding them and ready to attack.
"What the hell…."
Shirou had no words. In his mind, Capella had no heart. Almost out of spite and a way to disgrace the Onis further, she refused to allow them to die. To end their misery and suffering. She was torturing them beyond even the grave by turning them into these disgusting puppets. Deformed and recast poorly with these crude materials—an abomination of flesh and a mockery of life.
Realizing he had taken his eyes off his other opponent, Shirou jumped away from both to clear his backside from attack.
However, he didn't need to do anything else. "Huh?" Confused about why the girl abruptly stopped her onslaught, it soon dawned on him. "Did she lose consciousness?"
Walking up, the once furious Oni was like a statue rooted in place yet still upright. No muscle movement could be ascertained. Her horns disappeared as it appeared all movement and life were lost. Shirou looked into her eyes, which were still open, and it looked like no one was home. "She was moving around from sheer rage."
Confirming that she was no longer a threat, Shirou gazed off into the distance Capella flew off in hoping he could still capture her. However, to his dismay, her figure could no longer be seen.
—Moist sounds mixed with metal clanging nearly caught up to Shirou before he dodged out of the way. It appeared the once docile creatures were now on the offensive.
Dodging, Shirou didn't have the heart to fight or kill them. However, allowing them to stay in this state was akin to killing them as well. Whatever road he took, he'd be killing them twice.
Thinking of a plan, he had a few Noble Phantasms he thought could help.
Dissipating his twin blades, a distortion in time and space occurred within Shirou's right palm. Blue light swirls congregated and convened as a jagged dagger appeared out of nothingness. To the average person, the knife looked pretty as it was muti-colored. It could even be used as a prop or in some ritual. None would think of its true power or potential or that it belonged to a witch from the Age of Gods.
As the beast came in for another attack while Shirou was occupied, he quickly stabbed the blade within it, chanting, "I am the bone of my sword…..Rulebreaker!"
As a magic circle formed on the creature, it quickly dissipated and collapsed, failing miserably as nothing more occurred than a superficial puncture wound.
"—What!"
Rulebreaker had rarely failed him. It was only when confronting issues unrelated to or beyond the scope of magecraft that its power could not reach. He then remembered the scent Capella gave off. "That girl—"
Shirou was quickly swatted away by a beast that snuck up behind him while he was awestruck. In the abrupt attack, he couldn't even unlodge Rulebreaker from the poor creature as it wailed out in pain.
"Argh!" With a strength he didn't expect, he was flung into a burning house.
An unbearable heat assailed his body as he couldn't bear touching anything as his mind told him to 'get out.' With falling debris and smoke rising, he began to cough uncontrollably before his lungs were relieved to get some fresh air as he stepped out.
As the group of beasts regrouped in front of him, Shirou's options became limited as he feared his hypothesis of the girl's ability would be true. Not giving up, he tried one last thing.
An article of clothing was summoned to his hand. He remembered the last time he called out the Holy Shroud. "Tohsaka cursed out Kotomine for almost ten minutes." Ranging from him being a fake priest to how he was burning in Hell, the economy of language Rin had when coming up with new insults was impressive.
Red and tattered, it didn't appear as much on the surface. Nothing unique or outstanding could be ascertained from it by just looking. However, the cloth was used to lay a Saint to rest and possessed a unique Mystic Code. He hoped the Mystic Code could undo what befell these poor villagers.
"Please….just let me save at least one…."
As he gripped the cloth tighter, he looked upon the group. One in particular made him hot in the face as his stomach knotted. He was resisting the urge to find Capella by any means and kill her right now. He averted his attention from that specific beast as it felt his heart drowning in sorrow.
However, like a shark drawn to blood, it sensed it was causing Shirou discomfort and wanted to apply pressure. The beast tried to make it snap like a foot on someone's neck.
Nudging Shirou, it forced him to confront it.
As he stared, the visage of a little girl stared back at him.
"Ma….ma…" Barely getting the words out, it took every bit of energy to mimic its former self.
Downcast, Shirou wanted to get this over with. Not wasting another second, he wrapped the cloth around the creature before him and activated the Holy Shroud. As he attempted to seal the moment she became like this, it again failed.
"No….why…." Defeated, Shirou was brought to his knees. He didn't even care that the remaining ones were closing in on him, ready to attack.
He bowed his head and punched into the ground violently, quaking the earth beneath him. Prostated, he was absolutely defenseless at the moment.
As the creatures closed in, all that was heard was, "I-I'm so sorry…..I'm so sorry…"
After a few minutes, Shirou was covered in blood. It wasn't that he didn't know if it was his or not; he didn't care. It was all a blur. Kanshou and Bakuya dissipated out of his grasp as he exhaled. He didn't even remember calling them up, either.
Surrounding the young hero were freshly killed bodies of creatures combined with inanimate objects. Free from their misery, their pain only lasted a moment, while Shirou's would continue to fester.
Looking around this now hellscape he was brought into, Shirou was at a loss for words. On the one hand, this wasn't like the other worlds he had visited with Rin. On the other, this is what he signed up for. He was a Hero of Justice, and this world desperately needs one.
"Hero of Justice?" As he looked around, he questioned that. What hero could allow this?
The absolute carnage thrusted upon this village numbed Shirou. Women, children, the elderly, no one was spared. It was a massacre. Such machinations could only be thought of and acted upon by those with the blackest of hearts, rivaling the night sky with no stars.
It brought forth an emotion he hadn't felt in a while. Something bubbled up within him, demanding to be felt as his heart shattered in two for the people he once again failed to save.
Shirou wept.
Clinic, Banan, Kararagi City-States
While going through the Clocktower, Shirou was asked what he wanted to pursue career-wise. Unsurprisingly, he chose jobs that directly impacted people: police officer, firefighter, lawyer, and even a political career.
Although he never thought he'd pick being a firefighter, he soon became one to extinguish the flames in the Oni village. Thanks to the assistance of the nearby villagers, the clean-up didn't take as long as he thought it was. The black fire was the main issue as it wouldn't get put out using water. Shirou had to resort to 'other' methods to take care of it.
The recent Witch Cult attack left more than just a scorched village. A psychological attack occurred in all the nearby villages as parents held their children extra close tonight. Defenses were bolstered as the night watch shift was implemented. They didn't want what occurred to the Oni village to happen to them.
After cleaning up for a few hours, Shirou was directed to Banan City to send the Oni girl to someone who could assist her medically. Not just on a physical basis, as Shirou did manage to heal all the cuts and wounds on her body, mentally, was where most of her problems would lie.
Banan wasn't too far. It was the centermost state within Kararagi, and an hour cart ride led them right there. Shirou wasn't opposed to the idea as he remembered the homeless man at the dock directing him to the city-state as well. If anything, it could help him further his journey and help someone in need, a two-for-one deal.
As he entered the city, the resemblance to the last city was uncanny. It was a one-for-one. It appeared that Japan heavily influenced this world. The feudal Japanese style homes and culture were prevalent throughout. As he continued thinking about it, questions sprang to his mind.
Was he in a parallel world that was similar to his own? Were other people from his world transported here, and the culture grew that way? Or did Japanese culture surpass time and space?
If he hadn't had an injured Oni on his shoulders, he might've spent some more time mulling over those questions. Alas, that was something for another day. After finding a place that welcomed them in, he relaxed a little.
As Shriou sat beside the Oni girl's bedside, he realized he never got her name. Although there hadn't been a perfect time since they met to go, 'Hey, I know your village burned up, but can I get your name?' it was still impolite.
As the minutes ticked by, Shirou still found everything so surreal. However, he now had a mission: take down The Witch's Cult. Although this wasn't his world, it was still a world that was in need. As a Hero of Justice, this was his duty.
The door to the room opened as a sweet old lady made her way in. "Ah~~. you're still here, Mr. Emiya?" Although she tried her best to be friendly and welcoming, hesitance constrained the words as they left her lips.
Shirou stood up and greeted the nurse. "Please, Shirou is fine. I'm sorry to be a bother." He didn't understand why the older woman was uncomfortable with his presence, but he let it slide.
"You're fine, young man. But visitation hours will be over soon. So I'll have to direct you to the main lobby in a few."
"Understandable. I'm sure she'll be in great hands."
Shirou went down the lobby toward the exit as the idle chat ended. A part of him was relieved he wasn't there when she woke up. She didn't take kindly to him and didn't want to start a commotion in this hospital. They would probably be perturbed if they had two individuals breaking down walls and levying attacks on one another with so many sick people around.
As he stepped out of the clinic and into the city, the once-beaming sun was replaced by a moon. Like its counterpart, it illuminated the city beautifully, blanketing it with a luminescent glow. With the combination of the toro lanterns, it was almost like a light show. It was much cooler than in the day, but not so cold to where one needed a jacket. It was an ideal temperature.
Shirou took out the paper he was given. "What the hell does this even mean?" He turned it in multiple directions to see if it became any clearer but with no success. Every world he's been to had the same language he spoke and wrote in, or at least one he recognized. This was the first time he encountered one that was beyond his understanding.
"Maybe the old man is illiterate, and this is just chicken scratch?"
There was only one way to test his theory.
As he descended the dirt path, most people were inside their homes or drinking with friends. Entering one of the bars, the smell of booze sucker-punched him in the face.
The bar was packed to the brim. People sat around a table drinking and pouring drinks for others. From the attire worn, it was apparent it was a mix of people coming in for some after-work recreational drinking.
Shirou passed a few people until he could find someone to translate what was written on the paper. As he possessed, he was greeted with incredulous looks and shocked faces. Once again, he was put off by their reactions but just continued on. "Do I really stand out that much? I'd assume the half human half animals would get this much attention, not me."
As he looked around, he saw an individual in the corner of the bar, away from most others. This individual's surrounding table and seats were empty, which was odd since the bar was essentially packed, and no one chose to sit there. The bar was dimly lit, so he couldn't ascertain anything besides a figure. He was drinking and pouring drinks for himself alone. This was the perfect opportunity for Shirou to get some answers.
Shirou picked up the individual's scent as he arrived at the table. Animailistic and dark, this didn't dissuade the young hero. "You don't mind if I join in, do you?" As Shirou looked closer at the person's features, he quickly regretted his decision.
It was some wolf-human with relatively long black fur clad in a disheveled black kimono possessing worn-down purple accents. His large height makes him tower over most people, including Shirou, in this instance. He had a long golden smoking pipe propped in his mouth and took the occasional puff.
"Not at all. Want me to pour you a drink?"
Trying his best not to be rude, Shirou ignored the fact that he was talking to an animal. "I don't think I'll get used to this." He played his fair share of video games, but it hit differently once you're face to face with a wolf-human instead of over a screen playing as a Paladin. As he sat across, he answered, "Yes, please." Holding a clean cup close to him with both hands, a milky liquid was poured in. "Allow me to pour you some." Reciprocating the gesture, both men clanked their glasses and cheered as they shot back the drink.
As the customary gesture was over with, business was discussed.
"So, what made you come here to join me? Usually, people who drink and pour their own drinks alone want to be alone."
Sheepishly scratching the back of his head, Shirou got the underlying meaning of his words, but before he could apologize, the wolf-man burst out in laughter.
"I-I'm just—twisting your leg—should've seen your face—it was priceless." He made out the words between bouts of laughter as he wiped away tears. Even his smoking pipe was on the verge of falling out before he saved it.
Shirou didn't find playing with people in such manners amusing but decided to let it slide since he did intrude on his drinking time. *AHEM* Clearing his throat to get the discussion back into focus, Shirou explained, "I need help with something. I haven't gotten much of a welcoming look since getting into this city."
Giving a dumbfounded look, he wondered if the boy was right in the head. "You don't know why they're looking at you like you're crazy?"
Shirou shook his head.
"Did you look in the mirror?"
Suddenly, Shirou's heart dropped to his stomach. "Please don't tell. Please don't tell me. Please don't tell me—-" Repeating the phrase over and over again until a higher power came answering, he hoped with all his heart it wasn't what he thought it was.
As he looked down at his cardigan sleeve, red drenched it from the elbow upward. He released an exasperated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "No wonder everyone was staring at me like I was a madman. Why didn't they say anything at the village or on the cart ride?!"
Sharply inhaling, he gathered his thoughts as the Demi-Human looked on amusingly. "I can explain—"
"No need. I don't care nor want to know." He raised his hand to further signal his naught in anymore information. "What can I do you for then?" Using the smoke pipe to punctuate his sentence, he returned to business as if nothing had happened. The area soon became cloudy as a sweet scent from the smoke permeated the air around them.
Shirou noticed it wasn't tobacco in the pipe but something entirely different. He never sniffed this sort of thing, so he had nothing to compare it to, but he assumed it was some herb. Setting that aside, Shirou explained his intentions for coming to him.
Pulling out the sheet of paper, Shirou slid it to the man. "What does this say? I can't understand the language."
The wolf-man stared at the paper and back at Shirou multiple times to see if this was a joke. Being in the business for a while and having experience with people, he unfortunately could tell the kid was serious. "Hahh, are you some sort of noble or something? You aren't a Van Astera, right? That red hair does stick out, and coming in here all bloody wouldn't be that outlandish then."
"No. I'm not a Van Astera, and I'm not a noble."
The wolf-man leaned back and said, "Well, it says my name, Halibel. I guess someone directed you to me. What can I do you for?"