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Omake 1: Sion in the Rain
Omake 2: Inheritance
Warning: Lemon section.
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The full moon hovered at the edge of the horizon, providing more light than the single candle they kept within their room. Both stared out the window at the sight, a silent reminder of things both past and present to them both. For Shirou Emiya, it reminded him of the night he took on an ideal. To Sion Eltnam Atlasia, it was a reminder of what she was slowly turning into.
The silence broke as Sion let out a slow breath, her eyes closing as if falling into a trance. She said, “We are now clear,” and then flicked her wrist like a fisherman might to reel in the latest catch. “Nobody within a five kilometer radius beside the proprietor and the guests at the closest inn. I will keep informed about their status for now.”
Shirou nodded. Though previously it had been his practice to simply find a high location and survey his surroundings with Reinforced eyes, it was not quite as effective: a magus who was precautious could find ways to approach unseen, and Shirou had no way to conceal his own presence when he took a look around. Sion’s unseen technique was certainly sneakier.
The inn they had rented out was out of the way, quiet, a little run down. A traditional ryokan, it was entirely vacant since the Golden Week travel times had been a mere week prior and everyone was now back to work. Since the two of them had spent the Golden Week period being extra paranoid and avoiding the crowds that propagated all around Japan at the time, Shirou had suggested they try to recover at a more comfortable place at least for a night. Though it housed an onsen fed by a local hotspring, it was further walking distance to the nearby town than other inns.
Still, the old lady running the place was kind, and she seemed to take their presence as two young lovers that were taking a belated vacation from their families, so she did not seem prone to asking questions.
Sion went about turning the lights on, color returning to the room they shared. The tatami looked real instead of synthetic, the furniture like actual Showa-era made instead of faux replicas, and the bedding worn. Shirou had approved, so she had too, though his insistence that the real thing was better confused her. She did not voice her perplexity, however, as the mirth in his expression when he said so told her she would only be confused further by his explanation.
It was something that she found both intriguing as well as bothersome about her companion. He was significantly more simple-minded than she was, she could tell that much, but something about him was also paradoxically more complex. Though it was a fairly minor reason, this was one of the things that had led her to agree with their impromptu partnership. If at all possible, she would discover what this contradiction stemmed from.
“Are you hungry?” Shirou asked. “I’m hungry.” He scratched the back of his head. “Those food bars we took with us were fine, and all, but I didn’t realize how much I could miss real food until we got back into town.”
Sion gave a small nod. “The likelihood that another attack will catch us by surprise has risen above fifty-five percent. We also do not know when next we can indulge ourselves, so it would be appropriate to eat now while we may at our leisure.”
Shirou let out a noise like a balloon being deflated and tried to conceal it by turning to the door. He held out his hands helplessly at the questioning stare he knew Sion gave him. “Sorry. Most people would just say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”
A flat look fell across her features; Shirou said at one point her eyebrows literally went completely level. “Yes.”
“You’re the one that wanted to try and fit in. Just saying.” Shirou grinned over his shoulder at her. “The old lady said she’d be preparing food. I’ll go see if I can’t help out. Be back.”
When the young man had left, Sion let herself grumble. It was, in fact, her desire to understand the greater world better and she had asked for Shirou to coach her when appropriate. Though she had an accurate assessment of how long she would remain at large, how long it would take until that made its appearance, she still felt that any information could contribute toward longevity. Whether hiding from members of Atlas or privateers they might send for her, to simply functioning more efficiently in the outside world, it was paramount that she understood how someone existed in this time, outside the confines of alchemical research.
She was, in fact, desperate to find any thread that could somehow delay the supposed inevitability. Even if that delay was only, truly, within her own mind.
Shirou’s presence was helpful to that, in a few ways. It was a strange sensation, the ability to converse with one her age, and though his knowledge was lacking, Shirou was at least adequately informed that she could pose rhetorical questions regarding her research to get some feedback, however small. Though his firsthand information was severely limited, his teacher, Rin Tohsaka, had apparently been a much more versatile magus and he had, as he put it, “picked up on some things mainly through osmosis.” When Sion had said that the human mind could not actually record data through such a process, he had blushed and changed the subject.
More importantly, though, was that odd affection he seemed to have for the mundane. It was not something she had noted from her peers at Atlas, though her experience with them was limited, of course. But even for a magus, he seemed to be an oddity, an irregular; he seemed happier to talk about food or sightseeing or random experiences than magecraft. The mages and alchemists she knew were always talking about their projects, their research—and if they were not, everything they spoke of had an oblique reference to the world they lived in, to the existence they understood.
Shirou, meanwhile, seemed to genuinely find it odd that she did not mind the taste of natto, or that in all of her time living in Egypt she had never seen the Pyramids. He also laughed at how she pronounced suki with “too much ooh,” and had mimed like he was suddenly holding poles in his hands and had something on his feet. “You know, more like skiing.”
“I was raised in Egypt,” she had reminded him.
Sion glanced back outside. Though light now dulled the outside world, she could still make out the glow from the moon beyond. She wondered whether any amount of light would snuff out that image.
Her Etherlite detection grid was tripped. Tugging on the invisible wire, Sion turned her attention toward the breach in the grid, her hackles rising along the back of her neck. For a potential enemy to already have a grasp of their location after spending over a week out in the middle of nowhere was such a low probability that she had not truly believed such a thing could happen—
A carousing couple from the other inn, the one closer to town with a half-dozen guests. Apparently, they had decided to stumble out into the forest in an inebriated haze and had tripped one of the wires she had surrounded their location with earlier.
“Still, it could be a cover…” though she felt the probability was very low. Magi would not take such an indirect method to reach them if sufficiently skilled, and had they known of Sion and Shirou’s location, they would have preferred to attack while the renegades had been out in the forest avoiding civilization. Though, at the same time, Shirou had been the one insistent to keep some form of watch—though not by any definition “paranoid,” he did appear to have some kind of experience that made him cautious.
So Sion continued to, from a distance, observe the pair that had stumbled beyond her boundary field. They stumbled around, drank from a bottle of alcohol, laughed, stumbled some more. From everything she understood, this was not outside the limits of “normal” and, while not common to observe, would not interest people as they went about their mundane lives.
Though, to Sion…
Are you hungry?
He had not meant it in that way, of course, but watching these people, carefree and idiotic in moving about without full control of their bodies and minds—
A shiver crawled down Sion’s spine, more like a drip slowly rolling down her skin than a torrent spilling over her. She scratched at her arms, bangles clanking against one another, then slowly backed away from the window, lest the urge to leap out through it and toward those people became more than an idle thought. When her back hit something solid, the shaky feeling she felt hit her legs, and she suddenly felt very, very cold.
Sion claimed that it was not an improbability that they would meet. On the run from competing forces, both for knowledge they could not keep a secret, and in a country as small and isolated as Japan, the chance that they would meet was within a reasonable percentage. The world of magic always attracted to its own, inevitably drew closer to something like itself, in much the fashion of rules such as magnetism or chemical bonding within the existence of the mundane. In many ways, it was a conclusion that could be reached via science.
For Shirou, it was more like fate.
When Shirou returned to their room, arms laden with a tray of food, it was to find that which they had tried to feint off for days.
Sion had her back to the closet door, like she had stood up and then teetered back accidentally. Though it had not even been half an hour, somehow, Sion seemed paler than before. Absently with his foot, Shirou slid the door behind him closed, then set the platter of food down on the table.
“I’m fine,” Sion said, as if on reflex.
Shirou sighed. He figured one of the reasons they seemed to get along was they were a lot alike, including the stubborn refusal to show a sign of weakness. Even in the month or so he had known her, that sort of automatic response was something he was attuning himself to and recognizing as the prideful alchemist speaking.
Slowly and deliberately, he moved up to stand before her, reached up to take her by the shoulders, and, pressing her back flush to the door, leaned in to kiss her full on the lips.
The little sound Sion made, somewhere in the gap between squeak and whimper, never failed to get his blood going. It was something she almost always did, like she could not decide whether to be more embarrassed or aroused.
It was something they had discovered a short while ago with regards to her problem. The strain on her body and mind grew as each day passed, and while Sion had yet to succumb to any impulses that she could not recover from, her strength was clearly waning. That same stubbornness refused to give in, but it was also chipped away at daily, the steady flow of a force that would not retire until a hole in her defenses had formed. With the weakening of that barrier, she became both physically weaker, and, counter to what Shirou would have assumed, more feral and animalistic.
So they had found something that allowed her to give into those impulses without turning her into a monster.
It had been both calculated and not at the exact same time. Shirou was not stupid enough to simply offer that she take his blood—he understood enough of the lore behind the blood-sucking species to know that if she took it that far, her psyche may never recover fully as a human being. So he was still careful to keep her from taking that step. He also knew, from some long-buried information Rin had passed along to him about their time during the war, that other activities could transfer the life force and materials a vampire required to subsist.
Of course, really, though, none of that had directly been at the forefront of his mind when he had, that first time, given her a kiss.
“Please…” Sion mewled into his ear the moment he pulled away.
He changed his method of attack, his lips going for the exposed skin between her chin and the collar of her blouse. His hands swept down her body at the same time until they found the other place skin peeked out, then slid up under her skirt to pull at what she wore beneath. Sion moaned deeply at that, and though she hastily managed to slip one leg out from the tangle of her panties as he slid them down her legs, she could not manage to clear the second before his hand came up to brush ticklishly up her thighs to the junction of her legs. He swirled his fingers along her skin in circles, up into the faint bush of hair above her entrance, until he felt her hips move faintly toward his touch. “Please what?”
“Please touch me,” she said. Her voice had gone weak, but at the same time he could hear the waver beyond, like the storm beyond the stillness in the air.
Shirou slipped a finger into her, the pad of his thumb still caressing just above where she was becoming wet, and he leaned back up to kiss her again as he did so. He stroked his finger back and forth, in time with the flicker of her tongue as she tried to simultaneously breathe, kiss, and shudder at once. Her arms circled around his shoulders and alternatively went tense or slacked with each stroke into her body, until the gap between the two was threatening to match their heart rates.
He withdrew only long enough to reach up and pull her blouse up and unbutton the shirt beneath, while Sion brought her hands up to stroke along his abdomen beneath his shirt before going for his belt and the clasp of his pants. The alchemist tensed once again, fumbling with his clothing, as he leaned down to encircle the pinkish tip of her left breast with his mouth, groaning as he let his tongue swish over her, groaning again when he repeated the process to her other side. She gave up on his clothes to slip a hand down to her own body, replicating the same motion as his tongue to where his fingers had vacated earlier.
“Please,” she whimpered again, as she absently watched him as he finished her job.
Shirou’s arms encircled her and his hands slipped up beneath her skirt again to take hold of her. He lifted her up, kept her back braced to the wall, then carefully leaned forward, his hardness plunging into her.
Sion’s arms grabbed for his shoulders again, her legs circled his waist, and she pulled him in each time he drew back. “Harder,” she said, her voice deeper than before, not as weak.
His hands squeezing her skin, Shirou shoved himself in harder than before until their bodies were also flush with one another, until his lips were going for her neck again, awkwardly, as each thrust of his body caused a shake of her shoulders. He licked at the skin there until he felt her tighten around him in response, tried not to think about the noise of their bodies crashing against the doorway.
“Harder,” she said again, though now he could hear it in her voice: the shift from fragile and caught up in sensation to something closer to animal desire. Her hands clutched tightly at his shoulders, balling up his shirt beneath her fingers, and he saw that her eyes had lulled back into her head and she was biting her lip.
Shirou thrust up once more into her, bringing a deeper moan out from Sion’s throat, then drew from her completely and shoved her around. Sion made a growling noise, then whimpered again as he teased his length against her, the tip lightly poking where she was most sensitive.
Her legs went out on her, and they both slid down to their knees, Sion scratching at the door the entire time like the sound of her fingertips brushing against the carpet-like material was the only thing that kept her conscious of what they were doing. Shirou flipped her skirt up and she wiggled her hips when she felt the faint touch of his breath play across her exposed skin. “Shirou…” she groaned.
He thrust back into her, hard enough that she fell entirely from her hands and almost planted her face right into the ground. The tatami muffled the sound of her cries as he plunged in and out, in and out, until she felt the sensation of her breasts dipping into the floor. She lost her breath, and the next stroke of his cock into her body sent her over the edge, and she shrieked.
Shirou moaned himself as she screamed, his hips losing their cadence as her back arched and she drove her chest into the floor while thrusting her hips back up into his, and he gripped her body tightly as he shoved himself deeper into her body over and over until he came, the sensation of filling her body growing as he spilled into her. His fingertips clutched at her until he was sure she would suffer marks, and he desperately tried to remember to breathe.
The sensations held for a while, until Shirou withdrew and fell back onto his haunches, still gasping for air. Sion pulled herself up at the same time, absently batted her hat away—it had fallen lopsided at some point that she couldn’t remember—and crawled over her partner in a haze.
This part had always embarrassed Shirou more than it did Sion—the fact that this was not exactly the same as prana exchange or a contract ceremony. Though providing her with prana was apparently helpful to her situation, she was also becoming more and more a Dead Apostle, something that he did not have the most extensive knowledge on. One of the things he did know, however, was that Apostles consumed blood because it provided them with a resource of genetic material. Sion, though somehow not a fully-turned blood-sucker, still had the impulse, and they had eventually decided there was something else that might work as a substitute, even if it was a much smaller resource than blood.
Regardless to the “dirtiness” of it all, Sion unabashedly licked at his body, swirling her tongue around his cock, cleaning every part that had penetrated her. It was his turn to whimper at the sensation, somewhere between arousing and ticklish, the stroke of her tongue constantly upward until he was once more hardening, his body unable to resist the feral desire to plunge back into her. She let out a breathy shudder, stroking him with her hand for a moment as she licked around his testicles, then took him in her mouth again.
“Sion…” he whispered, still embarrassed. They had agreed to this verbally before hand, and she had accepted it with less of a blush than he had, though he still felt somehow like a stupid boy—this was, after all, his idea.
She licked around his length as if to carefully taste every last bit, then started bobbing her head, slowly at first, until he could not help but thread his fingers up into her hair. Her eyes came up to meet his, though, and despite the almost trance-like look, he could see something still going on beyond, watching him to see what felt best—
Shirou’s eyes went wide when she pulled away entirely and he had to resist the urge to clutch her head and force her back down. She smiled, faintly, not in an outright happy manner, but with some amusement, like she had just discovered a new, interesting thing. “Stand up for a moment?”
He blinked at her, but complied, moving back as he did so at her guidance until his back hit the opposite wall from where they had been.
She knelt in front of him, resumed her motions for a bit, then drew back again at some cue he could not detect. She pursed her lips over his tip at that, swishing her tongue back and forth, then drew back again and looked up, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “Do you want to come on my face?”
Shirou was certain he would blush—if all of the blood in his body did not immediately rush elsewhere even more than before. “W-what?”
Sion held him in her hand and licked up his length once more, her voice falling to almost-seductive tones. “You forget that I can see your thoughts,” she said. “I know you’ve wanted to…”
He moaned as her hand pumped him. “Y-yeah…”
“Come, then…on my face, Shirou…”
And he complied as she stroked him faster, the sensation of release more foreign in the open air. His seed pattered onto her skin as she held her mouth open to catch him, then her tongue reached up to lick him clean. He idly realized why she had moved him when he realized his legs could no longer keep him up and he leaned heavily back against the wall.
The girl gave his cock a last touch of her lips, almost like a kiss, then she slowly wiped at her face with her fingers before consuming what was there, smiling at him even as the blush intensified on her cheeks. When he had regained control of enough brainpower to at least throw a questioning look at her, she said, “I, um, well, a couple breached the boundary field outside and, um…started…um, doing it, and, really, that’s where the idea came from…and I, well, I do recall once when you thought of something real fast, and…”
Shirou regained the ability to blush. “Yeah, um, yeah.”
They sat in embarrassed silence for a moment, then somehow, at a synchronized moment, both decided to straighten their clothes up. As Sion tried to somehow maintain her composure while slipping her underwear back up her legs, Shirou zipped himself back up, then carefully reached up to start buttoning her shirt closed. Sion’s hands came up to his wrists, though instead of pushing him away, simply held him there as he helped her dress.
“Er…there’s, uh, also food,” Shirou said, remembering what he had gone out for. “I’m really hungry now.”
Sion smiled, faintly, with a tinge of sadness. The fact that she would be more driven to consume something else still seemed to weigh on her, despite the fact that it was not blood, despite the fact that it was harmless.
Shirou wished he had some way to comfort her, other than to take her hand as he drew them both back to the table for their long-awaited dinner.
It was something Shirou had intuitively understood about her situation. Rin had so thoroughly beat into his head how backwards his mentality was, how his pursuit of the impossible at the expense of himself was distorted and destructive, how he needed to get over what had happened in the past to move on toward the future. It still didn’t quite stick, though, and now he was not in the position to work it out with her—his own self-sacrificing tendencies already claiming their time together. But when he saw it in this person, the need to live for another and the pursuit of something thought to be impossible, it gave him some sense of perspective, at least, and the urge to help.
To Sion, it was like an unknown factor suddenly turning up in an equation that helped solve the equation, but remained unknown.
To be continued.
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Originally Posted by Lycodrake
