Fanfic #78 Sword after Spring by Doll of Ashes(DXDXFateStayNight)

This is a crossover between High school DXD and Fate Stay Night with Shiro in the world of DXD. I really like this story because I've never seen this crossover done this way before. Like Shirou has his own story and isn't just following canon events and he's not OP off the bat. We haven't reached canon yet, but what's written already is really good. By the way I know Issei and Rias are tagged, but Shirou hasn't become a devil so far.

Synopsis: Shirou had always been an odd child. Chasing a past he couldn't have lived through, yearning for dreams he couldn't have had and missing people he couldn't have known, Kosetsu Shirou struggles to navigate a world where the supernatural is natural. Some mysteries, however, are beyond even the devil's grasp; Truly, reincarnation is the greatest of punishments.

words: 41k

Rated: T

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13665054/1/Sword-after-Spring

Here's the first chapter:

Shirou Kosetsu was an odd child. That fact was as undeniable as the sun itself.

Odd didn't necessarily mean bad, of course. In her many years of tending to children in her humble Orphanage, Sister Anastasia had come across many different kinds of children. Gifted children and slow children. Energetic children and lethargic children. The pompous and the ruthless, the cowardly and the brave - Name an adjective and odds are she'd raised a baby that fit it perfectly.

None of them had ever been as… enigmatic, so to speak, as little Shirou, with his large golden eyes and his odd white hair with streaks of red running through it. There was a melancholy to the boy's presence, a yearning to his gaze that she'd prayed many times would one day fade. Though he learned at a pace similar to most children, enjoying playing with toys and learning tales of heroes as much as any other boy his age, she'd always felt as if she'd been looking at someone far older.

She remained silent about it, for his sake if nothing else. The one thing children didn't like to feel is as if there's something wrong with them, especially in a place where most of them ended up after having been abandoned. She wouldn't do that to him, not when he was such a kind, helpful boy. But it was odd nonetheless.

He was diligent in his prayers like every other child she'd raised, quiet, and respectful towards his elders and curious about the world around him. Whenever someone needed help, Shirou was the first to volunteer his aid with a smile. Whenever something broke, Shirou was the one who stepped forward and tried to fix it, succeeding almost every single time after a few hours of effort. When he wasn't needed, he usually progressed with his routine as if on autopilot, always courteous and always empty.

The first time she'd seen him actually get interested in something had been on a visit to a Buddhist Temple near the edges of Kuoh. Though the Church, as an institution, had little ties to such temples and beliefs, Anastasia had made a point of establishing connections with the local temple maidens and monks. They might not be Men of God, but they were good folks, kind and considerate, and their temple grounds were oftentimes a great chance to keep the children interested in the lessons she endeavored to teach them.

Once, during one such a visit, Shirou had splintered from the group without as much as an announcement - very unlike him, she remembered thinking. He'd been found not long after, staring at old Kyudo targets in the Temple grounds with an odd look upon his eyes. The head monk, one Iroshi Tsukumo, had found him staring at the targets and decided to tell the boy about Kyudo and it's lessons.

Not many children held an interest in the philosophy behind Kyudo, usually focused on the "cool" Archer part, but she'd been stricken by how focused the young boy had been. At the end of it, when Iroshi offered to let him give it a try, Anastasia had given him the 'go-ahead'. These children needed to find things they were passionate about, after all.

Imagine their surprise when, after being guided on the steps and on how to hold the bow they'd fetched properly, the arrow released was embedded in the epicenter of the circular target. A second shot revealed the same result.

To say it had been shocking wouldn't be an overstatement. But their surprise at his talent was overtaken by another surprise. She would remember that moment vividly, even after years had passed.

The sun had been setting behind the woods that surrounded the temple grounds, bathing the sky in pinks and reds. Illuminated by such tones, Shirou had held such a delicate, ethereal light to him that she'd feared blinking would wisp him away. It was as if something out of a painting - immaculate. And in his pale face, with shadows cast over the edges of each feature and snow-white locks dancing with a passing gust, Shirou had smiled and Anastasia had seen the Lord's work.

It wasn't that he was incredibly beautiful or incredibly ugly. Instead, it was the smile on his lips that stole the very air from her lungs. That was the smile of a drowning man who'd found his home. There was a spark in his eyes, a quirk to his lips that said - I remember this. It was a nostalgic, comforting expression, one out of place in a face so young.

We all have a purpose - Anastasia believed in that with all of her strength. But even still...

The Lord truly worked in mysterious ways, for she had never seen a child appear so empty.

"Hey, Kosetsu, do you think you can help us fix the AC?"

The bells announcing the start of recess had only just been rang and already his help was needed. Despite that, the auburn-haired boy smiled up at the one who'd asked for his aid and nodded slowly.

"No problem", he responded, gathering his pens and notebooks with apt hands as he rose from his spot to follow the boy.

Life as a sixth-grader in Kuoh wasn't particularly interesting. If nothing else, Shirou found the routine of it all comfortable; Kyudo practice, helping others by fixing things, preparing the food as soon as he got home, and walked into the Orphanage… The simplicity of it all was rather quaint.

At 12 years of age, Shirou Kosetsu was still an unusual boy. His hair was still a mess of red and white locks sticking out at odds angles, though it'd gone from mostly white to about 50/50 in a few years. His eyes were still curious in color, rippling like two pools of amber-colored gold. More than any of that, he was wise; the kind who'd keep to himself more often than not.

Kuoh Town hadn't many schools. Other than the titular and prestigious Kuoh Academy, two more schools could be found by traveling the city streets, both of them public - less than you'd expect for a whole city. As a resident of Saint Peter's Home for Children, Shirou was admitted into Aosakuya Academy as soon as he was of age to join their first grade. The school itself wasn't anything particularly prestigious, depending on public funding to function and without any of the extras, he'd so often read Kuoh Academy had to offer.

Despite that, he wasn't particularly dissatisfied. Though the Kyudo targets in the local Temple were coupled with a nice atmosphere and some pleasant conversations with the residents, it was mighty convenient that Aosakuya had their own Archery Club complete with bows and everything else. Shirou found that he didn't need much else; A simple man, he supposed.

The boy who'd asked for his aid was Takeru Shimichi, a first-year High Schooler who Shirou guessed was about 16 years old and therefore his senpai. The older boy had been quite embarrassed to accept Shirou's aid for the first few times, but it seems as if that was water under the bridge. This was good; Shirou was more than happy to help fix the many broken appliances that popped up around Campus now and then.

"Sorry to bother you with this, Kosetsu."

Takeru's words echoed throughout the populated school hallways on which they walked. Shirou shook his head with a laugh, waving his concerns away with one of his hands.

"It's no problem at all, Takeru-senpai. I've told you before they I enjoy working on such things, didn't I?", He retorted with a smile. Takeru sweat-dropped, but nodded.

"Right, right…"

They reached the library room before long. The door was already open when they got there, presumably because the AC being broken meant that it was warmer than usual. The librarian's eyes seemed to light up as she recognized him walking in, much to Shirou's embarrassment, and the woman quickly led him to the AC's location.

"There it is", she said, pointing to where it was set on the wall. "We went to turn it on this morning, but it only sputtered and nothing else. We don't have the funding to fix it this month, so…"

Shirou nodded in recognition, grabbing a chair to step on so that he might reach the AC above. If anyone had an issue with him doing that, they didn't say anything, so Shirou found himself free to do as he usually did.

The fingers of his left hand tensed as they approached the sleek white surface of the device. With apt hands, he removed the plastic covering and examined the device's interior. A spark of azure light errupted from his fingers as his left hand touched the device itself.

In a second, he knew what was wrong. His energy traveled each tube and each part of the AC, imprinting the device's blueprint on his mind as vividly as he knew his own name. He still rummaged through everything for a few minutes, intent on keeping everything looking natural.

"The power cord ripped. We'll probably need to buy a new one, but I think I can work up a temporary solution.", He finally stated.

Takeru sighed, running some fingers through his brown locks of hair absent-mindedly even as Shirou worked to make sure the AC would be fine for a few days at least.

"That'll probably have to come out of our own pockets… but it's still better than buying a new AC. Thanks, Kosetsu."

Shirou nodded once again, stepping down from the chair he'd been standing on.

"There", he said to the librarian. "It should turn on now. When you get the power cord, just tell me and I'll install it for you."

And turn on it did - with the press of a button, it thrummed into life, much to the relief of everyone in the library. He'd known that would happen, of course, but it was nice to see things work as they should because of him regardless.

The way home was always quiet.

Kuoh itself was anything but; a bustling metropolis of energy and smiles, each chasing a dream or passing whim of their own. Their steps were loud and disorganized, their words both hollow and soulful. Shirou met each and every passing soul with an enigmatic golden gaze, hands tightened around the straps that held his schoolbag as he walked into this metaphorical beast's mouth and immediately felt out of place.

As usual, the sun was setting. And amidst the many pairs and groups of friends and co-workers that marked the difference between a ghost town and a living one, Kosetsu Shirou walked alone.

It wasn't that he envied them. It wasn't that he disliked them either. Unlike most, Shirou didn't have anyone he'd consider particularly close - There was no one he'd call a best friend nor did he feel pressed to rectify that. But he was lonely, in a way he couldn't quite describe, as if the reasoning had been undone and bled through his fingers at night.

So he walked alone. His steps alone marked the rhythm to his walk in treets colored orange, his breathing alone composed the song to which his life played. A separate song to the rest of Kuoh, another entity, one lacking energy.

His steps slowed down and came to a stop in seconds. Shirou sighed, turning his eyes to gaze upon the reddened horizon beyond the sea, and let his eyes rest there until the sun could no longer be seen.

"Isn't it pretty, Senpai?", The wind whispered. But when he turned his head to look, nobody was there, and the sigh that escaped his lips was anything but happy.

After a few minutes, as usual, he shook his head and kept walking. The 'wind' offered no resistance.

Time and time again he'd come here, for no reason other than to catch a glimpse at this horizon. Time and time again would the wind whisper in a sweet girl's voice - a familiar voice, gentle and kind but with a bittersweet tone. He knew her - but he didn't, couldn't have and wouldn't have. The thought alone made his heartache.

He ignored it. It didn't take him more than 20 minutes to reach the neighborhood where the orphanage was located, but the streets were already darkened when he finally did. If he was lucky, he'd get to look at a starlit sky; if he wasn't, he'd be too busy to care.

The door was already open when he arrived, and the instant he stepped into the house, five pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Shirou raised a hand as a greeting.

"I'm home!", He called out, and his heart told him no one would answer. But that was a lie, as it always was.

"Shirou-nii!"

"Oy, Shirou-Kun!"

"It's Shi-kun! Shi-kun is home!"

"Ah, Shirou, just in time!"

"Yo, Lil' Bro, ya took your sweet time to get here, didn't ya?"

His 'siblings' - that is, the other residents of Anastasia's orphanage - ran up to him with the desperate quality of a man stuck on death's door. Three of them were younger than he was, two of them were older - The youngest ones he still had hoped would be adopted like many before them, but as they aged past the 'golden' demographic that was one-to-four years old, his hopes dwindled. For every five children that found a home elsewhere, it was logical that one simply wouldn't.

Shirou still hoped, of course. The three who stayed - Aki, Iruma, and Kizuna - were all bright children with hearts of gold, all three of the five years of age. As usual, he ruffled all of their hairs, laughing lightly when Aki blushed and stepped back as she always did.

"We're hungry, y'know!", Came a complaint from one of his older 'siblings', for lack of a better term.

Samiya Inahomi was 17, and in a year she'd probably be required to find somewhere to live by herself. Because of that, Samiya was always working an odd part-time job in hopes of getting enough money to survive through college. She was an odd person to talk too, being simultaneously one of the most mature high school students he'd ever met and one of the most immature.

Unlike most of them, Samiya hadn't been abandoned at an early age - she'd ended up here because her parents died when she was 4, and she'd been unlucky enough not to be adopted. Between all of them, she was the one Shirou was closest to, having practically raised him alongside Anastasia when he'd been abandoned at their doorstep as a baby. She could be a little overzealous, and she certainly had a short temper, but Shirou valued the time they got to spend together, moreso now that he knew she'd have to leave in little time.

"Sorry, Nee-san. I lost track of time."

She crossed her arms over her chest. She was rather tall, standing at a little under 170cm, with black hair she usually wore in a ponytail and wearing a brown leather jacket over some more casual clothing. Her eyes were as green as a pair of emeralds, and certainly just as bright. Samiya could be rather intimidating, especially when angry, but she meant well.

"You always say that, but I bet you were just staring at nothing for like thirty minutes again."

He didn't have an answer to that, so he just blushed and looked away - much to her entertainment. With a sigh, he walked past all of them and grabbed the apron he usually wore while cooking.

"Alright, I'll get right into getting dinner done then."

He muttered, and a myriad of "yay"s answered his statement. It was a nice feeling, this one; he rather liked cooking, as everyone who lived with him most certainly knew, and though he would've preferred to get a few minutes of rest to change and shower beforehand, he supposed he has to cater to their desires now and then.

"Will you be needing any help?", Samiya asked.

"No", he replied absent-mindedly, opening a few cabinets to get everything he'd need. "I'm fine."

He noticed it immediately - the way her eyes stayed on his own form for a few moments before she sighed and looked away, probably seeing the necessity of entertaining the younger ones. There was a certain touch of melancholy to it, tense and tender concern wrapper within a few seconds of wistful memories.

The words necessary to bring it up with her died before they reached his lips, and he let the moment fade into the sands of time as he usually did. Whatever it was that concerned her would remain unsaid, a tense undertone to these last few colorful months they'd share, lost between their unwillingness to break the spell of routine.

Instead, like the end of a beautiful season they let it all fade into memory.

His name was Shirou Kosetsu.

His name was Shirou Emiya.

Shirou knew both of those statements were true in different ways. One he could explain, the other he could not. The boy was used to that - a division between his truths, the explainable and the illogical.

He knew that he enjoyed careless strolls near the sea when the sun was setting. That was Shirou Kosetsu. He'd known how to cook before he'd ever touched a kitchen. That was Shirou Emiya - a name he'd heard spoken on a dream.

There were other things like that, little aimless habits he'd had since before he could reasonably have acquired them, even if he himself didn't know where they came from. And then there were other things, just as unexplainable but not as small. Things like -

"Trace on."

This.

Obscured by the walls of the abandoned chapel he'd claimed as his secret lair as a child, Shirou was able to once again explore his hidden talent. The second the words were spoken, the 'machine' that was his Magic was on and he experienced many things in quick succession.

First came the pain. He focused on creating a pathway in his body for the mysteries he wielded, a hot rod inserted into his spine by means he couldn't explain. It was then forged: The pathway, the tunnel, the circuit. A nerve was converted into something more, and through the excruciating pain he felt satisfaction course through his veins like molten steel.

Having reached the possibility through impossible pain, the miracle could be performed. His hands touched a small pipe, and with a flash of blue light he'd grown familiar to did the energy spread through it. Being now aware of each intricacy in the pipe's constitution, both physical and conceptual, Shirou realized the mystery that he was capable of.

Reinforcement - the act of strengthening an object through magical means, making it stronger, sharper or something like that.

It was one of three spells - or Mysteries, as he usually referred to them - that Shirou was capable of.

How, he wasn't really sure. He'd always known that he could do something - the subconscious cue of "You could do something about this if you did that" had followed him around since the day he was born. Like many other things about his subconscious, he couldn't quite explain it.

The first time he'd done it had been mostly by accident. He'd been tired, exhausted even, and by instinct alone he'd gathered a few materials from his room and walked to the abandoned chapel in the middle of the life. It had been done naturally, as if nothing more than his routine. He'd taken a seat next to this very pipe, touched it with the fingers of his left hand, and muttered the words that were now so familiar to him.

That, he supposed, was Shirou Emiya.

Each time he did this, his left arm flared in dulled phantom pain. And each time it did, by instinct did he reach to check on bindings around it that had never been there, securing them as if his life depended on it. There was a call to it, a beckoning tune - a promise of strength.

If there was more to be discovered, he didn't know. What he did know, however:

— A burst of pitch-dark light turned stone into dust and air into vacuum. He'd jumped to the left, crashing to the ground with a grunt of pain and rolling back to his feet before his opponent took advantage of his open guard.

His fists tightened around the hilts of the swords he held.He'd been right. His opponent was truly amazing. But he had to go through her, even if the thought alone made his vision blur. For her sake, he'd do even this.

He reached into (something), and all went black.

"... This is my win", (she) said after a while of nothingness.

But he couldn't answer - there wasn't enough of him left to, after all.

What little was left, however, flared.

[I have to defeat (someone)].

Thus, despite the lack of a mind, his soul burst with the flames of a future lost.

Truly, Shirou Emiya was the [ ] of his [ ].

… No.

Shirou shook his head, ignoring the illusion presented by his mind, and focused on the pipe in his hands. With a nod of his head, he smashed it into the stone floor.

The stone cracked. The pipe remained unblemished.