Chapter One

Death was hardly a new sensation to Vergil. Despite his best efforts, he had experienced it several times over. He had managed to bounce back time and again but that didn't make him any more fond of the sensation. Though it did mean that he wasn't terribly surprised when he started to regain consciousness after he was fairly sure he was injured beyond what even his demonic body could survive. Dante was never going to let him live this one down, was he? They never could manage any kind of collaboration without him ending up dead at the end of it. Fate enjoyed toying with him that way. The elder Son of Sparda groaned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position and slowly opened his eyes. What greeted him was a perfectly ordinary hallway.

The half-demon blinked a few times to make sure that he wasn't simply hallucinating in his near death state, but the ordinary, some might even call it boring, hallway remained. "Strange," he muttered as he shifted uncomfortably, feeling a sharp pain in his chest as he straightened. He glanced down and saw that his shirt was a mess of drying blood with a hole piercing straight through the chest. Well, at least that part made sense. He tried to wipe his hands off on the cleaner parts, but it seemed that they were few and far between. He tried to pull himself to his feet, but his body felt heavy and awkward, reluctant to respond to his commands. He staggered a bit but managed to find his footing after an unpleasantly long moment. Now to figure out where in the hell he was. Or where out of hell he was if his surroundings were any indication. Perhaps Dante had dragged him through some fortunate hell gate to recover when he was critically injured. That would explain the lack of demons and the almost pleasant surroundings. In which case, he should probably just wait for his brother to return. Surely he couldn't have gone far.

He groaned as his body protested moving so soon, but ignored it. He must be getting soft if one little near-death experience could make him so sore. He took a few moments to take stock of his surroundings, only for his gaze to fall on the windows on the opposite wall and freeze. The face looking back at him was distinctly not his. The half-demon just stared at the face in the glass for a few moments before experimentally raising a hand and watching the reflection do the same. Yes, that was certainly him. Or rather, that was the body he was currently residing in. They looked young, a teenager of some sort if he had any sense of time. His own son was almost certainly older than this young man. It was slightly jarring. Then again, seeing bright red hair instead of his trademark silver was almost as jarring, so perhaps he was being overly sensitive. Not that he didn't have good reason to be a bit off-kilter. As far as he knew, possession had never been one of the demonic powers he had inherited from his father. Granted, he and Dante seemed to be in a constant competition to unlock new demonic gifts some days, so perhaps he had and had simply never had the opportunity to try possessing someone. Having your soul attached to a human body did make it rather hard to try to take control of someone else directly.

That did beg the question of whether he had actually possessed the lad or if some demon had taken his soul and shoved it into another body when he had died. It seemed that the unfortunate young man had his own near death experience recently, so perhaps that had something to do with it. The Son of Sparda sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had a great many 'perhapses' and 'maybes' and very few actual answers to his current situation. Given that he seemed to be back in the mortal plane and in a body that he had never seen before, he probably didn't have to worry about waiting for Dante. In all likelihood, his brother had no idea what had happened to him. Contacting him was certainly on his to-do list then.

Vergil straightened and shook himself. Right. First he needed to know where he was and come up with some sort of plan. He made his way down the hall, looking for some sign of just where he was. It only took him a few moments to notice that each door was marked with a small label that was distinctly not in English lettering. If he remembered his languages correctly, it appeared to be kanji. That was… inconvenient. It had been a very long time since he'd last visited Japan and his knowledge of the language, what limited amount of it he had, had long since escaped him.

Which made it all the more confusing when the symbols started to make sense as he looked at them. Vergil stared at the simple label for a few moments longer and tried to grasp just how he knew that the sign read '1-B'. A lingering memory of the young man he was possessing? Come to think of it, he hadn't felt any sort of struggling or the presence of a second consciousness yet. He frowned as he considered the possibility that the boy's near-death experience had perhaps not been so 'near' and he was currently in possession of a would-be corpse. That did not bode well for the condition of his own body, wherever it was. At least the boy's memories meant he wasn't going to be wandering around like a lost tourist. But a better grip on his surroundings came first.

He pushed the door open and saw rows of desks and a blackboard on the front wall. "Ah." A school. That made a great deal of sense. Though why a teenagers had been murdered in his school in what appeared to be the middle of the night was a fascinating question that he still had no answers to. He wandered over to the teacher's desk and after a moment swung himself on top of it. He crossed his legs into a meditative position and took a deep breath. Perhaps the boy's memories would reveal something useful.

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Vergil lost track of time as he meditated, trying to sift through the haze in the back of his head and sort out the memories of the young man whose body he was currently… borrowing. It took a bit of focus, but it became clear soon enough that the lad wasn't any ordinary teenager. This 'Shirou Emiya' was an aspiring sorcerer, from a family line of sorcerers if he was following his memories correctly. Thankfully, the boy seemed wise enough to avoid making deals with demons or the like to enhance his powers. Unfortunately, he also seemed rather lacking in talent when it came to magic, but Vergil had learned the hard way that gaining power on your own terms was by far the better option. He could respect the boy for that if nothing else.

He also appeared to live alone, save for regular visits from a few friends. That no doubt made studying the sorcerous arts easier. He did hope that he could either deceive those friends or they would be understanding to him wanting some time to himself. At least until he figured out how to do something about the current situation. He wasn't actually sure if there was a way to restore the young man's spirit, he was certain that Nero and Dante would at least want him to try. Perhaps he should seek out a more skilled magician. Some guidance would not go amiss in such an unusual situation. Not that Shirou seemed to know any more skilled sorcerers himself. That thought did bring up an echo of memory that was both enlightening and worrying.

Shirou's death seemed to have been caused by two strange men with clearly superhuman abilities and odd clothing fighting each other in the middle of the night. The red versus blue aesthetic gave him fond memories of his own tussles with his brother. The odd man in blue even displayed the ruthless resolve to eliminate any witnesses. As much as he was trying to be better than that now, it was an amusing coincidence. Now he just had to hope that the spear wielder believed he had been successful and wouldn't be coming back to check on his handiwork. Without his demonic strength and with very limited magical ability, he didn't fancy his odds against someone who was clearly not entirely human. He felt practically naked without the Yamato or the Beowulf at his side. Maybe he could at least call his summoned swords. He did not like the feeling of being defenseless.

He took a deep breath and focused, reaching deep for the demonic energy that dwelled within his soul. Even in a new body, it shouldn't be completely gone. V's capabilities gave proof to that. He felt his body heat up and opened his eyes to see half a dozen steel blades floating around his head. "Not quite the intention, but good enough," he murmured, mostly to himself. The swords hovered, ready to be launched for a few moments before dissolving into energy as he let his concentration lapse. That would have to do unless he discovered some long lost Devil's Arm lying around. Or a powerful demon to harvest one from, but he wasn't all that confident on his odds in a fight right now.

Vergil felt a scowl cross his face. He abhorred feeling weak. The sooner he got this mess sorted out and could regain his proper strength, the better. He vastly preferred the challenge of his and Dante's little raid into Hell over being stuck in an ordinary human body. Well, ordinary by his standards at least. He sighed again and unfolded his limbs. Perhaps it would be wise to do any further contemplating once he was safely back to the Emiya household. He had never heard of the city of Fuyuki, but he was fairly certain that he could navigate the city based on Shirou's memories at this point. Or at least find his way back to the house. Hopefully it was late enough that nobody was going to be around to notice a teenager covered in blood. If only he could be so lucky.

Vergil hopped down off of the desk and stretched, testing the condition of his body. The pain seemed to have faded entirely. Whether his power had healed the body or if there was something else involved here, it seemed to have done away with any lingering injuries. Well, time to go home then. Hopefully for a much calmer evening than he'd had so far.

It seemed that his luck was holding as he made his way out of the deserted school and out to the quiet streets. This late at night, most of the town was probably safely tucked away in bed. As long as they stayed that way, there shouldn't be any concerns. Anyone else who ran into the two warriors wasn't likely to have an extra soul floating around to bring them back if they felt the need to eliminate further witnesses.

It did seem like he was in the clear as he walked down a street that looked incredibly familiar despite him never having been here before in his life. The mix of memories was going to take some getting used to. He could only hope that Shirou wouldn't be burdened with his memories if he managed to get this whole situation sorted out. He had things in his mind that he wouldn't wish upon anyone.

He stopped in front of the gate to the Emiya home and took a moment to figure out where Shirou kept his keys before letting himself in. It was an old style home, and quite a large one for a single resident. It reminded him a bit of the house he had stayed in when he had been seeking instruction to help master the Yamato. Demonic swordmasters were exactly the sort to make their homes in old fashioned places where no one would ask too many questions. It seemed that human magicians were much the same.

Well, at least it would be comfortable.

He slid the gate closed behind him and fiddled with the front door for a moment before he stepped inside. "Hey, this is a nice place."

Vergil went stiff and groaned. "Of course." He had never been lucky a day in his life, had he? Dante got all the good fortune.

The man in blue spandex was standing behind him with a blood red spear slung over his shoulders. "Hey, I am sorry about this kid, but I've got orders and I gotta do what the boss says."

"I panicked last time," Vergil drawled out. "Don't think I'll be easy prey again."

"Oooo, daring. You know, I think I like you. So I really do feel bad about this." The man spun his spear off his shoulder and lunged. Vergil growled and there was a blue flash as a pair of swords sprung into existence and knocked the blow aside before he could take yet another spear to the chest. "What?!"

Vergil decided not to take a further risk and turned and ran. He was really missing a proper weapon right about now. Even a mundane katana would be better than nothing at all. A moment later, one of his manifested blades reshaped itself into katana that looked close enough to his heirloom that he did a momentary double take. He snatched the magically formed steel out of the air and spun, taking a defensive posture as the spearman charged after him. He brushed the next stab aside, but his current, entirely human, body failed to keep up with the speed of his opponent. The man in blue lashed out again, spinning his spear around and nicking him across his chest as he batted the sword aside. Vergil managed to force his arms back into a moderately defensive position before he was able to follow up with a killing blow, but his blade shattered into shards of blue light from the sheer force of the impact. "Fuck."

"So you are a mage after all…" The spearman made a frustrated sound. "Well, I guess I don't need to keep any secrets from you. Just gotta check one thing." He jumped forward and caught one of Vergil's arms. "Shit, that's a shame."

The Son of Sparda raised an eyebrow and followed the spearman's gaze to his hand. There seemed to be some kind of odd, red pattern on the skin. He didn't think teenagers usually had tattoos, especially in a conservative nation like Japan. Some kind of ritual marking then? He would have to figure that out later. "Shame that I can't let you kill me." Vergil called more swords into being and sent them flying wildly at his attacker, twisting his arm free from his grip as he tried to fight off the sudden attack. Distance. He needed distance. Without his usual physical strength, he was going to have to play keep away and bombard him with summoned swords until he was worn down or decided it wasn't worth it. God damn it, he hated being on the back foot in this kind of fight.

He threw open the first door he found and rushed out into the backyard. Space was good, but it still didn't give him any sort of advantage. He heard the door splinter behind him as his opponent gave chase. Damn it. He sent a wild barrage of blades behind him and kept moving. The shed? Shirou's memories told him that he used it as a place to practice his magecraft. Maybe he could find something that could serve as a better weapon there. He shoved the door open and let the moonlight spill over the floor. He could see the faded remnants of some ritual circle on the floor and a few pieces of unworked metal, but nothing more. God damn it. Was he really going to be killed by some random demon simply because he was stuck in a weak body? "Ridiculous," he growled. "I just need a little power. I cannot die like this. Just a little more power…"

He hissed as the back of his hand burned and the ritual circle lit up. He really hoped he hadn't called up something dangerous. Killing his attacker while also calling up Kerberos or something equally powerful to eat him would be even more humiliating. A pillar of light erupted into the air and he stumbled backwards, raising one hand to cover his eyes until the darkness faded. The figured that stepped out of the light was remarkably humanoid, all things considered, though their armor did have something of a demonic look to it. Harsh angles and sharp points gave the armor an ominous look and red highlights completed the ensemble. Large horns jutted from the sides of their helmet and a large… skirt? (perhaps they were a female demon) surrounded their hips. "I ask of you," the figure said, their voice slightly distorted by their heavy helmet. "Are you my master?"

Vergil blinked. A familiar of some kind? Well, they were more respectful than Griffon had been at least. "Yes," he said, deciding not to question it until he was no longer in mortal peril. "I am. Now, kill that enemy."

The armored warrior chuckled. "Oh, we get to start with the fun part? I think we're going to get along just fine then." They dashed past him in a flash that once again made him crave his old strength. He was going to have to do something about that. Somehow. Being V had been more than a little frustrating some days, even before he had literally started falling apart. He was not going to go through that again. He huffed and turned back to the entrance to watch what his new familiar was capable of.

"Shit!" The blue spearman slid backwards as the red swords(wo)man hit him like a missile and their weapons clashed against each other. "I was too late."

"Oh, you must be Lancer." Lancer? A title more than a name, but it was better than calling him the blue man all the time. "You look pretty tough. I think kicking your ass is going to be a good time."

Vergil sighed. He enjoyed fighting, but did everyone he met have to be such a smart ass about it? He got enough of that from his brother. Still, he couldn't bring himself to be too upset about it as his familiar promptly proved her words more than just boasts as she kicked Lancer in the gut and followed it up with a brutal overhead sword slash that he only just barely managed to block. She (he was assuming she was a woman until proven otherwise at this point) was a bit of a brute, but she had the raw strength and at least some sword skill to back it up. Lancer seemed to have lost his momentum entirely as the red swordswoman hammered away at him, using her weapon as somewhere between a sword and a club and mixing in the occasional kick or wild punch with her off-hand. He still had more than enough speed to get in a few good jabs and thrusts, but without the time to properly set-up a powerful strike, he seemed to be having trouble punching through her heavy armor. Sparks flew as they dueled back and forth, but Lancer lost ground far more and had more and more trouble taking it back. He was tempted to start throwing in swords of his own and seeing if he could just put an end to this fight, but the pair were moving so fast that he wasn't sure his current body could properly aim into the melee.

Finally, Lancer winced as he took a slash across his side that made him stumble. "Damn, if I could go all out, I would love to keep this going."

Vergil's familiar drew back. "Damn, I thought something was wrong. Are you fucking holding back on me? Don't mock me with that shit."

"Trust me, it's not my call. But my master had strict orders and I think that I've gone as far as I can today. Hopefully when we get to finish this, we can really let loose."

The armored warrior growled. "Fine. I'll let you go this once, but if you try to pull that holding back shit next time, I'm going to smear you all over the battlefield."

"Wait, what?" Vergil didn't actually have time to give a contradictory order before the blue spearman faded away and vanished. "Damn it, I wanted answers from him." He also would have preferred him dead, but it seemed that his new familiar was also fairly willful and he would have to tread carefully until he had a gauge on her attitude. No reason to provoke a powerful ally, especially in his current state.

"Eh, we'll be fine," the spirit said. "I'm the strongest Servant in the strongest Class. I can handle that jackass when he comes back."

"Servant? Class?" Vergil didn't like to admit that he was lacking in some area of magical or demonic lore, but who knew what sort of ritual he had managed to activate. It seemed that Shirou wasn't any more familiar with it than him, judging by his few memories of working on his own meager magical skills. "I believe I'm missing something here."

The familiar groaned. "Aw, come on. I suck at playing teacher. You really don't know shit about what's going on?"

Before Vergil could respond to that, he felt a tingle and both he and the warrior turned toward the house. "You will have to inform me later. It seems something else is coming. Stay out of sight and wait for my signal. I'll call you if I need your help."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Man, you sound like Agravain already…