Shion Means "Remembrance"

[Arashi_Leonhart]

Shion Means “Remembrance”


Even in the orange light of the setting sun, the strange color stood out.

It was not something Issei thought he should have noticed. In practicing the emptying of mind and spirit, the earthly distractions of the world should have gone by unchecked. School was over, his meetings with the student council completed, and it was now time to head home and complete his duties around the temple.

Still, he could not help but peer out the window when he caught sight of her. She was tall—taller than any of the women on campus, certainly—and her hair cascaded down her back like a wave of flowers. Shion, he thought, the flower that bloomed in a pale purple-like color. She spoke to someone at the front gate, though that person was too obscured by the reddish light for Issei to get a good look.

The monk nodded to himself. He could satiate his curiosity while fulfilling his school bound duties at the same time: the woman was not wearing a uniform, and so he felt it within his rights to inquire what she was doing on premises. Apparently, no teachers or faculty had done so, else this stranger would probably not be gallivanting about so freely, without escort.

By the time he made it down the stairs, switched into his shoes, and was out within view of the gate, both the stranger and whoever they had been talking to were nowhere to be seen. Issei considered poking around for a moment to see if they were still on premises—

“Get your act together, stupid woman! I want this thing done, so we can move on already.”

Issei knew of only one boy at school that would say such a thing.

The voice had come from beyond the clubhouses, back toward the Archery range and storage sheds. Issei made his decision and headed back to confront whatever was going on, but was halted when he turned the corner and almost crashed into a furious Shinji Matou.

“Eh, Ryuudou, still diligently making the rounds?” Shinji said, a strange expression between a sneer and nervous twitching vying for dominance on his features.

“Of course, Matou-kun. It is part of my duty. What of you? Did I hear incorrectly earlier today that you had a date planned with one of your admirers?” Issei pushed the glasses he wore up the bridge of his nose. He knew the gesture annoyed the Matou boy, and for some reason beyond him he felt that right now was an appropriate time to do so.

Shinji sniffed and his gaze wandered to the gate. “I was just on my way. Keep up the good work, Mister Student Council.”

When Shinji Matou and his attitude problem were out of sight, Issei wandered further back toward the sheds and clubrooms, until he found where he thought he’d heard the shouting. No woman could be seen, though something crawling along the back of his neck told him she was still within hearing, still paying attention. “I heard Matou-kun yelling earlier. I wanted to see if there was a problem here.”

No answer came, though Issei still had the unshakable impression that this mysterious someone was here. Within one of the club rooms, perhaps.

“I do not intend to make a scene, or get you into trouble if there is a problem,” Issei continued on. “But I would like to help, if at all possible. The concerns of the people at this school are my concerns as well.”

The only sound that he could make out were the birds in the wooded areas beyond the school grounds. This was not a problem, though—if there was one thing his daily training did, it was give him a great deal of patience. Sure, patience that the Tohsaka-fox tested every moment of every day, but patience nonetheless. He set his feet apart and crossed his arms, waiting for this silent person to either respond or flee. Either way, it would accomplish his responsibilities.

The sunset turned to nightfall, the color in the sky fading away. The only light besides the moon and stars came from the field lamps out on the opposite side of the school, refracting just enough to give shape and grayed color to Issei’s surroundings.

Still, he did not budge.

“You are a very persistent person,” a quiet voice said from the shadows of one building.

Issei nodded, though he could not really see the person he was addressing. Her form was present, though the darkness kept him from having a clear look—though he could see the long locks swaying about her shoulders. “I could say the same thing to you. So. Are you willing to explain what is going on?”

There was a seriousness to her voice when she said, “You would not understand.” She spoke with a maturity that Issei had never quite heard before, not even from the adults at school or the senior monks living at the temple.

“Understanding is irrelevant to cooperation. I said, if there is a way to help, I would do so.”

“You are serious.”

Issei put his hands on his hips. It was something he thought he probably picked up from Emiya, the stubborn heel-dug-in stance that came whenever help was mentioned. “I am always serious.”

“That I do not doubt.” She moved out from the deeper shadows, though he still could not quite see everything. Undoubtedly, however, she was a beautiful woman. Tall and long-legged, carrying a strange sense of sincere intensity. Something about her seemed fey, dangerous even, but at the same time the way her lips pursed and her arms were at her side in a defenseless motion seemed like it was not a danger he had to fear. She would not hide anything once confronting an issue—unlike the other women Issei had come across in his short life. “Still, you step upon dangerous grounds. This is not a simple issue.”

“Of course.”



When she was done spinning her tale, the woman held deathly still—stiller than Issei thought a living being could actually manage. The monk wanted to peer into her eyes to gauge the level of severity this explanation held to her, though she wore something like a visor or sunglasses such that he could not.

“So, it is something of a curse. You must take the life force of others in exchange to continue to survive.”
Though the woman did not move, did not change expression in any fashion, Issei could still tell that she was surprised. He supposed she did not believe he would accept her words at face value. “You could call it such.”

Issei allowed himself a faint smile. It was not something the average person probably would have accepted, but Issei had been raised on the understanding of the spiritual. The ideas of curses and miracles still carried weight to him, though the foundational power that the monks of Ryuudou once held had long since dissipated. Though he wondered if the history his family had painted was entirely true, he had accepted that there were things beyond his knowledge that existed. The way this woman presented the topic, said in utter dangerous honesty, was something he could accept. It was not every day that a person admitted to bear sins against the lives of others.

He understood, too, that with what she had explained as the solution to be, he was otherwise powerless to question her veracity. She did indeed carry that fey sense, like she could kill him right here and now—but she had not made such a move, and he considered why she would even tell him these things.

Probably because she did not like them anymore than he did.

“I take it, Matou-kun is in on this as well,” Issei said.

“Yes. My Master chose this location for its practicality in assembling so many lives together. If we had another choice, perhaps he would not be so impatient—but we do not.”

“I see.” Issei closed his eyes, tried to root out any possible solution to this dilemma. Though ultimately, as he knew very well, his ability to find one was lacking. The Ryuudou of ancient times could have worked to thwart such a situation, but he had no such ability. “And there is no way to stall this ceremony?”

Though he could still only see the fringes of a visor over her eyes, Issei had the impression the woman stared at him long and hard. “Stall?”

“Until you find another solution. I, of course, must think of the other students and their lives, but…”

The woman gave the faintest tilt of her head. “Most people in your situation would wish for no such massacre to occur in the first place.”

Issei nodded gravely. “Indeed. But you yourself are in a predicament and…” he looked away, “I do not believe it is to your liking, either. You are clearly not a bad person.”

She seemed to startle, leaning back on her heels marginally, her mouth falling agape ever-so-slightly. “You are quite strange,” she said.

“Still.”

“Still…” The woman put a hand up to her chin to think, the motion somehow dainty despite the topic they were on. It only lent Issei the idea that he was correct in his assumptions. “There is something I can do, yes.”

“What is it?”

Her “gaze” once more turned directly to him, intense and dangerous—though there was a sudden shyness to it as well, like she had not wished to come upon this idea. “You yourself are different from most others here,” she said. “You carry with you…energy. Spiritual presence that others do not have.”

Issei nodded once again, tilting his chin out a little proudly. “My family are descendants of powerful monks that once resided in these lands.”

“If I were to consume from you, then I would have enough to postpone this event for a day or two,” she said.

“Consume?”

“Your blood.”

He stared at her. “Truly?”

“Yes.” Her arms fell away again and she turned to face him directly, moving up closer. The faint light from the field lights was just enough to let him catch the purple color of her hair contrasting with the growing darkness beyond. “It is not efficient to take from the average person, which is why we resort to the spell. Though it is still inefficient, your life force certainly contains greater prana than the average person.”

“I see.” And he did see, fully, what she was saying. It meant he would risk his life for something that may or may not help in the long run. It meant the possibility of dying without knowing for what reason, for why. “How much would you need?”

She considered, for a moment. “You would still live, but I believe the constitution of the average person would mean you would most likely fall unconscious.”

Though he tried not to show it, Issei could feel the clammy sensation of sweat starting to form around his forehead, at the fringes of his hair. “I…if it will help…then I accept.”

“Truly?” she said, a faint smile on her lips.

He had backed up without even realizing he was doing so until his shoulders met with the doorway leading to the range. “If it will help,” He repeated.

Her face lost the smile, and she nodded. “It will.”

“Then…I would ask you make it quick.”

She pressed her body to his until he could feel her body’s form beneath her clothing, until the scent of woman filled his senses. Indeed, there was an almost coppery tinge to her, like blood, though it seemed diluted by the way her hands brushed up along his left arm and along the side of his neck. “You can call me Rider, by the way,” she whispered in his ear.

“Rider,” he said. “Issei Ryuudou is my name.”

“I will remember this, Issei Ryuudou.”

Her fingertips gently pried apart the collar of his uniform, then pulled away to expose his shoulder. Issei felt Rider’s breath play across his skin, then the graze of her teeth just below where his neck met his body. He took a deep breath, though his gaze kept almost hypnotically on the strands of pale color over her shoulder.

Until it faded into the darkness.


To be continued.