The Sword that Projects Itself
In a moment outside of time, a certain counter guardian managed to kill his past self creating a recursive paradox.
The worldlines split in twain. In the A line, Emiya Shirou of all timelines remotely related to the fifth holy grail war and the counter guardian EMIYA were reset into a single anomalous being at the end of the 4th holy grail war, and a copy of all parallel worlds was eventually generated by ripple effect. But that's another story.
In the B line, unaffected timelines were kept as is and back up records of various timelines and the counter guardian EMIYA were loaded from the Akashic Records to replace the material that was lost. The nature of existence was such that no two timelines could be exactly the same, so the new timelines carried new variants.
Our story takes place eight years after the fourth Holy Grail War, in a certain timeline that should not exist.
Emiya Shirou had a bad habit of experimenting with magic when he had no idea what he was doing.
Tonight was no exception.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he knelt in the dimly lit shed, fingers pressed against the wooden floorboards. His magic circuits burned—not with the usual controlled flow of reinforcement, but with something reckless, untested.
If projection requires understanding… then shouldn't I be able to project myself?
The logic was flimsy, even by his standards. But Shirou had always been stubborn.
In his mind, he understood himself better than the metal pipe he had projected a week ago.
"Trace… on."
Prana surged through the magic circuit that he had created from his nerves, flooding the air with the scent of ozone. The shed trembled, dust shaking loose from the rafters. His vision blurred—
—and then there was another him standing across from him.
"Wh—?"
The figure stumbled, hands trying to catch a handrail that did not exist. Auburn hair, pale skin, the same callouses on the fingers. But the stance was sharper, the gaze heavier. This Emiya Shirou looked older, wearing a red coat singed at the edges, and a scowl that could curdle milk.
The newcomer blinked, looking around in confusion before locking eyes with Shirou.
"...What the hell? An illusion? A bounded field?"
Shirou gaped. "You're—"
"—pissed," the other finished, scanning the shed with guarded wariness. "Who the hell are you? A shapeshifter? A Dead Apostle?"
Shirou opened his mouth—then closed it. "I'm… you?"
The projected Shirou froze. His eyes narrowed, dissecting the younger face before him. "...You're not joking."
"Why would I—"
"Because I've seen enough magic fuckery to make anything possible. I've met Zeltretch. This isn't even top ten." The older Shirou pinched his own arm, hissed, then glared. "Okay. Not an illusion. So either you're a really bad copy, or—"
"—or you're a really good one," Shirou finished.
Silence. Then, in unison:
"Bullshit."
They bickered for a bit.
"You projected me? Like a sword?"
"No, I'm tracing Emiya Shirou, like a person."
"Sword is my origin, but I'm still—"
"Then why are you here?!"
The older Shirou threw up his hands. "I was walking down the stairs! One second I'm in London, the next—poof—shed!" His voice dropped to a mutter. "Rin's gonna kill me for missing curfew…"
Shirou's eyebrows shot up. "London? With Tohsaka?"
A beat. The older Shirou looked like he wanted to say something, then he forcefully changed the topic. "If you really did project me, then prove it.."
"Prove what?"
"That I'm the projection. If I'm just a copy, then you should be able to unmake me, right?"
Shirou hesitated. He could dismiss the projection—but something about the demand irked him. "Fine. If you want proof…"
He focused again, this time not on himself, but on the concept of Emiya Shirou—every single aspect of his experience, his childhood, his ideals, and even his magecraft.
"Trace on."
The air ripped.
A third figure materialized in a burst of blue light—taller, older, with white hair and tanned skin. His crimson overcoat flared as he landed, steel gray eyes scanning the room with weary familiarity.
"—What?"
The second Shirou's stomach dropped.
Oh no. Not him again.
EMIYA—the Counter Guardian, the future he might become—stood before them, arms crossed, looking unimpressed.
The traced Shirou's jaw tightened. "Okay. That's proof."
Shirou's circuits screamed in protest. Two projections at once? His body wasn't built for this. His vision swam, his legs buckled—
And then, just like that, both projections vanished.
Shirou collapsed onto the shed floor, gasping. His head pounded, his magic circuits burning from the strain.
But as he lay there, one thought echoed in his mind:
That somehow worked, sort of.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
That night, Shirou dreamed.
Not of fire. Not of Kiritsugu's dying words.
But of an endless grassland beneath a blue-colored sky. Swords littered the fields, embedded in the earth like gravestones.
Unlimited Blade Works.
And standing in the center of it all—two figures.
The first was the traced Shirou from earlier, arms crossed, scowling. The second was the white-haired man, examining a nameless sword embedded in the earth.
Shirou took a step forward, the crunch of steel beneath his feet deafening in the silence. "Where… is this?"
The white-haired man didn't look up. "Your Reality Marble. Or at least, the shared space between ours."
Shirou's breath hitched. "Reality… Marble?"
The traced Shirou groaned. "Of course, you wouldn't know what a Reality Marble is."
The white-haired man finally straightened, fixing Shirou with a piercing stare. "Let me guess. You're still making your magic circuits from your nerves? And it hurts really bad?"
Shirou stiffened. "...How did you know?"
"Because we did too." The traced Shirou rubbed his forehead. "Until someone beat it into my head."
The white-haired man smirked. "Rin?"
"Shut up."
Shirou looked between them. "You're… both me?"
The white-haired man laughed, "See for yourself."
The moment the white-haired man touched Shirou, countless memories flowed into him.
The resonant exchange of essence and memory was initiated by proximity of souls belonging to similar individuals within an isolated area unaffected by Gaia—Unlimited Blade Works. Beings summoned through projections of Emiya Shirou were at their core Emiya Shirou regardless of the timeline, this is merely the result of how projection magic worked. Any being unable to fit the parameters of Emiya Shriou were not summoned.
Thus countless years of pain, anguish, and regret for becoming a counter guardian imprinted on Shirou's soul. His nerves burned as if someone lit them on fire. His magic circuits were activated for the first time but that was below his notice. Pain beyond his wildest imagination assaulted him in the form of EMIYA's memories, followed by numbness as his mind filtered out or suppressed the memories not meant for the mortal mind subconsciously as a defense mechanism.
The skies above shifted, what was once blue was now divided into three sections—one part cloudy with countless giant spinning gears, one part flaming red in eternal sunset, and the final part remained the original tranquil blue.
Shirou suddenly felt like he knew everything and nothing at all. He had learned a lot and yet he couldn't quite put his finger on what he had learned. He only knew that he gained a lot of memories but he couldn't recall a single one.
Looking at the white haired man, Shirou suddenly understood. He was looking at one possible future, the counter guardian EMIYA.
As for the traced Shirou, he was someone only a few years older than the current him, but he had faced off against the Archer version of EMIYA and won, proving his ideals.
The traced Shirou looked at EMIYA, "Was that really necessary?"
EMIYA scoffed, "It's the fastest way to teach him how to be more flexible with his ideals. He'll think twice before mindlessly trying to be a hero. It worked on you, didn't it?"
The traced Shirou shuddered and looked away, "I'm still going to be a hero of justice." He stated as if trying to convince himself.
Shirou exhaled sharply, "How is this even possible?"
The traced Shirou rolled his eyes. "Because we're connected now. Your little stunt linked our existences. I'm not just a projection—I'm you, from another timeline."
Shirou's eyes widened. "You mean—"
"Yes," EMIYA cut in, voice dry. "Parallel worlds. Quantum Time-Locks. The Throne of Heroes. Congratulations, you broke the rules so hard you've linked us together through your Reality Marble."
The traced Shirou crossed his arms. "I'm from two years after the Fifth Holy Grail War, if that means anything to you."
Shirou's breath hitched. "Then… you know what happens?"
The traced Shirou hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. And he—" He jerked a thumb at EMIYA. "—is what could happen if we screw up."
EMIYA rolled his eyes. "Don't act like you're not just a few bad decisions away from becoming me."
Shirou swallowed. "So… you're both real versions of me?"
"Yep," the traced Shirou said. "And now, somehow, we're sharing this mental space."
A slow grin spread across EMIYA's face. "Which means you," he pointed at Shirou, "just became the most interesting anomaly in the multiverse. You're also touching on second magic."
Shirou paled. "Uh… that's bad, right?"
EMIYA's grin was all teeth, "If anyone finds out, you'll be hunted down, contained and experimented upon. Of course, you get that treatment for having a reality marble too. The only way out is to become strong, like the Kaleidoscope or Blue.
The traced Shirou sighed. "On the bright side, you just inherited our skills."
Shirou blinked. "What?"
The white-haired man rolled his eyes. "Think about it. We're you. Our abilities, our memories—they're yours now. And while it doesn't affect me much, that Shirou over there, his circuits just got a potential boost."
The traced Shirou grinned. "Meaning my circuits aren't as atrophied and have more room to grow."
Shirou's mind reeled. "So… you're saying I can—"
"Use Unlimited Blade Works? Yeah." The white-haired man's voice was grim. "But here's the catch."
He stepped forward, steel gray eyes burning.
"Now you know where that path leads."
Shirou's mind reeled, not quite understanding what EMIYA implied, but he did understand there were two more-experienced versions of him. "So… you're saying I can learn from you two?"
EMIYA scoffed. "More like steal. But sure, call it learning."
Suddenly Shirou realized he knew how to use magic circuits and his were already active and very very powerful.
The traced Shirou rubbed his forehead. "Look, the point is... we're stuck like this now. And if we're sharing a mental link, we might as well use it."
Shirou hesitated. "What about you?" He glanced at EMIYA. "You're from the Throne. Can you… leave?"
EMIYA's smirk faded slightly. "Not unless you summon me again. And even then, it's temporary." He sighed. "The Throne is boring. Centuries of waiting, watching the same wars play out over and over."
The traced Shirou raised an eyebrow. "So what, you want us to entertain you?"
EMIYA's grin returned. "Now you're getting it." He snapped his fingers. "Next time you pull me into Unlimited Blade Works, bring a gaming console."
Shirou blinked. "A… what?"
"PlayStation. Xbox. Something. Everything's a sword if you look at it right—you can trace one."
The traced Shirou groaned. "Of course the Counter Guardian wants video games."
EMIYA shrugged. "What else am I supposed to do between deployments? Count swords?"
Shirou couldn't help but laugh. This was insane. But…
Maybe it wasn't so bad.
He had answers now. A path forward. And, apparently, two older more jaded versions of himself to guide him.
The traced Shirou sighed. "Alright. First lesson: Don't experiment with magecraft unless you know what you're doing. It's a great way to kill yourself. As suicidal as Emiya Shirou tends to be, there's no need to kill yourself for an experiment."
Shirou winced. "Yeah, I kinda figured that one out the hard way."
EMIYA leaned back against a giant blade, arms behind his head. "This is gonna be fun. By the way, we need callsigns, otherwise things will get confusing real quick. I'll be Guardian Emiya. Shirou can be Young Shirou or just Shirou, and you over there, from now on, You're Tohsaka Shirou."
"Wait! Wha—"
An enraged protest was cut off as the dream shattered.
Shirou woke up gasping, his sheets drenched in sweat.
His hands trembled.
But for the first time in his life, his magic circuits hummed right.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
The Throne was boring.
Not the kind of boredom that came from waiting in line or sitting through a dull lecture. No, this was the cosmic kind—the kind that stretched across infinite timelines, endless repetitions of the same wars, the same deaths, the same futile struggles.
Heroic Spirits were summoned by the hope of humanity. Counter Guardians were summoned by despair.
His hands only brought destruction and regret.
EMIYA leaned back in a throne that didn't exist, in a space that wasn't a space, watching the kaleidoscope of human history flicker past like bad television.
Another Grail War. Another Shirou Emiya making the same damn mistakes.
He sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Deployment request: Counter Guardian EMIYA. Timeline A-0151. Threat level: Catastrophic."
The World's voice echoed through the void, impersonal and inevitable.
It wasn't really Alaya speaking, it was just his mind's interpretation of the command.
EMIYA didn't even bother standing. "Yeah, yeah. Clean up the mess, slaughter the innocents, save the greater good." He waved a hand. "I'll get to it."
The Throne didn't care about his sarcasm. It never did.
He closed his eyes, letting the summoning pull him away—
—and then, just as suddenly, he was yanked sideways.
Not to a battlefield. Not to a warzone.
But to himself.
A younger, dumber, infinitely more irritating version of himself.
"Trace on."
The words registered a second before the scene did.
He was standing in a cluttered toolshed, staring at two Emiya Shirous—one baffled, the other scowling.
Oh, for—
"—What?"
The older Shirou's eyes widened in horror, looking like he wanted to strangle someone. The younger Shirou looked like he had just run a marathon only to get run over by a bus.
And then, just like that, the connection snapped.
EMIYA was back in the Throne, blinking at the sudden return.
Silence.
Then—
"Deployment aborted. Timeline anomaly detected."
EMIYA stared into the void.
"...You're kidding."
The Throne didn't respond.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
That idiot. That absolute moron had somehow projected him—not as a Servant, not as a Counter Guardian, but as a concept. A possibility.
And worse?
It worked.
For the first time in centuries, EMIYA felt something other than resignation.
Amusement.
Oh, this is going to be hilarious.
Later in a mysterious location that could only be some variation of Unlimited Blade Works, EMIYA arrived with his arms crossed.
The place was a lush grassland with only a few kitchen knives and metal pipes lying around. With his arrival, swords started popping out of the ground like countless weeds.
The older Shirou from earlier was already there. He was the one that faced Archer EMIYA not long ago and won.
The resonance between their souls told EMIYA that this particular Shioru was henpecked by Rin.
EMIYA smirked.
This was gold.
But now was not the time, he calmed himself and started observing the swords that were popping out of the ground.
Silence.
Followed by a bit of exposition and soul resonance for the younger Shirou when he finally arrived.
Now onto the primary objective, the Throne is boring.
Henpecked Shirou raised an eyebrow. "So what, you want us to entertain you?"
EMIYA's grin returned. "Now you're getting it."
He snapped his fingers. "Next time you pull me into Unlimited Blade Works, bring a gaming console."
The younger Shirou blinked. "A… what?"
"PlayStation. Xbox. Something. Everything's a sword if you look at it right—you can trace one."
Rin's pet Shirou groaned. "Of course the Counter Guardian wants video games."
EMIYA shrugged. "What else am I supposed to do between deployments? Count swords?"
As the connection started to weaken, EMIYA decided to take one last shot at the browbeaten Shirou, "...and you over there, from now on, You're Tohsaka Shirou."
Older Shirou's enraged protest of embarrassment was music to his ears.
Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Tohsaka Rin was having a perfectly normal evening.
Which, of course, meant something was about to go catastrophically wrong.
The sight of a body crumpled at the bottom of the stairs confirmed it.
"Shirou?!"
She found him sprawled at the bottom step, groaning. His forehead was red, his limbs tangled like a marionette with cut strings.
"Are you okay?" she hissed, crouching to check his pupils.
Shirou blinked up at her, dazed. "...Stairs are harder than I remember."
Rin's eyebrow twitched. "You forgot how stairs work?"
Before she could throttle him, Shirou suddenly sat up—too fast, too smooth, like his body had just remembered it was his. His fingers flexed, tracing the air as if testing an invisible blade.
Rin froze.
Something was off.
Shirou moved differently now. His reinforcement magecraft was smoother as if his magic circuits had somehow improved overnight. His stance was looser, his reflexes sharper—like he'd shed chains she hadn't even realized were there.
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you… practice without me?"
Shirou flexed his hands again, feeling the hum of revitalized and strengthened circuits. "Something like that."
Tohsaka Shirou.
He recalled the callsign EMIYA assigned him.
Then, abruptly, his face turned scarlet.
Rin's suspicion spiked. "Wait. Did you train with Luvia?"
"What?! No!" Shirou flailed, scandalized. "I was—I was just thinking of you!"
Silence.
Rin's brain short-circuited.
Thinking of me?!
Her cheeks burned. Her pulse did something treasonous.
Shirou, realizing his catastrophic wording, turned a shade of red usually reserved for his coat. "N-not like that! I mean—your lessons! Your—your training—"
Rin grabbed him by the collar. "Explain. Now."
Shirou opened his mouth—
—and the Clock Tower's fire alarms went off.
Somewhere in the distance, a familiar blonde's voice shrieked, "TOHSAKAAA!"
Rin's eye twitched. "I hate my life."
Shirou, now sporting a grin suspiciously reminiscent of a certain white-haired Archer, shrugged. "Could be worse."
Rin didn't know how he'd changed.
But she was absolutely going to find out.
A/N: The A line mentioned at the beginning of the story is a shameless plug for my other story, Fate Emiya Shirou. The title is really old and has really bad SEO.
Google Docs has the worst spelling and grammar suggestions that it's not even funny, but I'm not shelling out for Word 365. A subscription for word? Really? I remember word 98 or office 2000 being fully functional and easier to use. Half my vocab these days is from the in-built thesaurus function from back then which was Shift-F7 or something. Same for photoshop.
In any case, this plot bunny comes in two flavors, crack and serious. The serious version spans the various Fate franchises and Type Moon worlds. The crack version crosses over with various anime. For example, Shirou who got dropped in shield hero, worm, madoka, jobless, campione!, or even sailor moon. I'm probably not going to continue this story until Fate Emiya Shirou finishes, but I thought I would get the idea out there in case someone else wants to pick it up. PM me if you're interested.