Chapter 2: Through The Flames And Ashes...
Chapter 1 - Through The Flames And Ashes...
Flames encompassed everything.
They burned and consumed the land, raging toward the darkened sky as if cursing it for its distance yet longing for its peacefulness. Screams of pain, anguish and despair filled the air like smoke. Scorched bodies lay on the equally burned ground. A testament to the merciless fury of the fire. Malice saturated the atmosphere like a thick blanket.
In this infernal scenario a single red haired boy stood on shaky legs. Surrounded by devastation he pushed himself forward with heavy steps, toward an uncertain direction and a much more certain death. Every movement brought him a new wave of pain. Every single breath filled his lungs with smoke, burning him from the inside.
Yet, something else burned within him. Something between resolve and defiance. His young mind knew that there was no hope for him, no way to make it out of there alive, but in spite of that knowledge he pushed himself forward just a little more. A challenge to his unavoidable fate.
There was a limit, of course, to how much he could withstand such task. Soon his legs gave in under the effort and he collapsed on the ground among charred bodies twisted by agony.
He barely managed to turn and fall on his side instead of on his face, and then pushed himself to look up at the sky. Smoke and ashes filled occluded the sight of it like a dull ceiling. Despair filled his heart along with burning rage. Without voice he cursed and prayed alternatively, even if though he knew they would reach no one.
But he was wrong. Something had indeed heard his curses and responded accordingly. A chalice filled with malice. A curse given shape and power. A shard of all the world's evils and sins.
It reached for him, a kindred spirit bound by powerlessness. It slipped through the cracks in his body and soul, filling the boy with a portion of his energy. The first step of something akin to a digestive process. Its intention was not to help but to consume; devouring him like the flame that came from it burned the city and its inhabitant.
The boy felt the intrusions with a remote part of his brain. Or was it his soul? He couldn't understand what was happening, nor could he imagine the nature of the blackness that was consuming him. All he knew was the wrongness of it all.
Death, for the scary thing that it is, it's still a natural part of a human existence. The nameless black thing wasn't. Thus the boy knew, even in his ignorance of the world's workings, that the invading feeling was just wrong. He struggled. He cursed. He prayed. He didn't want to die, much less he wanted to be swallowed by that thing.
Unbeknownst to him even his prayed had been heard. Or the very least they had been answered.
Light golden and blue washed over him in the same manner of the black malice a few moments prior, chasing away the darkness from within him. It filled and repaired him on levels he couldn't neither describe nor understand. It illuminated something – somewhere - that didn't actually exist yet was a fundamental part of him.
His eyes gazed upon an eternal sunset engraved in a rusty red sky, upon a hill covered by countless blades. Was it a vision of Heaven of Hell? Salvation or damnation? It went as fast as it came, before he could understand it, before he could burn the vision inside his conscious mind. Yet it was still there, somewhere inside him.
He blinked and he was back in Hell again, but this time he wasn't alone. A man with dark, ruffled hair was above him, smiling like he had just found a priceless treasure. Joy filled the man's eyes as he stared down at the boy, and in that moment he realized that he didn't feel pain anymore, and despair left place to a sense of calmness that didn't belong in that place. It was confusing much like everything else up to that moment.
Where had the fear gone? The burning sensation inside his lungs? The pain in his limbs? Was this how death was supposed to be? Or was it something else? Perhaps…
Exhaustion finally caught up with him claiming his mind with blissful unconsciousness. One last thought was spared for the smiling man as realization dawned upon him. Thankfulness, for without a doubt he had just been saved.
Shirou's eyes snapped open and stared in the blank white in front of him. His body felt numb except for a little sting in his right arm. He had to blink twice before realizing that he was staring at the ceiling of a hospital room. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with air. The typical smell of medicaments and sterilizers common to every hospital filled his nostril. Shirou could swear he hadn't ever smelled something that wonderful, although the lack of the burning sensation in his throat and chest might have played a big part in that. Tentatively he moved his head to his side meeting the eyes of the man he saw before passing out.
"Thank you," was the first thing he managed to croak out of his sore throat.
"You are welcome," he answered back smiling. The same light as before shone in his eyes. Was it because of him, Shirou wondered. Was it because he was alive? Because he saved him? That happiness, that sense of fulfillment and peace he saw in those orbs was the complete opposite of what he had felt while he walked through flames and ashes. Could he find that too?
"I'm Emiya Kiritsugu. What's your name?" the man asked.
"Shirou…," he trailed off.
"Just Shirou? No family name?"
"I…," Shirou stopped and thought but all he could remember was the raging fire. "I can't remember…. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it. I'll sort things out," he answered, never losing his smile. Shirou nodded. He trusted Kiritsugu. Why shouldn't he? He closed his eyes and sleep claimed him again.
He opened them an indefinite amount of time later. Panic filled him. Kiritsugu wasn't beside him anymore but his coat was still there so he hadn't left him. He relaxed again and did the only thing he could. Listening to the noises around him. He caught a glimpse of a white coat right outside the door of his room and focused his attention there.
"Unbelievable," he heard a man saying. "He doesn't have a scratch beside that burn on his shoulder. How did he manage to survive in there?"
"I don't know," another voice answered. "Even his lungs don't show any leftovers from the smoke anymore."
"What? His lungs were a mess when he arrived yesterday. He should have undergone several days of treatment just for that. How is that even possible?"
"Your guess his good as mine. He's recuperating faster than anyone I've ever seen. We could release him tomorrow at this rate."
"Perhaps we should keep him a little longer, just to be on the safe side. No sense in wasting a miracle. Besides he was nowhere left to go. His relatives must have perished in the fire. No one is searching for him and he doesn't seem to remember his own family."
"Memory loss from the trauma? It doesn't surprise me. Poor kid. Not only he has lost his family but also his memories of them. He must terrified all alone like that."
"Well he's not totally alone, you know. The man that has rescued him has no intention to leave him by himself. I've heard he already has applied for his adoption in case some relatives fail to turn out."
"Well. That's good to hear. God only knows how much that kid is going to need a parent from now on."
They talked a little more before leaving, but Shirou no longer paid them any attention. His thought were focused on the man that saved him and now wanted to become his father. A little smile formed on his lips and he fell asleep again more relaxed than before.
In the end no relatives were found and Kiritsugu adopted him like promised. It had been rather easy actually. There were many wounded in the hospital and so many orphans that the usual procedures to find a suitable family were somewhat overlooked. Most of the children were taken in by the church and a few had been adopted in record time. The government was having a hard time finding out the cause of the tragedy and the public opinion wasn't too happy about that. Finding a home for the homeless families and orphan children was a forced priority to save their face.
Thus, Shirou became an Emiya not five days after the incident. His good health conditions allowed him to leave the hospital extremely fast, freeing a bed for someone that needed it more than him.
Before adopting him, Kiritsugu told him something unusual. Something that even as a the child he was he would have dismissed if it came from someone else-
"I'm a wizard," he said without the slightest inflection of humor.
"Okay," Shirou said after a moment. The candor of his answer made Kiritsugu laugh. Count on a child to accept something like that so easily.
They moved in his house immediately after he was released. The Emiya estate was a traditional Japanese building with enough rooms to pass as a hotel. He liked the peaceful atmosphere and settled in without a problem. The neighbors, the Fujimuras were somewhat scary but they gave them no troubles either. The elder Yakuza seemed to respect and even be wary of Kiritsugu whereas his daughter, one Fujimura Taiga, had a crush on Shirou's new father so obvious that even him, seven years old figured it out right away.
Taiga appointed herself as Shirou's elder sister practically as soon as he saw him. The girl was odd at best and batshit crazy at worst, but her good intentions and kind nature were so obvious that Shirou had no trouble accepting her self-appointed role, although he sometime debated with Kiritsugu that she usually acted like a younger brother with her temper tantrums, her tomboyish attitude and her inhuman appetite. She was a downright terror when it came to eating and Shirou had to learn how to cook since she came over for dinner more often than not. Besides whatever Kiritsugu cooked looked (and tasted) like a military ration. Where the hell had he learned to cook that badly?
All in all Shirou's life was pretty good every day. The nights, however, were not as peaceful. Every time he fell asleep he was surrounded by the flames, the corpses and the screams of anguish. From time to time he dreamt of other things as well but they weren't exactly pleasant either.
A tower stood in front of him. Dark. Ominous. He had seen it before, though he couldn't remember where or when. It filled him with **** and *******. Whatever it was its nature was perverse and twisted. He wanted to leave, to turn around and run but his legs were frozen. All he could do was watch it. And being watched in return.
It was alive. He knew as much. He could almost see ****** floating in the dark sphere that hovered above it. It had no eyes but it looked at Shirou like he had been denied. Shirou knew, if it had a mouth it would speak, and its words would have been dark curses for it was ***** ****. Its existence was hate. Its purpose was *******. Given the chance it would reach out and ***** him apart, ******* his mind, ******* his soul. If it only had the chance….
Every time he woke from that dream he almost wanted to be back in the fire. He told Kiritsugu about it and they sought the help of a specialist without any result. Shirou was pretty much used and resigned to have very little sleep every night and his grim predictions turned out to be accurate until a few weeks later something happened that pushed him down a path he had already begun walking.
It happened a few months after the tragedy. He was walking back home from school like every other children his age, cutting through a small park like he did every morning. It was usually deserted at that hour and Shirou never stopped there before. This time however he was forced to stop when he heard someone shout. Out of curiosity he looked for the source of the sound and stumbled upon a group of four kids around his age surrounding a girl with purple hair. She was on the ground, her face streaked with tears, but her expression was distant and unfocused, almost detached from her current predicament.
"She isn't reacting at all. This is not even fun," commented one of them
"Try pulling her hair."
"No. Let's put some mud on her face."
She didn't react even while the boys debated how to bully her further. Shirou, on the other hand, felt a scorching sensation inside his gut that robbed him of all conscious thoughts. When his brain connected again two of the boys were already on the ground holding their bleeding noses.
"Leave her alone!" he shouted.
Perhaps in different circumstances they would have run, but their numeric superiority gave them enough courage to stay and retaliate against him. Far from being skilled in combat, Shirou found himself on the receiving end of a nasty beating, but he wasn't the one to being defeated that day.
He refused to go down, forcing his legs upright, opening his arms wide as to create a wall between them and the girl behind him. Compared to the fire, that pain was nothing. By the end of it he was bleeding from the mouth and his clothes were dirty and there were more than a few bruise already forming on his arms.
"What's wrong with this freak? Come on, let's go. This guy's crazy," one boy said sounding a little unsettled by the display. They left in a hurry, shooting glances at their back in case Shirou tried to follow them and strike from behind, but he simply stood there, arms wide until they were out of sight.
"Are you all right?" he asked turning around and offering his hand to girl. She stared at the foreign appendage like something alien before raising her eyes to meet his. She stared for some time before accepting his hand and standing back up with his help. "Are you all right?" He asked again. She blinked shaking away the faraway look in her eyes.
"Ah. Yes," she replied with a soft voice.
"Thank goodness. What's wrong with those guys? Picking on a girl like you. Who do they think they are?"
"… It happens sometimes. It's nothing." she said never removing her eyes from his.
"It's not nothing," he replied a little unnerved from her constant stare. Was there something on his face? "Hey, if those guys give try something like that ever again, just tell me and I'll teach them a lesson."
"But they'll hurt you again…" she whispered.
"What? You're kidding, right? This is nothing. Ugh!" he tapped his chest proudly and then winced at the pain it brought forth. "All right, maybe that hurts a bit," he laughed. It was like a spell had been broken and she laughed with him, with a look of surprise on her face like she didn't remember ever doing it before. Shirou watched her with amusement. There was something heartwarming about her laugh. Something that lifted the sprit.
"Thank you for helping me. I'm Matou Sakura, pleased to meet you" she introduced herself offering her hand once she regained control of her breathing.
"Emiya… Shirou," he stuttered back, hypnotized by the small smile she was showing him. "Please to you meet you too."
They walked together to his place. Kiritsugu was surprised to see Shirou bringing home a friend but welcomed Sakura nonetheless, regardless of the condition of their clothing and the evident bruises on Shirou's face. He could question him later. He was a little more surprised when he discovered her last name but didn't address the issue in her presence. Later, when Taiga joined them after school, Shirou saw her shooting glances in his directions before whispering something in Kiritsugu ears. They both looked at them and snickered.
They spent a pleasant afternoon and evening together after informing her parents of what had happened. Taiga borrowed Sakura some of clothes from when she was a kid since she couldn't remain in her dirty clothes all day. After dinner, Taiga offered to escort her back home since Kiritsugu was feeling a little ill and Shirou was still too young to go around the town at night.
"Am not!" He argued.
"Are too! Come now, Sakura-chan. Say goodbye to Shirou-chan."
She did just that. Well not just that. When she was close enough she planted a soft kiss on his cheek whispering a soft "Thank you," before scurrying away without meeting his eyes. Taiga looked at the exchange with a hand in front of her mouth, hiding a grin. Her eyes, however, betrayed her amusement. Kiritsugu didn't put the same amount of effort and simply laughed at Shirou dumbfounded expression.
That night, after replaying the day's events in his mind while resting in his futon he fell asleep without fearing his nightmares. Needless to say he slept like a log for the very first night in a long while. It wasn't, however, a dreamless sleep.
He was surrounded by blades in all shapes and sizes. They covered the arid ground all the way to the horizon. Yet, no matter how hardly he looked at them, they were blurred or perhaps he just couldn't ********* them. The sunset shone on them, reflecting ominously on their sharp edges. Shirou was confused. He recognized that place but he didn't know where it was. In the distance he could hear the noise of metal hitting and grinding against metal, like a forge working relentlessly to produce even more blades. He should have been freaked, perhaps even scared at the sight, but unlike his other dreams, all he could feel was a sense of rightness and his own excitement. This place was ********* ***** ******. It was right there ******* him. No, the place was ****** ***self. It was confusing, yet perfectly natural. Blade filled his sight. Blades filled his s***. His whole body was **** *** ** blades.
"I'm proud of you Shirou," Kiritsugu said. "Sakura explained me what you did for her."
"Ah. Yes. I just couldn't let something like that happen in front of my eyes and do nothing to stop it."
"I understand," he paused. "You know? When I was your age I wanted to be a superhero. But then things happened and I couldn't believe in that dream anymore?"
Shirou watched his father pensive expression. It looked a lot like Sakura's when she was being bullied. It was the kind of expression of someone who had lost his faith in life. Then he remembered the smiles, both his father's and Sakura's. The smile of someone who saves and is saved in return.
In that very moment Shirou had an epiphany and the words rolled out of his mouth with naturalness. "Don't worry dad. I'll become a hero in your place," he stated in a confident voice.
Kiritsugu chuckled at his son's antics for a moment before meeting his eyes again. What he saw in there…. Determination. Convintion.
"Shirou," he began his more serious than his son had ever heard. "Do you want me to teach you? Magic, that is?"
They stared at each other silently for a long time before Shirou nodded, slowly but certainly. 'To be a Magus is to walk with Death', his father had told him when he explained him some of his background. For him to make him such an offer was proof of how seriously he was taking his words.
Shirou knew that he had probably signed up for the greatest challenge of his life, but the memory of Sakura's smile in the back of his head gave him more than enough reason to live up to his word.
FIVE YEARS LATER…
Emiya Shirou stared at the lifeless body of the man that had become his father. Emiya Kiritsugu had passed away with a serene smile on his lips, seated comfortably on his house's patio under the starred summer sky.
Tears streamed down Shirou's face. For a long time he knew that his father was going to die due to the curse place upon him by the corrupted Holy Grail but it didn't make it any easier for him. He just sat there, enjoying the last moments on Earth with him, pondering his passing words.
"Don't worry dad. I'll become a person capable of saving everyone in you place," he told him, restating his first promise.
"Is that so? I'm relieved then. I'll leave things in your hands but remember, you can't save anyone if you don't save yourself first. If you just throw your life away like I did nothing will be truly accomplished. Promise me Shirou. Don't forget to save yourself."
He had promised, even though he didn't understand why he asked such a thing. He had already been saved once. Surely it was now his turn to save others. That purpose was the only thing that suppressed the guilt of having survived whereas others did not. Of course he wasn't just going to throw his life away, but wasn't a hero supposed to put other people lives before his own? He didn't understand, but he promised anyway, unable to argue with his father in his last moments of life. He could figure out the meaning behind his words afterwards.
Emiya Kiritsugu passing smile was one of accomplishment, after a lifetime of failures. Shirou couldn't help but notice with his tears-blurred vision that his expression was similar to the one he wore when he first saw him admits the flames. A smile of Salvation.
… Had he been saved again from some peril he couldn't even see yet? He wondered. Certainly there would be enough chances to figure out the answer as he lived up to his initial promise.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone