"Flat?"

Emiya Shirou stared down at the blond-haired boy curiously. His hand rested on the door to his front entrance, holding it open for his visitor.

"Shirou!" Flat greeted him excitedly. The younger magus held out a stack of PS2 games for him to take. "Thank you for these."

The red-haired man grinned.

Right. He lent his old video games to the kid a few weeks back. He had completely forgotten; it wasn't like he'd be missing them any time soon.

"So?" he asked expectantly. "What did you think? Tekken's pretty cool, right?"

Flat hummed.

"I didn't see the appeal, to be honest."

"Seriously!?"

"But Gran Turismo was awesome! I like racing games a lot. Can I buy this one from you?"

Shirou made a complicated expression. It wasn't like he was big into games or anything, but he certainly remembered Tekken being a hit with the other kids back when he was in middle school. Maybe the interests of today's youth lay elsewhere.

"Play one of the newer ones if you want a sim," the redhead told him flatly.

The blonde scratched his cheek.

"I dunno… the dated graphics have a certain charm, I suppose?"

It sounded like more of a question than a statement.

Shirou could only chuckle.

"Glad you enjoyed yourself," he told him honestly. "Say… don't you have class about now?"

A blank look crossed the kid's face before one of realization replaced it.

"Right!" Flat agreed but made no move to be punctual.

"...I'll see you around," Shirou tried, giving him another cue.

"Yeah!"

Flat finally left with an amicable wave. The red-haired magus could only watch him run off amusedly. He worried for that guy sometimes.

The door to his apartment closed with a soft click. Shirou walked up to a box in the corner of the room: in it was a bunch of his old stuff that Taiga had shipped to him from Japan not too long ago.

Or at least, most of it was his. Clothes, those video games that Flat wanted to play, and so on.

The magazine resting on top of everything was a recent publication: the date on the cover indicated that it had just come out the month before last.

Shonen Jump magazine.

Ha… that certainly brought back memories. The closest thing they had in the West was those superhero comics, and even then, it wasn't as popular here in the UK as it was in North America.

There was a sticky note on the cover. "One Piece was crazy good this week!" was written in handwriting that could only be Taiga's.

Shirou chuckled.

The man sat on the edge of his bed and cracked open the cover.

X

X

Dreams of a burning city were not unusual for Emiya Shirou.

It was a recollection of a defining moment in his life, after all. The person he was before that day a decade and a half ago had died in a blazing inferno and had been replaced with a young boy who yearned to follow in his father's footsteps.

Despite this, he was quite confused at the moment. A lot of it had to do with the fact that the scene in front of him wasn't that fire, nor was it of that city.

The rest of it had to do with the fact that this burning "city" didn't look like a real place. The houses were made of rough brick and laid by hand. None stood very tall, but the architecture all shared the same oddly circular shape. His intuition told him to call it "European" and move on, but it just didn't fit any one culture that came to mind.

How strange. He didn't remember falling asleep.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward, ignoring the sting of the scorched earth against his naked feet.

Walking felt different than from his usual dreams; he had too much autonomy here. His body moved unencumbered, displaying none of the weakness or helplessness that usually came hand in hand with his memory of the fire.

He stared down at his hands.

A strangled noise came from his throat. It was meant to be an exclamation of surprise, but the heat of his surroundings burned his lungs the moment he took too deep a breath.

He was expecting the hands of a child. Just as this wasn't the same fire of his dreams, his body, too, was different.

Those same hands ran up his arms and then felt up his smooth face. Not quite a child yet not quite a grown man, either.

A teenager, then.

He kept walking, looking for any survivors. Corpses, even. There were none. It was a ghost town, most likely evacuated before… whatever it was that started this inferno.

He began to question what such a place had to do with him at all.

The smoke made it difficult for him to see, but a large silhouette was starting to form in the distance. He picked up the pace until he could make out what it was.

A tree. A giant, burning tree.

Its size—its shape—was something that didn't quite belong on Earth. He could see what looked like windows carved into its trunk. Did people live in there?

Any thought of trying to rush in met an end when the inferno worsened; the tree's structure began to collapse in on itself as flaming chunks of bark fell down to block all avenues of entry.

He came to a full stop.

A group of corpses was strewn across the flat, burning plain in front of the tree. It looked as though they were keeping busy doing something but the smoke had suffocated them. They were following a trail back and forth between the tree and a nearby lake.

He calmly checked each body one by one. It was obvious that they had been long dead, but he had to make sure that there wasn't—

He paused.

A figure sat hunched over right next to the body of water: it was a woman, made more apparent by her frame than her face. Her long white hair draped forward, covering her features.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and her body tensed weakly. His eyes shot open in surprise.

She was still alive. Amongst the corpses, this was the last living human. He didn't know why she hadn't met the same fate as the others. Maybe she had spent less time under flame, somehow?

Without thinking twice, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. He was thankful that the dream had given him a more fit and capable teenage body for once.

Where could he take her?

Shirou eyed the forest near the outskirts of the town. It wasn't far away and it hadn't seemed to have been on fire yet. Still, it would only be a matter of time before it burned hotter than the town proper.

…Did he have any other choice?

He didn't. It was either the forest or nowhere at all. They'd both die if he stuck around here any longer.

He ran into the grove as quickly as he could.

It was the right choice, he decided. The temperature shifted quickly as he moved away from the flame and the smoke cleared.

…A little too quickly. He felt a breeze.

Was there a beach nearby?

The woman groaned and shifted in his arms, making it difficult to keep his pace. Though he used reinforcement magecraft to operate beyond the boundaries of his normal human body, his breath still became laboured.

It was too real a feeling for a dream, he decided with a hint of unease.

A bed of soft sand touched his feet and he slowed to a halt. An expanse of ocean greeted him.

Where would they go from here? Was there a boat somewhere? No… it would probably be best to follow the coastline until they were out of range of the spreading wildfire, heading into the shallows if necessary. If—

He saw the boats.

Ships, more like. Massive things.

They were all sinking, fires burning the vessels to cinder. As far as they were from shore, Shirou could still hear the hapless screams of their passengers. From here, there was nothing that he could do.

What a haunting sound.

There was another fleet of ships, these ones undamaged. Their sides all pointed at—

BOOM!

He dropped to his knees as everything shook around him.

Countless explosions went off in the distance as the fleet unleashed its cannon fire; it was unending, each blow somehow more powerful than the last. The tremors were so strong that he wasn't able to find footing on the sand.

He was on all fours next to the woman he had carried with him. He stared at her as her eyes fluttered open.

"You…" she croaked weakly. "Are you…"

She coughed. Shirou grabbed her by the shoulders and helped her sit upright.

"I'm glad…" she tried again. "Even if it's just… one boy… a survivor…"

"Don't speak if it's painful," he told her. There was smoke in her lungs. A lot of it. Whether she'd make it or not was a tough call.

There were more explosions. It was only because he was already low to the ground that he didn't topple over again.

"Can you find my daughter?" she asked him quietly. Her eyes welled with unshed tears.

There was no way that her daughter had survived. There wouldn't be much left of this island, at this rate.

"Of course," he promised her. "I'll do whatever I can."

The tears streamed down her cheek.

"It's… silly of me to ask, isn't it? I doubt you know her, but… if only she knew that she isn't alone… that our will lives on in one more soul, wouldn't it be a little less… lonely that way?"

"Oi."

A cold voice called out to them.

Shirou turned to face a ridiculously tall man with glasses and curly hair. He stared down at them impassively.

While Shirou was more worried about the man's superhuman height, the woman in his arms began to panic. Despite her condition, she squirmed and did her best to escape his grasp.

"N-no…" she cried weakly. "Why are you… still here?"

The tall man looked sad for some reason. Did he know what happened here?

"Didn't Spandine kill you, Nico Olvia?"

Hearing the names, an inexplicable, nagging feeling in the back of Shirou's mind suddenly arose. And yet, he forced himself to put that aside for now as something more pressing presented itself to him.

Frost began to form around the tall man's feet.

And then he saw them.

A path made of sheer ice, leading from the shoreline into the nothingness of the horizon.

An iceberg in the shape of a man. A giant. The thing stood taller than the nearby cliffside.

There was something alive frozen in that ice.

That nagging feeling grew stronger.

"This woman needs medical attention," Shirou tried, not having too much faith in his odds.

He was right to lack faith, unfortunately.

"You're defending an enemy of the world government, kid," the lanky man replied, not unkindly. "Get out of the way."

As the threat was made, the air grew colder despite the heat from the burning town. The frosted ground turned to jagged flakes of ice.

"This boy did nothing wrong, Kuzan!" the woman screamed to deaf ears.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what would come next. Shirou made the first move.

"Trace, on!" he exclaimed.

A broadsword shot at the tall man as fast as the projection would allow. For what it was worth, it seemed to catch the enemy off guard enough for his eyes to shoot wide open.

The sword pierced his chest.

Shirou grimaced and moved to pick up his charge. Maybe there'd be a way for him to help—

"Oro? I didn't expect that."

The redhead's blood ran cold.

The tall man wasn't dead. Somehow, his very body had turned to ice. What the projection pierced wasn't a heart, but a blue translucent block.

Before Shirou could rush toward the iceman, a hand grabbed him by the ankle. He looked down to see the white-haired woman glaring up at him with a focus that belied her condition.

"Don't" she pleaded. "Just run. That man… you don't understand what he's capable of."

That was true. If nothing else, she seemed to be more familiar with the guy than he was. Was he responsible for the fire after all? Perhaps not directly, but maybe he was involved somehow.

"I'm usually able to figure things out," was his simple rebuttal.

He stood over her confidently with a reassuring smile on his face. Olvia's breath hitched.

This boy was barely on the cusp of adulthood, but the glow of the inferno in the distance made him seem older: a small man casting a larger shadow. He was strong. Was it truly possible for such strength to be cultivated on this island?

She let go of him, seemingly out of a feeling of resignation as opposed to actual acceptance. She refused to be too hopeful, though, in her heart of hearts, she prayed for the boy's victory. His survival, if nothing else.

The iceman clicked his tongue.

"You should have listened to her. Who knows… maybe I would have let you go."

Kanshou and Bakuya were traced: twin blades of notoriety and make beyond the means of the modern era.

With his body reinforced by magecraft, Shirou went on the attack. The noble phantasms swung down on the enemy's shoulder, though they were stopped in their tracks by a blade of ice.

The taller man didn't seem to be struggling whatsoever. Shirou grit his teeth.

"You're pretty strong, Kid."

Such praise meant nothing when the strength got him nowhere.

This guy… the ice spells were incredible. He wasn't a regular magus, was he? A dead apostle, maybe? An elemental?

Shirou tried to hit him again, only this time, the iceman didn't try to defend himself at all. Kanshou and Bakuya sliced through the man's torso like butter.

The redhead couldn't help but be caught off guard by such a strange and sudden turn of events.

"It's not over yet!" the white-haired woman warned him.

What was—

"Hm… without Haki, this will be tough for you."

Shirou tensed as the man's disembodied voice hit his ears.

The upper body, still on the sand, disintegrated into flakes of snow to be carried away by the wind. Slowly, crystals of ice formed atop the still-standing legs of the bisected enemy until a whole body was formed once more.

The temperature in the air was dropping. The breaths Shirou took began to hurt once more, not from smoke just minutes ago, but from the sheer cold.

The iceman went on the attack.

Hundreds of jagged icicles shot out of the ground in a wave, intending to skewer the redhead on the spot.

"Rho Aias!" Shirou shouted. An ephemeral shield in the shape of a petal did the job of keeping him alive.

He felt the drain on his reserves almost immediately. Rho Aias was useful, but it wasn't a noble phantasm that he was particularly attuned toward.

The iceman let out another grunt of surprise. Shirou heard something similar from the woman behind him.

"That sure is a funny devil fruit you've eaten," the iceman remarked listlessly.

The remark was so listless, in fact, that the magnitude of what it implied almost flew right over Shirou's head.

Devil fruit?

Many things clicked into place at once.

He did recognize this man and the woman he had saved if only from their most distinguishing features. He recognized those "ice spells". He recognized the name "Nico Olvia". He recognized this entire scenario.

This was straight out of a comic book.

The same comic book—the same chapter—that was in the Jump magazine that Fuji-nee had mailed to him.

It all made sense. This was a dream. He was just a little tired and fell asleep halfway through reading.

He actually felt a little relieved—

Squelch.

"This isn't the time to be getting lost in thought," the iceman chided. "That's dangerous."

Everything hurt. He felt a little cold.

Slowly, his eyes tracked down to his trembling hands, then down to his body. Spears of ice had pierced him straight through from behind.

Nico Olvia screamed, but it didn't really register as such in his brain.

This didn't feel like a dream at all. It was too real. An illusion, maybe?

What the hell had happened before he fell asleep?

"I am the bone of my sword."

The beginnings of his most powerful spell had been cast in an effort to stave off death. The moment that Shirou pulled himself off the ice, countless miniature swords were interwoven beneath his very skin, patching up the most critical wounds so that he wouldn't die and piecing together torn muscle so that he could keep fighting. As painful as it was, this was the only course of action left available to him.

"A sword man?" mused the iceman. "What a strange logia. A special paramecia, maybe? Were you hiding on Ohara this whole time?"

He sounded way too carefree considering he was currently fighting someone to the death.

The explosions continued to rock the island. The heat in the air distorted Shirou's vision even all the way out here.

Through the crackling of burning trees, Shirou could make out a sound unlike anything he'd ever heard before. It wasn't until the iceman pulled a miniature snail from his pocket that he realized what it was.

A transponder snail. A real one.

"Vice Admiral. Retreat at once," the snail said in the voice of what was purportedly another marine. "The island of Ohara is on its last legs; your window of tolerance has narrowed considerably. Why are you still there?"

"Ha…" Kuzan sighed, showing no visible interest in the half-dead boy he'd just gutted, nor the equally half-dead archeologist glaring daggers at him. "I'm just cleaning up a few loose ends, Sir. I'll—"

His words were cut off as he was led to jerk his neck to the side by nothing but sheer instinct. His head then swivelled back to the redhead boy, who now stood firmly with a giant black bow pointed at him.

The arrow that flew past him didn't feel as though it were imbued with Haki so it probably wouldn't have been able to do much, and yet something about it made him feel the need to dodge regardless. Why was that?

"Vice Admiral? Vice Admiral! What—Ka~cha."

Kuzan ignored the marine's calls. He dropped the line and pocketed the tiny snail.

"What was that, I wonder?" the taller man pondered aloud.

The arrow hit the cliffside a kilometre away and exploded, taking almost the entirety of the landmass with it.

Olvia's jaw fell open.

For a moment, Kuzan chose silence over another quip.

"...Boy," he eventually uttered, his tone nothing short of frosty. "It's been a long day for me already. Do you have to make things so difficult?"

"Should I just let you kill us instead?" Shirou shot back.

The Vice Admiral didn't have much to say to that.

In an instant, the black bow was gone, replaced by the black and white twin swords once more.

The bout of melee combat didn't go the same way as the first time. Shirou was prepared for the larger man's ability to turn into ice; though none of his swings t met flesh, he didn't relent.

The white-haired woman clenched her fists in a mix of nervousness and anticipation from where she lay. Someone younger than her was going toe to toe with such a powerful vice admiral. Could it be that he'd be able to…?

Things fell apart for him when Kuzan struck with a frosted kick that was unlike the others. It being more powerful was the only way that Shirou could have described it, though he knew that wasn't all that it was. Regardless, simply blocking with Bakuya wasn't enough; the noble phantasm shattered and the top of the man's foot smashed against his shoulder.

Shirou was lifted right off the ground and sent cartwheeling into the sand a few paces back. He coughed and hacked, trying and failing to force himself back onto his feet.

"No!" Olvia shrieked. There was nothing she could do for him but watch on sorrowfully. It was all she could do to stay conscious, at this point.

His arm felt like it was broken. His ribs were bruised if nothing else.

There was nothing normal about that kick. It was beyond what a human being was capable of. Until just then, it felt like they were about evenly matched, but…

Kuzan took slow, deliberate steps toward the teenager until he was standing over him hauntingly. With exaggerated yet reluctant movements, a sharpened dagger-like ice structure formed around his hand.

Olvia was incapable of making noise. This was the last thing she saw before the lack of circulating oxygen stole her wakefulness.

"Aokiji," Shirou spat out.

Kuzan stilled for a moment, not sure what the boy said.

"Aokiji, right?" Shirou asked again. "I remember. I'm sure of it. You're Aokiji… aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kuzan couldn't help answering. There was a clear lack of understanding on his face, and yet it was matched by an underlying look of trepidation for reasons unknown to anyone.

Not even himself, most likely.

Shirou glared up at the man defiantly, his eyes lidded and mouth hanging open with every laboured breath, a bubble of blood bursting and dribbling down the corner of his lips.

Gritting his teeth, Shirou attempted to stand, only for his knees to fail him and his arm to give way.

"This is getting pretty pathetic, kid. You're making this harder than it has to be."

"… one."

"Hm?"

Shirou's eyes were unfocused, even as he attempted to force himself upright once more. Whether he was talking to the lanky man or himself, he couldn't make out. At that moment, the boy was somewhere far away.

"… just one," he muttered, voice faint, "If I can… save one…"

The man's face was unreadable for a moment.

Kuzan's shoulders slumped. He sighed.

"I ran out of time," he decided.

Shirou didn't understand.

"Huh?"

His hands and legs were frozen in place. He was stuck on the ground, unable to budge.

Without explaining himself, Kuzan started walking away. He looked at the unconscious form of Nico Olvia.

"Will you be able to keep her alive, I wonder?" the man questioned flatly.

The redhead froze, then redoubled his efforts to break free.

His teeth were clenched so tightly that his gums started to bleed.

He wouldn't let him get to her.

His circuits fired—

Kuzan kept walking straight past the woman.

"If she makes it to tomorrow, let her know that Nico Robin escaped."

"Wha—"

Aokiji flicked his hand.

In a flash, they were both encased in a solid block of ice. Just like that giant.

He couldn't breathe. Everything, both inside and out, came to a halt as though a switch had been flipped.

It didn't feel like "death", as silly as it was to say. More like "nothing". Falling asleep, almost.

Staying for a moment longer to make sure that the boy didn't break out, the Vice Admiral took a first step onto the water, a pathway of ice forming under his feet leading toward what could only be the navy fleet.

Shirou's consciousness was fading quickly.

A manga character just handed him his ass. The fact that he was less and less sure that this was a dream made the thought even scarier.

He couldn't do anything. There was something—something tangible that he couldn't quite place—that made it impossible for him to keep up with the man. He'd been punching above his weight class for years. Why was this any different?

And then, it came.

Nothing.

X

My first author's note from Skill: Househusband EX sums up most of my thoughts pretty well, here. In short, time between chapters is needed to think, not to write. My new strategy has led to me pushing stuff out many times quicker than before (like actually at least thrice as many updates). Nothing you're reading has been dropped and it will likely be getting an update soon enough.

One Piece is the best thing ever. People sub to my stories for Fate fic. I get to combine the two into something that I believe can be pretty unique and quirky. From my understanding of SI-OC stories (I don't really read them so I might be wrong), the whole "character is aware of the IP in question" schtick is something they go for, but it really doesn't have to just be that lol. Let's have fun exploring new ways to do fanfiction crossovers.

Thanks for reading! You guys on p atreon are gonna get the poll for the chapter's illustration, soon.

In the meantime, thank you to Sherlock and a certain other individual for the beta work.

Join my discord lol.