Hey folks.
In my never ending quest to delay actually putting work into the full-length series I've started, here's a series of short stories. I guess by way of introduction, its a (perhaps somewhat liberal) reinterpretation of (F/SN) Assassin's character. Because I can't be bothered to fit it in with any existing route, I'm just going to go ahead and say let's make it an AU. Illya route or something. Yeah, that sounds good.
There will be seven parts in total, the clever ones among you may be able to figure out why that is. The main purpose of writing these is to practice characterization in the midst of combat, which you'll notice is distinctly lacking in the first part, but don't worry it'll show up eventually.
And finally yes I'm aware that sparrows and swallows are different.
Enjoy reading, and feel free to post any comments/criticisms regarding anything that catches your eye.
EDIT: Have some quick access.
Part 2/3/4/5/6/7
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Song of a Lost Sparrow
Part 1
The first thing he noticed was the sound of the wind.
The cool mountain air blew gently past, ruffling his hair and tugging lightly on his clothes. The soft scents of the nearby trees created a sense of peace and gentleness that brought him a strange sense of comfort. The weight of his sword sat heavily on his back, urging him to rise from sleep and fight.
Opening his eyes, his first instinct was to look up at the sky, and his first thought was that it was terrifyingly dark. A light scattering of clouds dotted the sky, and the moon hung between them, lending a faint glow to his surroundings, but between the moon and clouds was nothing but an empty void.
What world had he stepped into, that there were no stars?
That thought drew a wry smile out of him. Who was he to complain? It wasn't like he had ever seen a world with stars. After all, he had only begun to exist a few moments prior.
A voice much colder than the night air pulled him from his thoughts.
"This is somewhat...beyond expectations." The words weren't directed at him, but they pulled his attention anyways. Breaking his gaze from the night sky, he looked down to see the speaker, a woman clothed in robes of deep violet, a black hooded cloak overtop obscuring the upper half of her face.
"No matter how you look at it, he seems like a Saber class Servant. I thought you said that wasn't possible?" A second voice spoke out from behind the woman in violet. While hers had been cold as ice, the second voice sounded more like dead wood. As he turned his gaze to see the source of the second voice, his suspicions were confirmed. Standing behind the woman a few paces back was a man in deep green formal wear. While he carried himself with the poise of a trained fighter, his eyes told a much deeper story. Stone cold eyes, reflecting a heart that had died long ago.
"I didn't say it was impossible," the woman replied with a huff, "only that it was unlikely. A magus such as myself summoning a Saber class Servant with no catalyst would be nothing more than luck."
As if contented by her response, the man in green returned to silence.
As the other two spoke, he looked around the clearing. At a glance, he seemed to be standing in the outer grounds of some sort of Buddhist temple. Torches here and there provided a soft orange glow to the area that somehow made it seem more difficult to see the woman in front of him.
The short conversation between the two of them over, the woman finally addressed him.
"Well? What Heroic Spirit are you?" The woman's voice was tinged with impatience. She didn't wear her traumas like a cloak, as the man did, but he could make a good guess on her just by the tone of her voice.
As he turned his mind over to the question, he found the answer came unexpectedly easily.
"Servant Assassin, Sasaki Kojiro. At your service." Assassin bowed as he spoke. Enough to be respectful, but not so much as to be subservient.
Even with her face concealed, Assassin could easily see the woman's expression drop. "Assassin? Why couldn't you have been an Archer? Or at least Berserker?" After scrutinizing him for a few more moments, she spoke again, her voice suddenly much more hostile. "Well, with parameters like yours, you probably wouldn't qualify for any other class, would you? I'm surprised you made it into Assassin in the first place."
Assassin replied with a helpless shrug. "Sorry to disappoint you. If I had had the choice to be stronger, I'm sure I would have taken it."
The woman sneered. "If you were going to be this weak, why did you even answer the call of the Grail? You can't possibly have thought someone of your caliber could actually win, could you?"
Assassin tilted his head to the side as he pondered her question. "Answer the call? I had no say in the matter. You are the one who brought me here, are you not?"
"Yes, yes, I opened the gate to summon you. But you stepped through it yourself, no?"
"I'm afraid not," Assassin replied with another grin. "Or if I did, I have no memory of doing so. As far as I can tell, I was only born a few moments ago, you see."
His declaration was met with a stunned silence. The woman's focus seemed to drift as she contemplated the ramifications of his claim, but before she could reach a conclusion the man behind her spoke again.
"Caster, I thought you said you were going to summon a Heroic Spirit."
"I was," the woman - Caster - replied with a frustrated growl. "It seems like something went wrong. You are Sasaki Kojiro, are you not? The Japanese samurai?"
"Certainly, that was the name I was given," Assassin replied. "But I personally have no memory of being such a person before tonight."
It was an odd sensation, to be sure. When he thought, 'who am I,' the answer came clear as day - a Japanese samurai, Sasaki Kojiro. Rival to the legend Miyamoto Musashi. He had all sorts of memories of things that Sasaki Kojiro did during his lifetime, from his first day picking up a sword to the day he was slain. But as he looked over those memories...
...that was not 'him.'
So he looked further. And sure enough, there were more memories - memories of a man with no name, who had picked up a sword without purpose and swung it without end. He had never used it to defend himself, never used it to take a human life, but he had persevered in his training for countless days. He had reached the level at which human skill could no longer advance - and he had broken past it. Even as his training brought him to a skill level that to humans seemed like magic, his training never ceased. Eventually, he died an unknown death, without heir or disciple, taking his secrets to the grave.
...and yet, that was not 'him.'
So who was 'he?' As he looked for memories of himself, memories of the individual that he was, he saw only one thing - the cool mountain air, the shining moon overhead, and a sky devoid of stars.
Caster gave an exasperated sigh. "What a failure. I thought I had understood the Servant system perfectly, but it appears I was mistaken. If nothing else, I suppose we've eliminated the possibility of someone else summoning an Assassin class Servant. That will certainly make your day to day life easier, Master."
"Wouldn't having an Assassin class Servant of our own be a tremendous advantage?" the man Caster had referred to as her Master spoke. Despite his words, there was no optimism in his voice. It was flat, dead, as if he was asking for information just for information's sake.
"Unfortunately no," Caster said with another sigh, this time a bit more polite. "As a Servant myself, I have no way to anchor him in the present world. Instead, I used the temple grounds themselves to anchor him...unfortunately, that means he won't be able to go very far beyond them. I suspect he won't be able to maintain his form much beyond the stairs outside the front gate." Turning back to face Assassin, Caster spoke again, this time her voice cold and commanding. "And thus we come to your job. You say you didn't exist prior to tonight? Fine. In thanks for giving you the chance to live, you will guard this temple. As an Assassin, you should at the very least be able to eliminate any Master's that come through it, correct?"
Assassin gave a light-hearted chuckle. For some reason, any opportunity he got to disappoint this woman made him happy. "Sorry, but I also lack any skills as an assassin. As a samurai, all I know is how to fight head on." It wasn't that he particularly disliked her. No, deep down he suspected there was a bright, cheerful, loyal and devoted girl struggling to make herself heard. When she spoke to the man she called Master, he could faintly see that noble spirit.
Something had happened that had twisted her nature, made a good person seem evil. As much as that innocent girl struggled to show herself, the fact of the matter was that she was a part of Caster's past - the current Caster, standing here today, was a very different person. And that darker, twisted persona made itself very evident whenever she spoke without addressing the man behind her.
"Of course you don't," she said. Assassin could practically feel her roll her eyes. "So you are a terribly weak Servant, with none of the skills that define your class. Tell me then, by some miracle, do you at least possess a Noble Phantasm that makes you worth keeping around?"
"Noble Phantasm? Of course I don't possess such a thing. That would be reserved for the real Sasaki Kojiro," he shrugged. "A fake such as myself wouldn't be able to use a Noble Phantasm if I even had one."
Caster turned away from Assassin and began walking back towards the temple behind her. "I apologize, Master. It appears this plan was an utter failure. I will make a new strategy, so please do not worry. At the very least, this failure will give us a noisy warning when we are attacked by another Servant."
As her Master turned to follow her, Assassin tilted his head to the side in confusion. "If I may ask, why would I do such a thing?"
Caster froze. Turning slowly to face him, Assassin didn't need to see her eyes to recognize the fury in her expression. "Excuse me?"
"Well, the purpose of Servants like us is to fight for the Holy Grail and receive a wish, no? In this situation, it seems quite obvious I have no chance of winning. So why should I bother helping you?"
As flippant as it may have sounded, it was an honest question. Even being a fake as he was, he was still summoned by the Grail, and thus still gifted with the necessary knowledge of the Holy Grail War and the common era. It was clear that the purpose of Servants were to fight for their Masters, win them the Holy Grail, and then receive any wish they desired as a reward for success. But the Grail would not appear until six Servants had been slain. Thus, if his Master - who was a Servant herself - was to win the War, she would have to eventually kill Assassin.
It was evident that Assassin had very little to gain from actually aiding her. And since he didn't need her to anchor him in this world, it seemed actually his best chance of winning the war would be to strike her down now, and hope another Master randomly happened across him before he disappeared.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, mind-numbing pain. With a sensation like there was a knife in his stomache struggling to dig its way free, Assassin dropped to his knees. Blood poured from his mouth, proving that the pain was not some simple illusion. After a few moments, as he struggled to bring the pain under control, it began to subside, gradually dulling. Spitting out another mouthful of blood, he was able to begin breathing again.
"First of all," Caster spoke, her passive expression lending extra weight to her ice cold voice, "I am not a Servant like you. Unlike the failure that is yourself, I actually am a true Heroic Spirit. If you equate us ever again, you will be enjoying that pain for the rest of your pitiful existence here."
Assassin wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, careful not to dirty his sleeve. "My apologies," he said, the quiver in his voice from the still lingering pain somewhat detracting from his sarcasm.
"Secondly, you have no choice in the matter." Caster's voice lost some of its edge as she spoke, but still remained icy cool. "As your Master, your free will belongs to me. If you insist on being difficult, then I will simply use a Command Spell to take your obedience by force." Caster raised her right hand, and a faint red glow became visible. "Assassin. You will make every effort to obey my commands at all times." As she finished speaking, the red glow on her hand flared brightly.
A new sensation suddenly added itself to the fading pain in Assassin's stomache. A sensation of being bound, as if strings were wrapped tightly around every part of his body, pulling him in every direction.
"Now," Caster continued, lowering her hand. "Go defend the front gate. Any opponent you face will likely be more than enough to kill you, so try and at least delay them as long as possible." With that, Caster turned away and resumed her walk to the temple.
As she did so, the strings binding Assassin's body pulled him into motion. In short order, he was pulled to his feet, and turning in the opposite direction, he found himself walking outside the front gate of the temple. It seemed she wasn't bluffing - just like that, she was able to overwrite his free will and force him to do anything she wanted. He briefly wondered how many times she could do that, but with that first command, it seemed she probably wouldn't even need to use the Command Spells anymore.
As she walked to the temple, Caster paused, calling out over her shoulder one last time. "Even so, I have no intention of being needlessly cruel. Perform well, and I will reward you. If you defeat even a single Servant, maybe I will give you a chance at living a life of your own." Without waiting for a response, she entered the building in front of her, followed quickly by her Master.
As Assassin approached the top of the stairs leading down the mountain, the strings holding his body relaxed, giving him control of his body once more. Though he was long out of earshot, he still replied with a smirk.
"There's the darkness I thought I saw." As expected, she was as dark and twisted as she looked. Holding even his free will hostage, without a second thought she ordered him around like a dog, and then had the audacity to tag on a promise of freedom at the end.
It was true he had never really lived before. He had plenty of memories of other people's lives, but none that he could call his own. Even so, he had no real desire to live a life of his own. He wasn't a real person, and seeing glimpses of what it meant to be one, he felt no draw to it. He supposed he had no choice but to act as the guard dog for that woman, but afterwards he would be more than satisfied to return back to the nothingness from which he had come.
Sitting cross-legged at the top of the steps, Assassin returned his gaze to the sky. Now distanced from the lights of the temple grounds, he could faintly see stars beginning to peak through the veil of the night. A satisfied smile came to his lips as they winked into existence one by one. He felt an odd kinship with them, tiny pricks of light that appeared out of the darkness, only to vanish once anything brighter than the moon shone near them.
Sooner or later, the sun that was the Holy Grail would rise, and he would disappear forever. There was nothing he could do to stop that, and he had no particular desire to. So, in the end, all he could do was wait.
It wasn't all bad, though. He didn't have much in the way of hope, nor would he have any idea what to wish for even if by some miracle he did survive until the end of the War. But maybe the world would show him something interesting before his time was up. Judging by his own condition, he should be able to persist for almost three weeks even without any further assistance from his Master. Maybe, just maybe, the world would show him something nice in that time.
Maybe, just maybe, it would give him a reason to stay.