Fate/Stay Night Fan Fiction ❯ Escaping Fate ❯ Reaching Fate ( Chapter 29 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Zekk_Skywalk 
Her voice promised victory.
Anime/Manga: Fate/Stay Night Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Horror / Fantasy / Hentai / Drama / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.29.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 311 | Status: Completed
Her voice promised victory.
Anime/Manga: Fate/Stay Night Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Horror / Fantasy / Hentai / Drama / Action | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.29.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 311 | Status: Completed
AN: And the other moment that may just break your suspension of canon disbelief. I tried to layer in subtle points that this is where I’ve been building up to the entire story, but, well, maybe it still just doesn’t work. We’ll see.
This specific chapter is very much inspired by certain lyrics in “New Divide” by Linkin Park. The theme, however, can be found on youtube: watch?v=7EgbXu5RJ_w
Escaping Fate
Chapter 22
Reaching Fate
The demon was born of many wishes: to reach salvation.
The lives taken by Setsuka Yuushi and connected to Yumi had wished it. Those tortured, pained lives with only the fleeting memories of loneliness in an orphanage followed by the cold of a naked table and unforgiving steel cutting into their very existences. It was not just a rape of the body, but a sundering of the soul.
Those lives had thrown their dark desires and pained wishes onto the body now possessing them, and had given birth to the demon. Every cut of the knife, every pressure on the soul, every muted death fueled them: the quiet wishes, the whispered curses, the words spoken into the corners of nowhere that could not hear.
What else could know the wishes one makes in the darkest moments of the night?
What else but a demon, a monster of nightmares?
Sakura leaped from the window, landing between the two buildings, and lanced the creature with her magic. The moment the strands connected, she instantly knew this would be a fatal mistake.
She could sense them—sense him—the moment her binding spell struck, and felt the awareness within, the awareness that knew her and could do any number of things to counter her.
But if she let go, the beast would consume Shirou and Yumi—
So she held on, and the same sensation of being a tool to Zouken Matou’s desires hit her like a collision in the pit of her stomach.
Worms crawled up her spell toward her—
This is what it is to be Zouken Matou:
The disgust at failure, the rage of loss, the fear of death, the malice toward those that made all of it true—
It writhed into itself, garbled screams of rage from tiny mouths, a hissing unlike the serpent but likewise feared by creatures that knew.
The demon gave it the shape of a dragon, and it could rage upon the heavens and earth as one.
It felt Sakura attempt to hold it down, and it felt the desire to hold her down once more, until she cried out the screams she had not uttered in years.
It felt Shirou Emiya just beyond, could smell him like one smelled the warmth in a forge, smelting in preparation of taking form. It wanted to eat him with all haste, until every bit of his existence was wiped from the face of the planet and all who had known him shuddered in agony at his passing that they forced him from their minds and forgot his very existence.
It hungered, in spite and malice.
This is what it is to be Zouken Matou.
Sakura Matou held on for the lives dear to her, lives she promised deep in her heart and aloud to one no longer here that she would help even in the face of death—
Rin Tohsaka cried out, bled, and wished she had the power to do something, to be the partner she always was, even if it wasn’t the partner he longed for—
Caren Ortensia clutched every hope she had, and on bended knee, prayed—
Shirou tried to think, tried to bring to mind some weapon capable of defeating this thing. He couldn’t get them out, couldn’t risk moving or this thing would tear Yumi to pieces.
If you can’t beat it, imagine something that can.
The voice of someone long ago, now hardly anything more than an image itself. Shirou could recall those words, though, the meaning behind them, and how they had twice saved him.
He remembered the sword.
He could not reproduce it, could not even begin to forge its image to any level of the original’s perfection—
He had to remember it, remember her, clutching that golden light—
What is now lost from this world—
Those he moves forward for, despite their absence.
That Addition—
The beautiful sword, the divine sheath, the things he imagined as stronger than himself.
The one he loves—
What he sees, always, his eyes ever turned in that direction.
That perfection he can no longer reach—
To see it personified, to know that despite her sad fate, with someone like him.
Yumi could be saved. Her life saved by his actions, and the lives of those within her united, united by that one look.
His wish, to be an ally of justice.
Her wish, to see it come true.
The shade of wishes embodied in a demon, the malice of a man defeated and broken, the darkness of a man that took many lives for his own gain.
The form of a dragon, with scales that rippled and moved, every inch made up of fanged creatures ready to rape and consume.
Its tail curled up, snaked around the bindings of Sakura Matou, ready to skewer her—
Its mouth snarled, drawing in the very life force of the air, tasting the presence of Shirou Emiya—
Could it be, because of Yumi’s wish? She was more than one person, more than the single girl, more than an unfortunate orphan that had seen her fair share of pain. She was a collective, additions stack up upon one another, a being that should not exist within one body. She had a wish, and wishes from humanity brought with it a great power.
Might it have been the desire held by those present? The one Sakura imagined behind her clenched eyes, the image that Rin conjured in the face of this desperate battle. They were more than the sum of each of the girls’ imaginations, like memories of a faraway and lonely memory, but one that was beautiful and gave them strength. Strength to believe in him.
Was it because of Shirou’s wish? He was nobody, a non-thing, someone who should no longer be in this world but was, a contradiction to the natural state of things. He lived for others, he put their lives above his own, he was less the concept of “human” and becoming more and more the concept of his world. Even those around him could see his existence reshaping into something tied down by the words ally of justice.
Could it be, because of the nature of that which attacked him? It was a demonic spirit, a thing of death and destruction and sorrow and despair, something that humans wished for to throw upon all their worldly woes upon to cleanse themselves. This shadow, this monster, now tried to destroy him from within; he, one who took upon the responsibility to look after the lives of those others, the fates of those that would discard him just as readily as a devil.
Perhaps it was the magic of the seeming, the mere image of perfection. His hand still wrapped in Yumi’s magic; that hand still gripping Avalon. This thing, not even his, which had saved the life of his father, had saved his life, had saved the life he had come upon. Might it be this magic had blessed this family just as readily as it had the girl who had drawn the sword from the stone?
Was it because he was made of swords, and had been the King’s sheath? The one blessed by the faeries considered him to be the very essence of what made her great, the heart of Arturia’s own dream, personified into a person. He was her sheath, more than holding it within his body, within his mind; he was one striving forever toward that distant utopia, chasing after a dream that was impossible in this world.
Might it have been the call of the world that had just dissolved? The place of victory, promised by the blade held in hand and the fate it now knew:
To be reunited to its sheath.
Shirou kept his memories of Saber deep within, as if her sword were within his mind’s eye, sheathed in the image of Avalon he always carried with him.
His world, their place of victory, a hill marked by the lives he fought with.
It is said by some that the Arthurian King resided beneath a hill, waiting to be released upon the world once more.
It is said by others that she rested in Avalon, ready to be called at a time of great need.
She had said it, believed it with all her heart, beyond just the thing he carried in his chest.
You were my sheath.
His world, a hill where many rested, bounded by her world, the distant dream.
She had carried her ideals to the end, for the sake of smiling faces. He could only pursue the same thing, and someday, prove with every fiber of his being that their choices were not wrong.
There is nothing in me that can replace you.
Yet everything in him was with her.
Ally, lover, dream—
Even if she were in another world, of faeries and slumber—
He carried a part of that world within him.
Even if she had died there, under that lonely tree—
Not even the Throne of Heroes could keep her from that place.
Honestly, there is no need to answer now. I am your sword. Who else but me can become your strength, Shirou?
Dawn broke early.
Light charged through the air, from every direction, in the same way the demon had cast its shadow over Unlimited Blade Works. It rang with the sound like a bell, severing the hollow noise of the demon’s cries, ringing pure through the grove. It cut into the tail of the beast and Sakura’s spell, severing the squealing hoards from their advance on the Matou girl, then flashed around and smashed into the snout of the draconic visage, crashing it into the gardens of the orphanage.
The creature cried out, a screech that, by sheer volume, was deeper than the accumulation of tiny fangs and insect mouths. It tried to steal the mana from the air to suffocate the existence in the world—
But the light kept the air warm and the sky bright.
It took on shape, like a human, yet still fast as light, flying overland as if on a charging steed and once more connected with the writhing darkness. A flash of gold like the flares of the sun streaked outward, fragmented, and floated to the green earth. Each tiny light bloomed as a lit candle, and suddenly the garden was alive.
The dragon smashed through the building, out of sight.
Light converged upon itself, and took on color beyond radiance.
Rin stared, incapable of processing what she saw before her eyes—
Sakura stared, struck by the light and presence she only knew in imagination—
Caren stared, as if catching a glimpse of divinity—
And Shirou stared, seeing what he thought to never lay eyes upon again in this world—
She stood amidst the once gardens of sin, untouchable, cloaked in blue, holding before her that which exceeded the hopes of a mere many.
Humanity’s light.
Yumi watched, etching everything onto the souls within her that cried out, now, not in pain or desire, but understanding—
An addition that now made everything she saw in Shirou complete.
And a voice, promising victory.
“EX—”
The dragon charged to meet a force of nature. Even as the malice within raged, hated, cursed—
The demons knew their place.
Wishes, curses, hopes, desires—
Sought salvation at the hands of glory ignited.
Radiance blazed.
“—CALIBUR!”
The curses from the stolen lives were silenced, given release.
The malice of Zouken Matou ended before it could suffuse further despair.
The legacy of Setsuka Yuushi ended in a lonely garden.
The light faded and was overcome by light.
Morning.
The horizon peaked light through the trees, no longer blocked by a house that had raised children to die. The building had been razed completely flat.
The woman in blue turned, a sincere smile touching her lips, and though her eyes went to each of them in turn, they really only belonged to one.
He smiled back to her.
And Yumi saw it, saw the addition, saw its completion—
Saw that Shirou was, finally, in her mind’s eye, whole.
If but only for a moment, she took it in, and clutched the vest she wore.
She knew now why he had always seemed more complete when with that sword, her sword, different from the one the woman held now, and yet the same.
Everything of him was with her.
And maybe, Yumi thought:
Everything of her was with him.
They converged on Shirou, Rin and Sakura to either side to help him up, and he grinned sheepishly.
She said, “You appear to have found trouble again, Master.”
He tried to find words, but managed only, “Yeah.”
“Can you make it home safely?”
He looked to either side: Sakura, rattled but safe and secure, and Rin, hurt but still somehow healing, possibly due to the sheath he held in the hand around her shoulders. He looked to Yumi, who was watching him with curious eyes, then to Caren, who had wrapped a bandage around her neck and nodded upon meeting his gaze. “Yeah.”
Amusement danced through her eyes. “You seem to be at a loss for words.”
“…Yeah.”
She smiled again, then carefully met his gaze. “You know where I will be, though I go there now to rest.”
Shirou nodded, and he watched her raise the blade she held. He shifted his grip on Avalon and held it out in turn. “Saber,” Shirou said, as the golden woman looked back up, “I have something to tell you.”
The fading light in her hands was shrouded, and Saber gave him a curious look.
“I’ll tell you the next time we meet,” he said, smiling.
A faint huff, though she still met his smile with her own. “Then I’ll be waiting.”
And she was gone.
Yumi watched as Shirou watched her go.
And when the woman of gold and blue had gone, she turned to look out toward the rising day.
Could it have been fate, that as the sunrise of his world gave way to the sunrise of the next day, it had become Tanabata, when Orihime and Hikoboshi could meet once more across the vast distance of heaven?
If you’ve tracked the bit of dates I’ve snuck in, you’ll realize this is July 7th of 2007. Not the traditional date, mind you, but, I believe the Kansai region Fuyuki is theoretically in uses this date for Tanabata.
Only an Epilogue to go.
Converting /tmp/phpo9VMB4 to /dev/stdout
This specific chapter is very much inspired by certain lyrics in “New Divide” by Linkin Park. The theme, however, can be found on youtube: watch?v=7EgbXu5RJ_w
Escaping Fate
Chapter 22
Reaching Fate
The demon was born of many wishes: to reach salvation.
The lives taken by Setsuka Yuushi and connected to Yumi had wished it. Those tortured, pained lives with only the fleeting memories of loneliness in an orphanage followed by the cold of a naked table and unforgiving steel cutting into their very existences. It was not just a rape of the body, but a sundering of the soul.
Those lives had thrown their dark desires and pained wishes onto the body now possessing them, and had given birth to the demon. Every cut of the knife, every pressure on the soul, every muted death fueled them: the quiet wishes, the whispered curses, the words spoken into the corners of nowhere that could not hear.
What else could know the wishes one makes in the darkest moments of the night?
What else but a demon, a monster of nightmares?
Sakura leaped from the window, landing between the two buildings, and lanced the creature with her magic. The moment the strands connected, she instantly knew this would be a fatal mistake.
She could sense them—sense him—the moment her binding spell struck, and felt the awareness within, the awareness that knew her and could do any number of things to counter her.
But if she let go, the beast would consume Shirou and Yumi—
So she held on, and the same sensation of being a tool to Zouken Matou’s desires hit her like a collision in the pit of her stomach.
Worms crawled up her spell toward her—
This is what it is to be Zouken Matou:
The disgust at failure, the rage of loss, the fear of death, the malice toward those that made all of it true—
It writhed into itself, garbled screams of rage from tiny mouths, a hissing unlike the serpent but likewise feared by creatures that knew.
The demon gave it the shape of a dragon, and it could rage upon the heavens and earth as one.
It felt Sakura attempt to hold it down, and it felt the desire to hold her down once more, until she cried out the screams she had not uttered in years.
It felt Shirou Emiya just beyond, could smell him like one smelled the warmth in a forge, smelting in preparation of taking form. It wanted to eat him with all haste, until every bit of his existence was wiped from the face of the planet and all who had known him shuddered in agony at his passing that they forced him from their minds and forgot his very existence.
It hungered, in spite and malice.
This is what it is to be Zouken Matou.
Sakura Matou held on for the lives dear to her, lives she promised deep in her heart and aloud to one no longer here that she would help even in the face of death—
Rin Tohsaka cried out, bled, and wished she had the power to do something, to be the partner she always was, even if it wasn’t the partner he longed for—
Caren Ortensia clutched every hope she had, and on bended knee, prayed—
Shirou tried to think, tried to bring to mind some weapon capable of defeating this thing. He couldn’t get them out, couldn’t risk moving or this thing would tear Yumi to pieces.
If you can’t beat it, imagine something that can.
The voice of someone long ago, now hardly anything more than an image itself. Shirou could recall those words, though, the meaning behind them, and how they had twice saved him.
He remembered the sword.
He could not reproduce it, could not even begin to forge its image to any level of the original’s perfection—
He had to remember it, remember her, clutching that golden light—
What is now lost from this world—
Those he moves forward for, despite their absence.
That Addition—
The beautiful sword, the divine sheath, the things he imagined as stronger than himself.
The one he loves—
What he sees, always, his eyes ever turned in that direction.
That perfection he can no longer reach—
To see it personified, to know that despite her sad fate, with someone like him.
Yumi could be saved. Her life saved by his actions, and the lives of those within her united, united by that one look.
His wish, to be an ally of justice.
Her wish, to see it come true.
The shade of wishes embodied in a demon, the malice of a man defeated and broken, the darkness of a man that took many lives for his own gain.
The form of a dragon, with scales that rippled and moved, every inch made up of fanged creatures ready to rape and consume.
Its tail curled up, snaked around the bindings of Sakura Matou, ready to skewer her—
Its mouth snarled, drawing in the very life force of the air, tasting the presence of Shirou Emiya—
Could it be, because of Yumi’s wish? She was more than one person, more than the single girl, more than an unfortunate orphan that had seen her fair share of pain. She was a collective, additions stack up upon one another, a being that should not exist within one body. She had a wish, and wishes from humanity brought with it a great power.
Might it have been the desire held by those present? The one Sakura imagined behind her clenched eyes, the image that Rin conjured in the face of this desperate battle. They were more than the sum of each of the girls’ imaginations, like memories of a faraway and lonely memory, but one that was beautiful and gave them strength. Strength to believe in him.
Was it because of Shirou’s wish? He was nobody, a non-thing, someone who should no longer be in this world but was, a contradiction to the natural state of things. He lived for others, he put their lives above his own, he was less the concept of “human” and becoming more and more the concept of his world. Even those around him could see his existence reshaping into something tied down by the words ally of justice.
Could it be, because of the nature of that which attacked him? It was a demonic spirit, a thing of death and destruction and sorrow and despair, something that humans wished for to throw upon all their worldly woes upon to cleanse themselves. This shadow, this monster, now tried to destroy him from within; he, one who took upon the responsibility to look after the lives of those others, the fates of those that would discard him just as readily as a devil.
Perhaps it was the magic of the seeming, the mere image of perfection. His hand still wrapped in Yumi’s magic; that hand still gripping Avalon. This thing, not even his, which had saved the life of his father, had saved his life, had saved the life he had come upon. Might it be this magic had blessed this family just as readily as it had the girl who had drawn the sword from the stone?
Was it because he was made of swords, and had been the King’s sheath? The one blessed by the faeries considered him to be the very essence of what made her great, the heart of Arturia’s own dream, personified into a person. He was her sheath, more than holding it within his body, within his mind; he was one striving forever toward that distant utopia, chasing after a dream that was impossible in this world.
Might it have been the call of the world that had just dissolved? The place of victory, promised by the blade held in hand and the fate it now knew:
To be reunited to its sheath.
Shirou kept his memories of Saber deep within, as if her sword were within his mind’s eye, sheathed in the image of Avalon he always carried with him.
His world, their place of victory, a hill marked by the lives he fought with.
It is said by some that the Arthurian King resided beneath a hill, waiting to be released upon the world once more.
It is said by others that she rested in Avalon, ready to be called at a time of great need.
She had said it, believed it with all her heart, beyond just the thing he carried in his chest.
You were my sheath.
His world, a hill where many rested, bounded by her world, the distant dream.
She had carried her ideals to the end, for the sake of smiling faces. He could only pursue the same thing, and someday, prove with every fiber of his being that their choices were not wrong.
There is nothing in me that can replace you.
Yet everything in him was with her.
Ally, lover, dream—
Even if she were in another world, of faeries and slumber—
He carried a part of that world within him.
Even if she had died there, under that lonely tree—
Not even the Throne of Heroes could keep her from that place.
Honestly, there is no need to answer now. I am your sword. Who else but me can become your strength, Shirou?
Dawn broke early.
Light charged through the air, from every direction, in the same way the demon had cast its shadow over Unlimited Blade Works. It rang with the sound like a bell, severing the hollow noise of the demon’s cries, ringing pure through the grove. It cut into the tail of the beast and Sakura’s spell, severing the squealing hoards from their advance on the Matou girl, then flashed around and smashed into the snout of the draconic visage, crashing it into the gardens of the orphanage.
The creature cried out, a screech that, by sheer volume, was deeper than the accumulation of tiny fangs and insect mouths. It tried to steal the mana from the air to suffocate the existence in the world—
But the light kept the air warm and the sky bright.
It took on shape, like a human, yet still fast as light, flying overland as if on a charging steed and once more connected with the writhing darkness. A flash of gold like the flares of the sun streaked outward, fragmented, and floated to the green earth. Each tiny light bloomed as a lit candle, and suddenly the garden was alive.
The dragon smashed through the building, out of sight.
Light converged upon itself, and took on color beyond radiance.
Rin stared, incapable of processing what she saw before her eyes—
Sakura stared, struck by the light and presence she only knew in imagination—
Caren stared, as if catching a glimpse of divinity—
And Shirou stared, seeing what he thought to never lay eyes upon again in this world—
She stood amidst the once gardens of sin, untouchable, cloaked in blue, holding before her that which exceeded the hopes of a mere many.
Humanity’s light.
Yumi watched, etching everything onto the souls within her that cried out, now, not in pain or desire, but understanding—
An addition that now made everything she saw in Shirou complete.
And a voice, promising victory.
“EX—”
The dragon charged to meet a force of nature. Even as the malice within raged, hated, cursed—
The demons knew their place.
Wishes, curses, hopes, desires—
Sought salvation at the hands of glory ignited.
Radiance blazed.
“—CALIBUR!”
The curses from the stolen lives were silenced, given release.
The malice of Zouken Matou ended before it could suffuse further despair.
The legacy of Setsuka Yuushi ended in a lonely garden.
The light faded and was overcome by light.
Morning.
The horizon peaked light through the trees, no longer blocked by a house that had raised children to die. The building had been razed completely flat.
The woman in blue turned, a sincere smile touching her lips, and though her eyes went to each of them in turn, they really only belonged to one.
He smiled back to her.
And Yumi saw it, saw the addition, saw its completion—
Saw that Shirou was, finally, in her mind’s eye, whole.
If but only for a moment, she took it in, and clutched the vest she wore.
She knew now why he had always seemed more complete when with that sword, her sword, different from the one the woman held now, and yet the same.
Everything of him was with her.
And maybe, Yumi thought:
Everything of her was with him.
They converged on Shirou, Rin and Sakura to either side to help him up, and he grinned sheepishly.
She said, “You appear to have found trouble again, Master.”
He tried to find words, but managed only, “Yeah.”
“Can you make it home safely?”
He looked to either side: Sakura, rattled but safe and secure, and Rin, hurt but still somehow healing, possibly due to the sheath he held in the hand around her shoulders. He looked to Yumi, who was watching him with curious eyes, then to Caren, who had wrapped a bandage around her neck and nodded upon meeting his gaze. “Yeah.”
Amusement danced through her eyes. “You seem to be at a loss for words.”
“…Yeah.”
She smiled again, then carefully met his gaze. “You know where I will be, though I go there now to rest.”
Shirou nodded, and he watched her raise the blade she held. He shifted his grip on Avalon and held it out in turn. “Saber,” Shirou said, as the golden woman looked back up, “I have something to tell you.”
The fading light in her hands was shrouded, and Saber gave him a curious look.
“I’ll tell you the next time we meet,” he said, smiling.
A faint huff, though she still met his smile with her own. “Then I’ll be waiting.”
And she was gone.
Yumi watched as Shirou watched her go.
And when the woman of gold and blue had gone, she turned to look out toward the rising day.
Could it have been fate, that as the sunrise of his world gave way to the sunrise of the next day, it had become Tanabata, when Orihime and Hikoboshi could meet once more across the vast distance of heaven?
Escaping Fate, Reaching Fate, End
And herein is the other side of what truly got this story going. If the image of Shirou rescuing the Higurashi orphans is what started this, the image of a demon born of wishes being wiped out by Saber borne on wishes is what closed it out. The concept of “wishing” in the Nasuverse is complex and not always positive, just as in mythology, where the very nature of language and words has the power to curse or bless. I wanted a story revolving around that.If you’ve tracked the bit of dates I’ve snuck in, you’ll realize this is July 7th of 2007. Not the traditional date, mind you, but, I believe the Kansai region Fuyuki is theoretically in uses this date for Tanabata.
Only an Epilogue to go.
Converting /tmp/phpo9VMB4 to /dev/stdout