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Shared Resonance of Possession Experience	By : ArashiLeonhart Category: +. to F > Fate/stay Night Views: 9792 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own TYPE-MOON and associated verse and characters. I make no money on this, although in Japan, I could.

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Sion watched him carefully, confused by every component of his behavior.

She had meant only to observe him, to see what it was he wanted when he had intervened with the Executors. Though she had not managed to grab him with Etherlite, the boundary field she used to surround her hideout had detected his presence. Like the Fraga Enforcer that had been sent after him, she had merely kept track of the Church followers and kept tabs on them. The information they reported in led her to investigation of her own and some calculations about who this phantom person was and what his motives might be. She had determined that, if indeed it was the whispered son of Emiya the mage killer, he would resort to mundane hiding rather than magical. Stalking the local equivalent to a hostel had turned up a young man matching the information the Association had on record.

Others might call it coincidence, happenstance, or luck. Sion knew it was all within the realm of probability and manipulating what she could to succeed.

She took him to her own new hideout. It was something of a compromise to the sensibilities of a magi and the strategy that this Shirou Emiya had used to avoiding detection. It was a local dormitory for high school students that had a vacancy. Sion had manipulated the memories of the monitor to make it seem as if she were a student—not difficult since Sion was hardly any older than the other tenants. She then made sure to spread her Etherlite-formed boundary field around the premises for detection purposes.

Though the dorm was all-girls, Sion had observed other girls occasionally bringing boyfriends in; if one was discreet it was generally overlooked. Shirou was walking on his own power by the time they were back to civilization and nimble enough to be fairly quiet as they entered the building. “I’m pretty used to acting normal while half-dying,” he had said.

As a temporary establishment, the room was sparsely furnished. Sion kept a satchel of possessions and had not planned to gather any further resources for this location. So she was limited to accommodating a guest—Shirou could only remove his shoes and lay on the bed while she applied bandages to his injuries.

Injuries that bled. Injuries that—

“It’s alright,” Shirou said. He took the scissors nearby and cut the strand she had been circling around his torso. “This is enough.” He apparently mistook her hesitation as concern that he was using up all of her medical supplies. “Thanks.”

Sion eyed the strips of cloth as he secured the ends and reached for his clothes. Blood was already soaking through a couple of the injuries. She knew the others were still bleeding as well, though internally. “Are you certain? There must be something else that can be done to curb your profuse bleeding—”

“Eh, not really. And I’ve actually had worse, to be honest. Bazett was going easy on me, despite what she said.”

“It appeared to me as if the Enforcer was not going ‘easy’ on you.”

Shirou pulled his dirty shirt back on. “You probably haven’t met Bazett before, but she’s a lot nicer than she gives herself credit for. Anyway, I could tell. There was just enough hesitation there that I could at least track what she was doing. In a real, full battle, I don’t think that would be the case.” He grinned at some kind of joke only he seemed to understand. “She probably wouldn’t have killed me, just beaten me to the point where I was not going to resist and haul me back.”

“Back. To the Clock Tower in London.” It was not a question.

“Yeah.” He gave the alchemist an appraising look, like he was trying to imagine her circumstances. For a moment, she felt anxious—it reminded her of how people looked at her back at Atlas—but she felt more and more at ease the longer she stared back at him. Though he was certainly regarding her warily, it was not out of a sense of alienation or the possibility of threat. She could not describe what it was she concluded he was looking at her with, though. “And you? Those Executors that harassed you said something about that alchemist branch of the Association.”

Sion considered how much to say. The information she had on Shirou Emiya was extremely limited, though what she had found out all pointed to the fact that he was regarded as some kind of limited celebrity: the winner of the Holy Grail War, apprentice to Rin Tohsaka, some kind of idiot savant in terms of magecraft. Nobody knew for certain how an amateur such as he could have won a battle against one mage, let alone six. It was also known that he practiced unorthodox methodology like his father, apparently to make up for his deficiency elsewhere. Beyond using the information to calculate his strategies, Sion had not considered why he would do so, simply assuming it was as all magi did—a practice of give-and-take, to benefit him somehow.

But in observing him, in seeing how he had apparently, though those mundane means, picked up on being followed, and had led his potential stalkers out into the wilderness had baffled her. A magi who wished to keep from the grasp of the Association was best to keep themselves in public as other magi would not risk the population knowing of their existence. Even if one was to attack, there were practices magi followed to minimize the collateral damage on the population and such practices were noticeable if one was looking. In other words, there were rules of engagement in these situations, ones that kept a magi safe so long as they were not instigating something that broke the rules first.

He had to know, then, that removing himself from civilization was dangerous, an invitation to be attacked. Sion wondered if he had a death wish, or if there was something else he was planning to do by drawing mage killers after him.

“It is not for a reason worth death, if that is what you are considering,” Sion said. “The circumstances in which people are treating you suggests that my own situation might be comparable, perhaps.”

Shirou grinned. “Very magus-like of you. Telling me without telling me.”

Sion could not but frown at his comment. There was something almost insulting toward magi in it. “I am an alchemist. There is nothing to give without gaining as well. If you expect me to explain, I will do so only if you describe your circumstances first.”

His grin fell away, though a look of amusement still seemed to keep to his features. It was not, however, amusement directed at her, though, she could tell. It seemed like his thoughts were now elsewhere—he even halted like a machine with its power removed. “I didn’t think you’d care.” He was addressing her, though his eyes seemed to view something else. “Didn’t you say to those Executors that you had someone to stop?”

Slowly, the alchemist nodded. She was not sure how much of that he had been aware of and she had not actually meant to speak of such things. Even though she did let it slip, she had calculated that another magi would dismiss it as nonsense or some personal issue that was separate to the functions and responsibilities one had as a magus.

Looking at him carefully, she realized he seemed to be thinking hard on what she had said, reviewing that moment carefully in his head. Though she did not let it show, it startled her that someone would recall such an insignificant moment so thoroughly—though something about this Shirou Emiya made her believe that it was possible. He was just that strange, even for one in this world.

“I did. So you already know more of my motivations than I do of yours.” Which was, technically, true—she did not know anything of his, she just had her suspicions. “I propose you speak of them to me. You may tell me as much or as little as you wish. I will decide what to do afterward.”

“You…” he gave her a funny look. “You’re kinda odd.”

“If that is meant as an insult—”

He waved that off, furiously. “No, no, just…no. It’s…I dunno. But you don’t have to speak so formally to me. I’m in your debt, so don’t really worry about it.”

She frowned. In saving him from the Enforcer, she had considered it an equalization of what he had done to keep the Church Executors away from her. Apparently, his own calculations were not matching up with hers. “If it is a concern—”

“Er, no, just…uh, no. I…you know what? Nevermind.” He scratched the back of his head. “I’ll just…well, what do you know about me, anyway?”

“Your name, the name of your teacher, that you are associated with the Heaven’s Feel ceremony, and earlier, that you were creating Gradiation Air replicas of phantasms that no longer exist within this world.”

He laughed, though it was a dry laugh bereft of amusement. The kind of laugh she heard people use when they were merely covering up nervousness. “Uh…okay. So…I’m assuming, then, it’s ‘why are you pursued by an Enforcer of the Association?’”

Sion nodded, settling in on the desk chair next to the bed.

“This time, you’ve gone too far, Tohsaka!”

Shirou heard the voice and, if he had a free hand, might have planted it in his face. Instead, he could only sigh and shuffle his feet as the young woman he followed froze in place.

“Well, I just can’t help it if the library is extra far from my apartment,” Rin said. She twirled in place and Shirou almost tipped back onto his ass to keep out of her way, his vision impaired by the stack of books he was carrying for her.

Luviagelita Edelfelt stormed in after them, almost barreling Shirou over as she swooped in on Rin like a hawk. She strode right up into Rin’s face such that, for a moment, Shirou was certain someone would make a hasty movement and something embarrassing would happen to them all. “That was the third apprentice you’ve cost me! How dare you speak of my training like it is some kind of…some kind of…like it would steal a boy’s innocence!” The blond magi almost screeched the last words.

Actually, Shirou was having a difficult time understanding. His English, though better than when they had first come to London, was still a daily struggle. Add into it the pitch of an angry young woman—something he barely understood in Japanese—and he was doomed to only pick up on the emotion behind it. Whenever Luvia and Rin were in the same room, though, that emotion was generally easy to figure out: pissed off.

“It’s not my fault if all your potentials go in, then come out looking like they’re half-dead!” Rin said, huffing and crossing her arms. She gave an imperious tilt to her head and said, “I merely stated an observation using your metaphors—the one that goes, ‘like they’ve had something sucked out of them’ or whatever it was. Don’t blame me if people get the wrong impression!”

“Then maybe next time I’ll just have to announce in front of everyone what kind of sucking you seem to be doing to your apprentice!” Luvia growled, her eyes darting toward Shirou.

“D-don’t you even think about it!”

Somehow, though they were yelling at each other, their gazes had fallen on him, and Shirou suddenly recalled an urgent meeting he had elsewhere. “I’m gonna go on ahead,” he said, louder than he needed, though in Japanese.

As he sped off as fast as he could without tripping and dropping all of the musty old books Rin had him carting, he heard Luvia make a new proclamation: “You don’t want your sordid life public, that’s just fine. But I will find out how it is you can keep such a whipped dog around!”

Rin’s retort echoed around the corner he dashed past. “Like whipping animals do you, Edelfelt?”

Shirou also made a mental note: even libraries were not safe from the girls’ combative shouting matches.

Shirou did not hear of any further incidents between Rin and Luvia for weeks, though he spent any time he had with them in completely separate situations. Luvia would often corner him in the library or in the food court, though only when Rin was not with him. She would press him on matters related to his history with the heir of Tohsaka, and though he attempted to avoid sensitive information, it was a difficult matter overall.

“Just ignore that witch,” Rin had told him one evening as they had practiced some of his Reinforcement techniques. He was getting better at working with materials that were not-bladed, though it was a relative thing—more like a 60% failure rate instead of the 90% rate he’d had before meeting her.

Shirou had rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the two of you are a lot alike, you know. She’s always a step ahead of me when it comes to getting news on you.” He, of course, did not ever deem it necessary to say that he and Luvia actually got along fine, really, and that only when Rin was actually present did the Edelfelt girl turn into a monstrous hag that would demean anything within a five mile radius. Thus the thought that they were alike—he wondered if it wasn’t just hatred of one’s own kind at work.

“I’m nothing like that—” Rin’s words then came in muffled gibberish as she put the medieval helm he had Reinforced over her head. They had come to the point where they would work with war-related materials, straying step-by-step farther from swords and spears until they reached a threshold of items he just could not manipulate reliably. So far he was decent at armor, though it had to be in a medieval style rather than the modern protection worn by the military and the like. “—eating underworld harpy.” Rin removed the helm. “It’s fine.”

“She has been kinda nosy lately, though,” Shirou admitted. “I’m just not good with handling her, though.”

“Then avoid places she’s been approaching you. If you’re one step behind, just change the rules on her.” Rin huffed, looking around at the rest of the items they had been working on—breastplates, greaves, even an old battle-horn. “You have been getting better at thinking like that, at least.”

“I guess,” he said. When they sparred to keep their physical prowess up, they had found that Rin could no longer cleanly defeat him in hand-to-hand maneuvers. The muscle-memory he had gleaned from a certain red-clad knight had stuck around enough that he no longer had to just rely on instinct—he could actually consider strategies amidst battle. “But I, uh, think she’d pick up on that, and while I know you don’t like her, I’d rather not have her angry at me too, just beca—”

“For the love of…” Rin apparently had enough of his complaints and shoved the helmet onto his head. His knee-jerk reaction was to try and pull it back off, though Rin held it fast to his skull. She then pulled the visor up and leaned in, her lips taking a demanding kiss from his. “Just remember who your boss is, you got that?” she said, then slammed the visor back down.

All he could do is nod, the plume on the helmet waving like a white flag.

Because they lived in an apartment that was not a part of the Clock Tower grounds, visitors were rare. Shirou jumped to get the door when a flurry of knocking startled him out of a breathing exercise he had been doing.

Luvia Edelfelt stood outside, red-faced and nervous-eyed.

“What’s the matter?” Shirou asked, moving aside to let his guest in. Though he knew he would get an earful from Rin later on, the polite side of him absolutely refused to talk with her through the doorway.

Luvia, though, did not seem to care whether he moved aside or not. She shot through the door and into the living room space, peering this way and that, then spinning on her heel to look to him. “Is this…are you…where is…am I going…”

Shirou stared at her dumbly.

She scrunched her face up, as if she could suck all of her stuttered words back out of the air and into her lungs, recompose them, and then spout them back out clearer. “Just who the hell are you?!”

Shirou stared at her dumbly, though he managed a “Wha?” noise.

“I…dammit, Emiya, why is it happening like this?! You…you…I thought what they said about the Grail War was misinformation, that Tohsaka won, but that she was using you as a shield for whatever reason!” Luvia looked ready to explode, her fists balled up at her sides. “Why couldn’t you have just told me?!”

He blinked. “Er…I did.” It had come up in their conversations, and he had simply confirmed what had already been passed around—the information that he was the “winner” of the ceremony. Though the people that thought it true believed that was the reason Rin had taken him as an apprentice, he simply did not dissuade them of the notion, nor did Rin. They ultimately didn’t like talking about it and didn’t want people to figure out anything behind the spell or its taint.

“Not that, you idiot! I mean, why didn’t you explain to me why?!”

Now he was staring at her with annoyance. “Am I missing something, here?”

Luvia flung her hands into the air, then groped around for her hair as if she would pull it out. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me about your magecraft? Why didn’t you just tell me that it wasn’t Projection, but a Reality Marble?!”

Shirou’s eyebrows fell, his fists clenched, and even his toes curled. He had not told her that, and both he and Rin had been careful not to speak of that to anyone. Magecraft secrets were already something of a taboo subject since the more people knew, the less powerful things were—but something like a Reality Marble had a few additional problems on top of that. “What are you talking about?” he asked, managing to keep his voice even.

“What you told me wasn’t adding up! So I researched, asked around…”

This brought his eyes from narrow to wide, a sense of dread crawling up his stomach and up his throat. “Asked around?”

“That’s what I mean, you idiot! If you had just told me, I wouldn’t have…had to…”

He eyed her carefully, from toe to head, processing the look in her eyes fully now. There was worry there, real concern, and he knew this was bad. “And?”

She looked down. Her shoulders fell and her entire posture shrank somewhat, as if wilting. “I…think some of the higher-ups might’ve figured it out, too, since I was asking about you…and kind of…uh…” Her voice shrank to that of a girl, caught and guilty of a crime. “I might’ve…blurted it out when I came to the conclusion…”

“Some of the higher-ups, such as…?”

“Lord El-Melloi, and—”

The first name was not one he worried over. Waver Velvet supported Rin, supported him, and had seemed generally unconcerned even though he probably knew the most out of anyone at the Clock Tower about the Grail War. But an “and” meant others, others he did not want to know anything about him. The political situation within the Association was often tense, and Rin herself was already under close observation due to the war. This sort of information getting out, no matter who learned of it, was bad. But even beyond that—

Even if it didn’t mean political maneuvers, there were other dangers associated with having something so unique and rare. Something even technically banned from being pursued as a source of extensive research within the Association. And Shirou, low man on this system’s totem poll…

He made for the bedroom, for where he kept all of his personal belongings.

“I didn’t mean, I mean…I didn’t…I wasn’t…” Luvia regressed back to stuttering, her feet shuffling in behind him.

Shirou scrambled for what he knew he would need: wallet, passport, a phone he had convinced Rin to keep around. He tossed them onto the bed, then went for the lockbox Rin kept beneath the bed. He had always warned her of such an obvious hiding place, though she had waved it off with the excuse that it was spelled, so anyone who tried to steal from it would get what they deserved.

“You…” Luvia looked absolutely lost, genuinely upset. “They aren’t going to…”

“You wouldn’t have come here to warn me if you thought that,” Shirou said. “Where’s Tohsaka?”

“I thought she’d be here—”

Shirou shook his head. If Rin had not been pulled from her research to deal with this situation, he had the feeling that the business-end of the Association would be paying him a visit before he could get his “master” in to handle the situation. He quickly ran through a mental checklist of the things he had and what was necessary for him to take as he pulled some extra clothes out of his dresser. It was not a process he had thought to do in a while, but it had always stuck at the back of his mind that someday, he would probably need to work things like this out. He would not be Rin’s apprentice forever.

He had to almost crawl into the closet to reach the duffel bag he needed. It had been a while since they had last traveled and although Shirou tried to keep the space neat, Rin’s long days of work dictated that she would return to their apartment and just toss things anywhere. Regardless to being well-organized, boxes full of papers and books just piled up atop everything else they did not use on a regular basis.

“Emiya, what are you…”

Shirou glanced up at the blond magus, the look on her face betraying that her question was merely rhetorical. He gave a helpless shrug. “I know you two don’t get along, but, it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to give Tohsaka a proper farewell. Think you could?”

“But—”

There was another knock on the door to the apartment. Shirou hastily stuffed the last of the things he had out into the bag and looked to the window. “Just tell her…I’ll try. I’ll try to find a little enjoyment out there. But no promises.”

Sion watched Shirou sleep, many things on her mind.

The top layer of thought was practical, regarding his abilities. Though he had explained the basics of what he did, why the Association was after him, there was just enough left unsaid that she had not quite grasped his capacities. He was a blacksmithing magician that quite possibly rivaled any Faker in history—he might even just be the greatest Gradiation Air master ever, considering what it was he reproduced. But how that was possible still eluded her, still baffled her. Reality Marbles were rare abilities. Humans did not regularly have access to one, for a very specific reason: they were distortions, singular and single-minded in their acquisition, something that few humans ever had the time to acquire in a single lifetime. The few that had were merely the product of a pinnacle of research passed on through Magic Crests, so much of the work was not done by the individual. For a young man—a young man not even through a quarter of his life, even—to possess one was an anomaly of anomalies.

It led to the other thoughts, the deeper reasons behind her consideration. He was not a normal person, even by the standards of magi, Sion could easily make that much out. Like a good magus, he was clearly self-sacrificing and determined, something that would push him to greater heights. But it was not out of his need for magecraft or a desire to reach Truth as it was for many others—

No, that was wrong. He strove for Truth, but…

It was not the Truth of a magician.

Sion had been alone for years now. Nearly six had passed since her encounter with the one she sought; six since the death of the knight that she thought of constantly. It had never occurred to her to consider why it was she was alone—why she had never gravitated toward the others out there, ones that were in similar positions as her, or ones that were true mavericks or heretical to standard practices that would at least not be “enemies” any longer. Surely there were others affected by the Apostles that, due to irregularities, still retained forms of humanity, or those that hunted for the root cause of any number of problems related to the mystical.

How it was that probability had brought this one to her.

There were, of course, variables that raised the chances of their encounter. She was waiting for the next manifestation of Wallachia in this country, knew it would be here after its earlier failure within nearby Misaki. Japan was a small country with regards to the influence of the Association, so a Western-styled magician to call it home was rare. The fact that he had been on the run also heightened their chances, as a person targeted by external threat often returned to home territory to regroup. By her calculations, however, the greatest variable was his goal, his desire. Like Kiritsugu Emiya before him, if her conclusion was correct, Shirou sought the salvation of a great number of people. Though an irregular consideration for a human to have, it was definitely a factor in drawing one toward the location of a crisis. Everything in existence sought its own, so this was completely within acceptable range of consideration.

She decided that it was fine to trust him, for the moment at least. As it was late when she had brought him in, she had recommended he simply rest in her hideout until morning. He had acquiesced and given into slumber—his injured body clearly demanding rest—and it gave her time to consider her options. It would be beneficial to have someone else support her in her endeavor, both in the future and for situations like earlier, and it seemed as if it would be beneficial for the both of them, not just herself. Though she had not explained her situation, she thought that if she did, he would be willing to accompany her. He was being drawn to danger, after all.

Beneath everything regarding magic and motives, though, was the sensation of loneliness she detected as she watched his slumber. The way his arms reached out from his body, the odd positioning of his legs, the way he did not sleep completely centered within his makeshift futon was somehow bothersome to her. His explanation had alluded to it, though he had not outright said anything and Sion did not feel the necessity to press—

Though, it led to the curiosity inherent to one of her age, one that still, through it all, could consider herself a woman—

She wondered if his teacher in magecraft, Rin Tohsaka, had been more than a teacher and fellow survivor of the Holy Grail War.

Sion had not left much behind in her quest to rid the world of Wallachia and find a way to reverse her own curse. She had no friends, no family—only peers, fellow researchers, other alchemists. They were comrades, but not friends. It had not been a choice—it was the only choice. She was going to find a way to defeat this, regardless to the rules of Atlas she had to break in the process, and that meant leaving, possibly for the rest of her natural life.

But this one had other options, even if they might have been restricted by the ruling of the Association leaders. If he had loved, he could have stayed for that love. If he had what was intrinsically built into the genetic data of living organisms within his grasp, she wondered what would drive him to pursue something that was beyond natural human thought and desire.

Sion wondered, briefly, whether she would ever consider actually asking him the answer to her questions.

To be continued.
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Shared Resonance of Possession Experience