”I can’t believe this is happening...”
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that fruits of commercialism would soon be laid bare. The Tohsaka household was lit up with Christmas lights, driving away the shadows of the Holy Grail War’s fights. All tenants were gone, off to sing the joyous carols, and partake in the contents, of a dozen eggnog barrels.
Well, not all, for there was still one source of unrest. And that would be Kokutou Azaka, trapped in enchanted chest.
“What did I do, there’s no way I deserve this!” Azaka cried out anger. “I thought yuletide was supposed to be the time of bliss!”
The magus-in-training was nestled all snug in her chest, finding no way out though she tried her best. Gone were the family of Tohsaka, and their overworked Servant, one could say this was a pickle, even if one was not observant. So how had she gotten here, into the depths of the locker? She had simply gotten curious, and had no one to stop her. Snooping through the stuff of her idol and rival, had gotten to the point where she feared for her survival.
“If I get out of here, I’m gonna strangle Rin!” Azaka so promised. “This chest is not a place where a maiden should be in! A chest that swallows people and traps them with a lock, just what sort of magus would create such poppycock!?”
Somewhere out there, in alternate plane, the old man Zelretch felt a strange pang of blame.
Such was the evening of a distressed girl, frustrating enough that it made her want to hurl. However, it was not how the evening was supposed to be, for things were about to change, as Azaka would soon see. So focused was she, on her annoyed grumble, that she missed the sound, of an outside mumble. It was only when nearby there arose such a clatter, she sprang up in the chest and hit her head in wooden matter.
Recovering, she banged the wall in a flash, hoping that someone would save her from this plotline rehash. Suddenly, the lock turned with a sweet sound of bliss, Azaka wanted to reward her savior with a kiss. The chest opened like a present, and what did she see? Something that made her scream like a banshee.
The moon on the breast of the tattooed guy, gave a lustre to his form that made one want to cry. For in the dark of the night, the last thing you wanted to see, was Avenger grinning down at you, in a schadenfreude glee.
“Huh? If it isn’t the Kokutou-girl? What are you doing here?” Avenger asked. “And why is everything in a rhyme? It’s getting really distracting.”
“Gyaaaaaahhh!” Azaka screamed, unable to cope with her dreams of a handsome savior (i.e. her brother) turning into a horror movie. “Gaaaaahh!”
“H-hey, watch it!” Avenger grunted, covering his ears with his hands. “And calm down, I’m here to help you, you moron!”
But at that point, it was far too late. A maiden’s dream crushed is one of the most powerful forces in this world, capable of destroying the rationality of anyone momentarily. Therefore, it was not surprising to see Azaka starting to aim a series of kicks towards the tattooed Servant, who did his best to dodge.
… And ended up getting a heel lodged straight into his jaw, thanks to his abysmal AGI stat.
“Ouch! Oh, goddamn, that hurt!” Avenger cried out. “Calm down you stupid broad, or I’m gonna-GAH!”
Whatever the Servant had wanted to say was cut off by another slender leg slamming straight to the top of his head from inside the chest. While this strike was magnificent, there were a few undesirable effects to it. First off, it caused Avenger to see stars momentarily, depriving him of the control of his body. Secondly, the direction of the strike caused the tattooed Servant to collapse forward, unable to stop himself from falling straight into the chest. And, thirdly, it made Azaka unable to defend herself as Avenger fell forward, all of her strength having been momentarily spent to that attack.
The outcome was obvious. With a magnificent thump and a shrilling scream from Azaka, the unconscious Avenger fell head first into the enchanted chest of the Wizard-Marshall. To top it off, the force of the shock caused the lid of the chest to close once again, with the clicking sound of the lock informing Azaka that her freedom had been but a fleeting dream.
“Noooooo!!” Azaka screamed in frustration, launching a barrage of kicks at Avenger ´in the cramped up space of the chest. “So close, so close…! And you had to ruin everything!”
“Ouch! Hey, lady, it was your own fault!” Avenger answered, having finally recovered. “I was there to help you, but nooooo, you had to start kicking me like a maniac!”
“B-but you took me by surprise!” Azaka defended herself. “Anyone would freak out if they saw an ugly mug like that after spending few hours in a complete darkness.”
“Excuse me!?” Avenger retorted, swatting away the kicking legs. “What sorta idiotic bi—“
The Servant was silenced by Azaka who planted her feet into his face.
“A maiden’s heart is a fragile thing! You don’t go around terrifying it with something as disgusting as you!” She proclaimed, and Avenger could only grumble due to the foot that filled 90% of his mouth. “Now, you… whoever you were: do you know how to get us out of here?”
“Oh for crying out loud…! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, you dumb broad!” Avenger pushed the girl back and scampered into the corner of the chest, as far away from the girl as possible. “If you’d just stop hitting me for five seconds, I could explain! That’s all I ask!”
“Then you have five seconds,” Azaka coolly said and lifted her leg into a kicking position once more.
“Sabersentustofindeveryoneandtellthemtocometothegr eatchristmaspartyheldattheevebutthenyouwerenowhere tobefoundandIheardthatyouwerelastseenherewithTohsa kaandsoIcameherelookingforyouandheardsomethingfrom thechestandopeneditandfoundyouandtriedtogetyououtb utthenyoustartedkickingmeoutofnowhereandnowe’rebot htrappedinthisstupidthing!” Avenger explained with a single breath, before inhaling loudly. “AndIdon’tknowhowtogetoutofheresothankstoyouwe’rep rettymuchstuckinhere!”
At least Azaka had the decency to blush a little in embarrassment.
“W-well, I guess our situation now cannot be helped,” she said. “Thanks to some unfortunate circumstances, we’re now both in the same boat.”
“You mean thanks to your stupidity,” Avenger corrected her, earning a kick for his troubles.
“A-N-Y-W-A-Y-S! The circumstances don’t matter! What matters is that we find a way to get out of here before the Christmas Party starts!” Azaka pressed on. “I don’t want to miss it, since everyone is going to be there. It’d be humiliating, missing the big party just because some creep decided to spook me instead of just acting normally.”
“Oi!”
With that, the duo descended into an awkward silence, both holed up in their own corners of the chest. While the thing was clearly bigger on the inside, it was no TARDIS. They had to slouch and try to arrange their feet so that they weren’t invading each other’s personal space; not that Avenger cared about that, mind you. However, the threat of another one of Azaka’s fairy-flower-killing kicks was enough to vary of pissing off the girl in any way.
Suddenly, after a minute or two had passed, Avenger’s head jerked up, and he stared right at Azaka.
“W-what?” the girl asked. Avenger pointed at her skirt.
“You… you’ve tried calling someone, right? I mean, all the kids nowadays have cellphones. You did test if you can get signal in this chest, right?” the Servant asked.
What he got as an answer was a silence straight from the grave.
Stiffly like a robot, Azaka fished her cellphone from her skirt’s pocket, before meekly pushing the buttons to access the phonebook. Avenger stared at this all with eyes resembling those of a dead fish, unable to even put into words how he was feeling at that moment. Eventually the silence ended when Azaka selected a number from the phonebook, and pushed the green button, letting the phone try to connect.
“You know…” Avenger started, only to be silenced by a glare that made Mystic Eyes of Death Perception pale in comparison.
“Shaddap!” Azaka cried out. “I’m trying to call to Emiya-kun right now! He should be close, so he’ll get us out of here!”
The tattooed Servant saw it best to leave the subject at that.
After few seconds since the call had started, Azaka’s face turned from optimistic (and angry) into a confused one (and still angry.) She removed the phone from her ear and stared at it in disbelief, before putting it back to listen to some more. Avenger, getting curious, crept closer, only to be stopped when Azaka knee’d him in the stomach.
“Too close, you creep,” Azaka warned him. “If you want to listen to this nonsense, here.”
She shoved the phone to the Servant’s hands. Slightly confused by the girl’s reaction, Avenger took the cellphone and put it to his ear, listening into the scene unfolding at the other end.
Nothing could have prepared him for the outlandishness that he was about to witness.
Twelve Days of Noel
Day 1
Bewitched
The wife’s name is Medea.
And the husband’s name is Shirou.
These ordinary people fell in love, quite ordinarily, and they had a very ordinary marriage.
But there was one extraordinary thing about them.
The wife was a revenge-driven witch from the Age of Gods.
“Erm, um, Caster… san? Could you stop from adding unnecessary subtitles whenever a new day starts?”
Emiya Shirou asked this troubled question from the blue-haired woman lounging in the kitchen with all the respect he could muster. Granted, he had now known the spellslinging Servant for about four days, but he still revered her with a mixture of fear and respect; mostly fear. Not only was she in a completely another league when it came to magecraft, she was also a being completely removed from humanity as far a Shirou was concerned.
Therefore, as much as her antics sometimes troubled him, he tried to approach them with as much humility as he could.
“What is it, boy?” Caster asked, shooting an angry glare at his direction. “Do you have something to complain about?”
“No, no, of couse not!” Shirou hurried to explain. “It’s just that, well… some of your spells are quite dangerous, in a way. What if Sakura came back and found one of your spells that every now and then turn this place into a real-life sitcom from the 60’s?”
Hearing those words, Caster scrunches her face a little bit, but gave a tentative nod.
“… You have a point there, boy,“ Caster agreed, to Shirou’s surprise. “If that upstart saw this, she might lock us into a route where it’s not possible for me to remain alive.”
“Huh?” Shirou asked, completely oblivious to what the elf-eared Servant had said.
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t let it bother you, boy. When you become aware of it, you’ll be stuck on that route,” Caster replied, giving a dismissing gesture with her hand.
“Well, alright, I guess?” Shirou replied. “But, Caster… is something wrong? You seem more agitated than usually.”
“None of your business, boy!” Caster snapped, huffing in annoyance. “Want me to stick you into formaldehyde?”
“No thank you,” Shirou flatly stated. “But still, you are my Servant. Isn’t it natural that I’d be worried about yout?”
Getting more and more irritated by the badgering of the red-headed boy, Caster snapped up from her chair and headed out of the kitchen with an almost gliding stride. Despite Shirou calling after her, Medea didn’t stop, opting instead of flipping her hair to signal that any attempts of communication would be met with cold indifference. For a proud witch like Medea, being cared by a young boy with no idea of the realities of this world was more than bothersome.
“Such a naïve idiot, that Master of mine…!” Caster grumbled as she exited the Emiya household into the cold winter air outside. “Who does she think I am? I am the Wicked Witch of the Western World! I do not need some pintsized failure of a magus to look after me!”
The chilly night of the Fuyuki City was like a direct opposite of the hot, humid nights of her home country. Those days seemed so far away now. Back then, Medea had lived a life that was like a dream. She had a husband, handsome and strong, a person dearer to her than anyone else. She had given birth to two beautiful offsprings, both shining as brilliantly as their father. There was nothing in the whole wide world that could darken her mind, no tragedy that could stain the perfect days that passed peacefully. She had everything she ever wanted, and more than she could ask.
“Then why, why am I delegated to serving that imbecilic brat!?” Caster growled, glaring at the stars above. “What did I do to deserve such an idiotic Master? One who thinks he is qualified enough to take care of me!”
Well, the answer was obvious, of course. A tragedy that should not have happened, happened. The perfect, idyllic life was shattered when the truth was revealed. The children she had once held with tender hands were torn apart by a dagger stained purple with their blood. Love that knew no bounds was transformed into a ruthless rage that had no end. Thanks to the whims of the gods, she was thrown in to the whirlpool of darkness, one she had not been able to escape even now.
“And yet that brat thinks he can understand, thinks he can soothe the pain…!” Medea half-shouted, driving herself further into rage. “How conceited can he get!?”
The channel of her annoyance was switched from verbal attack to a more physical one, as she directed a kick into a nearby pile of snow. However, thanks to a simple miscalculation stemming from the slippery ground, Medea suddenly found her field of vision spinning around like the leg of Chuck Norris. She was able to give out a single squeal of surprise before her momentum made her crash straight into the said pile of snow,
Thus did the greatest witch of ancient Greece throw an unintended somersault, ending up head stuck in the snow with her purple robe in a tangled mess.
“By the testicles of Poseidon…” Caster grumbled, the snow hiding the rest of her curses.
After a bit of squirming and struggling, she was able to remove herself from the white powder. Giving a deep and powerful sigh, Medea slumped backwards, hitting the white ground with a small thud. She stared straight into the skies above her, all of the previous rage drained from her face. It was as if the chill of the snow had absorbed all of the heat that had gathered on her cheeks. The vigor and adrenaline now gone, Caster was left with nothing but a strange emptiness beating in her heart.
“Just what am I doing…?” Medea muttered, her breath becoming white wisps that headed up towards the moon.
The stars offered her no answer, only silence. The sounds of the city were far away, but those coming from inside the house seemed even further. Anger that had morphed into apathy held her down, forcing her to stay outside just a little while longer. She did not want to go back in. She did not want to see her Master. Even if she was no longer angry at him, she wanted nothing to do with him.
She was angry at herself for not making it clear what sort of relationship the two of them had.
“We’re just a Servant and a Master. There is no need to care about each other more than that,” Caster said to herself as she slowly rose up from the snow. “I need to make him understand that.”
Determined to put an end to the charade that was the relationship between the two of them, Caster headed straight back to the large house, swinging the sliding door open with all the strength that her E-rank STR stat allowed. She marched in, resolve growing with every angry stomp. Like the dragon of Colchis, she took large strides, until she stood before the door that led to the kitchen of the house.
“Alright, boy!” Caster announced as she slammed the door open. “We need to talk!”
She had expected confusion and surprise, she had even expected a verbal rebuttal and slight aura of fear. What she had not expected was the gentle and delicious smell of roasted fish and garlic, along with a dash of pepper. It took her only few seconds to locate her red-haired Master, who was happily humming in the kitchen while flipping over a collection of sardines. Caster’s previous bravado was reduced to meek steps as she shuffled over to the kitchen and peeked over the shoulder of Shirou.
“Oh, there you are,” Shirou said and offered her a warm smile. “Could you take the plates to the table? Dinner’s already finished.”
“Dinner?” Caster tilted her head.
“Well… I figured that I’d make something for us to eat,” Shirou said with slightly flushed face, and scratched his cheek. “I know how it can sour the mood if you are hungry, so this is my way of apologizing for making you angry just now.”
Caster couldn’t help it. Her cheeks felt suddenly warmer and rose-colored tint covered them. This naivety, this childish belief that emotional problems could be solved with something so simple as food… there was such blue-eyed faith in them that she could not stop her heart from melting. Her anger, her apathy, her determination to draw a clear line between their positions… all of it was thrown out of the window by that single, simple-minded gesture by her slightly daft Master.
It was just the type of behavior Caster was weak against. For someone to believe in her so much, to care about her with such innocence… she had no defense against such devious attacks.
“C-Caster!?” Shirou yelped, finding the blue-haired Servant suddenly clinging to him from behind, nuzzling against his neck.
“Oh, shut up, boy,” Caster murmured, her breath tickling the skin of her Master. “You’re so unfair, you know that? What am I supposed to do in a situation like this?”
“W-w-w-well… well! You c-could help in setting up the t-t-table!” Shirou desperately suggested, only to squeak as Caster squeezed him tighter.
“Hmm… I guess I could do that. But I staying here for a while does not sound like a bad idea either, you know that?” Medea said.
“C-Caster?” Shirou asked, growing more and more confused. He looked behind him, and immediately snapped his eyes straight ahead.
After all, Caster was showing him such a brilliant smile that he could have never dared to look at it with his naked eyes. It was a smile he had never seen the older woman exhibit, one that made his heart skip a beat… and one that sent a slight chill creeping down his spine.
“Oh, don’t worry, boy,” Caster giggled. “I’m just contemplated about how unlucky I am, being stuck to such a Master.”
Shirou had no answer to that, and was thus forced to allow Caster to continue hugging him; something he found much less unpleasant than he had imagined.
“W-what… what the hell was that!?”
Avenger’s yell echoed in the chest, and Azaka’s face displayed an expression that pretty much summed up the previous statement. Both stared at the phone like it had turned into the next incarnation of Crimson Moon.
“Wait… wait, wait!” Avenger continued, slapping his hand over Azaka’s mouth before the girl could interrupt him.
He quickly removed it, though, as a kick blew past his head, missing it only by few centimeters.
“This place… it’s tied to the Second Magic,” Avenger said, horror of realization dawning on his face. “Therefore, it wouldn’t be impossible that all items used in here would be affected by the properties of this chest.”
“Are you saying that while we’re in this chest, there’s a good chance that we’ll accidentally call an alternate reality instead of our own!?” Azaka asked, starting to realize the severity of this situation.
“Yes. And knowing the Old Man of the Family Jewels… there’s a possibility that we’ll never be able to call our own reality!” Avenger exclaimed.
First, a moment of pure, horrified silence.
Second, a scream of terror that would have echoed all the way in Misaki Town, had the sources not been trapped inside a dimension-warping chest.
Time for the Christmas Countdown has come again!
The genre of this year: unlikely pairings!
If you have a good idea for a pairing, post it below, and it might just end up in one of the stories!
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Originally Posted by Tobias
