This is a fanfiction work created by me, Hopeless Author, inspired by Dandadan, Fate/stay night, and RWBY. All rights to the original characters, concepts, and universes belong to their respective creators and owners.
Okay, folks, this is officially the first chapter of The Yōkai and the Sword. Is it perfect? Nah. Does it make sense? Sort of. Is it fun? I hope so. As you know, I'm not some literary genius or a full-time writer. I'm just a dude who likes mashing up anime and manga worlds because—why not? If you're here reading this, thank you so much.
So, what can you expect from this story? Dragons, epic battles, sarcasm-filled dialogues, and probably a few moments that'll make you go, "What did I just read?" It's chaos, but it's my chaos, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Ken sat in his usual corner of the café, watching raindrops slide lazily down the window. Absentmindedly, he stirred his coffee, creating tiny whirlpools in the liquid. His furrowed brow and fingers tapping against the table betrayed his impatience. Adjusting his glasses for what felt like the tenth time, he let out a long sigh.
"Thirty-five minutes late…" he muttered, mostly to himself. "Thirty-five? And he still has the nerve to call it an 'unexpected delay.' Give me a break."
The chime of the doorbell interrupted his inner monologue. Ken looked up to see Shirou walking in. There was something about his friend that always drew attention—a mix of quiet confidence and innate determination. But today, it wasn't Shirou's demeanor that stood out—it was his state. His military Atlas uniform was a mess, with scorch marks, visible tears, and a fine layer of gray dust clinging to his jacket.
Shirou headed to the counter as if nothing was amiss, giving the manager a polite nod. She smiled back, clearly used to his cordial nature. After ordering his usual, Shirou turned and walked toward the table, raising a casual hand in greeting.
"Ken, nice haircut," he remarked with a light grin as he took a seat.
Ken raised an eyebrow, disbelief written all over his face, before slumping dramatically.
"Seriously, Shirou-san? You show up late, looking like you've been through a war zone, and the first thing you do is comment on my hair." He adjusted his glasses, shooting Shirou a scrutinizing look. "Should I be worried?"
Shirou shrugged, brushing some dust off his sleeves as though it were no big deal.
"Nothing major. Just… unexpected stuff."
"'Nothing major,' he says." Ken crossed his arms, his skeptical gaze fixed on Shirou. "You look like you just got out of a fight with a Grimm. Let me guess—you almost blew something up with your swords again?"
"Oh, come on!" Shirou let out a dry chuckle. "You know the Schnee Cadet incident was just a misunderstanding." He waved dismissively at his jacket. "Besides, this time it wasn't my fault."
Ken stared at him, deadpan, not buying it for a second.
"'Not your fault,' sure. That phrase coming from you sounds more suspicious than Sakata-kun's fake friendly smile."
"I swear," Shirou said, raising a hand as if taking an oath. "Kanshō and Bakuya behaved themselves this time." He paused briefly before adding, "It was some thugs. They were causing trouble at a club I was checking out."
"Thugs? Again?" Ken sighed, rolling his eyes. "How bad was it?"
"Not too bad, though… well, it got a little out of hand at the end." Shirou scratched the back of his neck, looking mildly uncomfortable. "There was a girl. They were harassing her. What was I supposed to do? Just ignore it?"
Ken leaned back, letting out an exaggerated sigh.
"Of course! Because the heroic Shirou Emiya can never resist jumping into trouble, can he?" He shot Shirou a skeptical look, but his tone softened. "So, what happened next?"
Shirou rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together as he adopted a thoughtful expression.
"Well, when I stepped in, it turned out that 'sweetheart' didn't need my help as much as I thought." A small smile tugged at his lips. "She handled them herself. It was impressive, though… she did leave quite the mess."
Ken raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"Impressive? Wait… you and her…?"
Shirou rolled his eyes, though a mischievous grin crept onto his face.
"Don't be ridiculous, Okarun. I was just trying to help. You'd have done the same."
"Oh, sure," Ken replied, adjusting his glasses theatrically. "Let me guess—she asked you out?"
Shirou looked away, suddenly a bit uncomfortable, his grin fading slightly.
"Something like that."
Ken's laughter erupted so suddenly he almost choked on his coffee.
"Wait, wait! Are you telling me you said yes?"
"No, of course not." Shirou shrugged, keeping his tone calm. "That's not on my radar right now. But I'll admit, she was… 'interesting.'"
"'Interesting'?" Ken repeated, eyeing him with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. He adjusted his glasses with exaggerated precision and tilted his head dramatically. "Let me guess: blonde, bold, and with a dangerous vibe that screams 'stay away.' Am I wrong?"
Shirou let out a faint smile but didn't respond immediately. His eyes drifted to some indeterminate point, as if replaying a memory. Finally, he shook his head and murmured:
"She was different from Bamora, that's all."
Ken raised an eyebrow, now even more intrigued.
"Different how?"
Shirou leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands. His expression grew reflective, almost melancholic.
"For starters, this girl wasn't wearing a kaiju suit." A barely perceptible smirk crossed his face. "But she made up for it with a sweet ride."
Ken let out a dry laugh, running a hand down his face like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or be concerned.
"Shirou-san, you know what? It's moments like these that make me wonder if I should enroll you in a basic human relations course or just sign you up for therapy."
Shirou shrugged, brushing off the comment as if swatting away a pesky mosquito.
"By the way…" he said, abruptly shifting the topic as he rested his chin on one hand. "Are you upset because you didn't get the latest volume of that weapons manual?"
Ken blinked, momentarily thrown off by the sudden change in conversation.
"And whose fault do you think that is?" he replied sarcastically, crossing his arms.
"My bad." Shirou scratched the back of his neck, feigning guilt. "Maybe you can still find it at the Till Dawn Dust Shop if you hurry."
Ken frowned, clearly unimpressed.
"I'll check later, but for now…" He tapped the table lightly with one finger, emphasizing his irritation. "Stop dodging the subject and let's be serious for once!"
Shirou leaned back in his chair, chuckling softly before nodding, giving Ken his full attention.
"Alright, Okarun. What's on your mind?"
Ken sighed, setting his cup down with a faint thud on the table. A reddish gleam flickered in his eyes for a brief moment, accompanied by a sudden shift in his hair, which turned silver before reverting to its usual color. He avoided Shirou's gaze, focusing instead on the rain cascading down the window.
"Not exactly 'new,' but…" he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Shirou's brow furrowed as he leaned forward, concern etched across his face.
"Okarun…"
Ken finally met his eyes. There was a weariness in his expression, a deep exhaustion as if he were carrying something far heavier than he cared to admit.
"I think my power is starting to spiral out of control," he confessed in a hushed tone.
"Spiral out of control?" Shirou repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Ken nodded slowly, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm against the table.
"And that's not all." He paused, his gaze hardening. "I think I drew too much attention during my last expedition to Mount Glenn."
The atmosphere grew tense, the surrounding chatter of the café fading into a distant hum. The silence between them felt almost oppressive.
"It's been three years, and we're still no closer to answers." Shirou's voice was low, laced with frustration he could barely contain.
Ken let out a soft scoff, turning his attention back to the window.
"I'd give anything to hear Ayase-san nagging me again. Or even that cranky old hag yelling at me for not doing things her way."
A faint smile tugged at Shirou's lips at that, though his expression remained serious.
"I know, Okarun. But they're not the only ones I miss too…"
The two of them fell silent, allowing the weight of their thoughts to fill the space. Outside, the rain continued to fall, each droplet tracing paths down the glass, as if trying to wash away the doubts and uncertainty that had haunted them ever since they awoke, completely alone, in this strange and dangerous world called Remnant.
See you in the next chapter when things get even crazier. Expect more motorcycles, more swords, and definitely more trouble for Shirou and Okarun. Until then, stay awesome and remember: life is better with a good crossover in hand.
—Hopeless Author ️