This is an idea that I'm just spewing single scenes for. I would appreciate any ideas or help building ideas for this!
CROSS OVER WITH TIGER&BUNNY
Enter the alternate universe, in the infinity of the multiverse, where...
...One Dead End was not really a dead end, but the beginning of a grand, new adventure!
ZELRETCH HERO PROJECT
I know pain as well as I would know any of my family members. No, that statement isnÆt entirely correct. Let me rephrase it. I know pain better than I would know any of my family members. Pain is a close friend, a hated foe, and an ever present rival butà
àFather used to sayà what was it that Father used to say about pain and being a magus? I canÆt seem to remember it anymore. Everything is far too distant, too foggy, for me to pull out of my consciousnessà
àAh, what am I doing?!
I snap out of it.
This is no time to fall into a trance of nostalgic reverie. The stormy visage of my ultimate foe pierced the veil of darkness, staring at me through a wall of blackness. The abyss of shadow stared at me and I stared back at it unblinkingly, resolute. Or am I in the abyss, staring out at the King of Heroes, trying to pull him towards me?
ThatÆs rightù
ùI am about to die. I am about to die. If IÆm going to die either way, I canÆt let him escape. I wonÆt let him escape!
He must have said something, shouted some kind of epithet, but I can no longer think. The howling of the world and all its hunger, rage, and sorrow swirls around me. My mind is focused on the task at hand. There is only one route.
I wrap this unbreakable chain around my arm. Its heated, yet cold surface no longer has any effect on me. My skin cannot feel it anymore. My mind cannot feel it anymore.
My adversary is growling something now. His head, half submerged in darkness; I can still see his angry, red eyes, glaring at me for all his hatred.
àheh.
I grab onto the chains so that it wonÆt let me go.
ôNo way! DonÆt come out into this world againà!ö
It is nigh impossible to resist.
So I donÆt.
I donÆt resist the pull; I throw myself into the void.
He calls me insane. He calls me a fool. But who is he, but someone who follows an insane fool into the abyss?
The blood red walls, or whatever they are, melt into blackness. I cannot see clearly now; everything everywhere is a blur, a flash. There must be something wrong with my eyes. Nothing makes senseà
I roll downà
àI am melting. My body melts away into this sea of crawling chaos. I am falling, for an eternity. Then, I can no longer feel the fall anymore, because I am in an eternal darkness. I am the eternal darkness.
The howls, the sounds, they overwhelm my mind.
They assault me from all sides. Not just the mind, nothing so simple. A black mudà it melts my skin, shaves my flesh, and removes my bones. I am but one in the infinite voices crying out, for thisà
Thisà
The body is gone. The soul that was once me, isà
Am I still falling? I am staring to feel like I am going upà
I am swallowed by a black sun, into that abyssà
àOof!
ôOwàö I rub my head. My head? My fingers, those rough, worn, human fingers run against my head.
The sounds are the first to enter my perception. From all sides, I hear the sounds of the city. I hear the artificial honking of horns, blaring and loud, that only modern automobiles make. The thousand sounds of human voices attack my eardrums like a thousand needles, each with their distinct flavor, some deep, some high, some powerful, and others soft. Then there come the sounds of vibrations and clashes, the sounds of modern machinery. I recognize many of them. I hear washing machines churning away, I hear watches beeping in alarm, and I hear fans whirling away.
Yet I also hear many sounds I have never heard before in my life, soft and loud sounds of gadgets I have never thought existed. My mind automatically tries to analyze them, but they are so complexà so far beyond me.
I feel a soft wind blowing against my face. This is a cool breeze, one that comes only during the night. WasnÆt I melting just moments ago? I wonder what happened. The feeling of my nerves, somehow fresh and new, sends a bolt of electricity through me. I can feel my body.
Ià
I can feel the cool heat of the moonlight on my eyelids. It was difficult to comprehend that I was dying, a moment before. Was it really moments? I fell for so longà what happened?
I test my feet slowly. They are steady, and I can feel the full force of gravity upon my being. I have never been so thankful to be anchored to the groundà
ôMmàö
Next, my sense of taste comes to me like a blast of fire in my mouth. I taste a tang of iron throughout my mouth, the familiar taste of blood and bile. Through all my battles and all the different conflicts that I had faced, the taste of my life blood has come to be a close companion.
Finally, I opened my eyes.
I am shocked.
What is going on hereà?! This is the city!
I see the flash of a hundred different iridescent colors; pinks, yellows, greens and blues mixing at a speed that left them blurs, like beams of light flashing all around me. Cars drive pass without a second notice, and everything seems soà
àdifferent.
Is this what the Grail produced? Orà?
I cannot stand still, in this dark, little alleyway thinking. Whatever happened has already happened. I am not the kind of guy who would just take this sitting down. I have to find Gilgamesh. If Ià survivedà somehow, then he must have too. It would be too preposterous for a human to survive something that a Servant cannotà!
This feeling is strange. The feeling of not falling is strange. And so is the feeling of having bones, flesh and skin. This is the feeling of being whole and alive.
I look down at my hands, finding it strange that I am soà whole. These hands hold nothing, but I can feel blood and steel within them. I can feelà
An impossibly loud explosion splits my thoughts. I hear metal rending and glass shattering. I hear shrieks of fear. Fearà how is it that I am able to sense so clearly the negative emotions of humanity? I seem so familiar with theseà I feel like I can touch the violence in the air.
Without a second thought, I dash out of the darkness and into the city lights. Out of the alley, I see the city in a clearer light. It is even stranger, more different than I thought. But all the differences are at the back of my mind. There is only the need of the fearful at the forefront of my thoughts. Someone is in need of aide, and someone is causing others pain.
The scene of the crime wasnÆt far. It was only a few blocks away. I ran there, not pausing and never regretting. This is no time to think of my own predicament, not when I see so clearly in the night sky, the plumes of black smoke accompanied by a great ember.
Wreckages of destroyed cars, models I have never seen before, scatter before my eyes. There is an armor vehicle at the center of it all, untouched by the carnage of machines. I stop only a few meters away, patting. I did not need to pant; I was not even short of breath. This heavy breathing is a habit...
àRight?
My eyebrows furrow in that minute confusion, before I shake my thoughts away. There are people in need.
There is a large banking facility before me with its entrance blocked by the massive armored van. The van sports a rotating cannon barrel of some kind at the center of its top, perhaps that is what destroyed the cars? Why?
àI donÆt understand.
These are not magi in a war. Theseà these are normal humans. Regular people, why do they do this?
There are more of them inside the bank; I hear at least three of them. They threaten and shout, fear and anxiety are present in their quivering voices as well as the will to do violence. Ià
My legs take me to the tall marble steps of the bank without my control. There are people within who must be saved. There are always people in need.
Why do I regret anything? There is nothing to regret.
With my will firm, I step up and into the bank. I do not stomp in, but I do not hide myself either. I want to see these men for myself, though every fraction of a second that I hear the whimpering of children and women, an inner fire raged for release.
I pushed open the great, gilded doors of the bank, seeing a polished, wooden interior. Three men in black ski masks snapped their sights towards me as my heels clicked on the marble floors.
One of them smirks, on the verge of full blown laughter, as he turns towards me.
Ah.
I looked down at myself. While skin is fresh and whole, and I am no longer covered in black mud, my cloths look like something that had just taken a dip in a swamp before being torched by a flamethrower. In fact, aside from my jeans, the rest of my attire is close to falling apart into ashes. I must have looked a sorrowful, if not pathetic, mess.
Trying to keep the heat from my cheeks, I cleared my dry, unused throat and spoke in the more raspy voice I had ever heard, ôW-what is going on here?ö
It must be a bank robbery, right? I see a group of around thirty people huddling in a corner. Eight of them are children, all of whom have tears in the corners of their eyes. Theyà
My fists clench.
ôMah, mah, I think we have a wannabe hero here,ö The fattest and shortest of the men crowed. His form stretched even the thick, black sweater he wore, making him seem like some kind of obese mess as he pointed an assault rifle at me, right in my face. He turns to one of his compatriots without a care in the world, as if I were just as harmless as anyone else here. ôSorry, S-san, I think we might have the first casualty of the night!ö
I do not fightà
His friend must be partnered with him for comedic effect; he is as tall as the other is short and as thin as the other is fat. All three of them look as positively bored of this robbery. But the thin one must be their leader, because he gives the orders. He speaks in a shrill, high-pitched tone, one that a man can have if his manhood was cut off, ôAh, well! This one is an idiot anyway! What kind of guy walks into a bank robbery and asks whatÆs going on? You poor kid, youÆre so young too,ö He pouts at me, pityingly. ôWell, IÆm sorry about this butàö
I only forgeà
S-san, the thin one, raises his pistol at me and lets off a spraying volley. I didnÆt need to dodge at all, because of his terrible marksmanship, but I moved out of the way of ricochets, letting them bounce harmlessly behind me. His weapon could not hit me at this range with accuracy even if he chose to stop grabbing the bags of cash and lay his focus upon me anyway. The construction, its creation is soà poor.
Nothing else mattersà
I frown at them, wanting to ask why. I know what they are doing and I can guess why. Be it fear, greed, or some other human emotion, I seem to know it far too well now.
This is the only pathà
S-san shakes and yells to his companions, ôKill the fucker and grab the bags! Faster, especially you, T-san! We donÆt have much time, the camerasà!ö He yells specifically at the fat one before diving to a side.
àthis is the image of myself.
This is the first image that appears in my mind. This is by far too familiar to me, even though I donÆt know how to use them properly. A pair of blades is created into existence, their hilts resting comfortably in my hands. I raise them just in time to block a hail of bullets. The clash of metal against metal rings loudly in my ears, and the vibrations hurt my fingers and wrists, but I hold resolute until I see what I need to do.
People are willing to kill, but these peopleà they are not Servants. They are only humans. I will try not to kill them, if I could help it. Ià I try to focus on the people huddled on the ground, the people I need to save. These are the people I want to save. They are more important, so even if I have to be pained, even if I have to face these bullets head onà I will.
But there is no need. I move faster than they anticipated, and in a flash of black and white, steel cuts apart T-sanÆs assault rifle. While this weapon was made of technology beyond my grasp, the materials it is composed of are nothing to my magnetized blades.
I remember, T-san cries out in pain as his arm is slashed, to offer them one last chance. And so I do, ôGive up and give in. ThereÆs no reason for you to be injured.ö Having never faced normal, mortal enemies, Ià
àWas this the right choice?
But it doesnÆt matter, because their leader doesnÆt pay any attention to my words. He grabs the nearest civilian. He is thinking of using a child for a hostageà? No, he isnÆt thinking it; he is doing it right now. He grabs roughly a small girl who looks no older than eight, holding her body against his own tightly as he pressed his gun against her head.
ôGive up, boy! YouÆre not some kind of hero, even if you are a NEXT, thereÆs nothing you can do!ö He shrieks. He is mostly fearful, bluffing even. The shaking of his hand has his pistol is pressed against the side of the young girlÆs head tells me this but fear causes people to do strange things. ôEven if you are a freak, you canÆt stop a bullet in time! Give up!ö
I grit my teeth. I suppress my growling. I try to think coolly. But I am no true magus, and I am no Tohsaka Rin. I am just a third-rate magus, if even thatà
àSo how do I save her?
How do I move faster than the speed of a bullet? How do I move faster than the twitch of a finger? I can feel the sweat drops rolling down my forehead and down my back, both the pressure of the situation and the heat of my surroundings roaring at me to take action.
I will save her. There are no regrets. I should be dead. More than likely, he will turn to shoot me, so I raise my hands slowlyù
ùAnd I am correct.
The barrel of his gun points directly at my chest, and he walks up to me, even as the girl begins to tear up and sniffle in his coarse hands.
Ten meters.
Five meters.
Two meters.
One meterà
àHe does not understandà
àBut then, perhaps he should be honored. To face my steel, the finest blades, is an honor. These are the greatest swords, each and every one of them. And so, as one blade cleaves his arm in two, like molten steel against warmed butterà
àI have no regrets.
The sword, a blade that I have seen in the possession of my future self, forged in the eighteenth century and of no special properties other than its superb sharpness and fine balance, shoots from my hands, twirling in the air. It arcs around the large lobby, penetrating the third manÆs semi-automatic before flying and intercepting the steps of the fattest robber.
It is a beautiful blade, like all bladesà
I blink. Somehow, my mind blanked out for the last few moments, and now I have a sobbing child in my arms, with a bank lobby full of clapping people. Ià I blink again.
Ià I frown.
Thisà
Whatà
I think I am hyperventilating, butà
I must get out of hereà
Gilgamesh! Grail! Mud!
Myà my mindà
I run out of the bank, stumbling and falling fast first against the pavement. There is a crunch of bone against cement, but I am only bruised. I need to run. I need to escape. I needà I needà
I just keep running, the events of this night, the battle for the grail, the fight against Gilgamesh, everything, this pressureà it all comes crashing down against my mind, under pressure.
-]|I|[-
A redheaded woman, though most people would strangely associate the color blue with her, walks out of the bank, following the steps of her young savior. And what a savior he was too! He had quite a nice body to go along with that silent, mysterious attitude!
With a swirl of her long, red hair, the woman giggles. She doesnÆt stand out from the crowd at all, wearing nothing but a simple white shirt and a pair of jeans, that even her unusual calm and strange giddiness causes no questions.
With a twirl of her suitcase, she walks down the white steps of the bank with only a mental note to talk to her sister tucked far, far away, and laughs to herself in a rich and sultry yet so innocent voice, ôI wonder what his name is, this dashing, new hero?ö
-]|I|[-
I did not stop running. I must have run for hours, though when I look back, it seems like minutes. By the time I did stop, my shirt had already scattered in the four winds in the form of ashes. Ià
I must look like a crazy guy, right? With only charred jeans on and nothing else, not even shoes. I smirk to myself despite my wariness, panting for quick, cool gasps of delicious oxygen. From the state of my lungs and from the color of the morning skyà
...Ah. ItÆs already dawn.
Saberà
àFor some reason, I canÆt but get my ServantÆs familiar face out of my head at this moment. Maybe it was because the light of the sun, accompanied by such a calm breeze, reminded me of her. Or maybe I am just happy to be aliveà Do I even deserve to be alive?
I straighten myself, blinking towards the golden light. Never in my life have I been so grateful. As I stretched and arched my spine back, a tingle of guilty pleasure tickled the back of my mind, just like the warm, morning sunrays. Which is a comfortable contrast to the cool windù
ôùAchoo!ö I shiver. Instinctively, my arms wrap around my torso as I shake. It sure is cold in the morning.
Can I be happy that I am alive? Thisà
àThis is just like years ago. I am alive, but I can easily tell that I am not in Fuyuki anymore. I donÆt know where I am. From all the English signs all around me, I donÆt even know if I am in Japan anymore.
What would Saber have done?
Being without regrets, would she immediately attempt to return and destroy the Greater Grail? I think she would. I know I shouldà
àbutà
àI canÆt help but want to enjoy this single moment of peace. I shouldnÆt. I canÆt.
The chirping of waking birds is music to my ears. When was the last time I woke up early to simply jog for the sake of jogging? In these last few days, have the events escalated to such dire straits, that even a morning jog seems so distant from me?
But I know the answer already.
I can never go back to the past and I can never wish away that fateful night, where I stayed late at school. The clash of a blur of blue and red, I still remember it clearly. Butà
àI donÆt regret it at all.
I stand straight, my body and mind renewed in strength. My goals are clear and simple. I must return to Fuyuki City and make sure the world is safe. Everything else, especially myself, comes a distant second to the lives of everyone in the world.
àRight, Father?
ôùHurry up, Kiritsugu!ö
Huh? What? It is a light-hearted, melodic voice, belonging to a woman. But she s not just any woman; with an airs of maturity, she stands even apart from Saber. Snow-like hair cascades from her shoulders down to below her waist; it looks unwieldy but she wears it with an elegance that strikes within me the image of a fairytale princess who had found her happy ending and grew into a queen. Even the dress she wears looks more like a gown of gold and whiteà this is a pure whiteness that is untouched by the world, like fresh snow.
But the woman, despite all her elegance and beauty, does not catch my eyes at all. Instead, my sights are focused upon the one she called Kiritsugu; he is a tall, weary man, even while donning a long coat over a suit not out of place in the highest echelons of society.
But that does not catch my eyes either. His clothes, no matter how splendid yet conservative, are nothing to his attitude. There is a look within his tired eyes that reminds me of dad; it is the look of a veteran, sharp and alert even in the most peaceful of times.
But it isnÆt his aura or attitude that catches my eyes. No, it is for certain his face: his visage is a reflection of father. He looks just like him, right down to the unshaven, cigarette chewing expression that father had before he diedà
àSo it is understandable, perhaps, that I approached him, even before seeing the other people in his company. I didnÆt even notice a girl who stood at their side like a doted child of the family, a younger version of the woman who should be her mother. I didnÆt even notice how she seems to look like the fairytale snow princess who nearly had me killed in my pastà
ôFatherà?ö I croak, uncertain of my voice. I should be shocked. I am shocked. They did not hear me, or perhaps thought I was speaking to someone else. What am I doing? Why am I approaching them? This could all just be a vision brought to me by the evils of the world, yet I could not help but reach forward and stare wide-eyed at the man named Kiritsugu. ôFatherà?ö
I think he noticed me long before I approached his family. In fact, I am certain of it. The tension in his body proves enough to me, but the first to show actual notice of me, to give me attention, is the woman beside him, who stood close like aà
Instead of turning to me, she pouts and grabs KiritsuguÆs tie and asks childishly, in the same tone as Taiga, ôàWhy is this boy calling you æFatherÆ, dear?ö Her smile is now strained; there is a small twitch at the corner of her mouth. She doesnÆt look very happy.
But her words triggered something in this man named Kiritsugu, a man who could pass as a doppelganger of my father Emiya Kiritsugu. He turned to me slowly, so slowly that I could hear the gears turning in his neck. There is a strange, blue fire in his eyes, one that I have never seen before, almost causing his whole body to glow blue, but IÆm sure that was just an illusionù
ôFather?ö He roars, suddenly in front of me and hoisting me up before I knew what was happening. He froths from his mouth, shouting in an almost-comedic rage (almost, because I feel like I will really die). ôYou-you-you!ö He shouts incoherently, ôAre you trying to date my Ilya?!ö
ôàIlya?ö I mutter in confusion. Is she really here too? These two women could be her relatives, butà does that mean IÆm in some kind of heaven? No, that canÆt be right. I can still feel pain, especially in the soles of my feet, after running for so many hours.
But I soon find out that I did not need to worry for my life. The woman who acted like KiritsuguÆs wife earlier grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around, causing him to drop me unceremoniously.
ôHoney,ö she growls out through gritted teeth, ôWhat is this boy saying about you being his father?ö
ôN-now, Iri, donÆt be l-like that, I just thought he was trying to ask me p-permission toùUrk!ö Kiritsugu groans out as this woman, Iri, picked him up and started shaking him by the collar.
ôT-tell me the truth!ö She cries out through the tears that suddenly begin to flow down her cheeks somehow. I donÆt think humans can cry that fast. Strangely, she also has a dim, blue aura around her. ôA-are you cheating on me behind my back, Kiritsugu? What about Ilya?!ö
I can see that Kiritsugu wants to reply. I can also see that he is struggling desperately trying to get out of IriÆs adamantine grip and that he is choking. IÆm lost for words. What do I say to this? Are these friendly antics or a nervous breakdown orà?
I am shaken out of my thoughts by a girl. She is younger and shorter than mùat least I think soùbut her face! The moment she turned to me, I saw her clearly. She looks just like Ilyasviel von Einzbernà though her body is far more mature. She lets off a high-pitched squeal, one that causes me to wince, and leaps past her parents towards me. She shrieks in a voice full of awe, ôI know you! YouÆre that new hero who stopped the bank robbery last night! That hero with swords! Oh, wow! This is so cool!ö
Iri seems to loosen her grip on KiritsuguÆs collar, but then her face becomes like a mask of a demon. My body shivers; I canÆt help it. Kiritsugu looks helpless, but I notice that it is because this is all play. Probablyà?
ôùthat the boy is a NEXT isnÆt helping your situation at all, dearàö Iri growls through smiling lips.
Ià this is scarier than facing Torashinai. I need to get out of here. I take a step backwards instinctively, but the girl jumps to me, grabbing my hands before I can react. There is not a single sliver of hostile intent in her ruby-red eyes, only shining admiration. Even her eyes are reminiscent of IlyasvielÆs eyesà
She cuts me off before I can protest, ôI canÆt believe this! Miyu is going to be soùoh, I mean, everyone else will be so jealous! You just have to stay, onii-chan! She should be here in a minute!ö
I stutter out a single, confused word, ôHero?ö It s a word quickly followed by surprise and curiosity still buried under my confusion, ôMe?! Haaùah?!ö
This older version of Ilyasviel tilts her head at me slowly, pouting adorably as she crosses her arms. This action causes my vision to focus greatly on her bountiful bosom, one of her qualities that make me certain that she canÆt be Ilyasviel. She holds me hands in hers tightly, as if I would disappear the moment she lets go. ôOf course youÆre a hero, silly onii-chan! You saved those people at the bank, didnÆt you? I saw you on the Late Night Edition of HERO TV!ö
ôWuh-wait,ö Kiritsugu calls out for the first time, but he is not focused on me anymore. He is staring intensely at his daughter and so is Iri. ôI thought you were asleep, Ilya? What were you doing up at 11 P.M.?ö He asks suspiciously with an undertone of displeasure.
ôI-I, ah, ha, ha!ö Ilya, their daughter, laughs nervously. Her hands are shaking slightly, but she grasps me even tighter, trying to draw strength from me, before she muttered, ôWhy is this nii-chan calling you Father, Papa?ö
This must be some strange dream. This has to be it. Ilyasviel von Einzbern did call me her older brother, but thisà? ThereÆs no way that she could be my sister! ThereÆs no way that my little sister could be this cuteà!
IlyaÆs tactics are crude, but effective. Immediately, Iri turned back to Kiritsugu and began another round of interrogations. That is enough however, for her to turn her attention back to me, much to the displeasure of her father. Ià I donÆt feel right, calling him Kiritsugu, even in my mind. Father died for the sake of the world. This man, while he seems to be like Father in every way, I just canÆt; I accepted a long time ago that Father is dead.
My mind, it is full of what. This is making no sense at all, and the feverish heat over my brow is not helping at all. So I ask the first question that pops into my mind, trying to at least find some way to unwind all this, ôWhy are you calling your big brother? You shouldnÆtàö
I am cut off again by Ilya, ôYou are older than me, arenÆt you, onii-chan? Why shouldnÆt I call you onii-chan, onii-chan?ö She turns her eyes up, sparkling cutely up at me and nearly blinding me. She wiggles around slowly, twiddling her hands behind her back and staring at me with adoration. Then she grabs my hands again and holds me close against her chest, ôOnii-chan, whatÆs wrong? Are you tired, onii-chan? You look like youÆve been running all night, onii-chan! Onii-chan should really take care of his bodyà! Oh!ö
ôGrk,ö is all I could offer her, using all of my will power not to collapse from her giant blob of cuteness. Thankfully, she turns away from me at another girl her age, who is running up to her right now.
ôOh! Miyu!ö She shouts delightfully, her voice like soft church bells. It is really apparent how close these two girls are, as they hug. Well, Ilya hugged her friend, who blushed and wiggled in her grasp. Miyu is a sharp contrast to Ilya; she is more petite and less curvy than Ilya. She ties her hair back, in a simpler design than Saber, but her expressions are not much different from how Saber was when I first met her so long ago. Was it so long ago? It seems that way, even if it has not been even a month since I was inducted into the Holy Grail War.
ôWho is this, Ilya?ö Miyu frowns at me suspiciously and subtly placing herself between the snow-haired girl and me.
CROSS OVER WITH TIGER&BUNNY
Enter the alternate universe, in the infinity of the multiverse, where...
...One Dead End was not really a dead end, but the beginning of a grand, new adventure!
ZELRETCH HERO PROJECT
I know pain as well as I would know any of my family members. No, that statement isnÆt entirely correct. Let me rephrase it. I know pain better than I would know any of my family members. Pain is a close friend, a hated foe, and an ever present rival butà
àFather used to sayà what was it that Father used to say about pain and being a magus? I canÆt seem to remember it anymore. Everything is far too distant, too foggy, for me to pull out of my consciousnessà
àAh, what am I doing?!
I snap out of it.
This is no time to fall into a trance of nostalgic reverie. The stormy visage of my ultimate foe pierced the veil of darkness, staring at me through a wall of blackness. The abyss of shadow stared at me and I stared back at it unblinkingly, resolute. Or am I in the abyss, staring out at the King of Heroes, trying to pull him towards me?
ThatÆs rightù
ùI am about to die. I am about to die. If IÆm going to die either way, I canÆt let him escape. I wonÆt let him escape!
He must have said something, shouted some kind of epithet, but I can no longer think. The howling of the world and all its hunger, rage, and sorrow swirls around me. My mind is focused on the task at hand. There is only one route.
I wrap this unbreakable chain around my arm. Its heated, yet cold surface no longer has any effect on me. My skin cannot feel it anymore. My mind cannot feel it anymore.
My adversary is growling something now. His head, half submerged in darkness; I can still see his angry, red eyes, glaring at me for all his hatred.
àheh.
I grab onto the chains so that it wonÆt let me go.
ôNo way! DonÆt come out into this world againà!ö
It is nigh impossible to resist.
So I donÆt.
I donÆt resist the pull; I throw myself into the void.
He calls me insane. He calls me a fool. But who is he, but someone who follows an insane fool into the abyss?
The blood red walls, or whatever they are, melt into blackness. I cannot see clearly now; everything everywhere is a blur, a flash. There must be something wrong with my eyes. Nothing makes senseà
I roll downà
àI am melting. My body melts away into this sea of crawling chaos. I am falling, for an eternity. Then, I can no longer feel the fall anymore, because I am in an eternal darkness. I am the eternal darkness.
The howls, the sounds, they overwhelm my mind.
They assault me from all sides. Not just the mind, nothing so simple. A black mudà it melts my skin, shaves my flesh, and removes my bones. I am but one in the infinite voices crying out, for thisà
Thisà
The body is gone. The soul that was once me, isà
Am I still falling? I am staring to feel like I am going upà
I am swallowed by a black sun, into that abyssà
àOof!
ôOwàö I rub my head. My head? My fingers, those rough, worn, human fingers run against my head.
The sounds are the first to enter my perception. From all sides, I hear the sounds of the city. I hear the artificial honking of horns, blaring and loud, that only modern automobiles make. The thousand sounds of human voices attack my eardrums like a thousand needles, each with their distinct flavor, some deep, some high, some powerful, and others soft. Then there come the sounds of vibrations and clashes, the sounds of modern machinery. I recognize many of them. I hear washing machines churning away, I hear watches beeping in alarm, and I hear fans whirling away.
Yet I also hear many sounds I have never heard before in my life, soft and loud sounds of gadgets I have never thought existed. My mind automatically tries to analyze them, but they are so complexà so far beyond me.
I feel a soft wind blowing against my face. This is a cool breeze, one that comes only during the night. WasnÆt I melting just moments ago? I wonder what happened. The feeling of my nerves, somehow fresh and new, sends a bolt of electricity through me. I can feel my body.
Ià
I can feel the cool heat of the moonlight on my eyelids. It was difficult to comprehend that I was dying, a moment before. Was it really moments? I fell for so longà what happened?
I test my feet slowly. They are steady, and I can feel the full force of gravity upon my being. I have never been so thankful to be anchored to the groundà
ôMmàö
Next, my sense of taste comes to me like a blast of fire in my mouth. I taste a tang of iron throughout my mouth, the familiar taste of blood and bile. Through all my battles and all the different conflicts that I had faced, the taste of my life blood has come to be a close companion.
Finally, I opened my eyes.
I am shocked.
What is going on hereà?! This is the city!
I see the flash of a hundred different iridescent colors; pinks, yellows, greens and blues mixing at a speed that left them blurs, like beams of light flashing all around me. Cars drive pass without a second notice, and everything seems soà
àdifferent.
Is this what the Grail produced? Orà?
I cannot stand still, in this dark, little alleyway thinking. Whatever happened has already happened. I am not the kind of guy who would just take this sitting down. I have to find Gilgamesh. If Ià survivedà somehow, then he must have too. It would be too preposterous for a human to survive something that a Servant cannotà!
This feeling is strange. The feeling of not falling is strange. And so is the feeling of having bones, flesh and skin. This is the feeling of being whole and alive.
I look down at my hands, finding it strange that I am soà whole. These hands hold nothing, but I can feel blood and steel within them. I can feelà
An impossibly loud explosion splits my thoughts. I hear metal rending and glass shattering. I hear shrieks of fear. Fearà how is it that I am able to sense so clearly the negative emotions of humanity? I seem so familiar with theseà I feel like I can touch the violence in the air.
Without a second thought, I dash out of the darkness and into the city lights. Out of the alley, I see the city in a clearer light. It is even stranger, more different than I thought. But all the differences are at the back of my mind. There is only the need of the fearful at the forefront of my thoughts. Someone is in need of aide, and someone is causing others pain.
The scene of the crime wasnÆt far. It was only a few blocks away. I ran there, not pausing and never regretting. This is no time to think of my own predicament, not when I see so clearly in the night sky, the plumes of black smoke accompanied by a great ember.
Wreckages of destroyed cars, models I have never seen before, scatter before my eyes. There is an armor vehicle at the center of it all, untouched by the carnage of machines. I stop only a few meters away, patting. I did not need to pant; I was not even short of breath. This heavy breathing is a habit...
àRight?
My eyebrows furrow in that minute confusion, before I shake my thoughts away. There are people in need.
There is a large banking facility before me with its entrance blocked by the massive armored van. The van sports a rotating cannon barrel of some kind at the center of its top, perhaps that is what destroyed the cars? Why?
àI donÆt understand.
These are not magi in a war. Theseà these are normal humans. Regular people, why do they do this?
There are more of them inside the bank; I hear at least three of them. They threaten and shout, fear and anxiety are present in their quivering voices as well as the will to do violence. Ià
My legs take me to the tall marble steps of the bank without my control. There are people within who must be saved. There are always people in need.
Why do I regret anything? There is nothing to regret.
With my will firm, I step up and into the bank. I do not stomp in, but I do not hide myself either. I want to see these men for myself, though every fraction of a second that I hear the whimpering of children and women, an inner fire raged for release.
I pushed open the great, gilded doors of the bank, seeing a polished, wooden interior. Three men in black ski masks snapped their sights towards me as my heels clicked on the marble floors.
One of them smirks, on the verge of full blown laughter, as he turns towards me.
Ah.
I looked down at myself. While skin is fresh and whole, and I am no longer covered in black mud, my cloths look like something that had just taken a dip in a swamp before being torched by a flamethrower. In fact, aside from my jeans, the rest of my attire is close to falling apart into ashes. I must have looked a sorrowful, if not pathetic, mess.
Trying to keep the heat from my cheeks, I cleared my dry, unused throat and spoke in the more raspy voice I had ever heard, ôW-what is going on here?ö
It must be a bank robbery, right? I see a group of around thirty people huddling in a corner. Eight of them are children, all of whom have tears in the corners of their eyes. Theyà
My fists clench.
ôMah, mah, I think we have a wannabe hero here,ö The fattest and shortest of the men crowed. His form stretched even the thick, black sweater he wore, making him seem like some kind of obese mess as he pointed an assault rifle at me, right in my face. He turns to one of his compatriots without a care in the world, as if I were just as harmless as anyone else here. ôSorry, S-san, I think we might have the first casualty of the night!ö
I do not fightà
His friend must be partnered with him for comedic effect; he is as tall as the other is short and as thin as the other is fat. All three of them look as positively bored of this robbery. But the thin one must be their leader, because he gives the orders. He speaks in a shrill, high-pitched tone, one that a man can have if his manhood was cut off, ôAh, well! This one is an idiot anyway! What kind of guy walks into a bank robbery and asks whatÆs going on? You poor kid, youÆre so young too,ö He pouts at me, pityingly. ôWell, IÆm sorry about this butàö
I only forgeà
S-san, the thin one, raises his pistol at me and lets off a spraying volley. I didnÆt need to dodge at all, because of his terrible marksmanship, but I moved out of the way of ricochets, letting them bounce harmlessly behind me. His weapon could not hit me at this range with accuracy even if he chose to stop grabbing the bags of cash and lay his focus upon me anyway. The construction, its creation is soà poor.
Nothing else mattersà
I frown at them, wanting to ask why. I know what they are doing and I can guess why. Be it fear, greed, or some other human emotion, I seem to know it far too well now.
This is the only pathà
S-san shakes and yells to his companions, ôKill the fucker and grab the bags! Faster, especially you, T-san! We donÆt have much time, the camerasà!ö He yells specifically at the fat one before diving to a side.
àthis is the image of myself.
This is the first image that appears in my mind. This is by far too familiar to me, even though I donÆt know how to use them properly. A pair of blades is created into existence, their hilts resting comfortably in my hands. I raise them just in time to block a hail of bullets. The clash of metal against metal rings loudly in my ears, and the vibrations hurt my fingers and wrists, but I hold resolute until I see what I need to do.
People are willing to kill, but these peopleà they are not Servants. They are only humans. I will try not to kill them, if I could help it. Ià I try to focus on the people huddled on the ground, the people I need to save. These are the people I want to save. They are more important, so even if I have to be pained, even if I have to face these bullets head onà I will.
But there is no need. I move faster than they anticipated, and in a flash of black and white, steel cuts apart T-sanÆs assault rifle. While this weapon was made of technology beyond my grasp, the materials it is composed of are nothing to my magnetized blades.
I remember, T-san cries out in pain as his arm is slashed, to offer them one last chance. And so I do, ôGive up and give in. ThereÆs no reason for you to be injured.ö Having never faced normal, mortal enemies, Ià
àWas this the right choice?
But it doesnÆt matter, because their leader doesnÆt pay any attention to my words. He grabs the nearest civilian. He is thinking of using a child for a hostageà? No, he isnÆt thinking it; he is doing it right now. He grabs roughly a small girl who looks no older than eight, holding her body against his own tightly as he pressed his gun against her head.
ôGive up, boy! YouÆre not some kind of hero, even if you are a NEXT, thereÆs nothing you can do!ö He shrieks. He is mostly fearful, bluffing even. The shaking of his hand has his pistol is pressed against the side of the young girlÆs head tells me this but fear causes people to do strange things. ôEven if you are a freak, you canÆt stop a bullet in time! Give up!ö
I grit my teeth. I suppress my growling. I try to think coolly. But I am no true magus, and I am no Tohsaka Rin. I am just a third-rate magus, if even thatà
àSo how do I save her?
How do I move faster than the speed of a bullet? How do I move faster than the twitch of a finger? I can feel the sweat drops rolling down my forehead and down my back, both the pressure of the situation and the heat of my surroundings roaring at me to take action.
I will save her. There are no regrets. I should be dead. More than likely, he will turn to shoot me, so I raise my hands slowlyù
ùAnd I am correct.
The barrel of his gun points directly at my chest, and he walks up to me, even as the girl begins to tear up and sniffle in his coarse hands.
Ten meters.
Five meters.
Two meters.
One meterà
àHe does not understandà
àBut then, perhaps he should be honored. To face my steel, the finest blades, is an honor. These are the greatest swords, each and every one of them. And so, as one blade cleaves his arm in two, like molten steel against warmed butterà
àI have no regrets.
The sword, a blade that I have seen in the possession of my future self, forged in the eighteenth century and of no special properties other than its superb sharpness and fine balance, shoots from my hands, twirling in the air. It arcs around the large lobby, penetrating the third manÆs semi-automatic before flying and intercepting the steps of the fattest robber.
It is a beautiful blade, like all bladesà
I blink. Somehow, my mind blanked out for the last few moments, and now I have a sobbing child in my arms, with a bank lobby full of clapping people. Ià I blink again.
Ià I frown.
Thisà
Whatà
I think I am hyperventilating, butà
I must get out of hereà
Gilgamesh! Grail! Mud!
Myà my mindà
I run out of the bank, stumbling and falling fast first against the pavement. There is a crunch of bone against cement, but I am only bruised. I need to run. I need to escape. I needà I needà
I just keep running, the events of this night, the battle for the grail, the fight against Gilgamesh, everything, this pressureà it all comes crashing down against my mind, under pressure.
-]|I|[-
A redheaded woman, though most people would strangely associate the color blue with her, walks out of the bank, following the steps of her young savior. And what a savior he was too! He had quite a nice body to go along with that silent, mysterious attitude!
With a swirl of her long, red hair, the woman giggles. She doesnÆt stand out from the crowd at all, wearing nothing but a simple white shirt and a pair of jeans, that even her unusual calm and strange giddiness causes no questions.
With a twirl of her suitcase, she walks down the white steps of the bank with only a mental note to talk to her sister tucked far, far away, and laughs to herself in a rich and sultry yet so innocent voice, ôI wonder what his name is, this dashing, new hero?ö
-]|I|[-
I did not stop running. I must have run for hours, though when I look back, it seems like minutes. By the time I did stop, my shirt had already scattered in the four winds in the form of ashes. Ià
I must look like a crazy guy, right? With only charred jeans on and nothing else, not even shoes. I smirk to myself despite my wariness, panting for quick, cool gasps of delicious oxygen. From the state of my lungs and from the color of the morning skyà
...Ah. ItÆs already dawn.
Saberà
àFor some reason, I canÆt but get my ServantÆs familiar face out of my head at this moment. Maybe it was because the light of the sun, accompanied by such a calm breeze, reminded me of her. Or maybe I am just happy to be aliveà Do I even deserve to be alive?
I straighten myself, blinking towards the golden light. Never in my life have I been so grateful. As I stretched and arched my spine back, a tingle of guilty pleasure tickled the back of my mind, just like the warm, morning sunrays. Which is a comfortable contrast to the cool windù
ôùAchoo!ö I shiver. Instinctively, my arms wrap around my torso as I shake. It sure is cold in the morning.
Can I be happy that I am alive? Thisà
àThis is just like years ago. I am alive, but I can easily tell that I am not in Fuyuki anymore. I donÆt know where I am. From all the English signs all around me, I donÆt even know if I am in Japan anymore.
What would Saber have done?
Being without regrets, would she immediately attempt to return and destroy the Greater Grail? I think she would. I know I shouldà
àbutà
àI canÆt help but want to enjoy this single moment of peace. I shouldnÆt. I canÆt.
The chirping of waking birds is music to my ears. When was the last time I woke up early to simply jog for the sake of jogging? In these last few days, have the events escalated to such dire straits, that even a morning jog seems so distant from me?
But I know the answer already.
I can never go back to the past and I can never wish away that fateful night, where I stayed late at school. The clash of a blur of blue and red, I still remember it clearly. Butà
àI donÆt regret it at all.
I stand straight, my body and mind renewed in strength. My goals are clear and simple. I must return to Fuyuki City and make sure the world is safe. Everything else, especially myself, comes a distant second to the lives of everyone in the world.
àRight, Father?
ôùHurry up, Kiritsugu!ö
Huh? What? It is a light-hearted, melodic voice, belonging to a woman. But she s not just any woman; with an airs of maturity, she stands even apart from Saber. Snow-like hair cascades from her shoulders down to below her waist; it looks unwieldy but she wears it with an elegance that strikes within me the image of a fairytale princess who had found her happy ending and grew into a queen. Even the dress she wears looks more like a gown of gold and whiteà this is a pure whiteness that is untouched by the world, like fresh snow.
But the woman, despite all her elegance and beauty, does not catch my eyes at all. Instead, my sights are focused upon the one she called Kiritsugu; he is a tall, weary man, even while donning a long coat over a suit not out of place in the highest echelons of society.
But that does not catch my eyes either. His clothes, no matter how splendid yet conservative, are nothing to his attitude. There is a look within his tired eyes that reminds me of dad; it is the look of a veteran, sharp and alert even in the most peaceful of times.
But it isnÆt his aura or attitude that catches my eyes. No, it is for certain his face: his visage is a reflection of father. He looks just like him, right down to the unshaven, cigarette chewing expression that father had before he diedà
àSo it is understandable, perhaps, that I approached him, even before seeing the other people in his company. I didnÆt even notice a girl who stood at their side like a doted child of the family, a younger version of the woman who should be her mother. I didnÆt even notice how she seems to look like the fairytale snow princess who nearly had me killed in my pastà
ôFatherà?ö I croak, uncertain of my voice. I should be shocked. I am shocked. They did not hear me, or perhaps thought I was speaking to someone else. What am I doing? Why am I approaching them? This could all just be a vision brought to me by the evils of the world, yet I could not help but reach forward and stare wide-eyed at the man named Kiritsugu. ôFatherà?ö
I think he noticed me long before I approached his family. In fact, I am certain of it. The tension in his body proves enough to me, but the first to show actual notice of me, to give me attention, is the woman beside him, who stood close like aà
Instead of turning to me, she pouts and grabs KiritsuguÆs tie and asks childishly, in the same tone as Taiga, ôàWhy is this boy calling you æFatherÆ, dear?ö Her smile is now strained; there is a small twitch at the corner of her mouth. She doesnÆt look very happy.
But her words triggered something in this man named Kiritsugu, a man who could pass as a doppelganger of my father Emiya Kiritsugu. He turned to me slowly, so slowly that I could hear the gears turning in his neck. There is a strange, blue fire in his eyes, one that I have never seen before, almost causing his whole body to glow blue, but IÆm sure that was just an illusionù
ôFather?ö He roars, suddenly in front of me and hoisting me up before I knew what was happening. He froths from his mouth, shouting in an almost-comedic rage (almost, because I feel like I will really die). ôYou-you-you!ö He shouts incoherently, ôAre you trying to date my Ilya?!ö
ôàIlya?ö I mutter in confusion. Is she really here too? These two women could be her relatives, butà does that mean IÆm in some kind of heaven? No, that canÆt be right. I can still feel pain, especially in the soles of my feet, after running for so many hours.
But I soon find out that I did not need to worry for my life. The woman who acted like KiritsuguÆs wife earlier grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around, causing him to drop me unceremoniously.
ôHoney,ö she growls out through gritted teeth, ôWhat is this boy saying about you being his father?ö
ôN-now, Iri, donÆt be l-like that, I just thought he was trying to ask me p-permission toùUrk!ö Kiritsugu groans out as this woman, Iri, picked him up and started shaking him by the collar.
ôT-tell me the truth!ö She cries out through the tears that suddenly begin to flow down her cheeks somehow. I donÆt think humans can cry that fast. Strangely, she also has a dim, blue aura around her. ôA-are you cheating on me behind my back, Kiritsugu? What about Ilya?!ö
I can see that Kiritsugu wants to reply. I can also see that he is struggling desperately trying to get out of IriÆs adamantine grip and that he is choking. IÆm lost for words. What do I say to this? Are these friendly antics or a nervous breakdown orà?
I am shaken out of my thoughts by a girl. She is younger and shorter than mùat least I think soùbut her face! The moment she turned to me, I saw her clearly. She looks just like Ilyasviel von Einzbernà though her body is far more mature. She lets off a high-pitched squeal, one that causes me to wince, and leaps past her parents towards me. She shrieks in a voice full of awe, ôI know you! YouÆre that new hero who stopped the bank robbery last night! That hero with swords! Oh, wow! This is so cool!ö
Iri seems to loosen her grip on KiritsuguÆs collar, but then her face becomes like a mask of a demon. My body shivers; I canÆt help it. Kiritsugu looks helpless, but I notice that it is because this is all play. Probablyà?
ôùthat the boy is a NEXT isnÆt helping your situation at all, dearàö Iri growls through smiling lips.
Ià this is scarier than facing Torashinai. I need to get out of here. I take a step backwards instinctively, but the girl jumps to me, grabbing my hands before I can react. There is not a single sliver of hostile intent in her ruby-red eyes, only shining admiration. Even her eyes are reminiscent of IlyasvielÆs eyesà
She cuts me off before I can protest, ôI canÆt believe this! Miyu is going to be soùoh, I mean, everyone else will be so jealous! You just have to stay, onii-chan! She should be here in a minute!ö
I stutter out a single, confused word, ôHero?ö It s a word quickly followed by surprise and curiosity still buried under my confusion, ôMe?! Haaùah?!ö
This older version of Ilyasviel tilts her head at me slowly, pouting adorably as she crosses her arms. This action causes my vision to focus greatly on her bountiful bosom, one of her qualities that make me certain that she canÆt be Ilyasviel. She holds me hands in hers tightly, as if I would disappear the moment she lets go. ôOf course youÆre a hero, silly onii-chan! You saved those people at the bank, didnÆt you? I saw you on the Late Night Edition of HERO TV!ö
ôWuh-wait,ö Kiritsugu calls out for the first time, but he is not focused on me anymore. He is staring intensely at his daughter and so is Iri. ôI thought you were asleep, Ilya? What were you doing up at 11 P.M.?ö He asks suspiciously with an undertone of displeasure.
ôI-I, ah, ha, ha!ö Ilya, their daughter, laughs nervously. Her hands are shaking slightly, but she grasps me even tighter, trying to draw strength from me, before she muttered, ôWhy is this nii-chan calling you Father, Papa?ö
This must be some strange dream. This has to be it. Ilyasviel von Einzbern did call me her older brother, but thisà? ThereÆs no way that she could be my sister! ThereÆs no way that my little sister could be this cuteà!
IlyaÆs tactics are crude, but effective. Immediately, Iri turned back to Kiritsugu and began another round of interrogations. That is enough however, for her to turn her attention back to me, much to the displeasure of her father. Ià I donÆt feel right, calling him Kiritsugu, even in my mind. Father died for the sake of the world. This man, while he seems to be like Father in every way, I just canÆt; I accepted a long time ago that Father is dead.
My mind, it is full of what. This is making no sense at all, and the feverish heat over my brow is not helping at all. So I ask the first question that pops into my mind, trying to at least find some way to unwind all this, ôWhy are you calling your big brother? You shouldnÆtàö
I am cut off again by Ilya, ôYou are older than me, arenÆt you, onii-chan? Why shouldnÆt I call you onii-chan, onii-chan?ö She turns her eyes up, sparkling cutely up at me and nearly blinding me. She wiggles around slowly, twiddling her hands behind her back and staring at me with adoration. Then she grabs my hands again and holds me close against her chest, ôOnii-chan, whatÆs wrong? Are you tired, onii-chan? You look like youÆve been running all night, onii-chan! Onii-chan should really take care of his bodyà! Oh!ö
ôGrk,ö is all I could offer her, using all of my will power not to collapse from her giant blob of cuteness. Thankfully, she turns away from me at another girl her age, who is running up to her right now.
ôOh! Miyu!ö She shouts delightfully, her voice like soft church bells. It is really apparent how close these two girls are, as they hug. Well, Ilya hugged her friend, who blushed and wiggled in her grasp. Miyu is a sharp contrast to Ilya; she is more petite and less curvy than Ilya. She ties her hair back, in a simpler design than Saber, but her expressions are not much different from how Saber was when I first met her so long ago. Was it so long ago? It seems that way, even if it has not been even a month since I was inducted into the Holy Grail War.
ôWho is this, Ilya?ö Miyu frowns at me suspiciously and subtly placing herself between the snow-haired girl and me.
