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Topics - The Man With All The Cute Boats

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"I do apologize for interrupting your conversation, however I have business with the cur in front of you," I said, my voice cold, "I would very much appreciate it if you could step aside. After all, I would not want to involve someone unrelated  with my dispute with her."
Ragna turned for a second at the vampire's voice, and noticed she was powering up or some dumb crap. What an blowhard, he thought to himself. If Rachel could be beat showing off and talking like a pretentious turd, Terumi'd have cleaned her off the board ages ago.

"Hey, wait your turn or buzz off. I'm talkin' here," Ragna just yelled back, before returning his focus to the bunny-leech.

Rachel Alucard

“For once your ignorance is understandable, Ragna. And honestly, I don’t know myself why you’re here, but you’re in Nexus City. It looks like my teleportation magic went ary somehow.” Despite being several feet shorter than him, it looked like she was looking down on him. “I’ve been meeting all sorts of familiar faces today. I just got finished talking to Noel.”

"Oh, so once again I'm dragged into shit because of you. Geez, it never ends..." He sighed heavily, and loosened his stance. At the same time, some anger drained out of his face. "So... you met Noel. Is she... I mean, she's alright? In one piece?"

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Doujin Projects / Archive Hunter: The World of Fog
« on: May 27, 2014, 11:53:33 PM »
So I haven't written shit in like a gorillion years, so I decided to get back into it. I could feel rust creaking in my brain and between my fingers while I was doing this, so it might be a little wonky at first. But hey, getting back into swing and all, and this is the project I'm using to do it.


Archive Hunter: Grocery Run



“Oh Mark, my love, so long it’s been since we’ve seen one another. My love for you has done nothing but grow in our distance!” Said Elizabeth tearfully, throwing herself into her love’s arm.

“Elizabeth, my beautiful flower, the war has taken much from me… But my heart replaced what I’ve lost with love for you! Let us never be separated again!” Said Mark, his own eyes growing blurry and weak by the strength of their reunion.

Both owners of tearful eyes looked at each other longingly, barely breaking contact. Moments passed as they lost themselves in nostalgic remembrance of their trials and hardships, and silent love flowed between them; Silent, for their feelings were so strong they needn’t be said out loud.

Their eyes broke contact once they simultaneously embraced each other once again-


“Just fuck her already,” I mumbled, snapping the book shut. Got nothing against sappy writing, but enough is enough. “How far we got left, Slip?”

The mechanical horse drawing the covered wagon made a click and a bleep before a synthesized voice answered.

“Approximately fifty-three meters remaining until we reach the ‘2024 Joint Scientific Institute,’ advising preparation for search and recovery,” Sleipnir said, without even turning its robotic head back.

“Understood,” I said, throwing the subpar love novel to the road and pulling my Inferno Revolver from its holster beside the driving seat. The gun wasn’t exactly the most normal-looking of weapons: It was a fourty centimeter long rectangle with a handle, with two half-circle bits sticking out where the massive cylinder was resting, sealed. The rest of the rectangle was a barrel, and a cooling unit that made a gentle blue line spanning half its length: a heat indicator.

I checked it over, more to pass the time than anything. Sleipnir was walking at a slow pace to conserve energy, and even fifty meters might be enough to misdirect me in the thick Fog. It still didn’t take too long before Slip took me right to an entrance, though. I stuffed a Mjollnir unit into one of my duster’s pockets, put on my hat and tried the door.

“Locked. Beg your pardon…” I mumbled, before kicking the metallic door off of its hinges. I walked in, and saw an unassuming corridor. The Fog was thinner here, and not a problem. I walked around until I found a big empty room, maybe what used to be an exhibit.  The room was in shambles, as time, plant and growth and animals did their work.

I found what looked like a sign, removed a few of the vines covering and found what I was looking for: A map, or part of one, at least. Got me a way to the stairs, so I wasn’t complaining.

I followed the road to the stairs with only one, short detour caused by debris, and walked as deep as I could from the stairwell, into the basement. The darkness was a bother, so I pulled back the hammer on my Inferno Revolver. It took a couple seconds, but the gun started glowing with an aggressive, dark red color.

Not a torch, but bright enough to see with. I proceeded into the basement, trusting my memory to make a map as I went along. A few detours were necessary, but I found what I was looking for: something suspicious.

A big metal door, with letters painted on in fading colors: “Authorized personnel only.” Next to it was something that looked like it used to be an ID scanner, destroyed over the years.

“No way around it…” I mumbled, before walking a few paces away from the door. I put my gun up, and fire three times in a triangle. The gun barked hot lava, its blue heat indicator turning red, and the door gained molten holes at three points. As it did, a vacuum made itself felt, proof of insolation. I walked closer and peeked inside, checking the doors. Weren’t too thick, luckily for me, so I walked away from the doors again.

I burst into a sprint and rammed the doors, weakened by their three newest holes. They gave way with a sickening screech. I fell to the ground with a part of door, but the impact wasn’t enough to deafen me to the sound of the building grumbling at its loss.

“That ain’t good,” I mumbled, getting up and dusting myself off. I looked around, and saw what could have been a pristine lab, if it weren’t for the occasional dead, dried body, preserved in this previously airless tomb. A few doors lead to the sides, probably leading to living quarters.

Was probably an emergency shelter, until life support gave out.  Unlucky bastards.

I spotted a computer monitor, still manned by a dry corpse in the chair in front of it. I grabbed the chair and pulled it out of my way. As I did the entire body fell to the ground with a dry crunch. Seeing no more restrictions, I pulled the chair back and sat in it. No one was using it anymore, anyway.

I pulled the Mjollnir unit out of my pocket, slapped in on the computer and turned it on. The computer answered with a groan, beeps and a slow activation. As it did, dozens of other little lights and systems activated around the lab.

“Come on, this is my last one. Give me something good,” I said in mourning of my last Mjollnir unit. Easy-to-carry generators strong enough to power entire labs weren’t exactly common, and I’d used all of mine in searches like this one. Without them, I’d be reduced to looking for paper records of a digital age, a few hundred years after they were originally made. I was lucky to ever find intact paper, finding intact paper with what I was looking for on it would be nigh-impossible.

The computer fully booted, and I started my search. Looking from top-to-bottom in an entire lab network takes no little time, and I was getting hungry by the time I found what I was looking for.

“Well, call me Sally…” I said, as the monitor started showing data of the first appearances of the Fog, and where it was originally found. Most labs I’d found with useful data knew about Fog and studied its effects, its cause, projections of the altitudes it would be able to climb to… useful stuff, but never this. This was its source, or as close as I’d get.

First contact with the world-spanning Fog was written in a report with detail. Fog was first spotted in Krubera-Voronja, by a group of diggers, in 2054. The entire thing was recorded by a helmet camera, until the moment the Fog made them all go mad after exposure, as it usually did. First contact, first casualties. There was a list of names and more about the specifics of the expedition inside, but it could wait until later.

Krubera-Voronja, I didn’t recognize the name. I started to look it up, until the monitor flickered: I was almost out of time. I accessed the network as fast as I could and located the emergency portable hard drive, deleted everything in it and put all of the Fog-related work inside, not only the first encounter data: There was still more to look over. Probably redundant with what I already had, but better safe than sorry.

As soon as the files were copied, as if waiting for me, the computers shut down. I retrieved the dead Mjollnir, and started looking for the emergency hard drive. The ground rumbled as I did, probably a bad sign. There were a lot of things beyond a collapsing building that could make the ground tremble in the Fog-covered world, and none that sprung to mind were any good.

I sped up my search, until I found a panel with “EMERGENCY” written on it. It was jammed shut, so I broke through it with a chair. Luckily, the hard drive looked undamaged, but I didn’t even have time to breathe relief before the ground shook again.

“Got to know when to hold them, fold them, and run!” I said as I grabbed the hard drive and broke into a sprint without even pocketing the device. The map I’d drawn in my head while coming in had faded quite a bit, and I ran into a dead end first.

I hardly had time to swear before the dead end burst out towards me, all teeth and massive insect. A mouth big enough to take my entire head burst towards me, and all I could do to protect myself in my surprise was fall to the floor. It narrowly missed me and kept going, revealing its twelve-foot long body in the process, a massive mutated centipede of hunger and teeth.

It turned to face its body against me again in a whip-like manner, taking a chunk out of a nearby wall, but my gun rose faster, and the shot melted right through the middle of its narrow body. A thousand angry clicking noises and thrashing followed, until the thing was down for good.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” I muttered, getting myself back up and running for the stairs. Wasn’t about to relax just yet.

I found the stairwell quickly enough, this time without wrong turns, and hustled up as fast as I could. As I did, more tremors came to accompany the sound of my boots hitting the stairs. A quick look at one of the lower walls revealed cracks forming with impressive speed. I hadn’t even made it to the next corner that it burst into an even bigger mutated centipede, this time with bigger teeth.

It rammed the wall opposing it clumsily, and turned its massive jaw upwards: directly towards me. It climbed with such speed that all I could do before it destroyed the surface I was standing on was stretch my legs wide enough to keep a foot on each side of its mouth, keeping me from getting eaten.

I tried to point my gun in a stable manner, but its ascent hadn’t ended: It bashed me into the next flight of stairs in the half-second it would have taken me to pull a trigger. The stairs held the first time, but it retracted and did so again, breaking through the century-old stairs.

“Shit!” I said to both the pain, and the fact I’d just dropped the hard drive on what I was just plowed through. A moment’s distraction was once again enough for it to bring me further, onto the ceiling of the stairwell. My legs didn’t buckle, but its jaw had started to rip from the strain. It clicked furiously, but slowed down just a bit as well. I took my change and grasped my Inferno Revolver with both hands, pointing it straight down.

Two shots were all I had left, and two shots burned and melted their way down the massive creature. It fell away from the wall as it thrashed in pain, and I started moving: I pushed with one leg as hard as I could until it was on the falling beast’s outside, used it to hoist my other leg out and jumped for the stairwell.

No ordinary man could have made the jump, just as an ordinary man’s legs or back would have been broken by now. I wasn’t normal, though. I could live in the Fog without going insane, the same Fog that made a centipede into the monster falling to the bottom of the stairwell. I was stronger than a man.

I made the jump, hanging onto the stairwell with my off hand. I threw the Inferno Revolver onto the stairwell and pulled myself up with both hands. Thankfully, the hard drive was on the same side as the door, the side I had pulled myself to. I picked both it and my gun up, and looked down one last time. The centipede was having spasms at the bottom, occasionally hitting the walls or itself with its whip-like movements.

“First floor, this is your stop,” I growled down to it before walking into the building.

The light Fog of the first floor was a welcome sight compared to the darkness below, and I took my time stumbling back to my wagon. Superhuman or not, my back and legs were killing me, and my breaths were shallow and painful.

I made it within ten minutes, and Sleipnir only acknowledged my presence by staring at me as I left the building. I climbed into the wagon from the back, opened up a metallic coffer labeled “FOG”, and stuck the hard drive in with more of its kind and a few paper documents. A few other coffers were stacked and lined up, with subject tags from “HISTORY” to “SOCIAL STUDIES,” each of them a miniature library I’d gathered on the subjects.

I got back out, and faced the institute.

“Thank you very much,” I said to the institute, and to the resting scientists within. “You’ve helped out.”

I would have had a moment of silence, but a synthesised voice spoke up from behind me.

“You are not speaking to anybody. Professional help recommended in field: Psychology.” Sleipnir said, as it was the first time it had witnessed me thanking the dead. Wasn’t every day I was shooed out without being able to say in it person.

“Plan a course to the nearest Fog-free altitude, Sleipnir. I need to rest,” I answered while ignoring its latest quip, and it made a beep signifying it understood. I went into the wagon’s driving seat and leaned back, letting out a pained breath as I did. “Alright, let’s go.”

Mechanical hooves hit the ground and I took a nap, another archive successfully hunted.

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The most important poll yet

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Role Playing / WIZARD QUEST (CYOA thread)
« on: January 11, 2014, 05:47:56 AM »
You are a wizard of immense power of the inexplicable variety, magic!

On the highest floor of your ivory tower, you look down at your warhammer fantasy miniatures and just like an oncoming rush of level 7 flash freeze bolts, you feel boredom crashing down upon you. Truly a sad day, when one is bored.

But you are a wizard! Your machinations are incomprehensible, your power beyond reason, and your conscience fleeting in old age. There are things you can do to relieve yourself of such an incredible burden of boredom. Things you didn't even know you could do, until you've decided to! Eventually in the future you would research all the spells you would use and send them to yourself in the past, but now is not the time for research.

Now, it is time to do something. But what is it that appeals to you?

(what the fuck am i doing)

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I FIGURE THIS BITCH HAS HAD ITS TIME FOR LONG ENOUGH.

So I'm going to sit the fuck down and write things, and then fucking post them.

FUCK YOU WRITER'S BLOCK I AM FIGHTING BACK NOW

Feel free to read it, too.


Have A Fun Night


I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering. It was the first time I’d ever been in a club, and it was bizarre. Something about the overly loud music and shifting lights made the atmosphere feel completely different from what I was used to, made me feel like a different person and made me want to join all the other people on the dance floor and find myself a woman to grind her body against me.

“Jeff, snap out of it,” a voice said, and I turned to face my boss, Arthur. He had a hand on my shoulder that I hadn’t noticed, and was looking at me like I’d just spilled juice all over his suit. “We’re not here so you can stare at the dance floor.”

“Right, sorry sir,” I mumbled, and realized after the fact that it was probably drowned out by the music. Nevertheless he understood my intention, because he nodded seriously and started walking, which I took as a sign to follow.

He took us to and passed the bar, opened a door and brought us out of the public area and into the inner workings of the club itself. A few flight of stairs headed downwards, and we were in a large and mostly empty boiler room, or what looked like it. In the middle of it all were two men wearing suits, along with some sports bags on the ground beside them.

Arthur walked up to them, barely even giving them a nod of recognition, and looked down at the bags. I was behind him and didn’t see it, but his next words really made me think he had a frown on his face.

“This isn’t even half of what was expected. What the hell is happening to production?”

The suit guys shared a quick look, and one of them stepped up.

“Some issues have been cropping up. Issues that we’re not exactly eager to share with, well,” he said while he turned to look at me with disgust, “muscle.”

I made fists with my hands and bit my teeth down. Arthur, on the other hand, turned around to face me, pulled out a roll of cash from inside his coat and threw it at me. I caught it, but just barely.

“Go upstairs, have a few drinks. If I end up needing you, I’ll find you. If not, have a good night,” he said, and he turned around to face the suited men again, his business done. I took the cash and made my own exit, leaving the secretive men behind. Not being nosy is the first thing people look for when hiring in my line of business.

I found my way back to the club proper, and the first thing I did was get myself a drink. I wasn’t familiar with the lingo, so I just asked for something strong. Somehow, being shrugged off by my boss had dulled the club atmosphere and made me lose my willingness to go dancing. I felt only like myself.

Just as I considered leaving to go to an underground casino where I could waste my new money, a woman locked eyes with me from across the room. She was heavily tanned, had brown hair in a ponytail and was maybe half a foot shorter than me, which made her damn tall for a woman. She was also the most dressed woman I’d seen in the club so far.

But that’s not what hit me when I saw her. She had an eye patch over her right eye, a small patch of leather disturbing what would have been a symmetrical face. I couldn’t speak for anyone else, but I found it striking.

After having spotted me, she found her way through a few people and sat down next to me. She ordered a drink of her own, and didn’t say anything until it had come to her.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” she said calmly, taking a sip out of her clear drink. She didn’t even turn to face me, giving only her drink her full attention.

“I didn’t choose to have this face,” I answered, taking a sip of my own drink, which was a light brown. I mirrored her own actions, and didn’t turn to face her either.

“If you had, I’d have hoped your parents would have talked you out of it,” she added, sounding completely serious. She broke that impression by flashing me a tiny, crooked smile at the end, barely noticed through my peripheral vision.

“They could have tried, but I didn’t choose to have a hard head either. I was just born with it,” I said, and she snickered.

“Got a name, big guy?” she asked, before taking down a large portion of her drink. She turned to face me, and I did the same.

“You can call me Jeff,” I answered, “you?”

“Kat, but only if I like you,” she said, the tiniest edge of a smile on her face.

“And how do I get you to like me?” I asked, a smile creeping up on my lips as well.

“Let’s get out of this place first, Jeff, and then we’ll see,” she said, and I took that as a signal to down my drink.

Call me an optimist, but I was pretty sure I’d just scored.

It looked like patience wasn’t her virtue, because as soon as we’d walked into a back alley she was all over me. She dragged my head down and forced her lips onto mine, and in an instant we’d gotten into tongues. Her body pressed against mine, and my hands gained minds of their own and started going all over her, groping and grabbing at everything they could.

She broke off for a moment, and the very act stunned me by itself. I looked down at her, and she had the fiercest smile I’d ever seen. Her one eye looked hazy, and her breath came erratically and sounded somehow erotic to me.

“I’m not used to looking up to my men, you know,” she said, before becoming a blur. I’d barely noticed what happened before I was on the ground, flat on my back. She straddled me, and I could have sworn that she’d just let out a pleased growl. “Much better.”

My confusion lasted as long as her abstinence and by the time we were kissing again, my hands had firmly settled on her pants, trying as hard as they could to remove them. I’d unzipped her jeans and was pulling them down when she gave me more than a split-second pause again.

“I think I’ll let you call me Kat, yeah. I’d even let you do a lot more to me,” she said, her face incredibly close to my own. My neck craned up in an effort to keep our furious tongue battle, but she got even further at the attempt. “But I have business to take care of.”

Before what she said had even registered in my mind, she had pulled out a massive knife from her leather biker coat and had it propped up against my neck. Whatever excitation I’d been feeling cooled at the touch of the cold steel, and my hands let her pants go.

“Where’s the meth, Jeff?” she asked, her face suddenly unreadable stone. I mulled over her statement, and pieces came together like magnets.

“You’re the one disturbing production,” I said, more as a confirmation than anything. She smiled playfully at me in response, but her knife never left my throat. “I can’t tell you. Nobody hires a snitch.”

“Try honest employment. I think a strip club might suit you, myself,” she said, her free hand pulling her pants back up.

“Too scary a face for that,” I said, and she pushed her knife further against my throat, and I felt a cut opening. “If I tell you, they’ll kill me.”

“They’ll never know it’s you.”

“Not too many people know the drop off point. All fingers would be pointed in one direction,” I said, before letting out a big sigh.

“Let me put it this way: either you die here, or you run and maybe live,” she said, and the way her lips went up at the edges told me that she wasn’t kidding. Her proposition wasn’t unreasonable, that was for sure.

“The basement of the club here,” I said, and she turned her head curiously.

“What, this place here? Huh,” she said, and her one visible eyebrow furrowed. “I guess I was pretty close.”

She got off of me and properly buttoned up her pants, and the knife disappeared once again.

“So Kat, you do this to all the guys you want info out of?” I asked, getting up off the ground myself. I rubbed at my neck, and my hand didn’t come away too bloody. I wagered that was a good sign.

“Only the ones I like, and what can I say, I like tall men with strong faces,” she said with a smile. “Tell you what, stick around and manage not to get killed, and we can finish what we started.”

I was tempted. I didn’t often get a girl to be so excited around me, because of my line of work and my face. All the same, I shook my head. “Better get out of town. Arthur’s not the big boss, and I want to be long gone once he figures it all out.”

“Shame,” she said, before walking back to the door we’d come out of. It seemed like the model that locked once they closed, but a key ring happened to be stopping the door from fully closing, allowing Kat easy access. She opened the door, but first she turned around to look at me one last time.

“Don’t worry, Jeff. I’m not the only woman out there who likes scarred faces,” she said with what looked like a wink. It was hard to tell.

“And I’m not the only guy around who’ll find that eye patch hot,” I blurted out, and I couldn’t help but smile. I sobered up quickly enough, though. “Seriously though, you’re not a cop. Why are you after these guys?”

“I just never destroyed an entire criminal organization by myself before,” she said with a shrug. “I figured I’d take on the challenge, and see if I get out in one piece. Life’s all about living it, after all.”

“Well sorry, I prefer having a life to live,” I said, and our little moment was over.

We didn’t say ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you around.’ We both just turned around and walked away, moving towards what we’d decided.

6
Fanfiction / Sakura: Action Hero
« on: October 30, 2013, 03:44:21 AM »
You know realize that without Shirou living, Shinji would be taking Sakura out to watch movies. To spare himself the embarrassment, but still. Think about that.

Also, MATOU MASTER RACE

Sakura: Action Hero
Written by: NAHTCUW



X=X=X=X=X

“Sakura? Sakura!”

“Eh? Sorry, what were you saying, Mitsuzuri-sempai?” Sakura said innocently, as her head jerked upwards in surprise.

“I was just checking up on you. It’s not like you to space out for that long, so I was a little worried.”

Ayako spoke the truth. While Sakura did sometimes space out, probably due to fatigue she often displayed, she rarely did it for a dozen minutes. The other members of the archery club had started giving her odd looks as she stared off into space, back against the wall, before the captain decided to see what was going on.

“Sorry sempai, I was a little…” Sakura searched for the word a moment, until it finally clicked, “preoccupied.”

“Hm? Something on your mind, Sakura?” Ayako asked, always straightforward. “You can talk to me about it, if you want. I am your senior, after all. I can spend a few minutes listening to my cute little junior.”

“Ah, well…” the problem with that was that Sakura was preoccupied with something she wasn’t allowed to talk about. Something she didn’t want to talk about, either.

And even if she did want to talk about it, it was kind of hard to explain. How was she supposed to talk about her magus grandfather telling her that if she won a secret war for the Holy Grail alongside an ancient superhero, she’d be freed of her ‘training’ of being raped by big phallic worms every night, and she’d be given absolute freedom to do whatever she wanted to?

She had the feeling that even if she wanted to tell someone, no one would believe her. They’d tilt their head, put a hand on her shoulder and ask her either if she hit her head or why Shinji put her up to it.

“Sakura?” Ayako’s voice brought her back from her thoughts, and she hurriedly finished her reply.

“It’s not really something I can talk about, sempai,” Sakura said. Hopefully, Ayako would just realize she didn’t want to talk about it and back down.

“Okay, what did Shinji do to you this time?” Ayako asked, putting both hands on her hips.

“Nii-san did nothing bad,” Sakura answered hurriedly. “In fact, he’s been rather nice lately. He brought me to go watch a movie with him and everything.”

Immediately after she said it, she put a hand over her mouth. Shinji didn’t like it when she told others of what they did together.

Ayako, during that action, gaped.

“Shinji took you out to watch a movie?” She said, after a moment. “…Are we talking about the same Shinji?”

“Sempai, please, not so loud. I promised Nii-san I wouldn’t tell anyone…” Sakura said, looking around. Thankfully, the other club members were dutifully training, and none of them heard her.

“Alright, alright,” Ayako said, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “So, what kind of movie was it?”

“Ah, an action movie,” Sakura said with a small smile. It was the first one she had shown the archery captain in the last three days, as well. Sakura Matou was well known for almost never smiling. “One with Bruce Willis.”

“…He took you out for an action movie? Jeez, that guy, doesn’t he know how to treat a lady at all?” Ayako said, letting out a huge sigh.

“Oh, that’s all right. I enjoyed it. And, well, Nii-san doesn’t really have any male friends to go with him and he’s embarrassed going alone, so…” Sakura let her voice die down, and looked to the ground almost guiltily.

Ayako looked at the saddening display her junior was making, and sighed heavily.

“That’s his own fault, Sakura,” Ayako said, putting a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. “Anyway, I’m going to go back to shooting. You should probably get a few shots in before classes start too, or you’ll get rusty.”

“Hm, sempai,” Sakura said, nodding gently.

But as Ayako left, Sakura went back to thinking of Zouken, and the Holy Grail war. She was summoning tonight, yet her grandfather had just mentioned her victory prize of total freedom this morning.

He probably enjoyed seeing her squirm at the last minute. She had her mind set on not fighting, on giving her servant to Shinji, because she believed she would gain nothing from the Holy Grail War. But now, things were different. There was a prize.

Even then, her chances of victory were close to nil. She believed herself a fourth-rate magus, she had close to no combat ability, and the worms inside her were already slowly draining prana from her.

She put those thoughts aside a moment, as Ayako beckoned her towards one of the shooting stands. She took her bow and a few arrows, and walked up to her position.

She knew that if she joined the Holy Grail war, she was almost sure to die. So… she’d go with the original plan. She’d let Shinji have her servant. He was better suited at fighting than she was, he’d be alright. She’d pass up her one chance at freedom.

She notched an arrow and pulled it back, aimed carefully at the target, and let fly. The arrow lazily flew, and hit almost at the bottom of the target. Sakura looked at it expectantly for a moment, but nothing happened.

She clutched her head a moment, her tiredness catching up with her. With all her nights spent in the worm pit, she barely had enough time to sleep properly. She took a deep breath, and looked up again.

Just, she looked up a bit off target. Her eyes instead fixated the school roof, where a student wearing a red coat was staring at her.

Directly at her, not anybody else.

But that wasn’t right. Rin Tohsaka didn’t care for Sakura Matou. She only ever greeted her as a necessity, the courtesy one shows a fellow student.

Just as she thought that, the red-clad student left her spot and exited the roof, obviously due to noticing Sakura’s eyes on her.

It was odd. The Tohsaka heir had definitely been looking at her. She wouldn’t do that, normally. If she truly didn’t care, she wouldn’t have looked at her that way.

Even from that distance, Sakura could tell. The way Rin looked at her, it was sad.

“Does she… still care?” Sakura whispered, moving away from her shooting stand. The question ate at her from the inside. They had been separated eleven years ago. Did her elder sister still truly care about her? Is that why she had been watching her?

But Sakura Matou could not ask. There was a pact between the Tohsaka and the Matou. They are not to interact, as magi, in between the Holy Grail wars.

Of all the things that could have come up, Zouken’s words from the night before were the first to come to mind.

“Did I forget to tell you? My, how shameful of me. I am truly getting too old. If you win the Holy Grail for me, I will set you free. I will not force you into any more training unless you wish it, I will not poison your food unless you wish it, and I will not stop you from breaking our family laws whenever you wish it. That, my granddaughter, is what you have to gain from the Holy Grail War.”

That last part was Zouken’s true message, but she only realized it now. If she won, she was allowed to break the family laws.

Then… she could ask her estranged sister if she truly remembered, if she actually still cared.

Her chances of victory were close to nil. She was a fourth-rate magus, had close to no combat ability, and the worms inside her were already slowly draining prana from her.

Those were her disadvantages. They put her behind her sister, behind most magi.

But then, all she’d have to do is outdo them. In her tired, sleep-lacking mind, a plan already started to take form.

First though, she may have to sleep through a few classes. She usually wouldn’t out of respect, but she was planning for a busy night.

X=X=X=X=X

“Byakuya’s shotgun?” Zouken said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Now, why would you want something like that?”

That was where her preparation started. Her adoptive father, Byakuya Matou, was a victim to one of the masters in the fourth grail war. He survived, but begged his father to get him some kind of protection for the future. Zouken obliged, and pulled some strings to get him a shotgun.

She couldn’t afford haphazardly using her magic, so that shotgun was going to be Sakura’s main weapon for the upcoming war.

“I… I am not a very good magus, grandfather. I need something to defend myself with, in case I meet other masters. My spells are fairly slow to cast, and no magus expects another to use guns, so…” Sakura said, looking straight down at the floor in fear. She had never asked her grandfather directly for something before. She was unsure of how he’d react.

She had slept as much as she could at school, but if anything her alertness made her more afraid of her grandfather. If he somehow thought her proposition foolish, or distasteful, she would be punished. Her grandfather was a magus, as well. The likelihood he’d find it foolish was rather high.

For what seemed like the longest time, Zouken’s eyes stared directly at her. It almost felt like he was looking completely through her, into her very thoughts. But finally, he laughed.

“Well, why not. It’s certainly not an orthodox tactic for a mage, but it did work well for a master last time,” Zouken said with a toothy smile. Sakura relaxed a bit, taking a deep breath. “Will you be needing anything else?”

“Eh?” Sakura said, surprised by Zouken’s willingness to help.

“Don’t be surprised, now. My cute little granddaughter has decided to fight in the Holy Grail War. The least I can do is try to bring up her chances. Come, ask anything. This old man will show you the meaning of cheating,” Zouken said almost proudly, as if they had become accomplices.

“Well, I do have an idea, but… it’s fairly complicated, and I don’t even know if it’ll work…” Sakura said silently, once again afraid she’d say something stupid and gain Zouken’s ire.

“Hm… We shall see if it’s possible. Explain it to me while we head to the basement,” Zouken said, with a small chuckle. “Your servant awaits summoning, after all.”

Just as he finished speaking, the old man started hobbling over to the basement door. Sakura shortly followed, and started explaining her idea to him. The more she explained, the wider Zouken’s grin became.

X=X=X=X=X

“Tsk, girls always take too much time,” Shinji said to no one in particular, as he walked back home under the gaze of the setting sun. “There’s always just one more thing to do, one more shop they have to browse.”

In truth, Shinji was complaining for the sake of complaining. He liked spending time with myriad girls his age. He knew that they didn’t really like him but rather his money, but their presence was nice.

They did know how to have fun, too. He had left the karaoke place with a wide smile plastered on his face, and it hadn’t left yet.

In short, Shinji was having a good evening, and it’d hopefully stay that way. He’d just go home, maybe rope Sakura into watching a movie with him before her training, go to bed, and actually show up at the archery club the next morning.

He stopped walking a moment, looking at a shop to his right. He might bring something home. Of course, he’d have the largest part, but he could share a bit of it with Sakura.

But Sakura was doing something that night, he faintly remembered, something about a ritual having to take place or something.

So, he opted against it. If she was busy being a magus, he had no need to share anything with her.

His mood immediately dropped. His sister was off being a magus, the one thing he wanted to be. She had circuits, could do those ritual things, while he had nothing. Rather, he had everything except what he wanted to.

And she didn’t even want to be a magus. It was unfair.

With those bitter thoughts in mind, he made a beeline back to his house. Nothing felt out of place, and he walked up the stone steps and opened the door. As if to punctuate his arrival, all that was left of the sun disappeared over the horizon.

“I’m home!” He called out, but no one answered. “Oi, I’m home! Sakura, where are you?”

He looked around the first floor, but found nothing. There was no mark of anyone there, at all. That was odd, usually the training started later.

He walked to the stairs, intent on searching the second floor, but stopped in his tracks as soon as he looked up.

It was Sakura. Wearing dark sports pants, a white shirt and a grey hooded jacket, she was standing on top of the steps. Behind her was Zouken, a scheming smile on his face. Next to the old man, there was a woman wearing dark and somewhat skimpy clothing of black and purple, and a blindfold.

But Shinji did not notice any of that.

What he did notice was the shotgun in Sakura’s hands. And the other thing he noticed was that Sakura was walking down the stairs, towards him.

“Yo, Sakura…” he weakly said, backing away from the stairs.

She almost seemed to ignore him though, as she turned to the right and picked up something off the floor. Upon closer inspection, Shinji learned it was a large sports bag. Sakura put the shotgun inside, carefully, and slung the bulky bag over her back.

She then turned to face Shinji. She walked up to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes, surrounded by dark circles due to lack of sleep, looked directly into his.

“Nii-san, I’m going to go out for a bit, and I don’t really know when I’ll be back,” she started slowly, almost as if she were talking to a child. “Don’t worry about me. But remember to set your alarm clock properly, to make yourself breakfast and supper, brush your teeth twice a day, and don’t skip school. Fujimura-sensei and Mitsuzuri-sempai are already mad at you.”

“Hah? Sakura, just what the hell are you saying?” Shinji said, rather befuddled.

“Oh, and don’t go out at night anymore. It might be dangerous,” Sakura said, before noticing what was in Shinji’s coat pocket. She pointed at the object, and quietly asked, “ah, Nii-san, may I borrow those?”

“Ah, uh, sure, I guess. As long as you bring them back in one piece,” he said confusedly, and Sakura picked the object out. She turned away, and headed towards the door. The darkly dressed woman followed her silently, like a guardian.

For a moment, Sakura’s back looked familiar.

It looked like the last time he had seen Kariya’s, when he had been about to go talk to Zouken.

It looked like Byakuya’s, his father, as he silently said he was going fishing, but ended up jumping off the bridge.

It looked like it was the last he would ever see of her. For some reason, that scared him.

But, before leaving, she turned back one last time. She took the item she had borrowed from Shinji, unfolded them, and put the sunglasses over her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Nii-san,” she said, her voice somehow stronger than he had ever heard it. She opened the door and took a step out, and gently pulled the door in, back towards its original position. Sakura, however, had the last word before it slammed shut.

“I’ll be back.”

X=X=X=X=X

Ten years ago, in Fuyuki city, there was a fire. It wasn’t in Shinto, though, so Sakura and Shinji were unaffected.

No, the fire was in Miyama. It was the more modern part of town, the one with more people living there.

It was disastrous. Hundreds died, more were wounded. The entire area became a living hell, as fire and screams engulfed everything that still lived.

In this fire, a man was searching. He was searching for someone, anyone, to save.

This broken man had his wish granted. He found a young boy, and saved his life using an ancient mystical artifact. He took the boy in his arms, and started to carry him back.

However, the area on fire was still a dangerous place. As he walked, buildings collapsed. Support beams fell. The ground gave way, and made treacherous crevasses.

The man, whose sole wish was to save someone, died in that deathtrap. The boy died with him, though later, as the man gave his all to protect the boy until his dying breath.

That man’s name was Kiritsugu Emiya. The boy’s name was Shirou.

As they both died, they wished one thing: that the person in their arms could have lived longer. The boy wished for the man who looked so happy. The man wished for the boy he tried to save.

But the wish-granting engine had already been destroyed, and their wishes went unanswered.

X=X=X=X=X

7
Fanfiction / All From A Hospital Bed
« on: October 30, 2013, 12:02:20 AM »
All From A Hospital’s Bed
Written by: NAHTCUW


X=X=X=X=X

A gas leak, that’s what they were all told. The mass unconsciousness, the scarred skin, the blood-red sky… It was all part of a gas leak. The sky was a hallucination, the scars were from the dangerous gases that burnt skin on contact, and the unconsciousness was from the lack of oxygen.

It was believable, almost.

“You're pretty lucky to have missed school on a day like this,” she stated, with a mix of relief and annoyance. “Seriously, it's kind of unfair.”

Mitsuzuri Ayako was one of the people that were there when the gas leak occurred. She was in the hospital, along with everyone else, and would remain there until it was determined there were no lasting effects from the gases.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, you know,” the red-haired boy at her bedside sheepishly answered. He was Emiya Shirou, and through some stroke of luck was absent when the leak happened.

“Still, this hospital is ridiculous. Over a week in here, just for a little gas?” she said, clearly annoyed. Still, she kept most of her body under the covers. She had been affected by the gases as well, and didn't want to parade it.

“They’re just being careful. These gases can have some long term effects, and they just want to make sure none of you are in danger,” Shirou said, more annoyed at her than anything. “I wouldn't want to put you in anymore danger, so you’d better just stay here where they can help if something goes wrong.”

“Gee, that’s comforting. Stay in the hospital in case the gases try to kill you again,” She jokingly said at her ex-club member, with one of her staple grins.

“I’m not joking, Mitsuzuri,” Shirou scolded her with a serious look, which took her aback. “I really don’t want you, or anyone else from our school, getting seriously hurt. In here, you’re in a place which can treat you in case there are aftereffects. So, stay here until the doctors tell you otherwise.”

“Yeesh, were you always this serious? Fine, fine… I’ll do as you say, doctor Emiya,” she teasingly said, provoking a smile from Shirou.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just genuinely worried, you know?” Shirou said sheepishly, before his mood turned dark. “I mean, if I had been there...”

“You would have collapsed along with the rest of us. Don’t beat yourself up, Emiya,” Ayako said, still smiling. She decided they needed a change of subject, so change the subject she did. “You came here to visit Taiga, right? How is she?”

“Oh, she’s so energetic you’d think the leak never happened. Even the doctors were baffled by her rapid recovery,” Shirou said, accepting the change. “She was already bellowing at the doctors to let her leave, because apparently I need her ‘continued guidance’.”

“You mean, she needed to eat your food? That’s so like her,” Ayako let out with a laugh. “I can see where she’s coming from, though. The hospital is rather boring.”

“Well, would you like me to bring you something to pass the time with? A book, maybe?” Shirou asked, and Ayako sighed. He was doing that thing where he wanted to be overly helpful again.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t really like books that much anyway,” she answered, sounding slightly tired. “Now, bring me an archery range in here and I’m a happy woman, but no books.”

Shirou accepted the little joke and laughed, his mind conjuring up an image of an archery range sticking out of the hospital’s third floor.

That laughter was killed as soon as loud noises came from the corridor, and through the halfway open door both Ayako and Shirou saw a bed rush past, pushed by many doctors. Their voices were loud, yet neither of the room’s occupants understood what they said because of the speed they were talking at, and because their eyes were glued on the person they were moving.

“… That was Takeda, from the kendo club, right?” Ayako nervously said, after what felt like an eternity of Shirou staring at the doorway. He snapped out of his reverie and looked back at her.

“Yeah… he was pretty much in the middle of it all, from what I heard from Fuji-nee,” Shirou said, looking like he just took a fist to the gut.

“Just relax. He’ll be fine. That’s why we’re here anyway, right? So that the doctors can act as soon as something goes wrong?” Ayako said, skillfully throwing his own words back at him.

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I was just worrying needlessly,” Shirou said, with a sad smile. “Anyway you look tired, the sun is setting and you had a pretty bad day. I’ll let you rest.”

“What? Forget that. Stay here and talk to me, I’m not falling asleep yet. And I’ll be bored to death waiting until I do, so keep me company,” she forcefully said with a smile, and Shirou couldn't find it in him to refuse.

Until the sun set and the nurses shooed him out, Shirou and Ayako talked about anything and everything. And at the end, Shirou promised to come back the next day.

That sounded nice to her.

X=X=X=X=X

He came back the next day, as promised. Ayako didn’t doubt he would, either. He was too good-natured to lie about something like that. So, for what felt like hours, they talked about more inconsequential things, while she lay on the bed and he sat on the chair at her bedside. The weather, rumors, the school’s newest couple, the basketball club’s star, no subject was beyond their grasp, until Ayako said something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Did you see the news? Shinji was found dead last night.”

“Yeah, I know…”

Shirou looked down to the floor, dejected. No matter how badly Shinji seemed to treat him, they were actually quite close. Ayako could understand that, and almost didn’t bring up the issue, until it suddenly slipped out between words by accident.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Ayako said, waving her hand defensively. “Instead… uh… How’s Taiga?”

Fully willing to return to more casual conversation, Shirou took the obvious bait.

“Oh, she’s restless. She says the hospital food is downright terrible,” Shirou said with a smile.

“That’s your fault for giving her such high standards, though.”

“Yeah, definitely. I did promise to deliver her some food from now on, though,” Shirou sheepishly said, his mood slightly lifted. A sad glint in his eyes was still present, but Ayako figured that after talking, it would be gone.

“Was that her idea, or yours?” she asked with an eyebrow raised, her concern for him hidden.

“It was partly mine, partly hers. She told me she missed my cooking, and I told her I had some leftovers because I was used to her eating over,” Shirou said, scratching the back of his head.

“Really? You sometimes make too much? That’s unexpected, I thought you were more precise than that.” Ayako said with a slight smirk, making a reference to the fact Shirou never missed out on the archery range.

“Well, Sakura is staying over for now, and I’m not really used to making food for two instead of three, so it just happens sometimes.” Shirou said with a troubled expression.

“Well, I’m honestly impressed. You’ve been trumped by… wait a second…” Ayako’s face suddenly turned pensive, and looked at Shirou with an accusatory frown. “You made the extra food on purpose, didn’t you?”

He tensed for a moment, and looked away while he scratched his head. Ayako just burst in laughter at the sight, and Shirou just started pouting at the teasing.

“Well, what was I supposed to do? Fuji-nee said she didn’t like the food, so I had to help,” he said, barely audible.

“Oh, you are so tsundere. It wouldn’t hurt for you to just tell her you cooked for her on purpose,” Ayako said, her grin never leaving her.

“Oh, leave me alone,” Shirou said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ha! You’re adorable,” Ayako pointed out to the pouting young man, whose face reddened at the teasing. “Anyway, how’s Sakura doing?”

“She’s… dealing with a lot, but she looks like she’ll be alright,” Shirou said, his face returned to a semblance of seriousness.

“You’re helping her get through it, I hope?” Ayako said with a sly smile and a crooked eyebrow.

“Hey, it’s not like that. It’s just, until this whole thing dies down, she’s staying at my place,” Shirou said defensively, waving his arms in front of him. “I mean, with what happened to Shinji…”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. She needs a shoulder to lean on, right?” Ayako said with a mischievous smile, something Shirou didn’t miss. He was about to reply, when someone knocked on the door.

“Excuse me.” A nurse said, gently pushing open the door and making her presence known. “Visiting hours are over, sir.”

“Ah, alright,” Shirou said, pushing himself up from the chair. He turned to face Ayako one last time before leaving. “I’ll try to come visit again tomorrow. Is that alright?”

“Sure, I’m dead bored here anyway. Bring Sakura too, if you want,” Ayako said, almost serious enough for Shirou to believe she wasn't implying something.

“Yeah, I will,” he said, before heading out the door. Before closing it behind him, he waved at her one last time. She waved back, but he was gone before he could see it.

She slumped down, letting herself fall from her seated position. She sighed and brought her left hand through her hair.

“So, Sakura almost got her man, huh…?” She said, letting out another sigh. She was happy about her junior’s progress, to be sure, but another part of her felt slightly jealous.

Some would word it that Ayako had a crush on Shirou. It started when he completely outdid everyone in the archery club. Afterwards, she would keep asking for more and more matches, never accepting defeat. Somewhere along the way, it became more akin to just wanting to spend more time with him.

But she had never acted on it. In all honesty, every time she tried she would freeze up, and just ended up asking him to rejoin the club or just asking him for a rematch.

With that on her mind, she fell asleep and dreamed a girl’s dream, the kind said girl does not ever share.

X=X=X=X=X

“Like I said, Sakura is pretty sick. I can’t come today, sorry,” Shirou told Ayako apologetically, over the phone. “She has a big fever and everything, I can’t really leave her alone either…”

“No, it’s fine Emiya. I can live with being bored, but I can’t live with my junior getting sicker because I stole her precious sempai,” Ayako said jokingly, and his blush was almost audible.

“Stop that! I already told you, it isn’t like that,” Shirou said, his fluster obvious. “Anyway, could you just tell Fuji-nee?”

Ayako stayed silent at that, for far too long.

“Mitsuzuri? Are you there?” Shirou asked, concern in his voice.

“Hm? Oh, right. Yeah, I’m here. Don’t worry, I’ll tell Taiga, so you just take care of Sakura, alright?” Ayako said, forcing her voice into its usual energy.

“Un, thanks for that. I’ll try to come by as soon as Sakura is better,” Shirou said, oblivious to the meaning behind her momentary silence.

“Alright, I’ll see you then. Bye,” Ayako finished, and barely heard Shirou say his goodbyes himself before she hung up the phone.

She stayed silent for a moment, just staring at the phone. After a while, she handed it to a nurse who had been at her bedside the entire time. She took it, and returned it to its place on the wall.

“Thanks for that,” Ayako said, talking about the nurse handing her the phone in the first place.

“It’s nothing, Mitsuzuri-san. You shouldn’t be walking, after all,” the nurse politely said, giving a small bow to the hospitalized high-school student. “Is there anything else you want, before I go?”

“Yeah, could you go down the hall and tell Fujimura Taiga that Shirou Emiya won’t be coming? Tell her he’s caring for Sakura, she’ll get it.”

“All right, I will. Press the button if you need anything else, Mitsuzuri-san,” the nurse said before leaving the room.

Ayako just leaned her head on her left hand and looked outside the window to her right. This day, to her, was going to be very boring.

X=X=X=X=X

The next day, Shirou did not call her, and she did not know if she’d get visited or not. Which is why, when her brother Minori opened the door, she had accidentally thought it was Shirou and called out his name.

“I’m not Shirou, idiot. I’m just your brother,” he said, looking just as he usually did: like a teenager with too much energy and nowhere to send it.

“Yeah, I can tell now that I see your ugly mug. What do you want?” she said, with a slightly dismissive look on her face. It was all in good humor though, because this was mostly the dynamic they shared. However, this time her brother looked a little uncomfortable.

“Nee-chan… are you alright?” he asked with a difficult expression. “I heard from the doctors and, well…”

“What, are you worrying about that? I’ll be fine,” Ayako said, completely dismissing the issue. “Who you should be worried about is Sakura, Minori.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Minori said, looking away. As usual, he was obvious in his crush towards the youngest Matou.

“Just that she’s staying over at Emiya’s right now. Before you know it, those two will be married,” Ayako said with a grin, causing Minori to pale a bit.

“Gah, I shouldn’t have worried. You’re the same as always,” Minori said, before leaving. He stopped just before crossing the door, however, and looked back. “Just make sure you get your rest.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” Ayako waved him off, and he just left without properly telling her goodbye. It was alright though, she was used to it.

X=X=X=X=X

The next day, Shirou stopped by. He was looking tired and a bit worn, but acting the same as he usually did.

“Sorry, I can’t really stay long this time,” he apologetically said, as his first spoken words when he entered the room.

“No, it’s fine. At least you’re here. I’ve been bored these last two days, like no one’s business,” she said tiredly, yawning to prove her boredom.

“Sorry, there’s been a fair amount of stuff happening,” he apologetically said, scratching the back of his head.

“No, it’s fine. Is Sakura all better, now?” Ayako harmlessly asked, but Shirou’s face fell at the question. “What’s wrong?”

“Wha-? Ah, no, it’s…” Shirou hastily answered, jumbling his words, until he took a calming breath. His next words felt heavy, tormented almost, turning on a few alarms in Ayako’s mind. “It’s complicated. That and Sakura herself wouldn’t want me talking about it, so I can’t tell you.”

“It has to do with the ‘gas leaks’ around town, right?” Ayako said, her eyes narrowing. Shirou immediately lost his fluster and looked her in the eyes, with a worried look.

Ayako had figured something was wrong after the school’s ‘gas leak’. After being in it, she couldn’t believe the other ‘gas leaks’ were so simple. Then, the day after the incident, Shinji dies, and Sakura gets sick immediately after? It was suspicious. There was too much to Fuyuki that was suspicious right now, starting from the murders, and she didn’t like that. She didn’t like not knowing. So, she grabbed onto any thread of knowledge she could find.

“Mitsuzuri, you…” He started trying to talk, but his words died in his throat.

“Okay, that reaction settles it. There’s something going on, and you know what it is,” she said, more or less ordering him to tell her. He leaned both of his elbows down on his knees, and looked at the floor with dejection.

“I… can’t tell you,” he said, and before waiting for her answer continued on. “If I tell you, I’d be killing you. I don’t want that, Mitsuzuri.”

“Fine,” she said, reacting faster than even she expected. “At least tell me this: All these ‘gas leaks’ and missing persons and all that, it’ll end soon, right?”

“Of course,” he stated as strongly as he could, and Ayako found herself believing him, but there were things she couldn't let go of so easily.

“And no matter what, you won’t tell me what going on?” she asked, keeping a hardened face.

“No, I won’t. It’s too dangerous for you,” he answered unflinchingly, and Ayako almost laughed at the way he worded it. It was too dangerous for her. He probably wasn't even looking at his own risk. He was probably being thoughtful and helping others at his own cost again, just like he always was.

She somehow hated that part of him, but loved it too.

“Well, you are pretty stubborn. I guess I’m not convincing you any day soon,” Ayako said, sighing and withdrawing her earlier look. “Just… end this silly stuff and come back alive. We have lives to continue once… once whatever is done and over with.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I promise I’ll let you all go back to that normal life,” Shirou said, almost too quietly for her to hear.

“That includes you, Shirou. You have your own life to live,” she forcefully said, but Shirou just flashed a small smile.

Silence followed after that statement, and Ayako wasn't even sure he heard her. He just stared at the floor, until he pulled his head up and looked at her.

“Thank you, Mitsuzuri. You helped me out,” Shirou said, and Ayako just gave him a raised eyebrow as a sign to continue. “I was kind of having a rut, and you helped me out by reminding me of something important.”

He looked sad, somehow. He looked like the kind of person who had just been told someone close to him had cancer. But, all the same, his eyes looked more resolved than before. They looked hard, almost like steel.

“I’ll be going now, Mitsuzuri. I’ll see about visiting in the next few days, when I can.”

She couldn't say anything as he left. There was just something about him now, something she couldn’t explain, that made it almost too sad to let him go like that. She wanted to talk, to tell him to reveal the whole truth, but she couldn’t. Just like she could now barely move, she didn't have her usual strength and couldn't call out to him.

She couldn't reach her friends anymore, and that infuriated her.

“Damn it, Emiya. You better have an explanation once this is all over. You owe me that much,” she said to herself, as she let her upper body fall down on the bed.

That night, she slept very little.

X=X=X=X=X

For the next two days, he didn’t come visit.

Ayako did receive some visits, sometimes from a club member, a teacher or her family. Still, she anxiously waited for Shirou to come back, to prove he was still alive and not dead in an alley somewhere.

When he came back, she almost didn’t recognize him.

The look in his eyes was cold, mechanical, and void of emotion. He wasn’t smiling, frowning, or wearing any expression at all. His face was set in stone.

But still, he went to her bedside and sat in the chair like he always did.

“Hello,” he said calmly, and Ayako felt like she was talking to another person. Nevertheless, she answered him.

“Hi, Shirou. How are you?” she said, almost too quietly. She blinked hard a moment, and reminded herself that the person in front of her could be no one other than Shirou.

“Barely hanging in there.”

“At least you’re still alive.”

From there, they started talking. Not, however, as usual. It wasn’t Ayako and Shirou talking, but Ayako trying to talk to Shirou, and Shirou not talking back.

“Weather’s nice, right?” Ayako tried, to start up a conversation.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” Shirou nodded and made a small comment.

“Remember that time Taiga came into the dojo and tripped on her own feet, and fell directly onto you? Everyone was calling you an H-game protagonist for weeks,” Ayako tried again, bringing up a past incident.

“Yeah, that was something.” Shirou nodded and made a small comment.

“How’s Sakura? Is she still over at your place?” Ayako tried again, bringing up a subject she thought might incite a reaction.

Shirou said nothing.

“Oh yeah, have you seen Rin anywhere? I tried looking her up in the hospital, but she must have dodged it, like you,” she tried something completely out of nowhere, about a person Shirou probably didn't know terribly well.

Shirou said nothing.

“Shirou, talk to me,” Ayako said, as strongly as she could. She could play along a bit, but enough was enough.

“Which choice would you think is right?” Shirou said, almost silently.

“What? Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

“If you had to choose between someone important to you, and ten people you didn't know, but have lives, families and friends, which would you pick?” Shirou asked her, straight to her face with no reservation.

“Emiya, that is way too heavy to suddenly drop on someone,” Ayako said with a frown.

“I guess it was, sorry.” Shirou said, and he made to push himself out of the chair like he always did before leaving.

“…Neither choice is wrong.” Ayako surprised him by talking. “I mean, one is definitely more selfish, but it’s not wrong in and of itself. The other choice is callous, but it isn’t wrong either.”

“Then…” Shirou said, hesitantly. “Which choice is the wrong choice?”

“Not making the choice would be the wrong one, I think. I mean, this is just an opinion and all, but… Why are you asking this, anyway?” Ayako said, cupping her forehead in her left hand. “Talk to me, Emiya. I have no idea what you’re saying or why.”

“I had to make that choice.” Shirou said, and Ayako’s eyes grew wider. “I chose the people I didn’t know, and the person I did know never blamed me. Even when she died, she never blamed me. She died with a smile.”

“Emiya, what… Who was it?” Her voice was tiny. All of its strength was sucked out, to the extent that is was barely even a squeak.

Shirou stayed silent, as if he never even heard her.

“Who was it, Shirou?” This time she used his given name, and it made him react. He looked up at her, as if he was looking at someone else entirely, but then looked down again.

“It was Sakura. I had to make a choice, but I couldn’t let too many people die. I couldn’t just drop my ideal,” Shirou said, and the atmosphere seemed to turn into ice.

“Why?” She said, her tone strong, yet not hateful. She was not making judgment, not yet. She’d let him speak first.

“The ‘gas leak’ at school, along with a lot of recent missing persons… That was her fault, unwillingly. But the only way to make it all stop…”

Was to stop her. Ayako didn’t need him to finish to understand that. She couldn’t say he was wrong. She couldn’t say he was right, either, so instead she asked the second question on her mind.

“Is it over, now?” Ayako asked almost pleadingly. Her voice sounded too weak for her liking.

“No, there’s still one more thing to do, one more person who… has to die for this all to end,” Shirou said quietly, and Ayako couldn't say anything.

For what felt like hours, neither spoke. Shirou fixated the floor, and Ayako stared absentmindedly at the wall.

“Was there any other way? For Sakura, I mean?” Ayako said, her voice barely a whisper.

“None,” Shirou answered, and looked at Ayako. “Do you blame me? Do you hate what I did?”

More silence followed. Noises were audible in the hallway beyond the door, or from the open window, but both of them ignored it.

“No.” Ayako answered, and she looked at him again. “I don’t blame you. You had to make a hard choice, but you didn't run away. I don’t like the result, but you can’t be blamed for making the choice.”

His gaze softened. No, his gaze melted, his eyes lost their steel and his face seemed to regain the emotions it had discarded. He pushed himself out of the chair, and Ayako knew she had just convinced him to finish what had started.

“Ayako, do you want me to come back? Once it’s all done?” Shirou said, too calmly for the painful look on his face, a look that screamed sadness to all who would see it.

“Yeah. I do want you to come back.” Ayako simply answered, and that was that. Shirou left the room, and neither said goodbye.

Once he was gone, Ayako could only think. She thought about Shirou, about what he admitted to, and about how much he changed. The bright boy she had known was all but gone, replaced with either a cold, emotionless facade or a person haunted by their own actions.

In a way, he was now resolve incarnate. Yet, in another, he was broken beyond belief.

With the fresh memory of a broken young man, she did not sleep at all that night.

X=X=X=X=X

Two more days passed without him.

Every time someone would knock on the door or walk in, she would feel nervous. She didn't know how she would react, or talk to Shirou at all at this point. She had, essentially, told him he wasn't wrong for killing someone. She didn't deny him, even though killing people is wrong on principle.

But, the way things were in the city, with the many murders, gas leaks, and missing persons, a part of her mind told her that a few people dying for it all to stop was worth it.

So, she honestly didn't know what to think about Shirou. She almost dreaded when he would come back, another person’s blood staining his hands.

So when he finally came, in the dead of night, she didn't know what to say. He had probably snuck up, past the security guards, just to fulfill his promise of coming ‘once it was all over’.

For the longest moment, he stood with his back to the door he had closed, and she looked at him. A small clock at her bedside told them both that minutes passed by in silence.

“It’s done,” Shirou said, breaking the silence. “I’m done.”

“So… no more people have to die?” Ayako tried, her voice hopeful.

“No, one more person has to die.” Shirou calmly said, and Ayako knew exactly who he was talking about. He was, at his core, a good person. He couldn’t let a killer, a murderer of the innocent, run around freely.

He was going to end his own life, but he was fulfilling one last promise first.

“Don’t.”

It was all she could say.

“Don’t do it.”

It was all she could do.

“I’m broken. Like this, the only thing I can do is hurt people,” he quietly said, and she had to deny him.

“You’re not. You were just trying to help people.”

“The road to evil is paved with good intentions. I killed good people, Ayako,” he said, casually using her given name.

“That was to help people. You were just doing the best you could.” She tried, but his eyes were too strong. All the resolve he had was there, coupled with sadness.

“That was then. I’m broken now,” Shirou just replied, without additional argument. “My mind of steel is filled with cracks, and once it shatters… I won’t stop killing.”

That was too sad. It was too wrong.

“Shirou, you listen to me. You aren't broken.” Ayako said, frantically removing her covers with her left hand. With pronounced effort, she started using her right hand as well.

That was the first time he had seen her right hand since the accident. It was reddened, stiff, scarred. Still, he had to tell her she was wrong, he couldn't be distracted.

“No, I am. I would have never killed Sakura before this. I would never have disregarded Saber, or Ilya. I regret everything, I wish it all never happened, and I just want it to end,” Shirou just continued, while Ayako removed her blankets completely. She didn't recognize the names he said, except for Sakura, but she didn't have time to care right now.

“You still aren't broken, Shirou. If you were broken, you wouldn't even be thinking about it.” Ayako said, moving her left leg over the edge of the bed, while she used her hands to move her right one the same way.

Her right leg was reddened too. It was scarred and stiff, and pain was visible on Ayako’s face when she sat on the border of her bed.

“No, I’m broken, Ayako. At the end, I killed an innocent girl, who only even wanted to see her father again. At the end, I killed a girl who had great dreams, and ambition to spare, who had been brought low because of circumstances.”

“How many people did killing those two save?” Ayako asked, still on the bedside. Shirou stayed silent, still in the same place he had been since the conversation started, his back to the closed door.

“A lot. Too many to count. I don’t know,” he finally said, and Ayako forced one of her smiles.

“See? You saved people. Then it was worth it,” she said calmly, her voice not reflecting her smile.

“It was unforgivable,” he said, and he looked at the floor. Looking at her was painful now.

“It wasn't wrong.”

At that, he couldn't say anything anymore. She was right, she knew she was right, even though a part of her mind told her she wasn't. She knew Shirou knew that too, and she was gambling on that alone to stop him from jumping from the top of some building.

“It doesn't matter. They were innocent, they never did anything wrong, and I killed them, without mercy. I’m broken,” Shirou said with the same look, the same voice he had possessed ever since he entered the room. It was hard and unyielding. Ayako still had one last idea to get through to him though.

“Well, look at me then.” Ayako said, while she fiddled with her left hand behind her back. Untied, she shook off the hospital gown, revealing her almost naked body, covered only by her underwear.

Its right half was covered in scars and damaged tissue. Nothing was left undamaged. Her face was somehow left clean, but the rest of her was not. It looked like a scar-like stigma that had spread from her right leg. Second worst was her right arm, and then it was her chest, abdomen, and neck.

Shirou’s eyes widened in surprise, but his mind stayed calm. His mind was always calm, always cold, always calculating, and always heavy now.

“You say you’re broken inside, and I’m pretty much broken outside,” she said with a smile and a blush. She was basically exposing herself in front of her crush, after all. Anyone would be embarrassed. “I was pretty close to the center of that thing too, you know, and I fell on my right side,” she explained, before pausing for a moment and speaking in a lower tone. “Just look as us, huh?”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, it is. I’ll show you it is,” Ayako said, and she stood up. She obviously favored her left leg, her face contorting with pain every time her right one touched the cold, hard floor. She took a few steps forwards, each shakier than the last, but inevitably fell.

And Shirou moved and caught her. She laughed lightly, held in his arms in front of him.

“See? You aren't broken.” She turned her head to see him, a bit to his left. On his face was a look of complete surprise, his eyes wide and mouth gaping. “You can still help people.”

“Ayako, I…” He started speaking, but she winced in pain as her right leg caused her pain again, while in contact with the hard floor.

“Yeah, could you put me back on the bed first? I’d like to have this conversation when I’m not in pain,” she said with a pained smirk, and he nodded. He forced himself a bit, and with a grunt of effort carried her in bridal style back to her bed, where he gently set her down.

After she had been re-gowned and put under the covers again, Shirou took his usual seat at her side.

“It’s still not the same,” he stated after a moment of silence.

“Oh, will you stop that? It’s exactly the same,” Ayako said forcefully, flicking him on the forehead. He didn’t even react. “I can still move, but I need someone to keep me from falling. You can still help people and care, you just need someone to remind you every now and then.”

“I've done bad things.” He said after a moment, looking her straight in the eyes. It wasn't self-deprecation, simply him stating a fact.

“I’ll forgive you, then.” Ayako said with her normal smile. “So you better stop moping. It isn't like you.”

She knew now: she had no reason to be nervous. Deep down, he was still the Shirou she had admired and competed with. No matter how much he changed, he would still be that person. He would never do something openly evil, never forgive such acts when they were presented to him, even when he was the perpetrator.

He was still the same person she had fallen for.

X=X=X=X=X

8
Fanfiction / Fate/Stay Mad
« on: October 29, 2013, 11:27:47 PM »
God I was bad when I wrote this. Still, once first fic, forever first fic. POSTAN


Fate/Stay Mad
Written by: A Room Full Of Monkeys


X=X=X=X

Shirou was in the dojo, pondering something.

He had gotten in trouble for it before, sure, but the more he thought about it, the more he figured he needed it.

A sure-kill finishing move, of course.

Saber had dismissed the idea when he first asked her, but… She was guilty of having her own finishing move, was she not? Assassin had tsubame gaeshi, Lancer had Gae Bolg, Rider had Bellerophon and even Gilgamesh, in his horde of treasures, had one that surpassed the others; Enuma Elish.

Even his human teacher, Kuzuki Souichirou, had his own finishing move. And Shirou didn’t even want to think about Bazett.

That’s when it hit him: he should ask all of the servants (excluding saber, as she already dismissed him) about obtaining a finishing move.

And so, Shirou’s quest for a finishing move BEGINS!

Assassin’s tutelage:

Shirou started with the easiest servant to locate: Assassin

“So, boy, I suppose there is a good reason for your visit today?”

Calm as always, Assassin was leaning against the temple gate, monohoshisao on his back. He didn’t even open his eyes when Shirou finally climbed all the steps to reach him. Good, a teacher has to be calm and composed, Shirou thought.

“Actually, I need your help. I need to learn an ultimate attack. Something on par with the noble phantasms of the other servants, or Tsubame Gaeshi. Seeing as you’re the only one that relies on pure skill, I thought I should ask you first.”

“Shirou Emiya, is there anything you truly hate?” Shirou said nothing, so Assassin continued. “I really hate birds. They would harass me every day, and every day I would try to slash them away. Eventually, I bent space-time and gave to them what was coming. That is my advice. Try hitting something you hate until you bend space-time.”

Shirou thought about this. What did he hate? Then it hit him. He knew what to swing at until space and time bent to his will.

Hours later:

“Geez, Shirou, why on earth did you try hitting Archer?”

Rin Tohsaka may have sounded concerned over Shirou’s bandage covered body, but Shirou knew better: she found the entire situation amusing.

“Assassin said that if I swing at something I hate every day, I’ll eventually bend space-time and obtain my super technique.”

Rin eventually asphyxiated and passed out, after a fair bit of laughter.

Rider’s tutelage:

“A… super technique?”

“Right. A sure kill move. A trump card. Something awesome and badass that will allow me to defeat Archer.”

So his goal had changed a bit, but he could not be blamed for this. Even with Avalon, his previous condition left him out of the war for 2 days. He wanted REVENGE.

“Well…” Medusa thought for a second. She was a person that had brought on the envy of the gods, eventually became a famed and feared monster (The source of her legend) to protect her sisters, but lost her sanity and killed her own sisters.

She really didn’t think she was the best source of advice when it came to obtaining power.

“Protect what you love, Emiya Shirou, and you have the power you desire. But, keep yourself from becoming drunk with power, or else you will find yourself destroying what you love.”

She had a sad look on her face, and Shirou felt ashamed of his current motivation. Defeat Archer? No, Shirou wanted to protect everyone. That’s why he wanted power.

“Thank you, Rider, you helped put my head on straight again. I’ll keep your words in mind in the future.”

And rider waved him away, her sad smile replaced with one of… pride?

Shirou felt his resolve swell as he returned home, keeping rider’s words in his head. Protect what you love, and you will obtain the power you desire.

And all that resolve was turned to anger and hatred when he saw Archer in his kitchen. HIS kitchen. The only ones allowed in there are those that he allows in there.

Archer (Along with Kotomine and Gilgamesh) was one of the people NOT allowed in his kitchen. Anyone else (apart from Kotomine and Girugamesh) was fine, just not Archer! (Along with Kotomine and Gurugamesh)

Protect what you love.

Those words resonated in his head as he walked up to Archer in the kitchen.

“What’s this, Emiya Shirou? So eager to try again?”

His voice was smug. He knew how much his (Or Kotomine’s or Gargamel’s) presence was not wanted in Shirou’s kitchen. And he reveled in the fact he was pissing off his younger self.

“Out.” It was a low sound, almost a whisper, yet even Saber and Rin in the dining room could hear his commanding tone. His voice now was that of a lion’s, driving fear into every living thing.

Yet if Emiya Shirou was a lion, then Archer was a dragon.

“Make me, boy.”

That drove Emiya Shirou over the edge.

Protect what you love, and you will have the power you desire.

Suddenly, Emiya Shirou was surrounded by kitchen utensils of all kinds. Meat knives, cheese knives, butter knives, ladles, frying pans, spatulas. Anything belonging in a kitchen was surrounding him, and he felt his love empower him.

Super Technique! TRUE KITCHEN BLADEWORKS

All the utensils aimed at Archer fired, only for Archer to laugh.

“Weak! You’re Weak, Emiya Shirou!”

Ultimate technique! FIVE STAR KITCHEN BLADEWORKS

Every one of Shirou’s projections, made of love and care, were destroyed by the callous archer’s high quality projections, obtained through cooking experience lasting decades longer than Shirou’s. His ladles were crushed, his knives broken and his frying pans destroyed.

Not only that, but Archer, one of the few people (Along with Kotomine and Gary) Shirou had sworn to keep away from the kitchen, now made it his stronghold. A crushing defeat and Shirou couldn’t even bear to show his face to Rin and Saber out of shame and humiliation.

“I’ll get you for this eventually, Archer! Wash your neck and wait for me!”

And so Emiya Shirou ran from his house, intent on learning an ultimate move that would allow him to obtain his kitchen once more.

Berserker’s tutelage:

“You know” Said Sella, not really caring “You’re going to die.”

“This is a comedy fic! No one dies!” Answered Shirou, the fires of hatred burning bright within him. “Besides, for my kitchen, I would give my life twenty times over!”

Sella could understand that, being a maid. If some random man came into the mansion and took over the kitchen, it wouldn’t matter if the food he made was superior. She would still try to force him out by any means.

Except perhaps by fighting Berserker for training, like Shirou had suggested.

“People learn to fight by fighting! Ergo, if I fight the strongest servant there is, Berserker, I’ll get stronger really quickly! And then, that bastard of an archer… he’ll be kicked out of the kitchen! No, kicked out of the house!”

“Go, onii-chan, I’ll be cheering for you!” Ilyasviel cheerily added to Shirou’s mad musings.

“Thank you, Ilya! Now, berserker, let’s do this!”

He turned to the dark skinned giant, projected kanshou and bakuya, and charged towards the greatest hero Greece had ever known.

Two seconds later, Shirou was face-down on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

Sella suppressed a snicker.

“Onii-chan! Get up!” He didn’t even twitch. So much for no deaths in a comedy fic, Sella thought. “Think of your kitchen, onii-chan! And think of me, Sella and Leysritt eating the food and telling you it’s delicious!”

He did more than twitch. On broken legs, he stood firm. With broken arms, he held a ladle and a frying pan. With a broken heart, he felt love for his kitchen and hate for archer.

With a broken mind, he saw Archer’s face instead of berserker’s.

The battle now was more than fair.

Wiseup!
New skills:
Battle continuation EX
Mad enhancement (against archer) A++

X=X=X=X=X

Caster’s Tutelage:

Shirou had thought of asking Caster, but immediately repressed that thought (on account of it being a bad idea) and asked his teacher Kuzuki Souichirou instead.

“Very well, I can train you to obtain a technique to defeat servants, as I have done.” The teacher flatly replied.

“Really? So I can drive Archer out of my kitchen and take my house, my love and my honor back from his filthy hands?”

Shirou was excited. Someone with true skills was willing to teach him! And then, he would show that filthy Archer who was the king of the kitchen.

“Yes, it should only take about two years of teaching.”

Hopes and Dreams were taking a train to a place called Crushed.

“I… I don’t have that long to wait, sensei…”

“Ah, then I apologize.”

And Kuzuki Souichirou walked off, like the cool guy that he was, to go do cool guy errands. And behind him, right next to where Shirou was standing, a car exploded. But he didn’t look, because he was that cool.

Shirou, on the other hand, survived thanks to his battle continuation EX, which didn’t allow him to die yet because he was the butt of the author’s jokes.

He also somehow blamed the incident on Archer, which fed his need for revenge.

Lancer’s Tutelage:

“Shirou, please come home. Archer already said he’d give you back the kitchen.”

Saber was worrying for her master greatly. And when she found him down at the docks, about to strike up a conversation with Lancer, who had recently stabbed his heart, she found herself worrying for her master’s sanity.

“He didn’t say that out of sympathy, Saber. He just wants me to grovel at his feet and beg to have the kitchen back. He just wants the satisfaction of knowing he’s better. Well I won’t let him. No one steals my kitchen and gets away with it. And no one bombs me with a car and then claims the hostilities are over.”

“Bombed you with a car?” Surely if that had happened, her master would have perished? “But, Shirou…”

“No buts Saber. I’m doing this, so go home and wait for me. I promise I’ll be back soon. And when I am, I’ll cook a feast for both you and Tohsaka, alright?”

That did sound appealing to her, and her master was very stubborn. Not only that, but he had a light in his eyes, stronger than the lion’s presence from three days prior. And so Saber left the scene, knowing without a doubt that Shirou would return, and he would return victorious.

“Hey Lancer, mind helping me with something?”

But Shirou still had work to do beforehand, as he hadn’t obtained a true ultimate technique to defeat Archer with yet.

“Sure, kid. What do you need help with?” Lancer asked, almost playfully. He didn’t know what was at stake here.

“I need to learn a technique to defeat Archer with. You’ve fought him before, so you should be able to help me with this.”

Lancer dropped his fishing rod in surprise. Then he laughed. He laughed hard, until he noticed the serious look on Shirou’s face. A look that said “I’ve gone completely bonkers, but I have a goal, damnit”.

“You’re serious, eh kid? Well, sorry to say, but he’s a servant. No way you’ll ever be strong enough to fight him.” Lancer said dismissively, picking up his fishing rod again.

“I sparred with berserker for over twenty four hours yesterday and the day before.”

And Lancer dropped the rod again. “No way. You must’ve been dreaming kid, because that ain’t possible. Not berserker. I would’ve believed you had a fist-fight with caster and won, but not berserker.”

”But it is true, and it did happen. I have the endurance; I just need more strength and skill. Please Lancer; this is very important to me.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you how to get as good as I am, at least. First off, find a goddess-like woman who is a lot stronger than you.”

“Ok, I can think of a few.”

“Now, defeat her in battle and impregnate her. Years later, accidently kill your son with the first use of your new weapon that you’ll obtain.”

Usually that would have bothered Shirou, but he hadn’t slept in three days and had taken quite a few falls on his head due to berserker and one from the car-splosion, so he didn’t really care. It sounded good to him.

“Alright, what next?”

“Make a bunch of promises you’ll break, eat a dog, tie yourself to a rock to stay standing and use runes to face off against an army single handedly, and die gloriously in the process. That’s all kid, good luck.”

Of course, Lancer had told him all of this without, for a moment, thinking Shirou would actually do it. But Shirou had gone beyond the point of common sense.

He was now at the point of SUPER sense.

“Thanks Lancer, I’ll try it out. So, you tell me, Caren, the nun, or Rider, who has divinity?”

“Huh?” Lancer really hadn’t expected that.

“Yeah, I guess rider, who has the actual stat, would be a better choice over a girl who just worships a god. Thanks Lancer, you’ve been really helpful.”

And so, Shirou set off to defeat Rider, forcibly impregnate her, kill his own son with his newest gimmick, and die against an army to make himself as strong as Lancer, who could equal Archer in single combat.

The plan was FLAWLESS.

Gilgamesh’s tutelage

Rider had no idea what was happening. One moment, she was watching the house, and the next, ladles, frying pans and spatulas were flying towards her at high speeds.

“Shirou, I have no idea why you’re doing this.”

Shirou knew exactly what was happening, and in his head, it all made some kind of demented, twisted sense.

“Simple! As per Lancer’s flawless plan” Credit must be given where it is due, after all. He didn’t make the plan, he doesn’t deserve the credit. “I will defeat a goddess-like female who is much stronger than me in combat, impregnate her, unknowingly kill my own son and grieve about it, eat a dog, fight an army and die. Then I will be able to drive Archer out of my beloved kitchen, and retain all of my dignity. A flawless victory and I will be able to protect everyone in the end, because I will be super powerful.”

“That is the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard, mongrel.”

It wasn’t rider who spoke then, it was Shirou’s old nemesis…

“Gertrud! You dare interrupt this epic combat?” Shirou loudly yelled, sure that he had gotten the name right this time.

“I am Gilgamesh, lowlife, not Gertrud. Also, you’re going about this all wrong, Faker! It is truly pitiful.” Gilgamesh loudly proclaimed, from the top of his perch, a telephone pole.

“What do you mean, A U O? A plan this simple can’t possibly fail!”

“But there is the problem, mutt! Heroes who make plans that ‘can never fail’ learn that those plans will always fail! No, Faker, what you need is much simpler. What you need is… a training montage!” That got Shirou’s attention. A training montage always worked well in movies and mangas, much more often than even the simplest of plans, like Lancer’s.

“It seems I’ve underestimated you, Gilgamesh. You are truly the king of heroes for a reason. So, in terms of training montages, what do you suggest?”

Gilgamesh did his trademarked arrogant smirk, and opened his gate of Babylon. Walking out, was a man Shirou could already tell was the best. He had short, curly black hair, hard eyes, a well-toned body and Shirou knew somehow, half his mouth didn’t work properly. He was wearing boxing shorts, and a pair of boxing gloves.

“So, King of Heroes, you had something like that in your vault, eh? How fearsome.” Shirou acknowledged this man as the best of the best, as any man would have in his presence.

“Truly! Only the best for the man who once defeated me. Come Faker, let us make you strong enough to defeat that other Faker.”

And so the King of heroes jumped from his perch, along with the master of training montages, right beside Shirou. They both patted his back, and started moving towards the sunset in what would have been a great movie scene. But Shirou turned back, just for a moment.

“Rider? Are you coming? You’re keeping me waiting, here.”

“Ah! Umm, yes.” Still confused as to what had just happened, she simply complied. She ran to catch up with them, to what would be the greatest Training Montage of their time.

????? ??????’s Tutelage

And so Shirou trained.

Every morning he would get up earlier than Rider or Gil, and cook breakfast, lunch and supper all in one sitting. He couldn’t let his skills get rusty.

Then, when Gil, Rider and their trainer woke up, they would go running for hours.

Their bond became stronger.

Pushing a cart filled with weights up a hill, their instructor barking at them, as they cried out in pain, effort and raw power.

They became closer than friends.

Walking up and down the stairs to Ryudou temple, on their hands. They fell many times, but each time, they would get up, put their hands on the stairs, and keep going until their instructor told them otherwise.

They became closer than lovers.

Destroying targets that were nothing but tree trunks covered in a single layer of fabric, with their bare hands. Covered in wounds, bruises and blood, they kept asking for the next target until there were no more.

They became closer than family.

They sparred for hours without end, in a giant whirlwind of kicks, steel and kitchen utensils. Only rarely were they stopped by their instructor so that he could correct their faults, then the battle would start again.

They became closer than master and servant.

They sweat together, bled together, cried together, ate together, bathed together, slept all in the same bed together, joked together, laughed together, and faced everything, and anything, together. They were now inseparable.

Then, one day, during one of their breaks, their instructor looked outside their rustic cabin in the mountains, to the sky, and simply said: “It’s time.”

And they knew they had to say goodbye to their beloved teacher, the master of training montages, and defeat their foes on their own.

And so their tutelage under [Censored] ended, and Shirou had learned, and gained too much to be explained with words.

He would win against Archer now, there was no doubt.

Shirou’s Results:

Shirou’s training montage had lasted two months. In that time, Archer had been downright ecstatic, Ilya had gotten lonely, Sella had shared Archer’s joy, Rin had stopped caring, Berserker roared and Saber believed in her master’s promise.

But they were all surprised when Shirou, along with Gilgamesh and Rider, had come back, still looking for a fight against Archer.

They had been even more surprised when Shirou and Gilgamesh made the challenge shirtless, countless scars showing on both of them.

So now they were in the yard of the Emiya house, Archer and Shirou facing off.

“Do you really think two months of training will be enough? I can still forgive you if you back away now, Emiya Shirou.”

“What’s that, Archer? Feeling a bit scared, are we?”

Archer scoffed at his taunt, projected a couple of frying pans and took his stance. “No, I just wanted to give you the possibility of not being embarrassed again. But it seems you like the embarrassment of losing to the same foe over and over.”

Shirou projected a ladle and a spatula, and took his own stance.

And it began.

The first clash surprised Archer. As he swung his frying pans at Shirou, the young redhead blocked them with his spatula and ladle, and they did not break. Instead, it was Archer’s pans that broke.

“W-what?”

Shirou saw his surprise and rushed him, only for Archer to jump up onto to house’s roof. He projected a bow in one hand, and a sausage rope in the other. Pouring prana into the latter, it became straight and hardened (provoking a snicker from the audience) and he notched it on his bow. Pouring even more prana into the sausage rope, it gained power, and fragility.

It became fragile. It became dangerous. It became broken.

As he launched his hard sausage (more snickers from the audience) at Shirou, Shirou just summoned his strongest shield.

“Rho Pan-ias!” and a huge frying pan appeared before him, on which Archer’s mighty sausage simply splattered upon.

“You can’t win, Archer, because you’re just making utensils.” Shirou said, unnatural confidence creeping into his voice. “But me? I simply bring out what is already there.”

Archer’s eyes widened in shock, and in desperation he projected many utensils in the air around him, launching them at Shirou.

But they all harmlessly bounced of Rho Pan-ias. Shirou, seeing this, donned his most arrogant, irritating smirk yet, taught directly to him by Gilgamesh, and started chanting.

“I am the handle of my spatula
Noodles are my body and sauce is my blood
I have created over a thousand meals
Incapable of overcooking
Nor capable of undercooking
Have withstood food poisoning to taste-test many dishes
Yet, I will never fail to finish making a meal
So, as the pot simmers
UNLIM ITED KITCHEN WORKS”

And the world around him was recreated. White tiles where there once was grass. An endless ceiling. On the horizon, giant ovens and refrigerators could be seen. And out of the ground, countless utensils and ingredients were seen sprouting out from between the tiles. The only landmark was a small footstool surrounded by oversized ladles and spatulas.

Archer was completely stunned. “Impossible… even I haven’t brought my five-star kitchen bladeworks to this level.”

“That is because you are weak, Archer, and you have lost understating of what it truly means to make a meal.” Shirou was there, before him, handling a pot on one of the many ovens covering the endless room. “But what you face here is the ultimate extreme of cooking. So let it begin with but a question, Archer.”

Shirou removed the pot from the oven, took out a single ladle and scooped up some of the beef stew inside.

“Tell me, house-husband, does your cooking have enough love?”

And Shirou ran forward, and faster than Archer could react had stuffed the ladle filled with stew into Archer’s mouth.

And Archer’s senses exploded.

It tasted amazing. It smelled amazing. It even felt amazing, just having it in his mouth. But that was not all: Archer could see how good it was and hear it. He saw a vision of Shirou, Saber, Rin, Ilya, Taiga and Sakura all eating the same stew he was at the table in the house. They were laughing, Archer could hear them. They were smiling, Archer could see them. It brought a tear to his eye, seeing a pure moment of happiness.

So Archer fell to his knees, realizing what cooking truly meant. A good meal brings people together, makes them forget their differences in the promise of a good, warm meal.

And Archer realized: He had lost this fight. He lost the fight the moment he took over Emiya Shirou’s kitchen out of spite.

“This cooking, Emiya Shirou, I will accept it.” And Archer fell to the ground, a content smile upon his face.

And Emiya Shirou, his fight over, triumphantly walked into his kitchen once more to make a feast he had promised saber so long ago.

The End

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