I forget does Shirou know the child is his?Originally Posted by lethum
I forget does Shirou know the child is his?
He won't find out until the next snippet, which happens after StrikerS.
How is mine convoluted
All I did was a surprise visit by Lindy and a chilly Momoko!
I call false charges!
...
Still not decided on how canon my "Shirou goes for one job" pair of snippets is :P
... what snippet with Rin's child?
lethum, can you send me a PM elaborating more on Yuuno and Due's relationship? THank you very much.
And sorry Iron, I kinda forgot myself for a bit.
Underneath the Stars
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Well, I don't have anything else written or in stone, right now. You can go wild with the details you've got now, if you want. Though keep in mind that this thread is for Vajra, and anything that strays too far should go to its own thread/subforum.
Duly noted. Though, which would be the "official" pairing for Shirou? That's quite a big questiong, seeing as you said that their relationship would affect the later generations.
Underneath the Stars
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In the planned future of my fic? I haven't gone that far. Though I admit that in my mind, the only competitors for the position were Signum and Lindy.
That's in everyone mind. Those two are pretty much the top dogs in this.
Darkhorse would be Miyuki and Shamal
Underneath the Stars
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What's next? Arf and Rin?
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Rin's already been discussed quite a bit...
F/GO SUPPORT
Mine everyone knows that I'm using Subaru; though no true romance is involved other than being completely one-sided on Subaru's part.
Rin is always worthy of discussion.
@Santo: Ah, my bad.Sorry dude, my head's been throbbing now for a few days and my thoughts have been a bit jumbled, so for some reason I was thinking your snippets were more complex than they really were.
Ahh, throbbing head and jumbled thoughts do indeed happen.Rin is always worthy of discussion.
@Santo: Ah, my bad.
*waves hand*
'Tis cool. Just go get yourself some advil or something :3
Eh, I think it's more because I've been studying nonstop since Saturday.
Urgh, I hear ya x3Eh, I think it's more because I've been studying nonstop since Saturday.
Me third except it is math(stat) instead
(shamelessly doing this so that the thread is renewed and the story updated)
Fate watched from the top of the stairs as Shiro Takamachi spoke on her phone, pacing back and forth in his living room, only able to catch fractions of the conversation the man was having with her father.
“No that is not satisfactory! My family could have been hurt Shirou!
“So you sent one of them? Why would yo-
“Yes…I understand that, but-” Shiro Takamachi gave a long sigh. “Yes…you’re right of course. Forgive me, I was on edge.
“Yes…thank you for what you did…yeah…yeah I will…goodbye.” With that, he hung up the phone and stalked to the foot of the stairs. “Fate, Shirou wanted me to tell you good night on his part, it seems that we caught him at a bad time. He’ll call again on the morning.”
Fate retrieved her cellphone from the older man’s grip. “Did…did he seem well?”
Shiro gave her a reassuring smile. “Yes of course. He seemed a little distracted but I am sure he is alright.”
Fate remained quiet for a few moments. “I miss him.”
Shiro rubbed her head. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back before you know it. Now, off to bed. You have school tomorrow.”
Fate stood wordlessly and made her way to the room she shared with her best friend. Once there she slipped beneath the covers of the bed.
“Were you able to talk to him Fate-chan?” Asked a worried Nanoha Takamachi.
Fate wordlessly shook her head, her expression forlorn.
“D-Did you learn what happened at the mall?”
Once more, Fate’s only answer was negative movement of her head.
“Fate-chan…”
An uncomfortable silence reined between the two of them.
Fate’s cellphone suddenly ringing made the two of them jump. Fate fumbled with her phone until she managed to see what was happening. Shirou had sent her a text message.
“Hey Fate, sorry I couldn’t talk to you. Got busy over here. Sleep well, okay? ;3
“P.S. Would you like a souvenir? I’m not good at this souvenir stuff…would a teddy bear be good?
“P.P.S. Food here is terrible, people just don’t bother learning how to cook.
“P.P.P.S. Have you seen if Momoko has given me the evil eye at all? I swear I get shivers every other hour and start looking around…she’s still there right?
“…right?
“P.P.P.P.S. I should probably let you go to bed eh?...erm…good night.”
The two girls read the airheaded text message with wonder in their eyes before they started giggling uncontrollably.
“Guess he can’t be doing too badly if he can let his mind wander so much right?” Asked Nanoha with an innocent smile adorning her cheeks.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Answered Fate, her expression mirroring that of her best friend.
“Finally done with your contraption Mr. Emiya?” Asked Sir Gelfreidson Balforomous III Esq. while everyone present glared daggers at the ‘specialist’ the lady Barthomeloi had brought along.
The white haired man simply flipped the…machine…closed without a care in the world. “Yes, you may proceed.” Said Shirou with all the dignity of a king on his throne.
But for a slight twitch of his left eyebrow, one would be unable to tell that the attitude displayed by the third rate magus served only to enrage Balforomous.
“As I was saying before our ‘guest’ interrupted me.” Gelfreidson stated before beginning the briefing once more. “Tomorrow will be the night of the Red Moon, the time at which Apostles are at their strongest.
“We will attack the castle and wipe out the filth until nothing remains as per the wishes of the lady Barthomeloi.”
Shirou raised his hand.
“Yes Mr. Emiya?”
“Why do we not attack now? Taking advantage that the recent tenth will not be at his absolute strongest, therefore lowering the risk of the mission?” Asked the white haired man, the only person out of the fifty present to voice any doubt upon the plan.
“Because the Lady Barthomeloi wishes us to strike at the Red Moon.”
“Ahh…” Answered Shirou. “I see…that is all.”
“Very well, now as you all know we expect the creature to hav-”
Shirou stopped paying his full attention to the idiot in front of him.
‘I am so screwed.’ Thought the Tracer as he began to plan contingencies.
For the first time sense her father had left for his business trip, Fate T. Emiya was able to sleep for the entire night. The worry she constantly felt alleviated by her father’s antics.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
A green eyed ferret looked at the proceeding from the relative safety granted by the top of the dresser.
“Come here boy, c’meere! No need to worry, I won’t hurt you.” Said a blond, green-eyed girl as she tried to convince the green eyed ferret to give up his high position on the dresser. The only response she got was for the ferret to turn away from her, causing her eyes to darken and for all the other girls present to fall into helpless giggles.
“I don’t think he will let you give him another bath Arisa-chan.” Said one Suzuka Tsukimura as she returned the ferret’s intense stare.
“Well, his loss. I’ll just play with Fate’s dog.” Answered Arisa Bannings as she made her way to the enormous wolfish dog reclining on her bed. Shortly after she began to rub its red fur, it turned to present its belly to her. Never one to decline an invitation, Arisa set to her task with gusto.
Finally left alone, Yuuno Scrya was finally able to dedicate some brain power into digesting Fate’s current situation.
The quiet confidence he remembered in her was there. But everything she did, when she smiled, laughed, ate, spoke, even when she joined Arisa in rubbing her familiar’s stomach, there was something wrong. In anything and everything she did, there was an undercurrent of sorrow.
Yuuno himself had pretty much just fended for himself for as long as he could remember, but he had studied many households and so knew the theory.
Fate missed the stability and protection provided by the parental figure that had adopted her, and so trailed around others, not unlike a lost puppy awaiting the return of its guardian.
Yuuno hated seeing that, and so had convinced Nanoha to host a girls night/pajama party in order to surround Fate with her friends and get her mind off of her absent adoptive father. It had worked to an extent.
But he really had hoped to attend as a human rather than an animal. He just knew Arf was laughing at him.
Still, his plan had met with mild success. For the first time in two weeks, Fate did not spend any spare moment she could staring at her cell phone, waiting for it to ring. Yuuno took a small measure of pride in that. Now all he needed to do was figure out a way to make sure that the girls would not be able t-
At that moment, pink bands of energy settled across his limbs and lifted him from the top of the dresser. A roar of manly challenge and outrage left his lips. It was very manly and challenging and full of outrage, and did not at all sound like the high-pitched surprised and terrified squeaks a ferret trapped by a predator might make.
“Now now Yuuno-kun.” Said Nanoha Takamachi as she restrained the green-eyed ferret, keeping it from the freedom it so sought. “We can’t have you be the only one that does not get to have fun~”
As the rest of the girls turned and squealed, Yuuno tripled his efforts at obtaining freedom, hoping against all hope that he would be spared from the indignities he knew were to come.
As Yuuno was hugged, squeezed and squealed over. Fate T. Emiya looked out the window.
She knew not why, but the blood colored moon chilled her to the marrow.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Shirou ran through the corridor and dispatched the umpteenth undead, its blood splattering across the floor. He absently stepped over the pressure plate that would activate a lightning trap as he thrust Bakuya into the stomach of yet another undead, shearing the cavity open and spilling a large amount of blood into the wall.
Shirou had been given his objective: to find the Dead Apostle Ancestor and analyze the mace. Once he had that information he was to rush to Lorelei’s side and explain its Mystery to her, ensuring that Louvre would no longer pose such a great threat.
Shirou jumped out the open window and hastily climbed onto the roof, quickly Tracing Caladbolg and using it to destroy a stone Gargoyle as it came alive and rushed at him.
Shirou had his plan ready. He would run to the area above the chamber they suspected Louvre was, cut open a hole on the roof, see the weapon, and bug out. He would normally prefer to sink his blades into the Apostle Ancestor, but if he did and somehow, miraculously, ended up killing it, Lorelei would come for his head.
A sudden feeling of danger exploded on his senses and Shirou halted, looking around cautiously. A hole had been made much in the same place he had planned his own surveillance.
Someone had beaten him to the punch. And judging by the fact that he was the only one who was supposed to be in the roof, it was not one of the Brigade.
A moment later a man of a comparable age with him jumped out of the opening, a blast of wind and a scream of rage following close on his heels. When this man caught sight of Shirou he gasped.
The two studied one another.
One was dressed in black with steel combat boots, the red mantle protecting him from the frigid winds as they swayed his messy white hair. Golden colored eyes, hard as stone, narrowing as he reached a conclusion.
The other was wrapped in a black jacket and a red scarf. He wore sprinter shoes, perfect footwear for ease of movement. A red bandage wrapped around his head, covering one of his eyes, the right eye uncovered, his hand frozen in the act of wrapping the bandage back around his head. His hands reversed their motions, taking the cloth completely away, revealing a pair of hard and unforgiving blue eyes, as cold as the ice they so resembled.
The two of them clenched their jaws at the same time, their eyes glaring into the orbs of the other with relentless rage. Their hands tightening on their chosen weapons. Their thoughts joined in strange synchronicity.
‘This man…I hate this man.’
With a wordless roar they charged at each other, more than enemies, their attacks seeking the flesh of the other with hatred born strength rather than the cold controlled technique the two normally favored.
Shirou’s weapons shattered, he called forth more.
And more.
And more.
And still more.
None of his weapons would survive more than a few strikes made at the strange man with ice-blue eyes. His enemy would flow around his attacks, before running the tip of his knife in an unorthodox pattern over the blade, the plain metal knife slicing through the projected Noble Phantasm with the ease of a hot knife through butter.
In turn, the black haired man had to concentrate his being on defense, for Shirou did not test him with the same weapon twice. Each of the strikes coming from the white-haired man came at a different angle, with a different reach, utilizing a different technique. He could not find the space to slip into his opponent’s guard to deliver a lethal blow.
With the thought of retreat never once crossing their minds, they separated and began to circle one another. The belligerent hate coursing through their veins demanding battle be joined once more.
The fact that this enemy could destroy even Durandal had come as a surprise to Shirou. The weapon was indestructible and its wielder would die long before the weapon cracked. Granted, this man had seemed to struggle, evading countless attacks made with the weapon by ever shortening distance until he stabbed into a small point close to the blade’s guard and caused the projection to shatter.
Shirou did not understand why he hated the man before him. He had a feeling his opponent felt much the same confusion. All Shirou knew was that he had felt this feeling only once in the past.
Shirou Emiya would never approve of the existence before him.
Shirou called forth a weapon that he had at one point sworn he would never again trace. A flamberge made of black steel settling into his waiting palm. Crumbling cloth wrapped around its hilt, the guard in the form of a human skull, black serrated blades growing out of its sides, oversized canines demanded blood while the blade of dark steel protruded from the skull like a long serpentine tongue.
An insatiable, ravenous hunger could be felt like a miasma in the air, emanating from the blade like a torrid fog. The weapon in Shirou’s hand demanded blood. His. His enemy’s. The blood of the guilty or innocent, of man, woman, or child. The weapon cared not as long as it could feast.
Even while its hunger for blood could be felt like a solid heat, something else pressed against their skin, something cold. More arctic than an iceberg yet hotter than a forge. A different hunger that would cause terror to seize the spine of the most valiant man. Anyone who looked at the blade would instinctively know; to be cut by it is a folly.
To be slain by it would lead to a fate much worse than death.
Shirou had only ever used the weapon once; he had used it in rage, bringing it to bear against a Dead Apostle who had slain a child in front of him.
He had been unable to stop retching for hours, and had not slept for weeks afterwards.
The blade would feed in the life-blood of anything it cut. Anything slain by the blade however, would be consumed by the ravenous spirit contained within it.
The two men stared into the eyes of the other, gauging, measuring, preparing.
They tensed their bodies in order to sprint at one another once more. Only one would walk away from this following clash. No other outcome was possible or acceptable.
At this precise moment an image slammed into Shirou’s mind, causing the tracer to materialize forty blades and fire them in his opponent’s overall direction, buying him time to frantically retreat, opening the distance between himself and his enemy, securing himself more space with which to abandon the fight.
They studied one another once more, glaring into the eyes of the other from over a hundred feet away.
The dark clothed man took a step in Shirou’s direction when the sounds of the Chelon Canticle Brigade clambering into the roof reached them. With a last contemptuous, hatred-filled glance at the white haired tracer, the figure ran into the night, once more wrapping the bandage across his eyes.
Shirou willed his weapon to disperse, a palpable feeling of disappointment emanating from the blade.
Trembling, he sat and waited for the Brigade to reach him. He would have a lot of explaining to do.
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Shirou wearily stepped toward the exit after the polite clerk handed him his documents back.
Lorelei had not been at all happy that her enforcers had been beaten to the punch. She’d all but ordered Shirou tortured to receive even the most miniscule scrap of information on the assassin that had ended the life of Louvre.
The mere thought of that man set Shirou’s blood to a boil, causing people to unconsciously step away from him with a slight feeling of dread. He did not know why, but he was sure if they ever met again, either this man would die at Shirou’s hands or Shirou would die at his. No other outcome was possible.
Or at least…there should have been no other outcome. But in the midst of the duel between them, Shirou had remembered something important.
The owner of a pair of ruby colored eyes, so bright as to put the stones they so resembled to shame, waited for him to return.
The life of Shirou Emiya no longer belonged to him alone, he could not afford to take even a fifty percent chance at death.
Shirou knew this, understood it to be true. A statement as simple and basic as saying that his body was made of swords.
Yet the ramifications of such a simple truth chilled him to his core. If Shirou Emiya was unwilling to take risks, people would die. People that he could have otherwise saved by expending his life would meet their end, and Shirou Emiya would have to live with that.
For he would never forgive himself if he were to make his daughter sad.
The moment he realized that, Shirou had suffered a seizure. His nerves fraying until magecraft had needed to be employed in order to calm him down.
A loud cry filled with joy snapped him out of his painful revere.
Fate T. Emiya rushed through the crowd, laughing and crying as she weaved and bobbed, evading the bustle of the busy airport. When a security guard sought to impede her progress, she put Shirou’s fighting classes to good use and simply slid in between the legs of the man, resuming her mad rush for her father’s arms.
As soon as she was in range she threw herself into Shirou’s stomach with the force of a small torpedo, knocking the breath out of him as she wrapped her arms around him in a ferocious hug.
Shirou could feel a warm wetness spread out on his belly as Fate wept into his shirt, reveling in his presence. Her tears intensifying as Shirou returned the hug.
Shirou looked around and saw that most of the people in the floor were staring at the spectacle, a few of the more emphatic ones crying at the display of affection. The guard that had been approaching Shirou surreptitiously wiped at his eyes and sniffled.
The tears were slapped off his face as a girl with short shorts and a very tiny shirt used him as a spring board and cannoned into Shirou and his daughter, sending the three of them to the floor in an awkward pile of limbs.
Near the entrance to the airport, the entirety of the Takamachi family palmed their faces and sighed, doing what they could to conceal their smiles.
Hnnngh-!
*collapses from heart attack*
Good work Santo... now excuse me while I sink into unconsciousness...
'Fae is Foul' - My SAO/ZnT Crossover fanfic (SB Thread) (FFN Link)
Santo you magnificent son of a gun... You did it again you freaking bastard! Damn that was good!
Underneath the Stars
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