Summary: Within the darkness of the sea, the abyss slumbers, biding its time until the proper hour. Its enemies defeated, its existence forgotten, humanity would be unprepared for the coming storm. Yet in the fires of the Fourth Holy Grail War hope awakens, and stumbling onto a young Shirou Emiya, she makes her choice. In doing so, everything changes. "Admiral, aircraft carrier Kaga, awaiting orders."
Index
Chapter 1: Weigh Anchor!
Chapter 2: That Which Lies Within
Chapter 3: When the Rain Clears...
Chapter 4: First Contact
Chapter 5: A Change in Tactics
Chapter 6, Part 1: Gunboat Diplomacy
A/N: Been a lurker on this site for probably way too long by this point. A little while ago as my college semester came to an end I suddenly felt the inclination to write a Fate Stay Night crossover. I’ve worked on-and-off on a few projects the past few years, but I think this is the first time I’ve ever gotten around to posting anything.
The issue I quickly ran into however is that I think we’ve seen Shirou take on just about every kind of role I could place him in. Through crossovers and small changes – whether for better or worse – we’ve seen him take on the mantle of competent mage, dark anti-hero, and an overpowered mess of a shounen protagonist. Then you include everything in-between and well…
Then it struck me that I’ve never really seen him thrust into a leadership role. Not the kind where his friends flock to him because of plot reasons or his well-known fan status as a harem protagonist, but something along the lines of a tactician. I think I’ve been playing too much Fire Emblem lately.
Anyway, from that inspiration came this…
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An Ocean’s Sword
Chapter 1
Enlistment (I) – Weigh Anchor!
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‘I see… so this is all their sacrifice is worth, huh?’
Those were her first thoughts as she awoke from those dreams, a hopeless attempt to regain that strength already lost to her. She looked down at the hands that were no longer there. Hands that had not originally been hers, but ones she had grown to love for the symbol they were of those children. Both were gone now, lost to get her where she was.
Her spiritual core was likely the only thing that remained of those events.
How long had it been since then? Sadly, no answer was forthcoming to that question, as it seemed that time had slipped by her. Normally that wouldn’t have mattered, time having long since become nothing more than a meaningless concept to one who was not bound by its chains, but that was no longer the case. Now she was caught in an agenda outside of her own making, facing another situation in which her laws were all but useless. Yet as if to bridge the consequences of such a loss, she in turn found herself further in understanding the hidden qualities of the race she had questioned for so long.
That was when she looked at her surroundings, and all thoughts of her past were quickly forgotten.
‘Where is this place? This… I was supposed to stop such a thing from happening!’
The fire. The ash. The pain. It painted a picture of suffering with such intensity even an existence such as hers was left unnerved. It should be said that the taste of death that permeated the air – suffocating if not for her current form, or lack thereof – wasn’t one she was unfamiliar with. Nonetheless, it was because of that she had sworn to never let such a thing happen again.
So that left the question: What had happened here? What had changed, or more likely, what was it she had overlooked? More importantly, why hadn’t she been awoken before…
Ah, so that’s what it was.
If she could have, no doubt a frown would have marred her features as the impression came to her. Whatever it was that had caused such destruction, which had borne the evil that now dwelled in this place, it was not the work of the one she had promised to defeat. The one whose activity had been the sole condition she had placed to be awoken from her slumber. Only now had that restriction been met, for the remains of such a presence that could still be felt would undoubtedly draw the enemy here. Problem was, this was happening far sooner than she’d expected.
She hadn’t had time to recover even a fraction of that which had been stolen from her, let alone regain any of her physical form. As things stood, if it chose to attack now, there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was fortunate then, that the presence in this place was nothing more than a lingering residue. The source, for reasons she could only guess, had already disappeared. However that didn’t change the irreparable damage that had already been done, and when whatever caused this appeared again, she didn’t need her experience to know of the destruction that’d be wrought.
When that happened, even this place would feel like a sanctuary in comparison.
‘Not if I have anything to say about it.’
She wouldn’t let that happen, but she needed something in order to stand in opposition of that. A vessel. Something from which she could finally enact some form of counterstrike…
As if to spite that resolve, the thoughts and memories came to her regarding the last time she’d tried such a thing, as well as the tragedy that had resulted. No, she needed something much more than a puppet. She had learned from her previous mistakes and naïveté, from when the only thing she had of her enemy was the corruption of their first encounter. The image of a simple necklace came to mind, one childishly made of cheap twine and an uncut crystal.
Though it had come with great sacrifice, she had much more than that this time around.
The only thing missing was a partner.
Such was the note with which she began her search. Sadly however, it became quickly apparent that the hope she was looking for wouldn’t be found in such a place. None of these… people – if you could even still call them that – were enough to be what she needed, what humanity needed.
She understood the impossible height of her expectations. That she was looking for a hero amongst scenery that may as well been hell, in an era in which true heroes had ceased to be. One after another, she passed by the bodies of the dead and dying. Even when she finally stumbled onto the ones who had managed to endure, it was only to find that their very will being corrupted into something she could no longer recognize. To put it bluntly, it was impossible to consider such grotesque things human anymore, clinging as they were to their own survival. A silly concept, but one she had come to put above all others.
‘Still, if I can’t find it here, then perhaps what I seek lies outside of my reach after all.’
No, if a fire such as this was all it took to break them, then to allow their passing would be the more merciful undertaking. In order to face the coming trials her partner needed to be strong, an embodiment of all the strengths she knew could exist in the human spirit. A weakened body was something that could be improved, possibly even replaced given time, but there was nothing she could do to mend the soul.
It was just as she was preparing to leave, to set course for a new location to begin her search anew, that she found him. A boy lay amongst the wreckage, a mere child with auburn hair and tired eyes. He was hurt, dying even, but he wasn’t beyond saving quite yet.
What was far more crucial however, was the boy’s mindset. His condition was negligibly better than that of the others that surrounded the two of them, yet at the same time there was something about him that was fundamentally different. For even now as his original self was fading, as if to fight that outcome something still remained, a part of him that was even now struggling. Was it… potential? …determination? …hope?
In the end it likely came down to a combination of all three, as well as something much more.
This boy held a strength about him that the others didn’t, the exact sort she was looking for, and one she was aware was growing rarer amongst humanity. The last time she’d seen such a thing… well, it’d probably be better if she did her best to lock such memories away, despite how much she feared the consequences of doing such a thing to herself.
Still, such a level of experience shouldn’t have been possible to find in one so young. Most likely, it was the fire itself that had brought about such resilience, such an incredible will. Without it, the boy would’ve likely lived his entire life without awakening such a part of him. Apparently, it appeared that something useful had been forged from these fires after all.
She did her best not to imagine what the cost had been to feed such a furnace.
Kneeling down, she affectionately rubbed his hair. She still had trouble understanding the emotions behind the gesture, but she’d done it enough times by now to at least comprehend the meaning it held for others. Though the boy wasn’t of the origin he could detect her presence, she still offered him what comfort she could, embracing his small form as if to protect him from what was to come.
It was then that she noticed that somehow, the tension in his shoulders relaxed, like a child entrusting his safety to a trusted guardian. As if to prove the impossible. As if he actually could feel her proximity, something that came from that which was and yet wasn’t, that which shouldn’t exist and yet did so regardless.
As if she were an abyss that seemed to defy the very will of Gaia herself.
Yes, the boy would surely do more than just fine.
If nothing else, both he and she would face the coming future together. His current origins may not have been enough to face the coming storm, but that was easy enough to change. It looked like she’d have her work set out for her as the boy came of age.
With that thought in mind, and a final whisper of thanks, she smiled.
A grin that became that much larger when her primary concern, the boy’s health, was solved through the actions of another. And when she caught a glimpse of the object responsible, of the miracle that now rested with the boy, she knew she had made the right choice.
‘Now to give you a gift of my own, Little One. From now on, consider this the seal to our partnership.’
-- --
It’s not often that large events have a chance to mold one’s character. Perhaps they might leave an impression – one that might even change the course of the one affected – but in the end it’s the little things we do that end up building who we are. For a child whose existence was such a blank slate as Shirou however, such an impression wouldn’t only define his character, but would also set the path he was destined to follow for the rest of his days.
“Old man, what’s that?”
…and in this case it just so happened to be a single question that would prove to be that influence.
“Hm?”
Looking down at the board game that currently sat between him and a young Taiga Fujimura, Kiritsugu couldn’t help but grin at the frustrated look on the young heiress’ face as she tried to find a way out of the corner she’d driven herself into. Appreciatively taking the cup of tea prepared by and given to him by his adopted son, the retired mercenary enjoyed the calming aroma as he pondered that question.
It wasn’t like it was anything particularly special. In a moment of boredom in the calm after dinner Taiga had asked him to play a game of shogi with her, only it seemed the young girl hadn’t expected him to know the game as well as he did. Though then again perhaps it might not have come with such surprise if she had known anything about his background to begin with. The early days of his time with Natalia had given him plenty of experience with such distractions.
No, what intrigued him was the sudden interest his son Shirou seemed to have in the game. Since adopting him the boy had barely displayed any sort of interest in anything aside from his status as a magus and oddly enough, cooking. Though considering the skill both he and Taiga had in the kitchen, or complete lack thereof, perhaps that second one wasn’t so much interest as it was self-preservation. To see him intrigued by anything, well… it stirred whatever measure of pride he still had remaining as a father.
What he couldn’t know, for obvious reasons, was that throughout the countless parallels of the Kaleidoscope this was also something Shirou would never do. His interest would’ve normally stopped upon the note that it was his father who was playing, with the rest of the night passing in his usual silence, yet for some reason things turned out differently.
Of course, that all begged the question: What had changed?
Unfortunately or perhaps for the best, such an inquiry lay outside the possibility of the boy’s father, and without such Kiritsugu unintentionally changed the very fate of the boy he had adopted of only a few months ago. All with a rather simple question.
“Are you not familiar with shogi, Shirou?”
As the boy shook his head in denial, in that same moment Taiga seemed to have finally resigned herself to her fate, sighing in exasperation as she fell onto her back, indicating her resignation in the contest of wits. Well, perhaps this provided as good an opportunity as any.
“Would you like to play a game then?”
-- --
As the months turned into years, such was how a new nightly tradition began in the Emiya household, as well as the means by which Shirou found himself introduced to the world of strategy and tactics.
The foundations of leadership.
While he was certainly no gifted prodigy when it came to the subject, if there was one trait with which he excelled in, it was his ability to learn and adapt. In other words, what he lacked in talent he made up for with persistence. Within a matter of weeks even Kiritsugu found himself pressed with growing frequency, and when the day finally came that his son claimed his first victory, he was conflicted whether he was supposed to be proud as a father, or embarrassed that he’d been outwitted by a child.
That said, the sharp mind of the one once known as the Magus Killer has long since dulled beyond recovery.
However, it wasn’t like their games were accompanied by silence. After he finally gave into the boy’s repeated requests to teach him magic, it also became something of a pattern that the father would use the peaceful atmosphere for such lessons, as well as get any new updates on the boy’s progress. To be honest, it seemed to be the one category where the boy’s tenacity had no effect, his development bordering on the trivial on the best of days, but that wasn’t all they talked of.
“Can I ask you something?”
Something had been bothering Shirou lately, something he’d noticed after they’d begun these games of theirs.
“What is it, Shirou?”
Currently, the two of them were sitting on the porch of their home, enjoying a peaceful view of the night sky in the warmth of a summer night. This too, had become something of a tradition between them, and the boy had difficulty deciding which he enjoyed more. Any time spent with his father were moments held precious to him.
“Is it important for a hero to know how to lead?”
It was something he took note of early on, a metaphor of sorts that he’d seen in the pieces under his control. As long as the king, the leader, remained on the field victory was always a possibility. It was no different than the stories he could sometimes get out of Taiga. Heroes weren’t just people who helped others, or even saved them for that matter, they also did everything in their power to lead towards a brighter dawn. Inspiring armies, nations, and sometimes most impressively merely a small handful of men to do what others thought impossible.
The distinction was a simple one – obvious even – but for someone who led a path such as Shirou’s, it changed everything.
Sitting next to him as he was, the boy missed the self-depreciating grin on his father’s face. Sadly, even if he did notice, the meaning of such an expression would likely have escaped him regardless. Kiritsugu’s past was one responsibility he refused to let fall to his son, regardless of the impression he got at times that such a decision was a mistake.
If only he knew of the fateful meeting his two children were already destined to have.
“I… wouldn’t know. I guess you could say my journey’s always been a bit of a lonely one. Though to answer your question, Shirou…”
The man could tell his time was approaching soon, that the curse that dwelled within his veins had already passed the point of no return. Already he was too weakened to continue his trips to Germany, let alone hold onto any hope of ever rescuing his lost daughter. Ilya was gone, but he was determined to his last breath to at least set Shirou on the right path.
“The path of a hero is a heavy one, and perhaps a burden too great for any single man to bear. Maybe if I’d have realized that sooner, yet nonetheless… One thing you must remember Shirou is that a hero doesn’t just save people, he also understands charisma and practices compassion. Perhaps I failed because I didn’t want to suffer the consequences of that, that I feared the loss can come with such attachment, but I think carrying that pain might be the very thing that makes a hero.”
In response to his father’s musings the boy’s expression became a bit troubled, but then as if coming to his decision he nodded. From that, something about his figure seemed more resolved, while muttering under his breath, “I see. So that’s what a hero is.”
“Hm?” Had Shirou said something?
“No, it’s nothing. Thanks for answering my questions, old man.”
Shrugging, Kiritsugu never thought much more of that conversation, writing it off as the idle curiosities of his son. From there it was a statement of his age and just how far he’d fallen, in that he never caught on to the fact that from that day he never won another of those games between them, let alone understand the significance of such a thing.
Several months later, another conversation under a similar night sky would take place between the two. For the man, it would bring about the peace to his burdened soul that he’d strived for his entire life. For the boy, well… it all began with a single promise. One that’d be the final piece Shirou needed in setting his course. In order to lead others after all, first one had to know where they were going themselves.
“But I can do it. Leave it to me… your dream.”
-- --
With a cry of frustration, Taiga Fujimura tilted her head back while pulling at her hair, finally reaching breaking point in regards to her growing concerns. That in itself spoke volumes, considering the rather eccentric nature of the woman. Kiritsugu’s passing had been a small, and unfortunately unknown affair, and though the funeral procession had long since split up and gone their separate ways, she still had trouble with coming to terms that this left a small boy feeling more than just a little lost and confused.
To be honest, she wasn’t even sure if Shirou had it in him to shed any tears, but it was still pretty obvious of the manner his father’s death had affected him through his actions. Just the other day he’d gotten lost in thought and almost burned lunch, not to mention the tension that currently existed in the place she ate most of her meals. All of that placed on top of her own grief was proving to ruin her favorite time of the day, dammit!
Seriously though, she just really wanted to do something to brighten the kid up already. He was the closest thing she had to a little brother, after all.
Such was the determination with which the Fujimura heiress came to just before arriving at the Emiya household, only to be in the middle of marching from the entrance to the main living area when she came to a sudden stop as a thought struck her. All things said, it would’ve been nice if this problem had come to her a lot earlier.
‘Cause come to think of it, what did Shirou like anyway?
Sure, he cooked a lot, but she could see enough to know that such a thing had more to do with the boy’s frustratingly selfless nature than it was an actual interest. Aside from that, everything she’d seen the boy do seem to just be a mirror of his father’s actions, hence the original problem. The boy just didn’t seem to have enough of his own character to do anything proactively without his role model around. Well, it wasn’t like standing here would give her any answers.
Sliding open the screen door before her, the answer – as it turned out - couldn’t have been placed more obviously in front of her.
“Shirou? Are you reading Sun Tzu?”
“Uh? I’m trying to? To be honest, a lot of it doesn’t make sense.” Indeed, the boy’s expression indicated more than a bit of frustration with the material, in fact she actually had to hold herself back from giggling. It wasn’t often that she caught Shirou with such an expression, but in each case she made sure to enjoy them as she could. Such things would undoubtedly prove to be great teasing material as the boy got older.
Though now that she thought about it, Taiga recalled that there had always been one significant thing Shirou had taken an interest in. For some reason, he had a rather reserved, if not impressive, gift for strategy. Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that she would forget that, considering how much of a bitter impression it’d left on her when he’d beaten her at every board game she challenged him to aside from LIFE of all things.
For some reason, that game seemed intent on making Shirou its punching bag. Actually, he seemed to be rather terrible with games of chance in general now that she thought of it, but that was a thought she could sort for later.
Here and now, there was a question she needed to ask, something she probably should’ve done a while ago. “Um, Shirou? What is that you want to be when you’re older?”
When he told her, it wasn’t far from what she was expecting, though she did have some difficulty matching it to his personality. Regardless this was… yeah, she could work with this.
-- --
‘Why am I here again?’
In what seemed like the most recent antic in the life of his self-proclaimed older sister, Taiga had begun dragging him off to what seemed like every museum within driving distance of Fuyuki. He’d agreed to come because she’d asked for his help with a school assignment, but he’d noticed by this point a suspiciously large bit of nothing happening on her end during all of these trips. The fact that she’d gotten Otoko to come with them made him equally skeptical.
So that begged the question: What were they doing, anyway?
Still, he’d be lying if he said he’d remained uninterested through all of it. That one exhibit on the Sengoku period had been particularly interesting – especially the display that’d been lined up with replica weapons of the time – but through that one and each one after it seemed to be the same thing again and again. A nation divided, broken up into a bunch of warring states led by their associated daimyo in a bid for power, leading to feudal war after feudal war.
It didn’t match with his ideal of what a hero or a leader needed to be. How were they supposed to save anyone, if they spent so much time and resources fighting amongst each other, when they could have been fighting for something more?
Of course, this was all coming from the naïve eyes of an idealistic pre-teen, but in Shirou’s eyes there just wasn’t a way to rationalize such a waste of life. Such was his attitude as they arrived at their most recent destination, which thankfully was also the last on the list that Fuji-nee had acquired. Apparently one of her father’s men was quite the history expert.
It was located in the Kure Naval District, a few hours drive from Fuyuki City, and was a building with the namesake of something called the… what was it again? Eh, the name wasn’t what was important, but apparently the place was well known – Fuji-nee’s words, not his – for its exhibits displaying the pride of the Japanese Navy during the Pacific Theatre. Whatever that meant.
If there was one thing Shirou had gotten from all of this, it was a realization of just how unfamiliar he was with the history of his own country.
He was expecting another old building brimmed with displays of antique photos and rusted metal parts. Perhaps even an aging guide who could put rocks to sleep if he got lucky, and the less he said of the headache just waiting to happen that went by the name Taiga Fujimura, the more likely he was not to jinx himself.
Instead, he got something else entirely.
From the moment he entered the building proper, the entire thing filled his vision, and the only word coherent to his childish mind came to be a long and drawn-out massive.
Swords, spears, bows. As weapons they were simple, elegant, and effective. They fascinated him, drew him in to their individual stories, and helped direct him on the path he thought was most appropriate for a hero. For all their worth however, those weapons had no sense of scale to match that of their legends, no presence that could make a man take a step back in awe. This was the first time he’d ever experienced the latter, something he’d never encounter before, and it gave him feelings he had no experience with.
In other words, though he himself didn’t realize it, this was the first time in his life the child who had adopted the name Shirou Emiya found himself awestruck.
As for the boy himself, he found that there was a voice in the back of his head whispering the answer to his unasked question. This was power. This was an example of a nation’s pride given heart through nothing more than engineering expertise, what Taiga mentioned had been Japan’s last demonstration of its own military might, proudly displayed on the world stage. He might’ve been a kid without any sort of pride to call his own, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand and appreciate it in others from a distance.
This… was this what he’d been looking for?
At that moment he noticed Fuji-nee and her best friend approaching from the other side of the display. He’d been so caught up in understanding what was in front of him that he hadn’t even noticed either of them leave. In her hands was a simple paper bag with what he assumed to be the museum’s logo printed on the side, and as usual she had that rather troubling grin on her face, with Otoko looking more than a bit exasperated at her side. He sighed, resigning himself to whatever it was she had planned, but before that…
“Fuji-nee, what is this?”
What had caught his attention was the center floor exhibit, as well as the museum’s main attraction. It was a boat that had to be at least 20 meters from end to end, originating of an older design and with small little human figurines on it to distinguish scale. What set it apart from every other boat he had ever seen however was the three colossal turrets that sat on its deck, a large array of significantly smaller ones aligned on both the right and left sides. He’d never seen such a thing before.
Standing next to him by this point, and joining him in his appraisal Taiga answered him, “That’s a model of a battleship, Shirou. One of the largest in the world that was ever built. Even this model here is estimated to only be about a tenth of the real one in scale.”
She sighed. “It’s good to know you finally found an interest in something, I thought we were going to waste this entire day trying to get you to… ah.” Suddenly, her expression became rather comical as she realized her own verbal slip. This wasn’t about a school project after all, was it? “Ehehe, guess I got to come clean on this one, don’t I? Neko-chan, explain it for me~”
“Don’t you dare try and get me involved in this. I didn’t realize you never told him,” Otoko muttered as she shook her head.
The heiress’ grin was suddenly a lot more sheepish. “The truth is Shirou, I might’ve, sort of, kind of, well… lied straight to your face. We’re not here because of some sort of school project or anything like that. I just wasn’t sure if I could get you to come if I just invited you to join us and have some fun for once. It just seemed like something that might interest you I guess, what with your interest in those war games of yours and all. I figured maybe some history to give you a deeper context might do you some good.”
“I… see…” he hesitated, a bit off guard after her confession, regardless of his earlier suspicions. To be honest, he still wasn’t sure how to react to these moments in which she tried to reach out towards him, but at the very least…
“Thank you, Fuji-nee. This… I think Dad would’ve appreciated it.”
He actually had no idea if that was true or not, a fact that made him realize just how little he actually knew about his father, but what he did know was the beauty of the ideal his father had given him. It was something he refused to question, something that’d been a part of him since the day of his adoption. Was it strange that some part of him found that same beauty to be in this boat, this battleship, something that was even only a copy of the original? Probably for the best, he’d never get the opportunity to ask his father such a thing.
After all, even in his prime it was most likely that the true response of the Magus Killer would’ve disappointed the boy’s expectations.
With a cry of excitement that shook him from his musings, Fuji-nee suddenly took off down one of the hallways that broke off from the center floor. “Okay! Now with that out of the way, this is only the main exhibit. We’ve still got plenty of history to cover! C’mon, Neko-chan!”
“Oi, Taiga! This is a public museum, not one of your grandfather’s businesses! Slow down!”
Was it normal for a kid like him to be the mature one in such a group?
Left alone to his own devices, he wandered through the remainder of the museum with a bit more care. He was sure he’d probably learned of it before the fire that’d taken his memories, but while the remaining displays didn’t leave near the same impression on him that that first one did, it was during this time that Shirou got his first real understanding of what a modern war entailed. Most of it was just history on the port and surrounding district, but even his imagination was active enough to fill in the associated blanks. Who had Japan been fighting? Why had they needed something like that battleship? Had they won?
So preoccupied was he that Shirou didn’t even notice he’d reached the open terrace on the top floor until he felt a breeze brushing against his cheek. He briefly looked around before he noticed his two older companions sitting on a nearby bench. When Fuji-nee noticed his approach she waved at him, grabbing for and sandwiching him between the two of them the moment he closed into arm’s length. For once, he found he didn’t mind her assertive actions.
They stayed like that for a short time, enjoying the sight of the evening activity in the harbor. Shirou in particular found himself mesmerized by the sunset reflected in the sea. It reminded him of the many times he’d stood in the harbor in Fuyuki, to bid his father farewell as he left for another one of his trips on the few occasions he chose sea over air.
It also stirred something much deeper within him. Why was it that this all seemed so familiar?
His musings however were suddenly disturbed when Taiga moved to pick something up at her side. It was that same package he’d noticed with her before, only this time he found it held in front of his face, blocking his view. If Taiga’s expression alone wasn’t enough the lay bare her intentions, then her repeated mutterings of “Open it! Open it!” certainly did.
Doing so, he found that what was held within was a rather plain package, unadorned by anything like bows or wrapping paper. It looked to be a toy of some kind only… wasn’t that?
“Fuji-nee, I don’t get it. Why are you giving me this?”
It was a ship model, one of those ‘assemble with adult supervision’ types, and unsurprisingly it just so happened to be the same ship as the one displayed in the front lobby. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to receiving gifts, but he couldn’t recall having done anything lately to deserve one. To be honest, Fuji-nee’s behavior in all of this struck him as a bit strange.
Moving until she was kneeling in front of him to meet his amber eyes, he could only tilt his head further in question as she reaching out and messed with his hair affectionately. Just as quickly however she looked rather uncomfortable, her gaze shifting as she suddenly had difficulty meeting his eyes.
“Shirou, I know it hasn’t been easy since Kiritsugu passed away. Maybe you haven’t noticed it yourself yet, but I think you’re still mourning in your own fashion. It feels like you’re trying to restrain your emotions and frankly, you have me a bit worried.”
“I know he was your father. That you want to do everything you can to live up to his memory, but I just wanted to remind you not to forget he wasn’t the only family you have. Me, the old man, even Neko-chan when she finds the time to visit.” She grinned as the woman in question looked away, crossing her arms as a light blush dusting her cheeks.
“Point is, as much as I know you dislike relying on others, you can’t do everything on your own. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re just a child Shirou. It’s your job to rely on us adults once in a while.” As if to counter that entire statement, she stuck out her tongue childishly, bopping herself on the side of her head. He recognized it for what it was though.
Fuji-nee would always be Fuji-nee, but that didn’t mean she was unreliable.
Instead he was reminded of just how insightful she could be. Though he’d made sure not to say anything, he actually had been lost the past couple days, though perhaps not for the reasons she suspected. It was because he was unsure of how to press forward without his father’s guidance, a growing uncertainty that may very well have begun to drive him mad. Perhaps that was because he’d missed the point.
“I think carrying that pain might be the very thing that makes a hero.”
His father’s words came to mind, from a conversation that seemed so distant by this point. Despite them however he had still tried to take everything upon himself, to shoulder the burden of his father’s ideal solely on his own, but maybe…
“So… are you saying a leader isn’t supposed to do everything himself?”
“Of course not, idiot. What would be the point? It’s a leader’s job to know what to do when things get tough, but also when to leave the work to others so he doesn’t end up burning himself out. You think it was only a single guy that was responsible for building that ship? We humans tend to be pretty silly at times, but when we band together we can do some really amazing things.”
Was… was it wrong of him to want to solve everything on his own, to save everyone on his own? His father had hinted at it throughout the years, before all but stating it on the night of his passing, but was it impossible to be a hero alone as he was? Perhaps…
Perhaps he was going about this all wrong, but what did that mean exactly?
It wasn’t an answer that would reveal itself any time soon, but the very fact he could even consider such a question proved that something within him had already changed. As to what that meant, well… the answer to that question lay within something much deeper. In this place however Taiga was standing again, turning to look at the sky that was quickly turning to dusk. “If we’re going to get home before midnight we’ll have to leave now. Have fun with your toy, Shirou! Let me know if want any others, I think Dad knows a guy.”
Slowly following behind the two adults who by this point had all but become his new guardians, Shirou once more looked down at the gift in his arms, still pondering what Taiga had said and what such a thing meant for him.
“The Yamato, huh?”
That night, instead of his usual dreams composed of swords and cold steel, he dreamt of endless seas and hot lead. For some reason, it finally felt like he’d found a home that’d always escaped him.
-- --
Judging the concept of creation.
Hypothesizing the basic structure.
Duplicating the composition material.
Imitating…
“Tch. Not this time either, huh?”
Grunting in frustration, Shirou released his hold on the energy currently coursing through his single magic circuit at the results of his most recent failure. Right now he could only hope to be a fraction of the magus his father ever was, but even that seemed too far out of reach at his current skill level. Leaning back until he was resting on the floor of his shed, he stared up at the ceiling as he pondered that idea.
‘What would you have done here, Dad?’
Shaking himself of such a discouraging line of thought, he focused back on the other task he was currently working on, grabbing the rag at his side as he went back to work. While doing so he sighed, recalling the manner in which earlier that evening Taiga had teased him regarding how he “got so serious when it came to his toys”. Not that he could say anything to deny it.
As it was, he’d ended taking up Fuji-nee’s offer. It had all started off as an idle curiosity, something he explored because he’d seen other kids his age get into such things. However, by this point as much as he enjoyed those strategy games he’d played with his father, he was coming to understand that the real world wasn’t a place of such convenient rules. Perhaps just as fortunately, he also didn’t live in a country where he could get any of that realistic experience he was looking for, and so he’d ended up settling for a middle ground.
He might not have been able to live the conditions of war, but he could certainly do his best to reenact them. It just so happened that his recent interest in the Second World War proved to be a better teacher than he could’ve hoped for, and oddly enough historic documents had quickly become yet another part of his daily routine.
Of course, there had come a time where his enthusiasm for the whole thing had weakened a bit. When he’d truly begun to understand Japan’s role in the war, that it hadn’t been anything near as noble as what he’d first imagined. Still, that time quickly passed, and in the end it only drove him to study the many other perspectives of the war. That in turn also meant he studied that large a number of other strategies as well, which in turn all led to his current situation.
Before him on a plastic tarp sat his entire collection. All the many ships that had come to form his “personal fleet” – as Fuji-nee jokingly called it – in the past months.
There were the destroyers such as the Fubuki and Akatsuki. The light cruisers such as the Sendai as well as her heavier counterparts like the Takao. There were the strategically vital aircraft carriers Akagi and Shoukaku, and of course the famous battleships that had found themselves outdated by the end of that war such as the Nagato and Yamato. Thanks to his studies he’d even branched out a bit from the Japanese ships, a model of the Iowa and the Bismarck lying off distantly to the side.
Dusting off the deck of the destroyer model currently in his hands, the Shimakaze, he considered once more how his perspective on the ideal his father had given him had changed since the man’s passing. In his studies he’d come to realize that the role he’d been chasing wasn’t so much that of a leader as it was a tactician, and just what kind of difference there was between the two, that this entire time he’d actually been chasing a small fraction of such an ideal.
While he’d certainly come a long way from that kid of a few years ago who only thought of helping those in front of him, he was still quite a ways distance until he could consider himself a leader to any regard. He still hadn’t matured from that Hero of Justice stage of his quite yet – nor did he have any plans to – but for once it actually felt like he was making some form of progress.
Inevitably however, such thoughts brought him back to his difficulties with his magic. While the stubborn part of him wanted to continue pressing forward with his current routine, the more tactical part of his mindset he was developing recognized what he was currently doing as getting him nowhere. His current path of progression was all but nonexistent and as such, well…
Wasn’t the whole role behind a tactician meant to be placed on someone who could imagine the many paths available to him? Just as his perspective of what a hero was had been changed, perhaps it was about time he took the same approach with his magic.
Wait a minute… perspective?
Though his progress might have been abysmal, his efforts hadn’t been completely fruitless. Though the likelihood of success was still low, structural analysis was a skill he could truly say he’d made his own. In the end it was nothing more than a skill that allowed him to understand some of the basic fundamentals of an object, but could he perhaps try and take a different approach with it? In any event, it was at least worth a shot.
After all, the worst thing that could happen was only death, right?
Entertaining the new idea, he placed down the object his hands to renew his training once more. Forgoing the usual seven steps he faithfully abided by in his training, a new purpose brought new words to mind, and while repeating them in the same chant-like tone he usually approached magic with, he began.
“Trace, on.”
-- --
Such was the manner in which Shirou lived out the days following his father’s death, doing all in his power to live out the legacy the man had left him. It wasn’t long however before his development began to take a different path, one that normally would’ve never appeared before him. For though he still saw forms of progress with his magecraft on occasion, it was never on the level of the breakthrough he was looking for, and so with time his focuses began to turn towards the subject in which such a limitation didn’t hinder him.
Unfortunately, there was one major drawback to all of his efforts. Even before his father’s passing Shirou had always faced difficulties in fitting in amongst his peers, and now entering the abyss known as middle school that fact had never been more heavily emphasized to him. While he was certainly never one to be bullied, that actually had more to do with how none of his classmates wanting to interact with him than any form of luck.
It wasn’t like he did anything particularly strange or off-putting, but Shirou wasn’t really one to reach out or socialize, and frankly most of his classmates were simply too intimidated by the red-haired teen to do the same. What it came down to was that his goals had ended up in Shirou simply maturing a bit too quickly for his age. Then when you actually did include Shirou’s oddities – the flaws in his personality that came as a result of his extreme lack of self-worth – well… needless to say, the boy didn’t have a lot of friends.
It probably should’ve come as no surprise that when the days came that Otoko was too preoccupied with her responsibilities regarding her family’s bar, and even Taiga barely found the time in her college schedule to stop by for meals, Shirou suddenly found himself with more time on his hands than he knew what to do with. It actually ended up being the means by which he began to recognize the problem he was being faced with.
Still, it bears repeating that Shirou wasn’t a normal child, by any stretch of the imagination. Even faced with the distance placed between him and his classmates, all his efforts to change such a thing seemed to backfire in one way or another. Yet to give credit where it’s due, perhaps it should be said that the fact he even took the time to notice such a thing already spoke for the differences his path had taken.
On the other hand, some things never change. Regardless of what their personal feelings were for the boy, it was also undeniable that he held some renown as someone who readily helped anyone in need. It didn’t take long for some to notice such behavior, and as children often do, there were those who took advantage of such a personality. Contrary to that though, there were also those who looked down on such people.
Ayako Mitsuzuri was a prime example of such a person.
Hailing from a family rooted deeply in several fields of martial arts, it should’ve come as no surprise that she held within herself just as strong a sense of honor as she did a competitive streak. She didn’t honestly know what to make of the Emiya boy, but she knew she certainly disapproved of the way his helpful nature was abused by some of her peers.
It was on her way home late in the evening – a result from her ironically enough getting roped into cleaning after club activities by some of her seniors – that she stumbled onto a scene that would’ve normally been disregarded as rather innocent in nature. She would never know that she wasn’t the only witness, nor of the lasting effects it would have on the two sisters in the coming years, but it did leave her with more than just a few questions. Namely…
‘When did Emiya become a member of the track team?’
Before her was the basic setup for any high jump. Unassuming, if it weren’t for the fact that it had been left in a state that made the task borderline impossible for children of their stature, yet for some reason a red-headed idiot was trying to make the jump regardless. Of course, she knew he wasn’t actually a member, the scene before her most likely just the byproduct of something Shirou had decided to try out while cleaning up. Standing there, she waited for the inevitable moment in which the boy realized the futility of his efforts, assuming that he’d made a mistake in judging just how difficult it was to jump to such a height.
Except that moment never came.
Again and again the boy duplicated the steps in setting up such a jump, only to fail just as repeatedly. Curiosity soon boiled into frustration which then collapsed into intrigue. To be perfectly honest, she’d never given the kid much more than a passing glance, nothing more than perhaps at most some measure of concern. She’d once or twice entertained the idea of striking up a conversation with him, to perhaps figure out why he was always so willing to take on the requests of his classmates, but the thought often passed before she got around to doing anything about it.
Thinking about that as she watched him fail in his most recent attempt, she made her decision.
‘Well, I can’t just stand here looking like a creep forever. If I don’t put an end to this now, who knows when he’ll stop?’
-- --
He just couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong.
Oh, he certainly wasn’t referring to the impossible jump before him, the problem with that more than obvious. No, all he was doing right now was keeping his hands busy as his mind wandered, trying to understand his current dilemma. As frustrating as it was to admit, he’d run into a rather heavy road block recently in his efforts, and try as he might he just couldn’t figure out what to do about it.
He wanted to be a hero, a leader, someone who saved people but also had the personal strength to accept he couldn’t be everywhere at once, yet held the influence to do just that. He wanted to live up to his father’s ideal by that very path that’d been presented before him, except now he’d gone and lost his way again. It… frustrated him, continuing to bring him to a question he didn’t have an answer to.
For how was he supposed to be a leader when he had no one to lead?
“Oi, idiot!”
“Gwa!”
Caught off guard within his thoughts as he was, the sudden voice did more than just startle him a bit in the middle of his most recent jump, leading to the comical sight of his arms flailing in a doomed attempt to straighten his landing. Colliding head first with the mat that had been placed with the specified purpose of such stupidity, he lay there for an additional moment, realizing for the first time just how exhausted he was.
“You alright?”
There it was again, the same voice as before. Rolling onto his back he found a girl sporting an inquisitive pair of brown eyes standing over him. She was… one of his classmates if he recalled correctly. Though he couldn’t remember her name, her boyish haircut and athletic figure were certainly distinctive enough, separating her from most of the other girls in his class, though somehow he felt that stating such a thing out loud would probably be a mistake.
Noticing she had his attention, she asked, “Aren’t you that super reliable Emiya kid that everyone’s afraid of?”
“Am I?”
For some reason his question to her response seemed to be the wrong one. With the way her head was tilted to the side, her dumbfounded expression somehow made him feel like even more of an idiot than he already did.
“You haven’t heard any of the gossip that goes on about you? Do you just ignore it, or are you really that oblivious?”
“Is this how you greet everyone you meet, or am I just special?” he replied, redirecting her question with one of his own. A bit of sarcasm he’d developed from what was probably too many years of exposure to his personal insanity he named big sister. For what it was worth, a light color dusted the girl’s cheeks as she seemed to recognize how familiar she was behaving with him, but within the next moment she seemed to shake it off while extending a hand out to him to help him get back on his feet.
“Ayako Mitsuzuri,” she bluntly introduced, falling further into the stereotype he’d unintentionally given her. Still, completely unknown to him at that moment, such an honest personality would prove to be the one he worked best with. That in itself would prove to be its own blessing in the coming years.
“Shirou Emiya,” he returned as he grabbed the extended olive branch, pulling himself to his feet. Or at least that had been his intention, before his knees almost gave out and the girl abruptly found herself supporting half his weight.
Unexpectedly, he was suddenly grateful for that athletic physique of hers. Otherwise… some part of him imagined the embarrassing scenarios that he’d occasionally catch unfolding in one of Fuji-nee’s dramas or the occasional anime, and how such situations typically led to the protagonist in a more than just compromising circumstance. He shuddered briefly at the idea of such a thing happening here.
“Oi,” the look in her eye quickly became a lot more concerned, “how long exactly have you been doing this?”
“I think I lost count. Two, maybe three hours?”
“Ugh, you really are an idiot, aren’t you? Hey Emiya, where do you live?”
Such was how a rather odd, if not close, friendship came to bloom.
-- --
Almost like it was some kind of barrier which had simply ceased to exist, after the next day upon which Ayako had approached Shirou and invited him to lunch, his relationship with the rest of his classmates seemed to do a complete reversal overnight. Perhaps it was because no one had simply tried before, but many of them from that moment quickly realized just how easy it was to talk with the young Emiya. He wasn’t necessarily popular, and in end Ayako was really the only classmate he could actually claim was a friend, but even that much turned out to be enough.
It became a frequent occurrence in his schedule that they’d walk home from school together, and more than once the girl had stayed over at his place for dinner. He received no end of teasing from Taiga for that one, though part of him suspected that was due to her jealousy regarding someone else buying into what she claimed to be her “Shirou time”, something he figured he was probably safer not understanding.
Though the less said of how petty the idea was of a grown woman becoming jealous of a girl barely half her age was probably the wisest course of action.
Despite such sudden changes however, Shirou’s life remained largely the same. For instance, Ayako amusingly enough actually held a great dislike for shogi and other such strategy games, and try as he might he couldn’t ever figure out why. As such along with a few other roadblocks, regardless of the improved relationship he was developing with both her and the rest of his classmates Shirou still had yet to find a means for him to press forward with his ideal.
Then came the time for the preparations for the annual school cultural festival, and for the first time in his life Shirou was finally able to witness something akin to his many efforts bearing fruit.
It was during these circumstance that Shirou came to form what would become his odd, and at times strained, relationship with Shinji Matou. Though he and Ayako had a rather hard time getting along, Shirou quickly grew skilled as their mediator. Such a thing didn’t go unnoticed, and perhaps simply because no one else wanted to do it, Shirou was asked by the class representative to be their chief organizer.
From that day onwards something swiftly became apparent to her as Ayako noticed a surprising, yet seemingly natural, change in the boy. When given the opportunity, Shirou was a natural born leader.
He assigned tasks in such a manner that the duties were simple, and that no one was left out or overburdened. Following that, throughout the day one could see him jumping from one student to another to give them a helping hand or piece of advice, and it wasn’t uncommon to see him staying late even after everyone else had gone home. She wasn’t alone in her observations, and if it could’ve been said he hadn’t been popular before, he certainly was now.
The reason for that was clear. These days, even outside of school his classmates wanted to listen to his advice and follow him. As it turned out, in all of his studies Shirou’s knowledge had long since extended outside of just things like basic tactics.
Though at first she worried that she’d be left behind in the wake of such events, it didn’t take long for Ayako to learn that before he was even a leader, Shirou was fiercely loyal to those he held dear. As if to solely alleviate her concerns, she remained the only person – aside from the ever-present Taiga and occasional Otoko – whom he invited over for dinner as they left school together, and she’d be lying if she claimed to not shed a tear or two within her maidenly heart on the evenings she had to refuse due to family obligations. Sadly, as much as family came first, it didn’t change the fact that Shirou’s cooking was so far beyond her mother’s or her own that it was unfair.
In consideration to all of that, it shouldn’t have been surprising that these days she found herself more commonly in agreement with the female gossip that went on in class behind the boy’s back. The result in that it had changed from the rude comments of before into the type that turned more than one girl towards uncontrollable giggles or into a blushing wreck.
Such was the manner in which the day of the festival finally came.
-- --
“I’ll say this much Emiya, for an idiot you at least do some pretty decent work.”
Taking a step back to admire the banner that was currently hung above their classroom doorway, Shinji was once again standing idly as his classmates and the school visitors walked pass him. Ignoring the series of glares he got for his remark, all-in-all it was a scene the other students had grown accustomed to, and so no one said anything more on the matter.
“You going to stand there supervising all day, Matou? Or do you plan to lower yourself amongst the rest of us from your high horse and actually do something useful with your life?” Well, almost everyone at least.
Carrying a large stack of boxes in her arms, Ayako made another one of her snide comments as she passed, smirking at the growl of frustration she got out of the blue-haired boy for her trouble.
“Oh? Tell me, Mitsuzuri, what’s it like to be Emiya’s ball and chain? Does that come from your parents mistaking you for a boy, or just because you like to be on top?” At his side the two girls from the next class over giggled at his comeback, though whether they were actually amused by his words was anyone’s guess.
Shirou would probably never be made aware of such a fact, but his association with him made Shinji as about as popular with the females of their school as himself. Shinji, of course, took advantage of it for all that it was worth, and already it wasn’t uncommon to see a clique of girls following him everywhere he went. Unfortunately, they were all of the variety that drove Ayako mad, so they only proved to make the boy that much more insufferable in her eyes.
“If you want Shinji, I think I could come up with something for you to do.” Shirou chose that moment to interrupt, cutting off Ayako’s own rebuttal regarding Shinji’s masculinity – or his lack thereof – before she had a chance.
“Oi Emiya, what do you take me for?” Scowling in Ayako’s direction, Shinji continued, “Don’t take me for one of your dogs. Now if you’ll excuse me, I heard that a class somehow got a maid café pass the teachers, and I’d rather be there before the lines start.”
As the boy walked off, the tension that had slowly been building in their class relaxed, and once again they were reminded why they had chosen Shirou to be their head representative. For whatever reason, he was the only one with any skill in defusing Shinji like he just had.
Scratching the back of his head, Shirou turned to Ayako with an apologetic grin. “Sorry about that. I know he means well, but Shinji’s just… he has a hard time expressing himself.”
She sighed, a small grin forming on her lips. Somewhere down the line their relationship had become the sort where he kept her in line, though she fully laid the blame on Shinji for that one. Maybe under separate circumstances, she could’ve learned to at least tolerate his personality, but the manner in which he took advantage of Shirou’s kind nature had instantly put him in her bad books.
“Forget about it, Shirou. You’re not the one I want to hear apologizing. The sentiment is appreciated, but how you can defend that jerk is beyond me.”
To that Shirou could only shrug, a nervous chuckle escaping him at the exasperated look Ayako was giving him. With that he went back to his current task, handing out two tickets to the couple in front of him who were next in line. “I was a bit skeptical at first, but this haunted house idea ended up being a lot more popular than I was expecting, though why do you think there are so many couples in line?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Dark atmosphere, jump scares left and right, a cute girl on your arm who’ll undoubtedly press up against you at some point. Doesn’t sound like something most guys would be interested in at all,” Ayako answered sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she sat down behind the desk from where they were collecting admission.
“Ah, I guess that’s kind of…”
“Shirou! Look what I’ve got!” To the familiar voice, both of them held back a cringe, though each did so for a separate reason. What was she doing here? After all, both of them had agreed to not even mention the festival with the hope that she’d get caught up at another school and just up and forget about them. It wouldn’t be the first time. Apparently this year that plan had now decided to up and run.
Approaching them was Taiga Fujimura, self-appointed teacher-in-training, and a dedicated practitioner in all things to do with irresponsibility or general freeloading. Somehow, she was also Shirou’s assigned guardian, which probably explained a lot more than it should have. Of course, to Shirou who was far too desensitized to such things, what caught his eye was the narrow sack currently slung across her shoulder.
He groaned. Just… as long as this didn’t turn out like his elementary school graduation, he could salvage this. Otherwise…
Even if their class was on the second story, that window suddenly appeared very appealing. ‘It was nice knowing you, Ayako. I promise your sacrifice won’t be in vain.’
Fortunately, such extreme measures turned out to be unnecessary. Rather, it turned out Fuji-nee hadn’t even known about the festival, which he’d undoubtedly be reminded of in the coming weeks. She’d simply come to drop off a package, though why she had to come to his school rather than wait for him to get home was anyone’s guess.
On that note, it wasn’t even important, simply more scrap to add to the growing pile he had currently collecting in his shed. A couple steel bars, some screws and bolts, a broken motor or two, certainly nothing impressive to write home about.
“More junk, Fuji-nee? Really?”
“Mou, Shirou’s such a meanie. I’ll have you know your big sister had to do quite a bit of bargain hunting to find these. Since you’re helping the old man fix up his bike and all, I thought I’d help out by offering a contribution. You don’t need to sound so ungrateful…”
He couldn’t do much about the sheepish grin that grew at her story. So that’s how it was. Translation: She’d felt bad about having her father laying some of his work on him, and so she’d gotten the idea to help him by getting some of the supplies he was short on. Of course, once she was done she was so embarrassed she immediately ran over to his school to find him, and now they were in their current situation.
Seriously, would this woman ever change?
“I… Thanks, Fuji-nee.” He meant it. He was relatively confident most of this would turn out to be as useless as her last supply drop, but she had given it to him with the best intentions. It was an odd sense of appreciation he’d developed when dealing with this woman who claimed to be his older sister, and it was one he resigned himself to for however many days he had on this earth.
After all, he had yet to ever deny the claims she made of their relationship.
Crossing her arms in reluctant acceptance, Taiga nodded to his apology. “Hmph, now that’s more like it. Now if you’ll excuse, I think I hear some takoyaki calling my name. Oh and Shirou, don’t forget about your punishment. Dinner tonight better be absolutely fantastic or else~”
Watching her walk away while humming merrily, a rather discomforting thought came to him. One of these days he was going to take one of her threats seriously, and then where would the world be? Meanwhile, Ayako seemed to be stuck on something herself.
“Uh, Shirou? Doesn’t she have classes right about now?”
Leave it to her to ask a question that would detract his current line of thought onto something he’d purposely been ignoring. Slinging the metal scrap over his own shoulder he sighed. “Don’t ask.”
-- --
“Well, I think I might be stuck on this one. Any ideas you guys?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at the silence that was his answer. It said quite a bit about his psyche that he was currently asking mere toys for advice.
Before him were laid out several of his model ships, currently in a made-up formation tackling an imaginary scenario. He’d long since covered all the historic battles he could come across, and by this point he merely entertained himself with various fictional circumstances. Normally, he wasn’t one for such pointless distractions, but on nights such as this he found the practice helped him to maintain his focus.
‘Not that it does me much good if I can’t even do the basics in the first place.’
Perseverance can only take you so far. To say that he’d made it this far while only seeing as little progress as he had in his magic already spoke volumes of his discipline. By this point he clearly understood he was doing something wrong, yet regardless of his many attempts he couldn’t figure out what.
Grunting, he leaned forward to put his head in his arms. If he couldn’t even do this much, then what did the rest matter anyway? Those were the kind of traitorous thoughts he couldn’t let himself sink to. A hero didn’t lose his resolve like that, and in truth he had no intentions of ever leaving this path, but at times like this that destination certainly seemed a bit far.
He looked over at the spot reserved in his shed where a series of mechanical odds and ends sat, countless unfinished pet projects a certain eccentric guardian had given him over the years. He often used them for practice, and by this point it was likely only the trained eye of fellow magus who stood a chance at pointing out the several fakes that lay amongst them. A useless skill, but to a less-than-amateur such as himself they were the evidence that proved his existence as a magus, disregarding how very small it may have been.
Looking around at his ‘workshop’, the restless feeling he’d been experiencing lately once more assaulted him, and as usual he let out a deep breath while clenching his fists. The past couple days had been… hard for him, putting it mildly. Everything he did felt wrong, and despite his attempts otherwise he couldn’t figure out what that meant. Standing up, he walked over to the bookcase where he typically left all of his models for storage, and there on top was a smooth metal cylinder.
Oddly enough, it seemed to be the only thing that could calm him, as short term as it was.
It had been amongst some junk Fuji-nee had given him in an attempt to help him fix Raiga’s bike some months ago. Of course it had all proved to be about as useless as he expected, but there did end up being something amongst it that had caught his eye. To most it was nothing more than ordinary metal, but for someone with specialized skills such as Shirou’s it was a bit more than that.
For lack of a better term, the material was ‘perfect’. On a magical level, that is. Try as he might, there were no faults in its manufacture, nothing his spotty skill in reinforcement could improve upon it in any way. That wasn’t something he had ever encountered before, yet he had no clue as to what it meant. Despite his curiosity however he’d never really taken the time to look any further than its surface. Why was that?
It wasn’t anything more than a passing thought, an idle curiosity. Something he simply did because he’d never tried it before. Nothing was supposed to come it…
…and yet something did.
Though he considered himself a failure of a magus, there was one skill of his that had progressed by leaps and bounds. These days structural analysis came as easily to him as breathing, and he’d extended his realm of influence to the point he could examine the entire layout of his school while idly passing time in class. Human bodies lay outside his capabilities, but he could at least locate someone at the drop of a dime. Yet more so than his range, it was the depth of the skill he acquired that he felt proud of.
Taking a seat in his usual spot, Shirou laid out the item in his hand in front of him. Holding his hands out to both ends of the steel rod, he calmed his breathing as he extended his perception to a realm unseen by human eyes.
Forgoing initial analysis, concentrating to determine basic composition…
Almost immediately he encountered something he’d never felt before, like there was a second consciousness pushing up against his own. It was deep, incredibly so, but whatever it was it was far more complex than just simple steel. Reaching out with his senses he dove deeper until he was brushing up against it, an attempt to figure out what it was before giving it a gentle pull.
Then to his alarm the thing pulled back.
Like his entire body was suddenly immersed in boiling water, his state of being was suddenly enveloped by a severe heat. It was similar to the pain he experience at times when crafting his magic circuit, only this time it was multiplied ten-fold. All attempts to retreat failed, and for the second time in his life Shirou was met with the realization he was going to die here. Was this what his father meant when he’d warned him of the dangers of overextending himself?
Resigning himself to his fate, to the consequences of his own stupidity, Shirou found after his initial concerns he was oddly calm regarding the whole matter. He felt a tinge of regret at the unnecessary sorrow his death would bring to Fuji-nee and Ayako, and more importantly that he’d never been able to accomplish his father’s ideal, but after all that the only thing remaining was a cold indifference.
However, it wasn’t his time just yet.
Like he was swimming with muscles he’d never even known existed, let alone used, he felt painfully overextended. Still, that same discomfort was also an indicator he was still alive, and he embraced that sensation. Too exhausted to even do something as simple as open his eyes, he sat there in the cool of the early-spring air, struggling to stay awake.
Through that he noticed an intense pain flare from his back stretching all the way to the end of his right arm, and soon enough he found that his battle with the encroaching darkness was a losing one. Falling to his back as his consciousness begin to drift in and out, his breath heavy from his over-exertion, a soft feminine voice chose that moment to gently caress his ears.
“Aircraft carrier Kaga, reporting for duty. What are your orders, Admiral?”
Strange, instead of alarm he knew he should have been feeling, for some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling this was all so… incredibly nostalgic.
–––––
End: First and foremost, I apologize for the frequent and seemingly uneventful timeskips you see in this chapter. That should hopefully be it for this story, at least for a while, but it seemed like the best way to set up and explain the necessary changes to Shirou’s character. Hopefully it all came off as natural as I was aiming for.
I actually have no idea where the thought of a KanColle crossover came from. Played a few hours of the game at best, though I certainly can’t understand its massive popularity, and the anime a friend introduced me to (or tried to anyway) seemed mediocre at best. Guess it was just the concept I guess. I’ve always been a bit of fanboy of WWII themes.
Eh, what can you do? My muse will what it wills I guess.
On that note: For obvious reasons I won’t be including every girl in the series, so if you have any recommendations of those you’d like to see joining Shirou’s fleet, let me know. I won’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.
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Originally Posted by Xamusel
