Haha, yes. I am so glad this is back.
Haha, yes. I am so glad this is back.
Well I'm glad that people are glad that I'm back.
I'll try to have the second chapter's rewrite out this week.
The shipping is part of the narrator's nefarious schemes. Just a part mind you, not the end in and of itself. More on that part later.Originally Posted by Agailius
One thing that's kind of changed from the previous version (where I really didn't have any concrete future plans) is that once she gets her powers, Ryougi is not only aware of the Narrator, she is aware of the entire Metaverse because her mind is changed from yet another one of the Narrator's pawns to the actual Shiki Ryougi. Obviously, the real Shiki does not enjoy being shipped with Shirou, since she's already in a relationship.
When you say aware of the metaverse, do you mean remembers the events of KnK or knows everything about the Nasuverse?
This is PURE WIN.
"......"
Miscellaneous Info
Think of her as a version of Shiki Ryougi that experience KnK and watched/read the rest of the published materials.
So I believe I owe people an explanation as to why something that was supposed to take a week ended up taking months. So I initially just planned on brushing up the original manuscript of the story like I did with chapter 1. However, upon rereading my storyboards and my old work, I decided to just rewrite it from scratch to give myself a better start on where I wanted to go, something that was only supposed to take a couple more weeks. However, between overwork, lack of inspiration, and dissatisfaction with what I was writing, I ended up constantly writing and rewriting things on and off for the past three months.
I finally got things into a form that I'm happy with recently, and I've spent the past week and a half rereading an making edits. Well, now it's ready. Have fun!
Chapter 2: First Day on the Job
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“General, we’ve arrived,” the messenger reported.
Rider smiled. That trip sure was short when you weren’t going through the cold, treacherous mountain pass for a week just so you could attack a defenseless village from the other side. It’s amazing how quickly things went when you took direct, well maintained roads like a normal person. Then again, if this position had been fit for normal people, it probably wouldn’t have been available when she had been in the market for a new career. There were other decent options of course, but most of the rest of them had required references before you were even considered for an interview. Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but all her previous references were dead for reasons beyond her control.
And before you ask, the reasons were not along the lines of, ‘I had the insuppressible urge to murder my employer.’ Rider was a professional.
“Good, have them open the gates already. I want to get back to my office and new dragon-leather chair as soon as possible. All this villainy has made my neck stiff,” she said, pleased with herself after a hard week’s work.
The messenger saluted and rode off.
…
He came back ten minutes later looking pretty nervous. Rider’s smile faded.
Rider sighed. “…I notice a severe lack of movement here. Why isn’t the army entering the city already?”
The messenger winced. “Well, ma’am, the gates are closed.”
“I can see that. I told you to have them open it.”
“Um, we’ve tried Ma’am, but they’re refusing to open them without the password,” the man replied timidly.
“Password? We’re the royal army. There’s two thousand people sitting outside their gate flying the royal standard and dressed in armor emblazoned with the royal crest, and they want a password?”
“It looks that way, General.”
“…Private. I am not happy anymore.”
“…General, I’m a Sergeant.”
“You should have considered that before you killed my mood, Junior Private. Go turn in your stripes and pick up a generic uniform,” Rider replied bitterly. The now Junior Private hung his head and went to go join the rest of the cannon fodder.
Rider, now in a sour mood, rode up to the gate and hit the service bell.
*~Ding!~*
“We need to get this replaced with something more imposing. Maybe a gong? Or an angry Air Elemental?” Rider noted to herself.
“Who is it!?” shouted a guard from above.
“The Royal Army!” she yelled back. “Open the gates already!”
“Password!?”
“I’m General Rider, the top military commander in this kingdom! I don’t need a password!” Rider shouted back.
There was a pause and the sound of hushed conversation from the top of the ramparts. A man peeked his head out from over the battlements to scrutinize her.
“How do I know you’re General Rider? You might be an imposter trying to gain entrance to the city so your cleverly disguised enemy army can sneak in, loot the place, and depose the queen!”
“You said her title wrong.”
“What?”
“It’s not ‘queen’ it’s ‘Supreme Queen of Supreme Evilness.’ Didn’t you read the employee handbook?” Rider asked testily.
“We have one of those?”
“Yes! And you’re required to read it!”
“Oh yea! Now I remember! That’ll probably come up at the next gate staff performance review. Thanks for the save!”
“Good, NOW will you let us in?” Rider demanded.
“Well, first I have to check your credentials.”
Rider groaned. “Fine, just make it fast.”
There was the sound of rustling papers from the top of the ramparts for a second before the guard reappeared with a pen and clipboard. “You say you’re General Rider of the Royal Army?”
“Yes.”
“And for what reason did you leave the city?”
“To destroy the utterly defenseless village across the river from here.”
“What was the purpose for this trip?”
“To slaughter everyone there, burn the town down, and salt the earth afterwards.”
“…That sounds rather evil,” the man replied with a wince.
Rider stared at him. “We ARE evil.”
“Anyways!” the man shouted, looking uncomfortable, like he was seriously reevaluating his life choices. “Was this trip approved and officiated by the necessary authorities?”
“This shouldn’t even be a question.”
“Is that a no?”
“I AM the necessary authority.”
“Oh. Ok,” the guard shrugged, jotting down a few more things onto his clipboard and disappearing from view.
“I’m heading a purge. I can do that right?” Rider wondered quietly. “Oh to Hell with it, I’m doing it no matter what anyone says. I’ll just distract Master with chocolate and say the public executions were for something stupid so she’ll feel more evil. Tax evasion maybe…”
The guard reappeared once more. “Ok miss! Everything seems to be in order!” he said cheerily.
“Wonderful,” Rider ground out. “Open the damn gate!”
“No can do, you still haven’t given me the pass—HURK!”
The guard was interrupted by a chain-nail wrapping around his throat and pulling him off the ramparts and into the moat. The splash made by his collision with the water was immediately followed by more splashes as the vampire-squids fought over his corpse.
“Someone ELSE open the gate!” Rider shouted with a twirl of her weapon for emphasis.
Another man popped his head out from the battlements. “Um … Vic—I mean Guard #286 was the senior gate technician here so I’m not sure I can—“
“Was he the guy who just got thrown into the moat?”
“Yes.”
“Good, you just got his job. You can thank me for the promotion by opening the damn gate!” Rider shouted.
The newly promoted senior gate technician rubbed his hands together nervously. “That’s the thing, General. The Supreme Queen of Supreme Evilness made a proclamation that nobody could get into the city without the password.” He ducked behind the rampart. “Pleasedontkillmepleasedontkillme!”
“What? When did this happen?” Rider asked in confusion.
The guard peeked out over the wall again. “Um … three days ago?” he replied.
“While we were out?”
“Yes.”
“She called me yesterday right before I carried out her atrocity and never mentioned anything!” Rider protested.
“… She apparently read about it somewhere and decided it was a cool idea. At least that’s what the memo said.”
“And she never told the leader of the entire army that was outside the city on a mission she ordered!?”
“She must’ve forgotten,” the man replied meekly. “Sorry?”
“I don’t want your apologies!” Rider shouted in frustration. “I want to know what you’re going to do about it!?”
“Well, I can send a message up to the castle and—“
“It won’t work because all YOUR messages go to MY desk, which is empty right now because I’m out here arguing with you idiots rather than sitting in a comfy chair with a therapeutic pad wrapped around my very sore back, telling my secretaries to deal with YOUR problems! Just open the goddamn gate so I can get in there and fix this!”
“But the Supreme Queen outranks you and she said—HURK!”
For the second time in ten minutes, a man went hurtling over the wall with a chain-nail around his throat. The vampire-squids were overjoyed to receive seconds.
“THE NEXT PERSON OUT HERE BETTER OPEN UP THIS GATE FOR ME OR GODS HELP ME I WILL FLY UP THERE AND TOSS ALL OF YOU INTO THE MOAT PERSONALLY!” Rider shouted, throwing decorum to the wind.
A third man, who looked like he had just woken up, peeked out over the wall.
“Hunh? Where’d you guys come from? Where’s the others? They go on break without me?” he asked deliriously.
Rider took a deep breath.
“Good morning, whoever you are. I am General Rider. You might know me because I am the supreme commander of your nation’s military. We have just returned from a weeklong mission to destroy a village even though it should have only taken about a day. I am currently stuck outside the city with a large chunk of the royal army because nobody is willing to open the gate due to some extremely stupid reasons. What I’d like nothing more to do is get inside, give my report, and then sleep in for about a day. Therefore, if you open this gate for me, I will reward you with a promotion and a large bonus. If you do not, I will make your death so painful that the demons in the underworld will feel it in their souls and tremble like children in fear of my offhand cruelty.”
The guard blinked.
“Oh you want in? What’s the pass—“
“NO I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THE PASSWORD IS! WHAT I DO KNOW IS I KILLED THE LAST TWO GUARDS WHO REFUSED ME ENTRY, AND UNLESS YOU WANT ME TO COME UP THERE AND RIP YOUR HEAD OFF WITH MY BARE HANDS YOU WILL LET ME IN!” Rider screamed, her eyes wild with a mixture of anger and exhaustion. Of course, nobody could see this because of that mask. She should probably do something about that at some point.
The guard blinked again.
Then, he vanished for a second
Suddenly, there was a sound of turning gears and the gates began to open. The man reappeared a moment later with a grin on his face.
“There you go, General. Now can we discuss what you said about a bon—HURK!
There was yet another scream and a splash as the position of senior gate technician was vacated once again. By this time, the vampire-squids were kinda full and left most of the body for the man-eating algae that grew near the banks.
Rider grimaced and put her chain-nail away as she motioned the army to follow her forward. “I better get some vacation time for this,” she muttered to herself.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
*Thirty Some-odd Less Stressful Minutes Later*
“THE ROYAL COURT WELCOMES GRAND GENERAL RIDER!” announced the crier. “THE SUPREME QUEEN OF SUPREME EVILNESS RECIEVES HER LOYAL SERVANT AFTER A SUCCESSFUL CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE FORCES OF RIGHTEOUSNESS IN, um … er—“
There was a sound of rustling paper from the balcony as Rider tapped her foot impatiently.
“—HOMETOWN, AND CONGRATULATES HER ON A JOB WELL DONE!"
There was some more paper rustling.
“TRULY THE SCHEMING DO-GOODERS OF THAT PLACE WERE VERY SCHEMEY AND GOOD-LY, SO WE SHOULD ALL BE HAPPY SHE DESTROYED IT!”
A third rustle, this time accompanied by a yelp of pain and some subdued cursing.
“Goddam paper cuts,” swore the crier before composing himself. “FURTHERMORE WE—ah shit, there they go—oh to Hell with it. ALL RISE FOR THE GRAND GENERAL!”
Rider, who had already opened the door and made her way halfway through the throne room, didn’t even notice. Upon reaching the curtained dais, she bowed respectfully.
A chorus of trumpets blared, and a drumroll started as the curtains parted, revealing…
“FOOLS AND KNAVES! YOU DARE DISTURB ME!? ME!? THE ALIMIGHTY SUPREME QUEEN OF SUPREME EVILNESS OF THIS LAND!?” thundered a voice filled with copious amounts of EVIL. Every peon in the hall cowered in fear.
Rider, who was using her inclined posture as an excuse to check her hair, sighed and righted herself. “It’s just me Master. Reporting back in as usual.”
“Hunh? Oh, my bad. Thought we we’re still doing the dress rehearsals,” replied her master, still high on EVIL, just lower on volume.
“The herald announced my entry,” Rider deadpanned.
“These curtains do wonderfully to cancel out noise, would you believe it?” her master said cheerily.
“They can’t possibly be thick enough to mute everything.”
“I also was busy thinking EVIL thoughts.” A couple of echoing claps resounded in the hall. “Never mind everyone! You can all leave now, EVILY.”
The room filled with noise as the entire procession of heralds, pages, musicians, bureaucrats, and other courtiers filed out.
Once everything quieted down, the voice spoke again.
“Aren’t you dying to ask something?” her master asked lazily.
Rider nodded. “How did you guess?”
“Because my decision to carefully position my throne to completely obscure my face within the concealing shadows cast by these heavy curtains just breathes genius, and you’re probably desperate to know how and why I came up with something so brilliant,” the voice explained cheerily.
“That’s not exactly it. I was wondering about the whole pass—”
“Well, I’m glad you asked! I have a short answer and a long answer that can follow this. Which one do you want?”
“Neither. Listen to me for once.”
“I love the long answer to! While looking around for ventures to spend all this expendable labor we have lying around on, I realized that my throne room needed a bit of flair. Sure, it’s always been lavishly decorated and suitably imposing, but it used to be so generic. Sweeping bannisters, flying balconies, arched ceilings, neo-gothic stained glass windows, self-aggrandizing statues? So last half-millennia. You could have given this place to any ruler in the Middle Planes and nobody would know the difference. I asked myself, ‘What’s this place missing? Where’s the EVIL?’ That’s when I decided to get an authoritative source on the subject that I could reference for ideas. So, after about half an hour in the bathtub with some well-chosen reading materiel, I’ve found out that it’s scientifically proven that having an air of anonymity raises your SEQ by nearly three points! Therefore, BEHOLD, the Throne of Visage-Obscuring Darkness!”
“Your what?” Rider deadpanned.
“Throne of—“
“No, that acronym.”
“Standard Evil Quotient or SEQ.”
“There is no such thing.”
“…Yes there is.”
“Master, as someone who has been working for the forces of Evil for longer than you’ve been alive, I can comfortably say that this ‘Standard Evil Quota—‘”
“Quotient.”
“—Thing does not exist.”
“But it was certified by three professors! They even ranked today’s world leaders by their SEQ on a scale from -8 to 19.”
“It sounds suspiciously like something a tabloid magazine would print to confuse young evildoers with big words and meaningless numbers so they’ll buy more issues.”
Dot.
Dot.
Dot.
DING!
Rider groaned and lowered her face into her hand. “Master, have you been reading Tyrant’s Weekly again?”
A quick sound of rustling paper echoed throughout the hall.
“No.”
“Did you just stuff a magazine under your throne cushion?”
“Not that you can prove.”
“Master, by any chance, is the sudden introduction of a password that I was not notified about beforehand related to all of this?”
“On the very, very, VERY small chance that it was, did the inclusion of the password make the kingdom feel more mysterious than usual?” her master asked expectantly.
“No, all it did was make me stand outside of the gate for ten more minutes, terminate the gate staff, and generally feel annoyed at you,” Rider grumbled.
“Then you should have asked me about the password when we talked last time.”
“You didn’t tell me there WAS a password.”
“Your lack of foresight is NOT my problem!”
“How is not anticipating your whims a lack of foresight?”
“You’re supposed to be PREPARED. I thought that was in your job description.”
“Against our enemies,” Rider pointed out, “not my boss.”
“Urrrrrrgh,” her master growled angrily. “FINE! I’ll have them stop the password thing. Honestly, it wasn’t that hard of a password anyways. I’m keeping the shadows though.”
“Out of curiosity, what was the password?”
Her master muttered something incomprehensible.
“I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t catch that.”
“……PureMaiden101,” her master repeated sheepishly.
“…Master, did you take your prescription before or after you came up with that?”
“After. I didn’t want to fill out the paperwork to have it changed until you got here,” her master said glumly. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”
Rider sighed. She could have sworn she had signed onto this job to be a military commander and evil henchman, not a surrogate mother. If all of her previous references hadn’t been dead (because of that idiot with the guns over a decade ago), she would have considered resigning and moving somewhere far away. Apparently there was good work oppressing the local peasantry in the Kingdom of Avalon.
…On second thought, she had heard stories about that place. Maybe working here wasn’t so bad.
“Just cancel your subscription, Master. We can go around fixing the rest of that mess later.”
“B-bu-but the coupons! I get 30% designer dresses in black and royal purple because of this!”
“Master…”
“Fine! Be that way,” her master huffed. “Unless you have more facets of MY LIFE you’d like to criticize, let’s move on to reviewing yours. Did you get rid of the town?”
Rider smiled a bit. Ah, back to things she enjoyed. “Yes, master. Hometown no longer exists.”
“And the hero?”
“Well, we’re mostly sure we got everyone, so they’re probably dead,” Rider explained carefully. “Probably.”
“Good enough for me! We should send The Oracle a present for her help on this!”
“I’m not entirely sure she realized what was happening when she told me about the prophecy and all that,” Rider said. “I’m also not sure she knew who I was. Hell, I’m not even sure she knew who SHE was at the time. You know how she gets.”
“Just send her a bouquet anyways.”
“Very well. I’ll add some chocolates while I’m at it.”
“Great! Now to make all of this official,” she said, rapping her knuckles on the throne’s armrest. “BRING OUT THE ROYAL MAP!”
In the rafters, workers lowered a fifty foot map of the world down from the ceiling. As the pulleys came to a stop, Rider noted that their kingdom’s name had been struck out and ‘THE KINGDOM OF EVIL’ had been written in its place with black marker. She sincerely hoped that her master hadn’t made that official yet.
“Would you like to do the honors or should I?” her master asked.
“Thank for the offer. I’ll do it,” Rider replied gracefully.
With a flick of her wrist, her chain-nail lashed towards the map and then snapped back, ruthlessly tearing a large laceration where Hometown used to be.
Her hand caught her weapon again without as much as a twitch. “There,” Rider nodded in satisfaction. “Now, that town has been officially—“
*FWOOM*
Rider touched her hair to make sure that fireball that just sailed past her head didn’t set any ends on fire. Fortunately, all it seemed to have done was punch a smoldering hole in the map where her slice used to be.
“—wiped off the map…” she finished, grimacing. “Master.”
“What? I wanted to make sure we were thorough.”
Rider sighed and started to leave. “I’ll be sleeping this off in my office if you need me.”
“Don’t forget to send the flowers!” her master called to her as she left.
*SLAM*
Quietly, the figure in the shadows reached under the throne cushion and removed the most recent edition of Tyrant’s Weekly.
“I wonder if the editorials have anything about dealing with snippy henchmen?”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
In the middle of a forest, somewhere between Hometown and the Kingdom of Evil (disputed), our two heroes (?) were taking an unplanned break in their pursuit of the army that had burned down their hometown. Well, I suppose it’s only Shirou’s hometown at this point, or was at least. So, more accurately they were chasing the army that had burned down Shirou’s hometown and was currently the only plot thread that Shiki could conceivably go after to get this show on the road at the moment. She’s probably not happy about that, but who cares? Though I suppose ‘chase’ is a bit of a strong connotation here since they weren’t exactly going very fast. More like ‘followed’ or ‘tracked’ or ‘were kinda going in the same direction at some point with the intention of eventually catching up but got sidetracked pretty quickly for various reasons.’ Well, one reason in particular that involved a bear and—
You know what? Forget it. Two people, middle of the woods, around a fire, nighttime. Bam. Scene.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
*What I Just Said*
Shirou awoke to the sound of a warm, crackling fire, and the tender care of his best friend.
“Oh good, you’re awake. If you’re feeling a torturous amount of pain right now, I want you to know, it’s your own damn fault,” Shiki muttered from the other side of the fire.
Shirou groaned. He then tried to sit up, but the arm he had chosen for leverage for some reason didn’t want to work and gave out under him. It was at this point that he noticed two things. One, there was a rather large amount of blood pooled on the ground nearby, and two, his left arm didn’t look that healthy. Hell, it didn’t look particularly like an arm.
Shirou decided to share these revelations with his companion.
“Shiki, what happened to my arm?”
Shiki sighed. “You got mauled by a bear. Probably because you decided to go wander off without me, and the only way I could find you was by the sound of your screams.”
“What? I don’t remember that happen—“
“The narrator skipped over that scene for some reason.”
“Who?”
“Um, God…or some god. What’s religion like in this universe again?”
“Well—“
“Actually, don’t answer. Try focusing on your arm. See if that’ll jog your memory,” Shiki instructed him.
“I don’t see how that makes any sense, but if it’ll make my arm come back, then sure,” Shirou replied. He proceeded to stare at what was once his arm very intently.
“It’s not working Shiki.”
“Then try harder Shirou,” she instructed, as if that was an actual solution. Then, more quietly aside she asked, “Why doesn’t he remember anything?”
Your fault.
“I have a feeling it’s actually yours.”
Like Hell. I had everything under control.
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
Other difficulties arose.
“You forgot to keep track of Shirou while you were busy arguing with me, didn’t you?”
I’m the narrator. I’m basically omniscient.
“What then?”
Showing Shirou getting mauled by a bear isn’t the issue. That was supposed to happen.
“Then what’s the problem?”
We had some HR issues.
“Human Resources doesn’t make any—You don’t want to show me saving him do you?”
If you had just followed the narration and continued trying to find your brother’s body like I told you, we wouldn’t be having this issue.
“I believe we’ve already established that my brother is in a different continuity…along with everyone else I care about.”
That sounds like a personal issue. Next time just follow the stage directions like a professional and we won’t have any issues.
“Professional? You kidnapped my consciousness, and stuffed me into this idiotic world for reasons you still haven’t explained. I’m not a professional in any sense.”
Details. You need to stop messing with the plot.
“I was saving your protagonist’s life.”
The narration was clearly stating that Shirou was set up to have some plot relevant flashbacks that would give him the strength to save himself from the bear and get some key exposition out of the way at the same time. If you hadn’t interfered then maybe that would have gone off without a hitch. As it stands, I have to improvise and just imply that that all happened correctly.
“That’s stupid. There were plenty of opportunities for you to improvise the necessary elements from what happened. It’s not like I prevented the bear attack. I showed up while it was chewing on Shirou’s arm.”
Well that presents some casting issues.
“Casting issu—Wait a minute. This is your popularity complex isn’t it?”
That scene never happened. None of that ever happened. Ever. For all time.
“Are you actually being serious right now?”
It wasn’t in the narration! You can’t prove it! It’s just the ineffectual ramblings of a mentally ill popular person! You’re just a bipolar serial killer who has fans because the story was on your side back then! What happened is this: Shirou wandered off into the woods because he thought he heard his sister, got attacked by a bear, overdrew his mana capacity trying to make another sword, causing him to fall to the ground helpless, which the bear then took as a sign to chew on his arm. There was going to be a good thirty minutes of pre-rendered CGI flashback sequences that we now have to jam in later on. After that, some vaguely implied but never fully explained events took place which killed the bear. You came around later and dragged him off into the woods. I don’t care what you remember, but that’s what happened. YOU certainly didn’t save him by murderstabbing the bear out of existence, you sick animal killer.
“Why did you just describe all of that?”
Because it never happened, and you need to shut up about it.
Shiki sighed. “I really, really don’t care. Just fix his memory already. Put in your version if it matters to you that much.”
Fine.
Shirou’s eyes suddenly widened. “Hunh, that happened. I wonder why—“
“He seems oddly alright,” Shiki pointed out.
Oh right, he should be feeling a slight amount of pain from that. Almost forgot. Thanks, you sadistic freak.
3,2,1…
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Shirou screamed. “OH GODS MY ARM! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ARM!?”
“It’s already been explained twice, so forgetting that for a moment, I learned something useful about my power. If I stab things with my…….ahem…‘Mystic Eyes of Plot Perception,’ which I need to find another name for, they don’t leave a corpse. That unfortunately means that aside from the fact that aside from your arm getting chewed on, there’s also no meat tonight, or dinner of any kind because I’m not foraging,” Shiki explained. “I’d imagine that the reason it’s like that is because of a certain someone’s laziness, but I can’t really confirm that.”
YOU come up with all these alternate timelines why don’t you?
“Then what’s with the lack of a corpse?”
Oh, I just wanted you guys to go hungry tonight. I guess I’ll just keep that for consistency’s sake from now on.
“Screw you.”
You wish you could, psycho.
Shirou agrees.
“—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG HHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
That means ‘Yes. Also, my arm currently looks and feels like it’s been put through a blender.’
The last thing Shirou remembered after that (aside from the pain) was realizing that he probably should have breathed at some point during his little meltdown.
*Ten minutes later*
“ARM!” Shirou yelled as he awoke. “ARM! BEAR! BLOOD! PAIN!”
Shiki took her fingers out of her ears as the screaming died down and was replaced by hyperventilating. “Well, that didn’t last long,” she sighed.
“SHIKI! MY ARM—IT! IT! IT! IT—!”
“I was there Shirou. I remember what the bear did to your arm. Trust me, I’d rather not think about it right now. It was…ugh…” she grimaced. “Anyways, what we do need to think about is—”
“BUT MY ARM IS—“
“Yes, your arm is mostly just an arm shaped lump of flesh and bone. We’ll get back to it in a minute. For now, let’s—“
“OH GODS I HAVE TO REPLACE MY ARM WITH A NEW ONE SO I STILL USE SWORDS OR JUST MAKE IT INTO A SWORD INSTEAD SO—“
Then he passed out again.
*Ten minutes later*
“SHIKI! ARM-SWORD IS—“
Shirou felt something cold and metallic press against his throat. Shiki had him by the collar and was currently staring into his eyes with something that might’ve been tenderness.
“Shirou, I realize that what I’m about to say isn’t something that makes a whole lot of sense, but today hasn’t made a whole lot of sense either. That in mind, I’ll say it anyways. Calm down or I’m going to ram this blade through your voice box and kill your ability to talk for a while. You probably won’t die, but it is not going to be fun,’” she said in a tone that was definitely not tender and probably shouldn’t be used with people who are currently suffering from extreme agony and shock, but then again, she is a sick serial killer. Have I mentioned that she’s a horrible person?
Shirou nodded and shut up. You know, like a normal individual.
“Glad you understand. Now sit still while I try to figure out what to do,” she said, removing the knife. She’s still a horrible person.
There weren’t any further outbursts, but that didn’t mean that Shirou couldn’t continue being well, himself. Taking a quick look about the surrounding area, he realized that there was quite a lot of blood smeared around his person. A cursory glance at his arm confirmed that while there were definitely bandages on it, saying it was bandaged was a little hasty. There were large gaps that seemed to have been created through a combination of lack of materiel and just plain carelessness that suggested that whoever had done the job was a rank amateur to whom the phrase ‘do no harm’ was more of an offhand suggestion. I mean, I’m not judging or anything, but when your best friend is quite possibly bleeding to death in the middle of a forest after getting his arm mauled by a bear, you might want to be a bit more deliberate about how you treat him, unless you’re the kind of depraved sociopath who delights in the physical suffering of others like—
“—I get it. I’m a bad medic. Can you shut up while I try to figure out how to fix him?”
“But I didn’t say anything!” Shirou protested.
Why should I care what the person who keeps refusing to get with the damn script asks?
“Because I’m trying to keep your idiot hero from dying? I think you need him, seeing as the … you know, I’m just going to call it Plot Sense … the Plot Sense you gave me keeps telling me that killing Shirou or otherwise letting him die is about the equivalent of the end of the world.”
“Shiki, I get the feeling that even though you’re looking AT me, you’re not talking TO me. What’s going on?” Shirou asked again.
It’s called the Mystic Sense of—
“Yes, and I’m not calling it that,” said Little Miss Ungrateful Bitch. See? I can do that too.
“See if I care.”
“But I’m your best friend!” Shirou shouted about … something.
“However, if you don’t want Shirou to die of blood loss, infection, or just himself, I’d let me work in peace for a few minutes,” said The Least Reasonable Cast Character Ever because she’s upset that she can’t beat Saber in the popularity polls.
But I digress. You have five minutes. Sell me.
“Good. Shirou!” she called out, looking at her patient.
“Oh, NOW you want to talk to me,” Shirou grumbled.
“I want you to sit completely still, facing me, while I try to use my power to try and figure out a way to help you.”
“… Shiki, I was nearly killed by a bear. I don’t think that your cosmic death powers are going to help.”
There was a pause in the conversation.
“My what?”
“Your powers of torment and death, gifted to you by the unspeakable god of death himself, a force of shadow and torment more terrifying than all the demons of Hell put together. They were given to you so that you would become his harbinger of despair and misery, spreading fear across the land as people dropped dead for unexplained reasons in your presence. Gods and men would cower before you, terrified of your wake, as even those that are immortal would die by your hand. When at last the trail of slaughter had reached its zenith, there would be enough power left over for the Unspeakable One to cross over into our world, laying claim to the middle planes atop a pile of corpses as he possessed your body and finally triumphed over freedom and life eternally.”
There was another pause in the conversation.
“My what?” Shiki repeated.
Shirou shrugged. “That’s the best explanation that I could come up with for what’s been happening lately.”
Shiki rubbed her temples. “Shirou, I know I’m going to regret asking this, but how on Earth did you reach that conclusion?”
“Well, let’s start with the murder. You killed the benevolent crystal of DESTINY, Bill—“
“Bob”
“—Him, and an innocent bear—“
“That bear nearly ATE your ARM.”
“—Refused to let me put the dead to rest properly—“
“You asked me to let you deliver a three hour eulogy followed by individual burials for everyone.”
“—Showed no concern at the deaths of everyone we ever loved—“
“I thought I … Actually, I should probably explain that better.”
“—And keep talking to strange voices that only you can hear.
“Yea, I think I get the picture,” Shiki cut him off. “Shirou, how about this? You let me make sure you won’t die during any explanation I give, and I’ll try to make this as clear as possible for you.”
“Sure!”
“You’re … oddly enthusiastic about this.”
“Dad always said to respect people who take the time to shed meaningless light on insignificant parts of the universe and to never interrupt them when they do, or else they’ll cut you open and use your organs as spare parts for their stupid junk.”
“I’m sad to say that that level of strange specificity is what I’ve come to expect from your dad.”
“I know! Isn’t he great!?”
“I’m sure he is, Shirou. Now hold still,” Shiki ordered, “and try not to bleed too much. I’m not sure how much blood you’ve lost. I’m also not sure if it actually matters in this world, but never hurts to be careful.”
We’ll say that it does. You have ten minutes before he bleeds to death starting … … now.
“I hate you so much.”
I try. Better hurry, Doctor.
Shiki Ryougi M.D., the TV show, would probably include about 10% medicine, 20% attempted murder of the patient’s family and friends, and 70% navel gazing on utterly pointless philosophical subjects, but we’ll tell that story another time. For now, we can focus on watching her try to perform first aid on a guy with about half an arm left, in the middle of the woods, without any medical supplies whatsoever (aside from the already used bandages). Should be fun.
“Mystic Eyes of … Plot … Perception.”
Or she could just be cheating scum about it.
Shiki Ryougi turned her strangely multicolored eyes towards Shirou, struggling to reconcile her need to keep him alive with her hatred of using a horribly named power that was actually a terrifically named power that she just couldn’t appreciate.
What she should be able to appreciate however, is that cheaters never prosper. At least, in my book they don’t.
In seconds, her vision was flooded with massive amounts of strange symbols, numbers, and floating strings of text in various colors, zooming by in every direction. The overall effect was very painful to look at. A little insightful as well, but mostly painful. Like ‘Skull Splitting Migraine’ painful. If I had to describe it, it would be like having power drills tipped with hydrofluoric acid put through your skull at regular intervals and then overloading those drills with electricity. Well, that’s one way at least. I’m sure there’s all sorts of creative ways to convey it.
“!!!!!!!” said Shiki Ryougi as she fell to the ground, clutching her head. Actual words would’ve required thinking, and that was hard when it felt like your brain was going to fall out of your ears.
“Shiki? Are you alright?” asked Shirou.
“!!!!!!”
“Oh. Ok. I realize this might not be the best time, but I’m not sure if I should be feeling especially cold right now. I mean, it’s summer and I’m sitting next to a fire, but I feel really cold. I also don’t seem to remember which way is up.”
“Uhhhhhrrrrgggghhhh…” groaned Shiki as she was finally able to form semi-familiar noises.
“Just letting you know.”
Shiki sat up, rubbing her head as she tried to get her bearings. “Arrrrghh…” she moaned as she tried to refocus her eyes, “Ok, I’m not sure why that happened. I know I used that a couple of hours ago to kill that bear and it worked fine, but—“
Here, let me help you with that:
Personal Skill: Mystic Eyes of Plot Perception – Allows the user to see into the intricacies of the story itself, and manipulate it through the use of certain control points and lines. Usable once per day. Attempts to use it more than once will result in extreme pain and suffering. Partly because its overpowered. Mostly because it prevents you from cheesing the plot. Also, screw you.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Not really. You didn’t think I’d let you solo this thing did you?
“You’re really going out of your way to make us pointlessly miserable, aren’t you?”
No, this all has a point.
“Is that point to make yourself feel better?”
I don’t have to answer that.
“Uh, Shiki?” Shirou said, shifting nervously. “You’re doing that thing where you talk to your evil death god again.”
“Sorry Shirou, I realize that your brain isn’t exactly in the greatest shape for dealing with things that aren’t swords right now, but don’t ask anything about that for like half a minute,” Shiki replied.
“Sure. Just no more death-god communion.”
“Now before my head felt like it got smashed with a sledgehammer—“
I actually intended the pain to be more along the line of ‘run over by a freight train.’
“—I managed to see something floating around you,” Shiki replied, pulling out a knapsack which she proceeded to dig through.
“What was it?” Shirou asked apprehensively. “Was it some kind of—Waaaaaaaiiiit.” He stared pointedly at the knapsack in Shiki’s hands. “Where did you get that?”
“Get what?”
“That bag. I don’t remember having it earlier.”
“I found it in the ruins of the town while you were busy mourning, because you decided to find every single corpse in the town and cry over them individually. All of them,” Shiki told him bitterly. “And then you decided to get yourself mauled by a bear because you left without telling me.”
“I thought everything burned down,” Shirou asked suspiciously.
“Now you decide to develop attention to detail…” Shiki grumbled. “Yes. Everything burned down except for this, which was placed in a secure location by a particular individual just in case of situations like this.”
“And you’re certain it’s not a trap? In all the stories, it’s a really helpful thing that comes out of nowhere that turns out to be the vessel for a world eating demon or the Evil Overlord’s spy crystal.”
“Shirou, I am not joking when I say there is something in here that will save your life. Can we save the explanations for later?”
“I am not letting you touch me until you tell me where that came from!”
“Fine…”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
*Hours Ago*
Shiki stood in the middle of a bunker stocked to the brim with tools, weapons, and other tricks of the adventuring assassin trade behind massive plexiglas cases. Searching the burnt yard around the (former) Emiya property only took five minutes before she found the entrance. Mostly because the fires had burnt away the shrubbery, leaving the big metal plate door totally exposed. It was literally everything she would possibly need to murder every single person in the world within a matter of weeks, which is bad because we all know that’s what she would do. She is after all, a complete homicidal psycho that people somehow like. I bet she’s just salivating in glee right now.
“It’s good to know that Kiritsugu is still a murder-hobo, even in this backwards place,” Shiki remarked, probably trying to keep herself from drooling from all the MURDER in one place, I bet. Why you people have a weird sexual fetish for her and saliva, I have no idea.
“I sure as Hell don’t have a thing for it. I was having flashbacks about another guy the whole time,” she commented on my commentary, which she should really not do. Breaking the narrative boundaries is bad, you dumb bitch.
“I think I can risk it when the narrative is being passive aggressive. Also, I think this technically counts as just having a conversation with another character since you’re just the narrator,” she dismissed because she can’t think of a real counterargument because I’m right and always will be.
“Now, to figure out how to get all of this out.”
There was a large red button on a pedestal in the middle of the bunker labelled, ‘Break in Case of Unfathomable Evil.’ There is nothing else reachable at this point in time.
“I am not pressing that button.”
Yes, you have to.
“No, I’m not falling for this. Shut up while I figure out how to transport this stuff.”
Hah! Too bad. It’s all behind reinforced, bulletproof, magic-warded shielding. You’re not touching it until you push that button.
“There’s another way.”
Need I repeat myself? THERE IS NOTHING ELSE HERE! PUSH THE DAMN THING SO WE CAN MOVE ON!
Shiki realized the undeniable truth in my statement and didn’t say anything. All she did was prepare to turn on her Mystic Eyes of Plot Perception and ah fuck I forgot she could do that…
The bitch smirked, just a little—
—AND THEN TRIPPED, STUMBLED FIVE PACES TO THE LEFT, TWO TO THE FRONT, INCLINED FORTY FIVE DEGREES, AND FELL ONTO THE PEDESTAL!
“Ack!” she coughed, probably because her solar plexus was currently being invaded by a big red button. “You utter—“
At that moment, a mystical voice sounded within the room.
“Warning, user identified as, ‘Most Certainly Not Kiritsugu Emiya.’ Initiating evidence destruction mode. Please stand at the appropriate safe distance,” it chimed pleasantly.
Instantly, the cases of weapons and tools were immolated with black demonfire. The room’s temperature shot up astronomically as the Plexiglass melted like ice cream. Also, just in case anyone was wondering, Demonfire consumes all non-holy substances equally, and guess what concrete isn’t!
“What is this stupid mechanism?” Ryougi demanded as she caught her breath.
Kiritsugu is a paranoid murder-hobo. This is totally in character.
“Like Hell it is!” Ryougi shouted as she bolted for the exit.
Well, I’m a normal, well-adjusted person. I can’t be expected to know all the intricacies of the mindset of homicidal maniacs like you guys. There’s something about you popular characters and murder. Maybe I should’ve killed a few children to help out my ranking…
“You utter dick,” she growled, barely outpacing the demonfire. We’ll say it singed her stupid kimono just because.
The mystical voice chimed in again over the flames. “Before you leave. Please take your consolation prize. You’re probably going to need it to treat your burns if you live long enough.”
A satchel fell from a hatch in the doorway into Ryougi’s arms as she reached the exit.
“Wait, isn’t that voice Shirou’s mother?” she asks, barely noticing that I totally just showed how much of a merciful and compassionate person I am to my enemies in totally random situations. That earns me at least five ranks up right?
“Answer the question!” she demands like a whiny child because she is one. This is why I don’t have kids. Well, that and dying, but you get my drift.
Also, yes. She was already on contract so I just used her for the voiceover. I’ll justify it later if I remember.
“You are the worst narrator ever, and I am including all the CP narrators on that list,” she complains without any real justification for her totally erroneous accusations as she dry heaves onto the lawn, finally safe from the fire that I so mercifully kept contained to the compound.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“We’ll say it’s a gift from your parents.”
“Mom or Dad?”
“Your mother.”
“Ok, I believe you,” Shirou replied, calming down.
“Again, that was fast.”
“Mom always thinks of the best birthday presents.”
“It’s not your birthday.”
“Then maybe someone shouldn’t have opened it early, but then again, I guess being inducted into a death cult stops people from showing basic courtesy.”
“I am just going to let you keep thinking that while I save your life,” Shiki sighed in defeat. “Now, as I was saying earlier. In between trying to keep my sanity, I saw something floating around your head.”
Shirou forgot his birthday-present outrage and looked at her curiously. “Like what? A curse or ghost or something?”
Shiki removed a glass phial of a ruby red liquid and placed it on the ground before Shirou. “A health bar.”
“… You mean like one of those granola bars my mom got obsessed with last year?”
“No, I mean a bar that represents your health as a color-coded point system.”
“Hunh?”
“Think of your life as a bar. The worse off your body is, the smaller the bar gets. When the bar gets smaller, the color changes from green, to yellow, to red, and then when it hits zero, you die. Last I checked, you were in the red, and your bar was somewhere between ten and twenty percent full.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you’re almost dead.”
“… And you’re sure that you’re not the servant of an evil death god?”
“What did I just say about asking about that?”
“But seriously! It sounds like a very specific skillset to have! Everything you can do is specifically geared towards killing people or watching people die!” Shirou protested. “It’s like painting a target on yourself saying ‘I’m a villain!’”
“…”
The irony is just sickening.
“I’m aware.”
I mean, I always thought you were the main villain. You just went around murdering terminally ill people and psych therapists. Kara no Kyoukai just happened to be one of those shows where the villains win. Come on, prove me wrong.
“Why should I? I don’t really care,” she shrugged, basically admitting she’s a mass murdering psychopath who has no business being a protagonist so—
“So drink that potion Shirou.”
Shirou looked at the glass of red liquid placed in front of him by the person who may have just admitted to being an evil death-god avatar.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t want to die?”
“But I thought you wanted me to die?”
“Shirou, if you die, I feel like I might be stuck here for a very, very long time. I don’t want this to happen. Drink the potion.”
“Is it going to enslave me to your death god? It’s going to make me a slave, isn’t it?”
“Shirou, it’s a health potion. All it does is heal you.”
"But does it make me a mind-slave in the process!?”
“No!”
“How can I be sure!?”
“Did your dad ever mention them?”
“… Maaaaaaabye.”
“You mean, ‘Yes, yes he did.’”
“… Yes.”
“Then you will be fine. Drink.”
“What’s it made out of?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, it’s a rather scary shade of red…”
“… I hate you Shirou.”
“So you’re NOT denying it could be made out of the remains of slaughtered babies!”
“If I denied it, would you believe me?”
“I’d point out that that’s exactly what a servant of the death god would want me to believe so they could trick me into becoming one of his mind-slaves!”
Shiki blinked.
“HA! I have discovered your nefarious scheme!” Shirou proclaimed triumphantly, shaking his good fist. “You’ll never fool me into—GHLURGLBE!”
Shirou’s rant was cut short by Shiki taking advantage of his wounded state, jamming the phial into his mouth, and upturning it. The fluid flowed quite quickly down his throat as he was too bewildered to attempt to stop it. In a few seconds, the phial was empty, and Shiki was waiting patiently for her hard work to pay off.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Shirou coughed. Then nothing happened for roughly thirty seconds while I let it sink in that his best friend had just force fed him a mind slave potion. Or so he believed, because someone decided not to clarify that little tidbit and just jumped ahead and shoved it down his throat. I mean, sure, he’s dense, but that was just rude. JERK.
“Is he supposed to be having a seizure right now?” asked Shiki, obviously unconcerned with just how much of a JERK she is.
Shirou, was of course, writing on the ground because apparently thirty seconds were up. I’ll have to reread the manual on how the narrative time transition mechanics works again. This is A LOT harder than magic.
To answer her question though, he’s not having a seizure; it just hurts like all hell. Don’t worry. It’ll pass in a minute.
“Again? Why do you keep torturing him?”
Hunh? He’s Shirou, if he’s not in pain, there’s something wrong.
“That’s not an answer.”
Also because I’m spiteful and bitter.
“You’re awfully candid about that.”
Not a lot of reason to not be. It’s not like I’m giving you anything of import by letting you know that your protagonist status is completely undeserved and I will be exacting my vengeance wherever I can.
“Except for giving me important clues to your identity.”
Yes, I have told you that I ranked below both you and Shirou in the character polls. That REALLY narrows it down doesn’t it?
“…”
Not so happy with your status as kimono-fetish bait now are you? Oh, look! I think Shirou’s gotten over the mind numbing pain he just experienced! It’s almost like this DOESN’T happen to him on a regular basis.
“You’ve really taken this too far,” Shiki grumbled.
“You’re the one who shoved a bottle of something sinister down my throat!” screamed Shirou, who was now regaining motor control.
“It was a healing potion,” Shiki deadpanned.
“Prove it!”
Shiki pointed at his left arm, which actually looked like an arm now.
“Oh,” Shirou replied.
Shiki rested her chin in her palm and looked up at him wearily. “Are you done accusing me of—“
“Trying to turn me into a mind slave?”
“—that?”
“Well, I’m not sure if you’re totally innocent yet. That could have been a health AND mind control potion after all,” replied Shirou.
“Shirou, if I wanted to turn you into a mind-slave to serve some death god, I would be upfront about it. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever been less than honest about what I want?” asked Shiki, forgetting that Shirou has really only known her for less than 24 hours at this point.
“I guess not…” Shirou answered, forgetting that he has really only known her for less than 24 hours at this point, dammit!
Satisfied in her triumph over the mentally deficient, Shiki walked to the opposite side of the fire and sat down. “Now, I guess it’s time for me to explain myself a bit. I’m not sure if you’ll understand or not, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Shiki, I’m not interested in your death cult,” Shirou said flatly.
“This is not about a death cult, Shirou.”
“What’s it about then?”
“I’m going to explain the origins of this world, who I am, who YOU are, who the person I keep talking to is, and why your town got destroyed, in that order,” Shiki replied tensely. “Any questions?”
“How is this different from a death cult?”
“Nobody dies, Shirou.”
Shirou blinked.
“A lot of people are dead, Shiki.”
Shiki arched an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? Nobody is dead yet.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
*Back At Hometown*
A field of crosses made out of swords stretches out on the outskirts of the once bustling town. Each one contains a mutilated, burned, and very, very DEAD corpse. There is NO sound in the air except for the cawing of CARRION BIRDS. This is probably because everything else is DEAD and BURIED. Gee, I wonder if we can ask someone if anyone DIED recently. Probably not, you know, because everyone is DEAD.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
*Back to Somewhere in the Forest*
“Ok, nobody important is dead,” Shiki sighed.
“Shiki! They were our friends! Our family!” Shirou gasped. “They were the only people we had ever known!”
“Yes, and none of those corpses were in any way relevant to what is going on,” Shiki replied irritably. “I can explain this if you would please let me.”
“How is saying that everyone’s lives are unimportant NOT like a death cult.”
“Listen. From this point on, neither of us is going to die,” Shiki stated. “Is that enough for you to stop nagging me about this?”
“No.”
“Is it enough for you to stop nagging me about it long enough for me to explain myself?”
“I still don’t want to worship your death god, Shiki.”
“You have my word I won’t try to convert you to any cults.”
“…Promise?”
“Promise.”
“… Fine. This is only because you USED to be my friend,” Shirou huffed, crossing his arms. “That was before you decided to worship some dark god and started hating life.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” Shiki sighed. “Agreed? No interruptions about death cults or similar?”
“Agreed,” Shirou replied.
Shiki took a deep breath. “So basically, this world is—“
“Did the sky just get darker for some reason?” Shirou interrupted.
“Shirou…” Shiki growled. “We just went over this.”
“No, seriously, I think it’s about to rain,” Shirou insisted, looking up and pointing at the sky.
“What are you talking about?” Shiki asked, following his gaze.
SUDDENLY, and WITHOUT WARNING, a storm rolled in.
A deluge of rain came down, dousing their fire and soaking them both within seconds.
Shiki just stared forward impassively.
“Don’t worry!” Shirou called to her over the sound of the ever increasing rainfall. “I saved the pack!” He held the satchel filled with their only supplies over his head as he retreated under a large tree.
Shiki raised her head and looked at him, her face utterly blank despite the onslaught of rain. “Yes, thank you Shirou,” she deadpanned.
Shirou peered through the dense precipitation and motioned towards his ear. “Sorry Shiki! I’m having trouble hearing you through the rain! Can you speak a little louder?”
The rainfall increased to a torrential downpour.
“No, Shirou. I don’t think I can,” Shiki deadpanned.
“STILL CAN’T HEAR YOU! YOU MIGHT WANT TO MOVE CLOSER!” Shirou called to her.
Without the slightest hint that something might be wrong, Shiki stood up, walked up to the tree where Shirou was already taking shelter, and sat down next to him.
“Wow, it is really pouring,” Shirou observed cheerily before turning to his friend. “Now, what were you saying Shiki?”
Shiki, her face still completely emotionless, opened her mouth to speak.
*BOOM!*
Shirou gripped his temples to try and stop the ringing the nearby burst of thunder had caused him. Shaking his head a bit to relieve the effects, he turned back towards Shiki. “Sorry. Didn’t catch that because of the lightning. What did you say?”
Shiki opened her mouth again.
*BOOM!*
“…Nothing that can’t wait Shirou.”
“You seemed really insistent on it earlier.”
*BOOM!*
*BOOM!*
“Trust me on this Shirou. It can wait,” Shiki assured him impassively.
“If you say so…” Shirou sighed.
They both sat under the tree for a few minutes. Shirou, contemplating the tragic turn of events that had seen him gifted with the power of a hero, wrenched cruelly away from his family, and forced to travel alongside his best friend, who seemed to have lost her mind and was now worshipping some kind of death god. Shiki, staring forward blankly and wordlessly.
…
…
…
“Say, Shiki?”
“Yes?”
“Does lightning strike the tallest object around?”
“Usually yes.”
“How tall do you think this tree is?”
A pregnant pause passed between them.
Shiki, displaying her first sign of emotion since the storm had started, turned to him with eyes brimming with cold fury and simply said, “I hate you Shirou.”
Shirou probably would have protested, but that’s when the lightning bolt struck.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
So yeah. Completely rewritten. Honestly, I had forgotten how fun this was. Not sure how long it'll take me to get the next one out. This one was particularly difficult because I was in an awkward place between major segments and I was starting from scratch. I have a lot of places I'd like to go with this fic, but the first steps are always the hardest.
Anyways, thanks for being patient with me. As always, any comments or criticisms are always welcome.
Last edited by Riven; October 26th, 2014 at 03:54 AM.
This is awesome! Rider's parts are pure win! Shirou and Shiki are hilarious as ever.
"......"
Miscellaneous Info
The hilarity is real.
F/GO SUPPORT
YAY! Update!
My Job Description
I'm not sure what I like the best. Rider,SakuraSupreme Queen of Supreme Evilness and her inaptitude at being EVIL, Shiki's shikiness, Shirou's denseness or the narrator's pettyness. But it was all hilarious. Although I've got the feeling that the narrator won't survive his encounter with Shiki, once this happens, if it happens.
Spoiler:
Why can't you publish this on FF?
- - - Updated - - -
Great chapter.
Funny Gif
Favorite Nasuverse Quote
I found these two from TumblrUfotable vs Visual Novel
Gonna take a guess: lack of motive to do so.
Come visit Mobius Space whereand post Type-Moon stuffquite rarelytranslators gather
Mostly this. Also, until I started rewriting this, I wasn't sure where I was going with the story that much, so I wanted some more community input, which FF.net is really bad at. Now that I've spent a good deal of time storyboarding, it's not as necessary, so I might do it.
That being said, all community input is still welcome. I have plenty of room for new ideas down the road.
I get it.
Funny Gif
Favorite Nasuverse Quote
I found these two from TumblrUfotable vs Visual Novel
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