Author Notes: An old rewrite that I abandoned more than a year ago. I decided to work on this while I am going through writer's block on my other fics, not to mention the IRL issues I spoke about before. Tell me what you guys think about this.
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All around me, the only thing I saw was that taint of a wish long forgotten, corrupted beyond its original purpose.
Flames marred with darkness, mud filled with humanity's evil. Even for a normal human, it would be hard to miss such an evil feeling.
And at the center of all this sat an incarnation of the Zoroastrian evil god.
Angra Mainyu, Ahriman, Ahrimanes. Call him what you will.
The truth, his very essence, cannot change.
And facing this being that was prepared to step into the mortal realm was a boy whose body was made of swords.
Pity and understanding. The only emotions that I could feel for the boy as he forcefully stepped forward, his body ringing with the noise of metal rubbing against metal.
Yet, he kept walking.
This is the only path. With no regrets.
Well, except one.
I watched silently, knowing from experience that I could do nothing in these memories. A silent ghost. A mere observer lost in the memories of what I could have been, what I may have once been, or what I might become in the future.
Soon, the boy will project the Last Phantasm and sacrifice his life to protect the woman he loved.
But here is where this memory varied from the last one.
I watched as a small figure, wearing a mystic code that allowed her to toe the line of True Magic, walked past the boy.
Her words and actions, I knew them all too well, for I had seen variations of this so many times that my heart had long since died.
It was the final goodbye between a brother and a sister. A pair of siblings that never got to truly live happily as a loving family should.
Then, a miracle was performed. The price was the half-homunculus's life, and the result was the preservation of the boy's soul.
In the end, the boy got his happy ending. He got to live a life with his beloved, his friends, and his loved ones. Even if it was only in a puppet body.
But at what cost?
What of the little girl who never truly got to live? What about his sister?
My sister?
...No. Do not let yourself go. Take heed, and learn. Learn from this memory, from this alternate life of mine.
From all of the failures and successes of my alternates. So that I can make sure that none of the tragedies that befell them shall ever befall me.
For I am the bone of my sword.
My body is Steel, and my blood is Fire.
There are no gears in my world, for I am no machine bound to the Collective of Man, nor am I a broken man seeking to save everyone around me.
There is no snow in my world, for my mind is not clouded, and neither is my ambition dead.
My world is one that is a reflection of my determination. My yearning to protect what I hold dear.
My name remains the same, no matter what world, and i make this vow upon it.
Alaya, Gaia, Holy Grail, Demons of Solomon, and whoever else may come my way, seeking to take what I hold dear.
This living sword will cut you all down.
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"Shirou! Wake up! You are going to be late!"
As my dream faded, I opened my eyes to my life and got up from the bed.
"I am up, Sella!"
The 'maid' of the house shouted from the other side of my door, just like she has taken to doing these days, thanks to the memories that I have been seeing every night, throwing my schedule off.
"Then hurry and come down! You said you were going to head out early for some club activities, right?"
"Ok!"
I could not help but smile as I heard her voice fade along with her footsteps from beyond the door. She does not know how much she, Liz, Dad, and my little sister help anchor me to reality, assuring me that I am not in a dream and not living an empty life like many of my other selves lead.
"Another mundane and peaceful day, here I come."
I whispered to myself with a smile and got up from the bed.
A life like this would have many of my counterparts envious, while others would never know how to appreciate such a life due to their mechanical way of living.
But for me? This life is a blessing, one that I will protect with everything I have.
Walking into the bathroom, I begin my morning ritual.
With practiced ease, I let my golden eyes fall on the pack of razors in the cupboard.
"Trace On"
With the image of the imaginary valve controlling the flow of magical energy in my imaginary pipe system that represented my magic circuits, I activated my magecraft. A Mental trigger that was quite different from my other counterparts, showing just how different I was compared to them, and showing how different my circumstances were.
I felt the twenty-seven Magic Circuits within my soul light up a little bit, thanks to the precise control I developed after years of study, and send magical energy directly into my eyes.
Structural Analysis, one of the most basic forms of magecraft that my counterparts have mastered alongside our own brand of projection, which I learned thanks to my dreams.
With a pulse of magical energy, I immediately knew the complete manufacturing process and history of the razors. With a quiet use of Projection, a copy of the razors appeared in the palm of my hand. A complete success as usual.
Now, for the real test.
Dismissing the projection, I prepared my magecraft again. This time, I concentrated on the towel on the hanger and used structural analysis, completely understanding its history just like with the razors. Now comes the hard part.
I cranked open the imaginary valve more and more as my projection slowly started to form the vague form of the towel.
Nearly one minute after the process began, I finally had the copy in hand. But even without using structural analysis, I could immediately tell that it was not the same as the towel on the hanger.
Externally, there are no changes, but internally, my Structural Analysis tells me that the threads that make up the towel are of slightly worse quality. That they are slightly off path and that their atomic structure is slightly different.
If I were to put it in terms of the stats system used during the Holy Grail Wars, if my projections of weapons drop by one rank compared to the original, then my projection of anything that is not a weapon drops by at least two ranks and sometimes even more, depending on the object.
And yet, despite this failure, I did not let it discourage me. Because this is still a significant improvement compared to what I used to get when I first started to try to Trace anything that is not considered a weapon conceptually.
This shows that my magecraft training is coming along just fine, even if it is a bit slow for my tastes. Not to mention how difficult it is to recreate the magecraft of my various versions in this world that seems quite different from the others.
"Shirou! How long are you going to take?"
Let it be said, no matter the world, Shirou Emiya will always have bossy women pushing him around in his own home.
To my counterparts, it is mostly Taiga who takes on that role. For me, it is Sella, and occasionally Illya, when it concerns her precious manga or anime.
Then again, I won't have it any other way.
"Yeah! I am coming!"
I absentmindedly reached for the few strands of white hair with the scissors and cut them off while using a little bit of makeup to hide the uneven tanning of skin on my face that looked suspiciously like burn marks.
A result of recklessness born from a single moment of vulnerability. Something that I felt after a particularly bad memory from a version of myself appeared in my dreams more than a year ago.
Illya crawled on the floor, tears and blood flowing down her doll-like face as she reached for Berserker, finding solace in the mad giant's presence before passing away.
All the while, the monster known as the King of Heros stared down coldly at her struggles before tearing out her heart with his own hands.
I shook my head to get rid of that particular nightmare.
Thankfully, I managed to make an excuse about burning myself during my part-time job. However, I had to make sure to use makeup every day since I did not have an explanation for why the marks were expanding instead of healing like any ordinary 'burn marks' would.
Which, unfortunately, led to the adults in the household looking at me strangely and probably thinking that I was more girly than my physique would suggest.
I will never forget the embarrassment I felt when Dad learned about it and tried to awkwardly comfort me that it was ok to be interested in such things as a guy, and then tried to follow up with his version of the birds and bees talk. It was extremely mortifying for me, especially since this took place nearly three years ago now, when I was in Junior High.
I am grateful, however, that none of them shared this information with Illya. I don't know if I would be able to handle my sweet little sister calling me girly in public, thanks to how innocent she is compared to many of her counterparts.
With the preparations done, I reached under my pillow and felt the cold touch of the card that started it all. The mystic code that looked like a playing card, yet is capable of giving the user a portion of the Heroic Spirit it is connected to.
A Class Card. A mystic code created by the Ainsworth for the sake of their version of the Holy Grail War from a world that I once saw in my counterpart's memories. A life where he had a different sibling called Miyu Emiya instead of Illya.
I still do not know how something from that world ended up in this world, and fell into my hands so coincidentally, triggering these memories that I experience every night in the first place.
My first instinct was to blame Zelretch, but I knew that he was not someone who was so reckless as to toss a tool this powerful into the multiverse just for amusement.
That man might appear like a troll that loves to prank others, leading to the infamous quote about blaming him for anything that does not make sense, but I knew from many of my memories that he is someone who always has plans within plans, and all his plans are usually targeted at the greater good, one way or another.
So the fact that this thing is here in the first place and fell into my hands is very concerning.
Then, there is the other possibility, one that is absurd to even think about, but one that I must consider all the same.
That this could be a trap prepared by Alaya to turn me into its slave, like the many versions of Shirou Emiya that it enslaved and merged into Counter Guardian EMIYA, its perfect attack dog.
Or, this could also be some kind of plan from the Ainsworth for whatever goal they are pursuing.
So many possibilities, and none of them were reassuring. And all of this is not even considering how different the magical energy of my world feels compared to what I remember from my dreams, along with the existence of various Phantasma species that I have spotted in the past few years, ever since I started getting these memories.
Worse still, if the Archer Class card is here, who's to say that the other Class cards are not here?
What will happen if they fall into the wrong hands? And more importantly, what if they become a threat to the safety of my family?
'I need to get stronger. And most importantly, unlock my Reality Marble's full potential if I am to face Servants while still being a human.'
As those thoughts flashed through my mind, I couldn't help but look at my reflection in the full-size mirror with a wry smile.
I guess I really am like my alternate selves, selfishly playing the hero without depending on those who would be willing to help.
Shaking my head to get rid of the depressing thoughts, I dressed up in my school clothes and walked down from my room.
Immediately, I sensed Sella and Liz's presence downstairs, along with another presence.
One that had become a common sight at my table in the past years, just like her other counterparts.
With an amused smile that showed my genuine happiness, I walked into the room where I glanced at the various framed photos of my mother and father, and the rest of our family in the past.
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For a split second, the smiling man reading the news in one of the photos was replaced by the same man, but wearing a traditional yukata. An empty smile on his face in place of the one filled with warmth.
And in the place of the woman that I called my mother, all I saw was the empty gaze of a corpse bleeding on the floor as a chalice overflowing with blood floated in the sky with a black sun right above it.
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Suppressing the chilling memory, I turned away from the photos, heading downstairs.
Emiya Kiritsugu and Irisveil von Einsbern are the biological parents of Illya and my adoptive parents. And yet, despite not being related by blood, I still think of them as my real parents all the same.
Unfortunately, they are always out on business most of the time, even taking along our maids, Sella and Leystritt, in very rare instances.
Before I found the Class Card and started experiencing the memories of my alternate self, I never really questioned it. However, my new memories paint a different, and worrying, picture entirely.
Then again, I guess I will have to wait until they feel ready to tell me the truth. Until then, I will continue keeping my trust in them, just like they trust me and love me so much.
Sella gave me an annoyed look as she spotted me, and her fellow maid, Liz, lazily waved at me.
"Finally! Do you know how long you took up there?"
"Morning, Shirou."
I smiled at the two 'sisters'.
"Good morning to you as well, Liz. And yes, I am aware that I am late, Sella, but I am still faster than Illya, right? So it doesn't matter."
"Tch. That is no way to measure time, Shirou. As a man, you should make sure to maintain a healthy schedule so that you can become a successful person in the future."
"Yes, yes. I get it."
I turned my gaze to the final member at this table, spotting the mischievous grin on her face.
"Good morning, Fuji-nee. Aren't you supposed to be at school by now?"
"School can wait! I came to collect that lunch you promised me yesterday!"
"Fujimura-sensei!"
Sella's glare had no effect on the woman, who just continued grinning at me.
Taiga Fujimura. A woman who originally walked into Dad's life when he and Mom first came to Japan all those years ago. Her relationship with my family started just like many of her counterparts, with her crush on Dad, but then, it evolved into a genuine friendship with Mom, Sella, Liz, and Dad.
Shaking my head at those thoughts, I smiled at the woman.
"I've already made that bento and placed it in the fridge. Take it and go, before you get yelled at again."
"Will do! See ya!"
The Tiger of Fuyuki, or should I say Kuoh now? Since Fuyuki does not exist in this world and instead is called Kuoh, she ran out the door after grabbing her lunch, making Sella sigh while Liz continued giving her trademark bored look, which did nothing to hide her amusement.
"What was that about? Shirou? Why are you supplying that ravenous tiger with food these days?"
I just smiled at Sella's question, not willing to answer those questions.
How am I supposed to explain to her that I have been sneaking off during the later hours of school to train and using Fuji-nee's apatite to cover for my absence?
The moment I even speak about such things, I have no doubt that Sella will tattle to Dad and Mom, and things will escalate from there.
That is something I wish to avoid at all costs, if only to preserve the thin veil of normalcy I clung to these days to keep myself sane.
Shaking my head to get rid of those thoughts, I sat silently and ate my breakfast, talking about school-related things and the club activities with Sella and Liz, along with things like my grades and other such mundane stuff.
It was during this moment that my enhanced hearing picked up rushed footfalls from upstairs, followed by a familiar presence dashing downstairs.
Knowing what was about to happen, I put down the chopsticks after stuffing the last of the tempura into my mouth while giving the older women a knowing look, much to their amusement.
Lo and behold, just like I predicted, my precious little sister, Illyasviel von Einzbern, dashed down the stairs. Her eyes frantically staring at me.
"WE ARE LATE!! ONII-CHAN!! GET TO THE BIKE!!"
She did not even wait for my input before swiping the toast set aside for her, grabbing my arm, and dragging me out the door.
For a young girl, her physical strength is surprisingly high. That's a half-homonculos for you, I guess.
Since this is basically our daily routine at this point, I just grabbed the bag that I placed near the table, expecting this situation, while waving goodbye to the women who waved back with exasperation and amusement.
My little sister only paused at the door briefly so that I could bring out the bike before rushing me again.
Of course, being the loving brother I was, I took the scenic route and peddled quite slowly, barely making it in time for her class, much to her rage.
"Onii-chan!! Why are you slowing down!?"
"I am just a little tired. Illya."
"Liar!"
I laughed as she hit my back with her tiny fists.
"ONII-CHAN!! I HATE YOU!!"
Her tiny fists continued their assault against my back throughout the entire ride before she ran into the school the moment I stopped, not even turning around to wave me goodbye, much to my amusement.
Watching her panicked run, I could not help but laugh loudly, knowing that she would soon realize there was no need to panic since I made sure she would have enough time to make it to class even if she did not run. Not to mention how Kuoh Junior Academy does not take much interest in her punctuality, thanks to her grades, which place her at the top of her year, just like any other school that teaches the children of the elites of Japan and beyond.
I also may have failed to tell her that I've tampered with her wristwatch and set it to be ten minutes faster than her school time.
I am very sure I'll catch hell for that little bit of mischief tonight.
But, then again, these moments of normalcy are what I wish to retain in the first place. It is to preserve this sense of normalcy and protect my family that I push myself so much.
Yes. In this life, I will be no hero of justice or a sword wielded by the Collective Unconscious.
In this life, I will not allow anything to take all of this happiness from me.
For this promise, I will create a thousand blades.
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Author Notes: Read 5 chapters ahead on Patreon: patreon.com/Ruijard1