Fate Factory: A Certain Emiya in Fantasy Harvest Moon

In a world, separated between the wasteland and the sky of steel.

Gigantic gears dotted the skies, working in tandem for an eternity of his services. Here lien the blades, million, uncountable, surpassing the stars. Like a graveyard, scattered on the barren fields, stretching it to the end of skylines, in an endless row.

Only the breath of the wind, the world gave its life, and swaying of crimson shroud sat and staring to the light in the far horizon.

Here, he stood.

In an expanse of infinite millennia, he fought, blood stained his hands forever. The blood of innocent, the blood he swore once to protect.

Was it worth it?

He forgot the question, he forgot his ideals, the promise he once made only bitterness of regret kept haunting him. Here he awoke, for untold years, only the nightmares keeping him stand tall.

The blade gave no lie, yet, it couldn't reply either. For millions of blades in the world, none giving him an answer, only silence.

He was waiting, for another order. A life of eternity, in exchange for servitude.

What was he waiting for?

Nothing, only an everlasting twisted pain of hope.

Then in a flash, he closed his eyes. Nothing was happening to make him close the lid, only a ping inside his head.

A message.

An order.

The time has come.

HE couldn't care less about what the order was.

He opened, blinking, a hint of disbelief painted his eyes.

His stares have been answered back, a dragon bathed in divine purple lights. The eyes ran in a deep scarlet stain as it was swimming in a yellow taint.

The dragon was the pinnacle of divine phantasmal species. With the breath of pure prana, that will dry the whole ocean, and the scales thicker than any mysteries could achieve. They were the perfection of life.

An apex above the rabbles.

Yet, as all of the things, they should have gone. Defeated by the sheer belief of mankind and their advancement over the unveiling mysteries. Dwindling back to the creases of the reverse side of the world and the recesses of men fantasy.

And, yet again, here he is. Standing between the icy breath, and the cold dark cavern.

Its wings stretched, spanning a hundred meters undisturbed with how huge the cavern is. As announcing its superiority to being known to him.

And everyone knows one thing, of all things, about dragon.

Roaring.

Their arrogance can't be matched, stretching far to the heaven, defying the god and law of the world unless it comes to a certain goldy.

Me and my E-rank luck.

He judged accordingly. Green circuit sprained to life, bathing him in green light. Switching to various blades catalog in his minds.

He is the counter guardian.

The best dog, chained, by the will of mankind.

Tortured in an everlasting joint of the pitiful wail of his victim.

Once dreamt of fair, and justice.

Tattered beyond repair.

The wrought iron hero.

Yet, he knows his limit.

Time to run.

---==BREAK==---

With a groan, Shirou forcibly opens his eyes.

Ouch.

Then his eyes wide opened, not the fact that he was in a room sheltered in eastern cultures or a girl in pink hair dozed off next to his sleeping mat, but the fact he could feel pain.

Pain means the capabilities of the body to perceive and warns the owner of the harm the vessel was putting. Not like that, it means he was alive, like breathing, his chest heaved up and down greedily taking the air. Bandage decorated a portion of his chest, yet he couldn't be careless.

A joy bubbling both in his hearts, but it soon faded away in a questioning stare.

Where was he?

And importantly, why there's a girl clinging to his arms. She smells the faint scent of soap, sweet like it was manifesting the naivety of the sleeping girl's beautiful face.

"Pia, is the treatment done!?" Came a cheerful voice beyond the sliding door, until she dropped the basket she was carrying.

Blanket, Bandage, and disinfectant from what he inferred inside the content.

The girl was dressed in oriental clothing, her brown hair blanketed in a black sheen as it was swaying in the back.

Her eyes turned into a perfect white of shocking gesture, "P-pia…get away from him!"

She growled though it couldn't hide her cheek painted in a red hue.

"Good…morning?"

The girl in question stirred to wake up and placing a smile that could pass him as ditzy, and innocent at the same time.

"Pia, what are you doing!?"

The pink-haired girl, who was called Pia, only stared in a daze, switching to Shirou and the flustered girl.

"E…sleeping?" After thinking so hard, and even posing an intellect pose, she came into a conclusion.

"I know you were, but why it had to be here."

"Ehh…is it is forbidden?"

"Of course, it is. Sleeping with a man you don't know, is a big no, no!" She placed a cross sign in front of her, as she flustered explaining common-sense to the pink-haired ditzy girl who could only tilt her head.

Shirou ought to facepalm here, if not for the bandage in his arm. Somehow, he lost the drives of his excitement before.

Not until he sensed a presence behind, he instinctively spins his bodies, a battered broken body.

Crack.

With a yelp of pain, he clutched the side of his stomach.

"Well, well, see what you're doing Pia, Sakuya, you make the boy sprain his bone."

The source of the voice, was a woman, much the same like Sakuya, she also clothed in an oriental dress but more utilitarian in purpose, like the cloth of wandering merchant in Edo period of past japan.

"Huh, it's your fault mother, surprising him like that."

"Kyaa, I'm sowwy, here, here, magical magic…Pain, pain, go away!" Pia ignored the bickering of the duo, instead, panicking and cast a sort of green light, healing magic to him.

Wait…magic, it could be answered later. Shirou thought.

He was either in a well-collaborated movie studio or in an entirely different world or times.

He hoped it was the latter.

The magic bathed him in soothing light, unlike, magecraft version he knows that brings pain since it's forcefully regenerated the cells.

Instead, it was calming, serene, pure without taint as the pain he felt were slowly faded away.

"Now, he has been healed. An introduction was in order, I guess."

Sensing Shirou's questioning stare, the woman stated her names.

"I'm Sakuya Miyako, just call me Sakuya." The girl before was unexpectedly sweet, he thought to remember her flustered face before.

"I'm only Piya. Squiddies bad, like fishes!"

So, she hates squid but like fish, is that what she means?

"And I'm Shinonome Miyako, just call me Miyako."

From the looks of it, she seems the authoritative figures him, so it may as well he shows his gratitude.

"Thank you for saving me, I'm arc-," He thought it over, "I'm Shirou Emiya, just call me Shirou, I presume you are Sakuya sister?"

Her face flushed in a faint hue of pink, a beam in her face, "Well, you really know how to flatter a lady. I'm Sakuya mother, Shirou."

His face stoned in a blank stare, at her response.

Wait, that's illegal.

---==BREAK==---

It sounds absurd but Shirou confirmed, he is, in another world.

Few hours asking Shino and Sakuya, not that Pia wasn't helping him either, to get to his bearing. He was certain, the geography was different, the name was different, and even the calendar is only separated between four seasons.

Not only that, he was shocked, when staring at the mirror. A reflection of his regret, the white skin, the auburn hair, and young face not only haunt him back but manifested.

He has grown, no, the exact phrase was, his physical age had been reverted.

But one thing he was certain, and happily accept was the fact that he was free. No order and chain of his ideals no longer shackled him. He could start all over again.

His old attire was long gone, but the only articles he wears when Shino found him drifting in a river was the red shroud replaced with a scarlet Igote wrapped in his left arm and traditional samurai pants with a white sash along with a pair of wooden sandals.

White cloak draped his right shoulder.

He concentrated, taking a rhythmic breath of air, as 30 magic circuits flared to life.

In a brief slash of wind, the swaying leaf parted into two. With a click, the katana sheathed back.

He was changing, he wanted to change. And certainly, he didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Shirou! Breakfast is ready, could you help me carry it?"

"Yes, coming!"

He turned back to the inn, finishing his morning ritual.