Chapter 2
BlackHadou
Bunny-Sensei
Sometimes, the measure of a man was not what he had accomplished, but what doors had been closed to him. In the case of the young man known as Shinji Matou, the latter described him perfectly. The young heir to an illustrious, mighty family of magi, he was born with the curse of no talent, no magic circuit worth noting, and no future as a magus. He was, by any measure, a normal human being.
In some cases, it would be considered a blessing to be the normal child in a family of magi. After all, it meant freedom from cut throat politics, and freedom from expectation. These things were the problem of another person, after all. However, he was the sole child of the final generation of Matou; there would be no other heir. Having a father who was dead was quite the impediment, after all.
No siblings, no magic and no future. That was the fate that the world of magi had decided for the Matou.
Perhaps it was because of this dead end nature of the Matou bloodline that he had been offered up to Chaldea as a sacrifice. At least, that is what the man that was who knew how many times over his grandfather had called him. The time had come to either sink or swim; though what that actually meant was something that eluded the young Matou. He was a boy who was in a world that he did not belong in, though one that he direly wished to be.
For you see, the earnest desire of Shinji Matou, was to become a wizard.
It was a desire that was unrealistic. After all, the methods to grant a body with impossibly weak magical circuits the ability to cast magic were all critically destructive to the body. In truth, it was a desire that he would probably never live to see realised.
The rooms in Chaldea were small, somewhat cramped affairs. Entirely too white, they were filled with only what was strictly necessary. That was not to be unexpected, of course, in an organisation like Chaldea, the little costs were the first things to be cut.
Still, you would have thought that they would have the budget for a decent bed.
The idea behind Chaldea was somewhat ludicrous, to the layman. An organisation that would ensure the safety of the world from behind the scenes, like a sort of secret police or men in black; it was the kind of idea you would normally regulate to a fairy tale. Yet here he was, lying in an unfamiliar bed, awaiting the day where he would be briefed on his 'mission', in the middle of nowhere. After all, Chaldea was more like a super villain lair then anything else, residing in some secret ice cap in the middle of nowhere.
It was more like a bad joke, really. But then again, to everyone else in this place, Shinji was the bad joke. Who would send someone unable to use magic to an organisation dedicated to using magic to save the world?
It was almost impossible to reconcile, but the old man that Shinji called his grandfather had his reasons. Shinji did not want to know what kind of strings Zouken Matou must have pulled to cause him to come here, nor did Shinji have any idea what his purpose actually was. He had seemed quite confident, however, that Shinji would succeed, perhaps even thrive in that environment.
What a joke.
At least this place had entertainment, the young man absently tapping away at a tablet and surfing the internet. How, exactly, you could get internet in a place like this, he didn't pretend to understand.
It was coming to the point where Shinji could only be called homesick. Whatever he had been called to do had lost its lustre; he just wanted to go home, back to ribbing his friends and practising archery jovially.
However, wishes were a strange thing. If one wished for normalcy, one might gain nothing but. Shinji knew before the siren began blaring, that something was about to go wrong. Something in his blood had begun to sing, and his limbs had felt restless, like he needed to be anywhere but here.
And then the siren had begun blaring, the room being bathed in red light, and everything went to hell.
"This is not a drill. Commence evacuation. Chaldea is under attack."
To say Shinji, for a long moment, wasn't struck dumb was an understatement. His eyes just stared at the siren alarm for a long moment, his brain refusing to acknowledge, for the longest time, that something was actually happening.
Evacuation. The final solution of a people who were defeated. If Shinji was a magus, of a haughty bloodline possessing mighty abilities, he might have scoffed at the very idea. However, he was not a mighty magus and he did not possess mighty abilities. There was a simple answer, a single course available to him.
He seized his jacket, the only thing he could think of to take, and he bolted out the door.
The floor shook, the air smelled of smoke, and within seconds it became obvious that the world of Chaldea, its boundaries so very small, had been shaken to the core before it had even established its own order. Blood painted the walls in an elegant symphony of death. Before it was even obvious what had attacked, it was obvious that some were dead.
Shinji couldn't restrain the contents of his stomach, and vomited.
Perhaps it was shameful, that a young man who had been thrown to the wolves was completely unprepared for the life he had chosen to lead, yet for this very moment, emptying his dinner on the floor, Shinji did not care. Fear, terror, that was what gripped him, the idea that he might join whoever had spilt their blood across the walls.
A screech rang out, and Shinji bolted. It did not matter what it was that was following him. He simply wished to live. That was the thought that rushed through his head. There was no consideration for any way that he could fight back, no consideration for if he was even running the right way. It took almost two minutes before he dared to look over his shoulder, and in more then one way, he wished he hadn't.
Shambling corpses, flesh ripped and torn, ran behind him like puppets on tangled strings. Zombies, or the shambling dead, or whatever you wished to call them, were not particularly difficult to make for those of the correct persuasion. Shinji did not want to find out what they would do to him.
Probably eat his brain.
"Help meeeeeee!"
His squeal was entirely undignified as he ran. He could hear sounds, many sounds, of things striking flesh. The other magi had no doubt begun their counterattack, raising arms to defend themselves, yet what, exactly, could Shinji do but run?
What would they expect him to do? Punch them? He was not about to die like an idiot, thank you very much.
Yet when he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, the blood drained from his face. Blood and gore was flying, a blade of purple material flicking through the air. Shinji wasn't entirely sure what he was watching, only that it was the figure of a purple mass of armour slaughtering everything in its path. Friend, foe, neither of those were obvious.
And so, in terror, he turned on his heel and kept running.
Of course, the idea that the armour was friendly had occurred to him, but the traitorous counter thought had won out; what if it wasn't? Why could he not have simply encountered someone who actually looked human, was that too much to ask?
Another corner, and another corner, yet all Shinji encountered was the corpses of the dead. Fear ruled him. He was going to die, after all, having proven his grandfather absolutely right in every way.
He was a useless failure, after all.
Sometimes, though, it was those deemed useless that were the most valuable.
Shinji Matou was not a powerful mage. His magic circuit was an atrophied little thing that barely existed, and his body was at best described as 'martially inclined for the age it originated in'. His compatibility with the Leyshift system was top notch for all the good it would do; he could barely be relied on to serve as a conduit to allow magical energy to be delivered to any Servant that he possessed. In every sense of the word, he was the choice that could be called sub-optimal.
Yet what he lacked in actual talent, he made up for in other ways. It was that talent, that his life was deemed worth saving for.
Shinji had no idea who the girl wearing far too heavy clothes actually was. He had only seen her face once before. They had never exchanged words. There was no reason, besides altruism, to think that she would save him for any reason but a whim.
"Get down."
Yet her voice rang out like an iron clad command, and Shinji's body obeyed. A giant, ethereal hand of blue smoke swept around, and Shinji could hear bones and flesh crack and splatter, crushed apart against a wall.
A saviour. That was what she was. There was no heavenly halo, but to Shinji, she might as well have been an angel, staring down at him from on high.
And really, Shinji found the idea that he needed to be saved pathetic.
"Good. You are still alive." The girl seemed relieved, a dozen emotions playing out on her face at once. Shinji had no idea why she might be relieved he was alive; it was a sentiment that perhaps one other person on the planet actually shared, but it lit a small warmth in his stomach nonetheless.
"Who-"
"Sheba. It'll do as a name." Her hand reached out, a rough, calloused thing that did not seem to belong to a girl. "We need to go. You're wasting time."
Time. Something precious that they did not really have. Even so, Shinji took the hand. Perhaps it was silly, but the young man thought the gesture had some sort of hidden meaning.
"Shinji Matou."
"I know. I read your file."
Whatever Shinji was about to say died on his lips, and he couldn't make anything but a small whine. What a mood killer.
"Where is everyone?" Shinji's curiosity finally won out. Sheba did not immediately regard the question, dragging him bodily down the hall. Truly, he was not strong enough to resist her, even if he wanted to. Just what world had he stumbled into?
"Everyone important is evacuating." She finally answered. "This is safe enough. Contract with me."
"What?"
"I'm a Servant, you're a Master, do the math." The girl sounded almost impatient, yet Shinji just stared at her.
"What makes you think I know how!?"
The idea apparently had never occurred to her, for the girl's mouth just opened and closed multiple times like a gold fish.
"That is a very good point. I'll make the contract." She answered drily, words in a language he didn't even begin to understand tumbling out of her mouth. A long moment passed between them. "This is the part where you say I accept."
"Uh… I accept?"
There was no pain, yet a red mark burned itself into the back of Shinji's palm. A Command Spell, the right to command a Servant three times. It was official, Shinji was a Master.
It was hard to believe that only so many minutes ago he had been trying to work out why he was here at all.
"It's hot." To anyone else, it might have sounded like a complaint, yet to Shinji, it was now an uncomfortable reality that was becoming worse. Sheba cocked her head to the side for only a moment.
"Hot? Just turn the circuit… off..." Her voice trailed off. "Oh." Something had clearly occurred to her. Shinji just stared.
"Turn what off?"
"Exactly." Her answer was somewhere between disbelieving and suffering, her face practically screaming 'why me'. "I did not think this through."
"Think what through!?"
"Never mind, no time!"
With that, Sheba seized his arm and began dragging him along again. Really, the strength in her frame seemed almost unbelievable.
"What do you mean no time!?"
"We need to get to the Argo before they leave without us!" Sheba called back. Shinji had no idea what she was talking about. The Argo? As in the boat from Greek myth? How the hell would that help?
Yet it seemed pointless to keep asking. Sheba did not appear to be in an explaining mood.
A left, a right, what felt like doing a loop. Clearly the girl knew where she was going, but Shinji knew he was lost. The sounds of fighting had begun to die down, yet whether that was because the invasion was repelled or because those who had chosen to fight had steadily died off, he wasn't sure.
"How brave do you feel?"
"Sorry?"
"How brave do you feel?"
Shinji did not know how to respond to that, yet he had to say something…
[ ] "Plenty brave!" He would quickly regret his bravado.
[ ] "How can I be brave at a time like this!" Well, at least he was honest.
[ ] Of course, words did not come out at all.
In some cases, it would be considered a blessing to be the normal child in a family of magi. After all, it meant freedom from cut throat politics, and freedom from expectation. These things were the problem of another person, after all. However, he was the sole child of the final generation of Matou; there would be no other heir. Having a father who was dead was quite the impediment, after all.
No siblings, no magic and no future. That was the fate that the world of magi had decided for the Matou.
Perhaps it was because of this dead end nature of the Matou bloodline that he had been offered up to Chaldea as a sacrifice. At least, that is what the man that was who knew how many times over his grandfather had called him. The time had come to either sink or swim; though what that actually meant was something that eluded the young Matou. He was a boy who was in a world that he did not belong in, though one that he direly wished to be.
For you see, the earnest desire of Shinji Matou, was to become a wizard.
It was a desire that was unrealistic. After all, the methods to grant a body with impossibly weak magical circuits the ability to cast magic were all critically destructive to the body. In truth, it was a desire that he would probably never live to see realised.
The rooms in Chaldea were small, somewhat cramped affairs. Entirely too white, they were filled with only what was strictly necessary. That was not to be unexpected, of course, in an organisation like Chaldea, the little costs were the first things to be cut.
Still, you would have thought that they would have the budget for a decent bed.
The idea behind Chaldea was somewhat ludicrous, to the layman. An organisation that would ensure the safety of the world from behind the scenes, like a sort of secret police or men in black; it was the kind of idea you would normally regulate to a fairy tale. Yet here he was, lying in an unfamiliar bed, awaiting the day where he would be briefed on his 'mission', in the middle of nowhere. After all, Chaldea was more like a super villain lair then anything else, residing in some secret ice cap in the middle of nowhere.
It was more like a bad joke, really. But then again, to everyone else in this place, Shinji was the bad joke. Who would send someone unable to use magic to an organisation dedicated to using magic to save the world?
It was almost impossible to reconcile, but the old man that Shinji called his grandfather had his reasons. Shinji did not want to know what kind of strings Zouken Matou must have pulled to cause him to come here, nor did Shinji have any idea what his purpose actually was. He had seemed quite confident, however, that Shinji would succeed, perhaps even thrive in that environment.
What a joke.
At least this place had entertainment, the young man absently tapping away at a tablet and surfing the internet. How, exactly, you could get internet in a place like this, he didn't pretend to understand.
It was coming to the point where Shinji could only be called homesick. Whatever he had been called to do had lost its lustre; he just wanted to go home, back to ribbing his friends and practising archery jovially.
However, wishes were a strange thing. If one wished for normalcy, one might gain nothing but. Shinji knew before the siren began blaring, that something was about to go wrong. Something in his blood had begun to sing, and his limbs had felt restless, like he needed to be anywhere but here.
And then the siren had begun blaring, the room being bathed in red light, and everything went to hell.
"This is not a drill. Commence evacuation. Chaldea is under attack."
To say Shinji, for a long moment, wasn't struck dumb was an understatement. His eyes just stared at the siren alarm for a long moment, his brain refusing to acknowledge, for the longest time, that something was actually happening.
Evacuation. The final solution of a people who were defeated. If Shinji was a magus, of a haughty bloodline possessing mighty abilities, he might have scoffed at the very idea. However, he was not a mighty magus and he did not possess mighty abilities. There was a simple answer, a single course available to him.
He seized his jacket, the only thing he could think of to take, and he bolted out the door.
The floor shook, the air smelled of smoke, and within seconds it became obvious that the world of Chaldea, its boundaries so very small, had been shaken to the core before it had even established its own order. Blood painted the walls in an elegant symphony of death. Before it was even obvious what had attacked, it was obvious that some were dead.
Shinji couldn't restrain the contents of his stomach, and vomited.
Perhaps it was shameful, that a young man who had been thrown to the wolves was completely unprepared for the life he had chosen to lead, yet for this very moment, emptying his dinner on the floor, Shinji did not care. Fear, terror, that was what gripped him, the idea that he might join whoever had spilt their blood across the walls.
A screech rang out, and Shinji bolted. It did not matter what it was that was following him. He simply wished to live. That was the thought that rushed through his head. There was no consideration for any way that he could fight back, no consideration for if he was even running the right way. It took almost two minutes before he dared to look over his shoulder, and in more then one way, he wished he hadn't.
Shambling corpses, flesh ripped and torn, ran behind him like puppets on tangled strings. Zombies, or the shambling dead, or whatever you wished to call them, were not particularly difficult to make for those of the correct persuasion. Shinji did not want to find out what they would do to him.
Probably eat his brain.
"Help meeeeeee!"
His squeal was entirely undignified as he ran. He could hear sounds, many sounds, of things striking flesh. The other magi had no doubt begun their counterattack, raising arms to defend themselves, yet what, exactly, could Shinji do but run?
What would they expect him to do? Punch them? He was not about to die like an idiot, thank you very much.
Yet when he rounded the corner at the end of the corridor, the blood drained from his face. Blood and gore was flying, a blade of purple material flicking through the air. Shinji wasn't entirely sure what he was watching, only that it was the figure of a purple mass of armour slaughtering everything in its path. Friend, foe, neither of those were obvious.
And so, in terror, he turned on his heel and kept running.
Of course, the idea that the armour was friendly had occurred to him, but the traitorous counter thought had won out; what if it wasn't? Why could he not have simply encountered someone who actually looked human, was that too much to ask?
Another corner, and another corner, yet all Shinji encountered was the corpses of the dead. Fear ruled him. He was going to die, after all, having proven his grandfather absolutely right in every way.
He was a useless failure, after all.
Sometimes, though, it was those deemed useless that were the most valuable.
Shinji Matou was not a powerful mage. His magic circuit was an atrophied little thing that barely existed, and his body was at best described as 'martially inclined for the age it originated in'. His compatibility with the Leyshift system was top notch for all the good it would do; he could barely be relied on to serve as a conduit to allow magical energy to be delivered to any Servant that he possessed. In every sense of the word, he was the choice that could be called sub-optimal.
Yet what he lacked in actual talent, he made up for in other ways. It was that talent, that his life was deemed worth saving for.
Shinji had no idea who the girl wearing far too heavy clothes actually was. He had only seen her face once before. They had never exchanged words. There was no reason, besides altruism, to think that she would save him for any reason but a whim.
"Get down."
Yet her voice rang out like an iron clad command, and Shinji's body obeyed. A giant, ethereal hand of blue smoke swept around, and Shinji could hear bones and flesh crack and splatter, crushed apart against a wall.
A saviour. That was what she was. There was no heavenly halo, but to Shinji, she might as well have been an angel, staring down at him from on high.
And really, Shinji found the idea that he needed to be saved pathetic.
"Good. You are still alive." The girl seemed relieved, a dozen emotions playing out on her face at once. Shinji had no idea why she might be relieved he was alive; it was a sentiment that perhaps one other person on the planet actually shared, but it lit a small warmth in his stomach nonetheless.
"Who-"
"Sheba. It'll do as a name." Her hand reached out, a rough, calloused thing that did not seem to belong to a girl. "We need to go. You're wasting time."
Time. Something precious that they did not really have. Even so, Shinji took the hand. Perhaps it was silly, but the young man thought the gesture had some sort of hidden meaning.
"Shinji Matou."
"I know. I read your file."
Whatever Shinji was about to say died on his lips, and he couldn't make anything but a small whine. What a mood killer.
"Where is everyone?" Shinji's curiosity finally won out. Sheba did not immediately regard the question, dragging him bodily down the hall. Truly, he was not strong enough to resist her, even if he wanted to. Just what world had he stumbled into?
"Everyone important is evacuating." She finally answered. "This is safe enough. Contract with me."
"What?"
"I'm a Servant, you're a Master, do the math." The girl sounded almost impatient, yet Shinji just stared at her.
"What makes you think I know how!?"
The idea apparently had never occurred to her, for the girl's mouth just opened and closed multiple times like a gold fish.
"That is a very good point. I'll make the contract." She answered drily, words in a language he didn't even begin to understand tumbling out of her mouth. A long moment passed between them. "This is the part where you say I accept."
"Uh… I accept?"
There was no pain, yet a red mark burned itself into the back of Shinji's palm. A Command Spell, the right to command a Servant three times. It was official, Shinji was a Master.
It was hard to believe that only so many minutes ago he had been trying to work out why he was here at all.
"It's hot." To anyone else, it might have sounded like a complaint, yet to Shinji, it was now an uncomfortable reality that was becoming worse. Sheba cocked her head to the side for only a moment.
"Hot? Just turn the circuit… off..." Her voice trailed off. "Oh." Something had clearly occurred to her. Shinji just stared.
"Turn what off?"
"Exactly." Her answer was somewhere between disbelieving and suffering, her face practically screaming 'why me'. "I did not think this through."
"Think what through!?"
"Never mind, no time!"
With that, Sheba seized his arm and began dragging him along again. Really, the strength in her frame seemed almost unbelievable.
"What do you mean no time!?"
"We need to get to the Argo before they leave without us!" Sheba called back. Shinji had no idea what she was talking about. The Argo? As in the boat from Greek myth? How the hell would that help?
Yet it seemed pointless to keep asking. Sheba did not appear to be in an explaining mood.
A left, a right, what felt like doing a loop. Clearly the girl knew where she was going, but Shinji knew he was lost. The sounds of fighting had begun to die down, yet whether that was because the invasion was repelled or because those who had chosen to fight had steadily died off, he wasn't sure.
"How brave do you feel?"
"Sorry?"
"How brave do you feel?"
Shinji did not know how to respond to that, yet he had to say something…
[ ] "Plenty brave!" He would quickly regret his bravado.
[ ] "How can I be brave at a time like this!" Well, at least he was honest.
[ ] Of course, words did not come out at all.
