OnAHiatus
patreon
CHAPTER ONE - FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
🕑 Added 2024-12-09 10:28:24 +0000 UTCShirou entered the building, an old abandoned office block near the city's docks, aware of what he would find inside. Six humans and his target. The man had to be kept alive, everyone else was expendable. They were mercenaries, no one he needed to feel sorry for. They had been paid to work for a monster like Dr. Octopus. They'd witnessed the atrocities carried out by his hand. They deserved their fate.
The lives of many outweighs the lives of a few. Especially when those few were irredeemable. Shirou Emiya had made peace with this path a long time ago.
He opened the door and faced the first of the humans. Shock crossed his face before Shirou slammed his fist into the man's throat, crushing his windpipe. He spun to face a second man who had stood behind the door when he'd opened it. A quick elbow to the jaw snapped his head to the side before he could reach for the gun in his hip holster. Shirou took advantage, stepping behind and breaking his neck, dropping him to the floor.
The sound of impact brought a third mercenary out from a nearby room, pistol at the ready. He was dead before he had a chance to fire a single shot. The contents of his head decorated the beige wall behind him, a gun embedded in it.
The mercenaries wore body armor, Kevlar, over normal street clothes, but nothing to protect their heads. It was an oversight they wouldn't live to regret. Their visitor wasn't the naive web-crawler. With three down, that left only three to remove from this world before tracking down Dr. Octopus. A man, he was sure, would still be pouring over his notes uncaring for the many who died protecting him.
Shirou continued through the nondescript building, checking all of the offices along the lengthy corridor and finding nothing but rats and spiders.
After a few minutes of the repeated action, he stopped outside a large grey door. He perceived a slight noise from inside. It had been quick and soft, but nevertheless, required searching. The noise from the altercation ensured that the remaining mercenaries would now be prepared. That didn't mean they stood a chance, but it didn't mean he had to be stupid either.
With his hands held out in front, he reached deep within and let his walls down.
It was like opening a furnace door. Heat flared in his chest and roared through his veins like a spark following a fuse. He didn't have to tell his powers where to go, it always knew. His body buzzed like a live wire as currents of energy raced along his nerve endings toward his hands. It was released in a controlled stream, pooling in the palm of his hands until it gave off a pale blue glow. Hotter and hotter the fire burned until he felt like he grasped hot metal pipes. He bit his lip to keep from crying out and held on, waiting for the power to grow to the right intensity before releasing it.
Power exploded from his hands in the form of a brilliant light. When it faded, it revealed two pair of swords, married blades, resting languidly in his grasp.
A memento of the life he had.
Shirou walked a few feet to his left, then twisted sharply on his heel, his other leg outstretched. Brick and plaster dust exploded around him. He stepped through the hole, ducked beneath a punch and slammed his elbow into the man's ribs. He snapped Kanshou up, catching him under the jaw. He heard the mercenary fall, but didn't see it as he stepped aside and continued the momentum of the turn, whipping Bakuya to catch the second mercenary across the throat as he rushed him.
The room was about twenty-foot square, and consisted of nothing but two dead men and a group of sockets that had been pulled from the wall. Bare wires spilled from the holes the damaged had created. There was another grey door opposite him. He made to move toward it, but had to dive to the side as it was ripped apart in a hail of gunfire. Shirou kept low and made his way to the wall. Some of the bullets had punctured through, giving him a good view of the room beyond.
The last mercenary stood about five feet inside the room, the gun trained on the door, ready. As if sensing movements, or more likely, having seen a flicker as a result of his movement, the man turned. The gun clacked and more bullets hit the exact part of the wall where Shirou had been sitting, but he was already on the move, kicking the door open. A sickening crunch sounded as he buried the blade in the top of the man's head. The momentum and power behind the blow brought Bakuya to a rest just below his eyes, splitting the top of his head in two.
The gun clattered to the floor, followed soon after by its user. The first mercenary he had struck with his sword, clearly not as dead as he'd thought, took the opportunity to barrel into him from behind, slamming him to the ground. He managed to twist in the man's grip as they crashed onto the floor. Stone dust covered everything, making visibility minimal. The mercenary's massive frame pinned him to the floor, with one of his arms pinned beneath Shirou's.
If he wants it free, Shirou thought, he has to let me move, and that isn't on his list of options.
He reinforced his chest in time to deflect a swipe at his chest, the blade, nevertheless, shredding his tunic, exposing the tan marks on his skin. The man took another swipe – this time, he had to avoid the skewering of his eyes by moving his head as much as the position allowed.
Shirou reached up into the dust cloud and grabbed the mercenary's throat. It was slippery and warm as blood continued to spill from his face where Kanshou had cut. Placing his hand adjacent to the man's throat, he projected a simple, nameless blade. A pulse of thick, heavy light appeared into his neck before revealing the weapon, immediately decapitating it.
Shirou released the blade, stood up, and moved around them into what amounted to a large storage room. Several windows sat on one side, each of them big enough for a grown man to get through. Not that the doctor even tried.
The man was hunched over a laptop, his hands skimming over the keyboard, inputting several commands that flew over his head. Shirou was a weapon; the only thing required of him was fighting. Unfortunately, that meant anything computer-related was out of the question.
Without turning or giving any notice on his arrival, the Doctor said, a little presumptuous. "I would have loved to get to know you better, but… ah, I feel our little date would be interrupted… right about now…"
And as if summoned by his words, the window glass fractured as a familiar blue and red-suited hero swung through, landing on the wall in a remarkable spider-like pose.
"What's up doc?... and oh, how I love what you've done with the place. It perfectly captures your mental state."
Sighing, Shirou silently escaped the room. It wouldn't do for his mission target to see his face in this sort of place and mistake him for a "bad guy". Or for his cover to be blown this early into the mission.
Either way, the Director would not be pleased with his failure at apprehending the ever elusive Doctor.
. . . . .
"Attention students!" a loud voice called over the gathered crowd.
Shirou, due to his tall and imposing physique, had no problem seeing the speaker from where he stood.
"This day is your first amongst many, here at the Academy. We, the staff, would like to welcome you to our school, Mid-Town High. As you are all new to the grounds, today is yours to get accustomed and settled in. Be prepared, though, for tomorrow classes begin in full."
He shook his head as he subtly scanned through the sea of bored students, shifting the weight of his backpack from one shoulder to the other. Following the instructions he had received upon acceptance, he took his first look inside the High School.
The hall was wide and open with lockers, standard and well maintained, lined up on the sides against the wall. Here and there, someone had placed a piece of educational quotes on the wall or some other décor. None of it was near embellished as he'd expected, but nevertheless, it had its own appeal.
The instructions had his locker location on it and a list of his classes. The students walking around, for the most part, appeared to be excited and visited with each other quite loudly. The constant buzzing of voices was beginning to make his head pound when he found his locker. As stated earlier, it was a standard, well-maintained locker: simple, fair-sized, and divided into two compartments. Not seeing the need in lugging his sack around, he threw it into the locker and sealed it. Not having much else left to do, he started exploring.
He studied the list of classes and their locations, using the day to get accustomed to the school's layout so he won't get lost.
The classrooms were mostly the same, with large windows and an adequate ventilation system. Though currently empty, they had nearly thirty seats for students and one for the professor at the front of the room. Considering how many rooms he saw while wondering the halls, it was a bit overwhelming to think of the large number of people.
Thankfully, most of his classes where in the same area, so it didn't take long to locate them all. After making sure he could find them again, he chose a random direction and started exploring. Everywhere he went, crowds of students were gathered talking and laughing. Though some, like himself, were solely trying to get acquainted with the grounds.
His stomach rumbled its need for nourishment, and with a barely perceptible sigh, he turned on his heels. It seemed the little meal he was able to prepare in the morning could not satiate his hunger.
As Shirou walked to the lunchroom, he noticed the majority of the student body watching him as he passed by. His attire couldn't possibly be the object of their attention as in order to fit in with his peers, S.H.I.E.L.D. had procured him the "latest" and "in-style”—as they say—clothing and accessories. Nor could it be his physical appearance. While he was above average in terms of looks, he knew it wasn't the reason for their stares. This was no anime.
It was a bit unnerving to be the center of attention, more so when he knew not the cause. He did his best to ignore them and focus his thoughts on lunch.
The cafeteria was a large area with rows of tables neatly aligned. At the far end was where the food line began, and he made his way there. Grabbing a tray from the counter, he watched as the helpers then heaped food onto it. After receiving his portion, he sat down at the table nearest to the door.
To his dismay, the stares hadn't receded. Rather, it had magnified. Intermixed among the mutterings were rapid hand movements and gesturing.
Ah, a rumor then. About what? He didn't know.
Despite the less than ideal atmosphere, he was wholly focused on his plate, finishing the rest of his meal without once looking elsewhere.
. . . . .
LOCAL HERO SAVES CAT STUCK ON TREE
Boy hero rescues Mayor Beame's prized pet, Prissy, according to inspired onlookers.
Shirou tore his eyes away from the newspaper clipping, instantly recognizing it as the reason for the undue attention he had garnered. While recuing a cat was not an admittedly hard thing to do, the way and manner his exploits were embellished on the paper made it out to be bigger than it actually was.
When the media claimed the local hero who saved a cat was to be trusted more than those heroes that risks their lives against world-ending threat, people tended to react. Especially when, J. J. Jameson endorsed his action, pitting it against the famous, or infamous as the editor-in-chief would rant, web-crawler's.
And what better way can teenagers, especially in this modern age, react other than pointing and whispering. The rumor-mill must be having a field day, he thought, weary.
"Excuse me, are you done reading it?"
His gaze lifted up to the one who had showed him the clipping. She stood just a bit shorter than him, with a bright red ribbon adorning her wavy brown hair. The ribbon was clearly meant to match the outfit she wore.
"Yes, I am done." Shirou scratched the top of his head, unsure of how or why he should continue the line of conversation. He decided to go with the most popular route. "Thank you." He bowed slightly and made to excuse himself when she responded.
"I didn't catch your name."
"That's because I didn't give it." The reply was quick and apparently hurtful, evident by her crestfallen expression. He sighed. It wouldn't do ostracize himself from his schoolmates. "It's Shirou… Emiya Shirou."
She smiled at him. "I am Elizabeth Allan, but my friends call me Liz." The unspoken words rang clear and he gave a nod in acknowledgement. Only time would tell if they reached that level of relationship. "Later then."
With a short wave she proceeded back the way he had come, the extract bundled up in her little purse. As he would get no answers for the questions swimming in his mind concerning his recent exposure, he put the thoughts aside and continued on his way.
The library was not far off from being a place that would quickly become his preferred hang-out. He was only transported to this world with the bare necessities, of which include his identity, abilities, and life mission. Any supplementary information, if needed, could be obtained through mediums such as interactions with other humans or books. The latter was preferable to the former.
The only interaction a sword had with a human was fueled with the intent to cause harm. Usually accompanied with the loss of an extremity.
Mid-Town High's library, while not the largest in the city, was still very much vast. A veritable well of knowledge from which he could glean the histories of this world. Not one for mindless chatter, he would rather spend the rest of the first day engrossed in the bound texts.
He grabbed a book about the origin of a common yet easily treated disease and sat down at a small table with nobody near. Time elapsed as he poured over its contents. It slowly became apparent that the book did not have any substantial information. Sighing once again, he shut the book, already thinking of the next one to delve into.
"Ah, yes, for all the words in that book. It contains surprisingly little knowledge."
Shirou jumped, startled at the sudden voice behind him. He turned to see a man standing quite close and looking over his shoulder. A man with a presence that contradicted his appearance.
He was an old man, much older than Nick Fury, and a skinny one at that. His hair was mostly white with a few dark and grey streaks. As he stood, Shirou also noticed that he was about the same height as him, the difference being no more than a few fingers width.
How did I not hear his approach?
Stroking his chin, the old man thought for a moment. He then went to a nearby shelf and trailed his finger across a few books before finally taking one down.
"Here it is. This will be much more insightful than that one. And, ah… potentially useful."
He laid the book down on the table and started walking away, no other words exchanged nor needed, it seemed. Not knowing how to respond to his quick retreat, he merely watched the old man go.
Once he was gone, Shirou glanced down at the volume he had received off the shelves. Remedies – The Many Uses. The book's topic, though he had no interest in Medicine as a subject, appealed to him for reasons unknown. He scanned the first few pages and realized that the old man was perhaps on to something. Curious now, he wondered about the strange yet helpful old man, with a familiar presence.
Shaking off all other thoughts, he began to read the book. Stopping only once when a boy, a year or two younger, bumped into his table in a scene of utter clumsiness.
Imagine if that guy was Spider-man? Shirou chuckled to himself. Utterly...
Comments
Grant Walker
Yay
