Helping a child

Fate and Percy Jackson and The Olympians are not my property, rights belong to their respective creators, the only thing that's mine is this story.

With nothing else to say, I hope you enjoy it.

(-)

Caster reflected on his recent summoning, immersed in the conflict of the Fourth Holy Grail War, also known as the Heaven's Feel. He had been summoned in 1994, just a year after his birth, plunging into a battle he did not expect.

Questions about his purpose in this war and his true desires lingered in Caster's mind. Did he really have a wish to fight for?

However, he decided to set aside that question for a moment and focus on the current situation. His Master, a vulnerable child who should be concerned with lighter matters, cried inconsolably in his arms. It was a sad and heartbreaking sight: an infant facing the harshness of war instead of the joys of childhood. This thought evoked in Caster the bitter reality that a child should not witness the loss of their parents in such a brutal way.

"Caster," the boy uttered, twisting in the arms of the mentioned.

Caster sighed before responding calmly, "Yes, Master."

"Why...?" Shirou choked on his own words. "Why...?"

The raven-haired sensed what Shirou wanted to express, but all he could hear was the heartbreaking cry of a broken child, unable to bear the loss of his parents. The situation was depressingly familiar to Caster, who remembered consoling young demigods who had suffered the loss of a loved one. However, that experience did not make the young Master's pain any less impactful.

Caster understood that they could not remain in that state of desolation for much longer. He looked around, aware that he needed to do something and keep the boy occupied. He released himself from Shirou's embrace and took him by the shoulders, frowning at the unpleasant smell emanating from the boy.

"Master, you need a bath," announced Caster, and Shirou's labored breathing abruptly stopped as he processed the Servant's words.

"You definitely need a bath. No offense, little one, but your smell is not the most pleasant right now," continued Caster, holding the boy as he headed straight for the stairs. "After that, we can talk more calmly. I trust you can bathe yourself, right?"

Shirou frowned with some indignation, looking towards the bathroom, but he returned his attention to Caster. "But what about...?"

"But nothing," Caster interrupted firmly, evoking in the boy the memory of his father's determination. "It's okay," murmured Shirou, unable to resist the Servant's decision.

With the boy's retreat, Caster sighed as he heard the bathroom door close. He had used his hydrokinesis to fill the bathtub with warm water, an act that seemed simple to him. The Servant observed the bloody scene in the living room, sighing as he searched for something to clean with.

(-)

The strong smell of bleach was unpleasant to him, but it would be useful to mask the stench of death that pervaded the room. Caster flicked on the light switch and frowned at the bloody mess spread out before him.

The room was a chaos of horror. The floorboards would remain stained red for quite some time, but it was the human remains scattered about the furniture that further complicated the cleaning task. He began to feel the weight of regret for having gone too far in killing the serial killer, but at that moment, his Master had ordered him to eliminate the ruthless criminal, and he had been more than willing to obey.

As he cleaned the blood of the serial killer with seriousness, Caster reflected on his actions. At that moment, he had acted on impulse, driven by anger and the desire for justice. The man had taken the lives of the boy's parents right before his own eyes, and Caster had responded with an act of equally brutal violence.

He acknowledged that the man was a true monster, with the potential to take even more innocent lives. Although he disliked taking lives out of sheer disdain, he understood the need to stop the serial killer. How many more lives could he have taken if he were allowed to roam free? Caster had felt the responsibility to stop him, even if it meant getting his hands dirty with his blood.

Now he faced another difficult decision: What to do with the boy? He could alter his memories and leave him in an orphanage, but he knew that wouldn't be right. He couldn't simply abandon a needy child, but he also didn't want to expose him to the danger of the Fourth Heaven's Feel. He resisted imagining what they could do to the boy if they discovered his connection to him.

Caster sighed, using his Hydrokinesis to lift the serial killer's blood and put it in a bucket he had found, the dark liquid sloshing in the murky pool. He gathered the chewed remains of the man and tossed them into a garbage bag.

The raven-haired looked at Shirou's parents' bodies. Their faces expressed a myriad of feelings: pain, suffering, fear, and many more.

These people never thought this would be their end, perhaps they thought it would be surrounded by their relatives, maybe with a natural death, but Caster knew how cruel fate was to good people. He found his eyes drifting towards a framed photo left on a table.

The image was one of the few elements that remained impeccably free of bloodstains. With hands slightly stained with blood, Caster absentmindedly took the picture.

It was a photo taken at some theme park that unfortunately didn't show the name. In front of a giant statue of a lion, a family of three people was huddled together. The smiles they all wore were radiant. The father was a tall man with messy black hair and bright blue eyes. The mother was a foreign beauty with short red hair pulled back into a side ponytail and bright golden eyes. Nestled between them, a childish Shirou grinned cheekily at the camera. The caption beneath the photo read:

"The Muramasa family celebrates Shirou's seventh birthday"

"Muramasa family" Caster pondered the family's surname. Wasn't that also the surname of a famous Japanese blacksmith who was infamous for creating cursed katanas?

Caster wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that Shirou was a direct descendant of that blacksmith, after all, his distant relative Frank Zhang, if memory served him correctly, his grandmother had told him had blood of prince and heroes.

Caster's eyes returned to the now deceased bodies of Shirou. It was difficult to overlay the smiling faces from the photograph with the horrified looks they now had.

Caster slid his fingers over his mother's eyes. He closed them in a solemn darkness once and for all.

He didn't consider himself a poet, but he felt that no matter what decision he made, this story could only end in tragedy.

(-)

Shirou had submerged himself in the bathtub, allowing the warmth of the water to envelop every inch of his body as he gazed at the rippling image of his reflection on the surface. He had finished his washing routine, but instead of getting out, he chose to stay in the water, enjoying the last vestiges of warmth before it all cooled down.

This quiet moment brought him back to happier memories, when his mother would prepare the bathtub for him, always making sure it was at the perfect temperature. The familiarity of the water temperature was another emotional blow for Shirou, who already felt emotionally unstable. He curled up in a fetal position, hugging his legs tightly and burying his face in them, trying to contain the overwhelming emotions that engulfed him.

Nothing that was happening was fair, the boy reflected as tremors shook his body. His parents didn't deserve to die that way; they hadn't done anything wrong. He clenched his small fists helplessly, remembering the fate of the monster who had taken them from him. Caster had inflicted a cruel punishment on the killer with the same knife used to take his parents' lives. He vividly recalled how Caster opened the killer's stomach in a diagonal cut, prolonging his agony before effectively dismembering him, leaving his body mangled and turned into a simple stain on the floor.

The macabre smile that had adorned the killer's face in his last breath haunted Shirou, as if he had enjoyed the suffering he inflicted, an indignity for someone so despicable.

It just wasn't fair. Why had that monster chosen his home as his place of death? Why did he die with that stupid smile on his face? Why did his parents die while he still breathed?

Nothing made sense to Shirou. His parents were wonderful people: kind, loving; maybe a little strict, but always looking out for his well-being. They were the pillars of his life, and without them, he felt alone in this cruel and ruthless world.

Helplessness and anger mingled inside Shirou, shaking him to the core of his being. His splashes in the water were no longer just a way to release frustration, but tears mingling with the bathwater. Maybe all of this was his fault. If he had noticed earlier, if instead of investigating he had called the police, if only... his parents were alive. The tears flowed more intensely as he desperately searched for some memory that would help him find comfort amidst this unimaginable tragedy. He even contemplated the idea of letting the water fill his lungs, just to be reunited with his parents in death, but was that what they wanted for him?

Shirou squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the torrent of overwhelming emotions that invaded him. After a few moments, he could feel the comforting warmth of two embraces, similar to the ones he used to receive from his parents. This gesture gradually calmed him, as if his parents were there, wrapping him in love and protection once again. Finally, Shirou decided it was time to get out of the bathtub. He couldn't stay there forever, and although the sadness still weighed heavily on him, the water regained its initial warmth.

(-)

Caster knocked on the door. "Hey, you've been in there too long. Hurry up and come downstairs. We have a lot to discuss."

After a few moments of silence, he heard a sudden shuffle and frantic splashing of water indicating his Master's haste to respond. He noticed a blush of embarrassment on his Master, probably aware that a stranger had heard his tantrum from outside.

The boy muttered an agreement, and Caster descended the stairs with determined steps. The situation required extra precautions with the child, who had considered suicide as an option, a dangerous sign that strengthened Caster's determination to help the boy in any way he could, thus preventing him from making a rash decision.

Upon returning to the living room, Caster noticed that it now looked much cleaner than before. He had done his best to remove any trace of death and blood, returning the room to a presentable state. He then entered the kitchen and resumed his interrupted cooking tasks.

He had been preparing a meal for the boy when he felt the distress of his Master through the contract. Deciding what to serve a traumatized child had been a dilemma, but after hearing the boy's distress in the bathroom, he decided to discard anything containing meat. Vegetables might have been an option, but instead, he opted for pancakes, a choice he deemed more comforting for the child.

After searching the refrigerator, Caster settled on pancakes. There were some remnants of batter and other ingredients the family had left behind, and he decided it would be enough to satisfy the child without sacrificing too much in terms of nutrition.

He was halfway through making the last pancake when Shirou arrived.

"You're... making pancakes?" The boy spoke calmly this time, although his tone still sounded incredulous.

"Of course," Caster responded confidently.

"But it's midnight..."

"Are you saying you don't want any?"

Shirou quickly shook his head. "N-no, I want some. It's just that... Mom used to make that for me every morning."

Caster reflected on this new information. The boy's mother was a foreigner, which explained the common presence of pancakes in his diet. "Well, I hope you're hungry," he said as he finished cooking.

Caster placed the last pancake on a plate with the rest and set it on the table, accompanied by a fork and knife. He told Shirou to sit down, and the boy awkwardly obeyed the Servant.

Out of habit, the boy clapped his hands and whispered, "Itadakimasu."

Caster took a seat opposite the boy and watched his reactions. He couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction as he saw the boy's expression change from cautious hesitation to surprise and then to contented happiness as he enjoyed the meal.

After Shirou took a few bites, he stared at the Servant turned cook. "Aren't you going to have some?"

"It's not necessary. Servants don't need food in the same way humans do," Caster responded automatically, although he had to admit he would like to have some chocolate chip cookies, but he simply shook his head, it wasn't the time to think about such things.

"Servant...?" Shirou blinked and tilted his head slightly. "You've mentioned that before, but I still don't fully understand."

Caster let out an exasperated sigh and shook his head impatiently. "I'm sure you don't fully understand. Explaining everything to a child can be quite annoying. But, to start, have you noticed the marks on your left hand, Master?"

The young boy cautiously raised his hand, observing the marks with curiosity and some concern. "You mean these?" The room's light reflected off the marks with a faint reddish glow, forming the shape of a winged dagger. "They're... strange."

"Those are your Command Seals. They're proof of your participation in a magical ritual known as the Holy Grail War," Caster explained calmly. "They also symbolize our contract and your authority over me as your Servant."

Shirou dropped his hand, surprised. "The Holy Grail War? That sounds... dangerous."

Caster nodded solemnly. "It is. In this city called Fuyuki, seven mages, including you, act as Masters. Each one summons a deceased hero to act as their Servant in a battle for the Holy Grail, an object that grants a wish. I am your Servant, of the Caster class."

The young boy frowned, processing the information. "So... 'Caster' isn't your real name."

Caster smiled conspiratorially. "Exactly. 'Caster' is my class and title. All Servants have a real name, but for strategic reasons, I can't reveal it."

Shirou nodded slowly. "I see. Why is it so important to keep your identity a secret?"

"Revealing my identity could expose my weaknesses and strengths to our enemies. The less information they have about us, the better we'll be to survive in this war," Caster explained seriously.

The young boy pondered his Servant's words as they continued their conversation, feeling the weight of the responsibility and danger that awaited them in the Holy Grail War.

Shirou scraped his plate with the knife and cut a piece of pancake. "A war between seven Masters and seven Servants. With Servants as strong as you, Caster, and me being a Master..." Uncertainty reflected in his eyes as he continued.

His hands tightened around the knife he held. "So, are you telling me my parents died because of your stupid war?"

"It seems so." Caster didn't deny it. "A magical circle can be created from many things. The blood of a latent mage family is potent enough."

"Mage family...? What are you talking about?" Shirou looked at his servant.

"Hmph. You may not know it. But you probably have some kind of distant relationship with a mage lineage. You have magic circuits in your body, however small or few they may be. How else could you have become my Master?" Caster winked and shrugged.

Caster took a moment to reflect on Shirou's words, lost in his own thoughts as he watched the young Master.

"Although I have to be honest," Caster began after a brief silence, his words filled with sincerity. "No matter how I look at it, in my current state, I'm not as strong as the other Servants in terms of raw firepower. My class as Caster also somewhat restricts my abilities. But above all," he narrowed his eyes at Shirou. "My master is a child."

Shirou listened in silence, assimilating Caster's words with a mixture of surprise and understanding. It was difficult for him to accept that, in this dangerous and unfamiliar situation, he had become the leader of such a powerful but vulnerable Servant.

"I didn't ask to be your Master," Shirou murmured after a moment, his voice laden with frustration and confusion. "Why... didn't you take that monster as a Master?"

Caster studied the angry look in his Master's eyes, recognizing the desperation and pain in them. "It doesn't work that way," he responded calmly. "Servants can't choose who summons them. But during the summoning, you were in the room, and the ritual chose you as the best candidate."

Shirou furrowed his brow at Caster's explanation, his mind struggling to comprehend the twist of fate that had led him to this situation. "Why would it do that?" he asked, his voice full of disbelief.

"The intricacies of the Ritual elude me," admitted Caster with a shrug. "But for what it's worth," he smiled at the boy, "you're a much better Master than that man."

Caster's words brought a glimmer of recognition in Shirou's eyes, a mix of gratitude and surprise as he realized that, somehow, he had been chosen for a role he hadn't sought but was now determined to accept.

Shirou averted his gaze from the Servant's eyes and ate another slice of pancake, his mind still filled with questions and emotions. The food, though delicious and comforting, wasn't enough to chase away the painful thoughts tormenting him.

"Caster, where are my parents?" Shirou asked after a moment, his voice barely a whisper laden with pain.

Caster's features darkened at the question, his gaze filled with sadness and compassion as he responded quietly, "I laid them to rest in their bed. At least they can have that comfort."

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the sadness and loss Shirou felt deep in his heart. He imagined the sight of his parents sleeping in their room as usual, only now their eyes would never open again, and the idea sent him spiraling into a whirlwind of hatred and despair.

"I don't understand," murmured Shirou, his voice breaking with emotion as he struggled to find answers amid the darkness surrounding him.

Caster stared at the boy, his heart full of sympathy for the pain Shirou was enduring. Tears welled up in the boy's eyes and quickly fell down his cheeks, staining the tabletop with tiny droplets of sadness and desperation.

"I don't understand why they had to die like this," Shirou continued, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions. "I don't understand why this happened to me. This Holy Grail War. This world of magic. It's all so crazy."

Caster nodded silently, words failing to console the young Master as he struggled to find sense amidst the chaos surrounding him. Shirou's sadness and pain resonated in his own heart, reminding him of the many tragedies he had witnessed over the centuries.

"Hey, Caster," Shirou continued after a moment, his voice sounding weak but firm. "This Holy Grail War you mentioned. I really don't understand how big or important it is for you, mages. But, what's the point? Why are seven Masters going to war? What are they fighting for?"

Caster sighed, aware that the answers to those questions wouldn't bring comfort to Shirou, but feeling the need to provide some clarity amidst the young Master's confusion.

"The Holy Grail," murmured Caster, softening his voice, choosing his words carefully as he tried to explain the complexity of the situation. Shirou blinked in confusion, eagerly hoping to understand more about the mythical object that had changed his life forever.

"It's an all-powerful artifact that grants wishes," continued Caster, his tone now filled with solemnity as he shared the knowledge he had accumulated over the centuries. "The last surviving pair, Master and Servant, becomes the winner of the war and has the chance to make a wish with the Grail."

"A wish...?" murmured Shirou, surprised by the idea that a single object could hold so much power and meaning.

"Yes, a wish," confirmed Caster, his voice resonating with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. "In theory, it can be anything. Fame, fortune, power. Anything your heart desires can be yours if you win the Holy Grail. Just for that reason, seven Heroic Spirits have answered the call of seven mages and walk this Earth once more."

Shirou's eyes widened, amazed by the idea that something so incredibly powerful existed in the world. He swallowed hard, his mind spinning as he tried to grasp the magnitude of what Caster was telling him.

"So, with this Holy Grail, could... I bring back my family?" Shirou asked, his voice barely a whisper full of hope and fear.

Caster frowned, his expression showing a mix of compassion and concern as he considered Shirou's question. It was certainly possible, but there would be a price to pay, a price Shirou might not be willing to bear.

"You would have to defeat the other six Masters and Servants," explained Caster honestly, his words laden with warning. "These are trained killers and heroes of old. As I said, we have the lowest odds of winning."

"But it's... not impossible, right?" Shirou asked, his voice trembling but firm as he clung to hope desperately.

"I suppose..." murmured Caster, his own doubts and fears reflected in his voice. "Now that I've told you everything I have to say, I want to hear your response. What will you do?"

Caster's eyes showed anticipation as he awaited Shirou's response, watching closely what kind of fate the boy wished for himself. Caster had laid out the options before his Master, presenting a path full of danger and challenges, but also of hope and possibility. Now, it all depended on Shirou's decision, and Caster was willing to support him regardless of what he chose.

Shirou felt his heart racing again, beating strongly in his chest as he struggled to make a decision that would change the course of his life forever. His hands trembled as before, like when he was forced to choose a father to save. He was afraid of making the wrong decision again, but he knew that this time he couldn't afford to hesitate.

But if there was a chance to save his parents, even if it meant risking his useless self, he knew what the right answer should be...

"I just want my family back!" exclaimed Shirou, his voice resonating with renewed determination as he stared at Caster. "So please," he continued, bowing so deeply that he hit his forehead on the table. Sweat and tears blurred his face as he raised his voice desperately. "Even if I'm an unreliable Master and a little kid who knows nothing about magic, please, help me, Caster."

Caster watched with keen attention the determined expression on Shirou

's face, feeling a mix of respect and concern for the young Master's determination. He knew that the Holy Grail War would be a trial by fire for both of them, a test that would challenge their courage, strength, and loyalty. But he also knew that he couldn't abandon Shirou in his time of need, not after everything they had been through together.

"As you wish, Master," replied Caster solemnly, his voice resonating with an implicit promise of protection and support. Though in a weakened state, Caster was determined to give his best to protect Shirou and help him achieve his goal of reclaiming his family. That was his promise, and he had no intention of breaking it.

(-)

The following chapters will not contain action, as for the moment I will focus on the development of Percy and Shirou's relationship.

Additionally, I'm considering what magical abilities to give Percy, as it would be quite naive of me to only focus on the sea.

P.S.: I don't know why, but I imagined Percy throwing slashes like Sukuna. Strange.