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[archersarm-blog]

    Growing up with the belief that my powers were only for the sake of others meant that coming full circle, right back to where I was before this mess, could only leave me confused. Not only was there a severe lack of satisfaction for making it this far, but there was jadedness, disgust that only now did I feel proper heading out into the streets at night. Judging by my exasperation, it was entirely justified.     My legs -- no, my whole body, shuddered with energy that was previously unprecedented. I recognized it as familiar, but only faintly. There hadn't been a single time when this much power had welled up within me, not even when we were at war with the other side of the city. Despite that, there was nothing I could say about it, and in fact no one to say it to.     With nothing to hold back, I couldn't help but hold everything back. Closing up came naturally when I had no idea what to do with myself. The questions that I asked silently were just as impairing as the ones I had faced during the Grail War. To think that even that term came off my tongue as something foreign only sunk me deeper, perplexed me further.     It was with a heavy heart that I ran my fingers through a flush of silvery hair over my eye. No use in hiding it now that there was no one around to pry into my life. I almost wanted to say that I wished otherwise, but I knew that would only be my folly. No one I knew should have to waste away in here like I am. Better off back in Fuyuki, where at least they can live free from being test subjects.     For the remainder of my time here...well, I can't say I've come to a solid conclusion just yet. But I'm getting there. I know what I'm aiming for, all that remains is the method. Whatever happens, it'll be reached eventually. That's why I start walking, continuing until I find what I'm looking for.

    The path behind me answered with the sound of fading voices. On this road of unfulfillment, I still walk alone.

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[archersarm-blog]

There was never a need to hide what she was capable of in this city. As impressive as her abilities were, they paled in comparison to what most people were capable of. A heavy reliance on ballistic weaponry was also to thank for that. So it wouldn’t be too far fetched for someone to catch her checking her ammunition in her gun before sliding it back into her shield.

“It’s enough for me to get by…”

“Most wouldn’t need even that,” I replied bluntly. “Much less a kid.”

    Not like I was in a place to judge, myself. Be that as it may, there was still some part of me that couldn’t stomach the thought of children so desperate for protecting that they need to arm themselves. In fact, it’s a wretched thought, the kind that made me feel like something nasty was chewing on my gut. That wouldn’t show on my face, though, and plain as ever -- I continued.

“Things aren’t so dangerous once you get away from the main city. Have you ever considered sticking around somewhere else?”

[archersarm-blog]

thanks takeuchi

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@gunsoftime

“...Looks like you’ve definitely got enough weapons in stock.”

    My comment came out a bit louder than I intended, but it was entirely justified. One look at that shield on this girl’s arm loads my head up with information enough to fill any database. Never knew a little kid would ever need that much artillery at hand, but this city was so full of surprises that not much could faze me anymore.

[archersarm-blog]

@kanesadakuji

   There was always work for the willing. Just had to find it. From day jobs in the office to working the bar at night, anyone would be able to make a living for themselves in the city, and then some. That went for anyone who could put in their hours in. Where there was a will, there was a way, and for me, that direction went to the creation of swords.    Putting it that way would be lying, but it was the simplest phrase to get the point across. Ever since the restaurant gig ran its course, I had been emptying out my savings day by day. Turns out it's a lot more stressing to be a NEET than most would imagine. Food wasn't in short supply, but it irked me, having to rely on those that toyed so much with their test subjects. I was no exception.    Whenever the opportunity was afforded to me, there was a sense of contentedness to be found in polishing shirasaya that had been created with my own hands. The wooden sheen, plain as could be, starkly contrasted with the city. I felt bad about having to take it out right here, but the stairs of the metro made for a decent seat while polishing the pure white cover that enveloped the steel blade within.    It was to be expected that someone would give me the stink eye while I did this. That it was late at night gave me an inkling of hope not to disturb anyone leaving the trains at this hour, as passengers were sparse -- but I suppose there was a reason to be bothered by anything. I tossed a quick look at her in return, sizing her up in an instant. The demeanor that she gave off, I threw right back at her.    Confusion and disorientation took me over for a moment, and I stared in shock at her. But it wasn't so serious. The city had molded me into recognizing that anyone could be a threat, and I knew from experience that it was best just to lay off or play into their games if I wanted to avoid a fight. I spoke for the sake of setting up a mental boundary to keep the anxiety locked out at the door.

“If you have any questions to ask,” I said, talking as calmly as could be. “I don't have any problems answering them. You seemed interested in this. It's something I don't mind talking about.”

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Cape moves in the wind’s direction, the breeze brushing his face. Rooftops aren’t too far from Heat’s scene, and his own people know that. He had to find some peace of the constant blaze upon him which quivered with molten fury. He contemplates the scenery, not really a fan of mindlessly gazing, but in this place he can find some quietness.

    He doesn’t want to be bothered, and he wants to put his act together, alone. He doesn’t want people to help him through, or people trying to deceive him with false faith and lies. Consequences are recognized, he knows – but he already made a decision. Even though he’s prone to change it sooner or later. He doesn’t feel proud of it, pride plays an important role on his life, one of the few things that make him the way he is – and if it’s gone, there he’d just be someone with no purpose for living.

     He hears someone approaching,  and there’s intrigue in the gaze drawn, did someone really bother to come all the way up here? He can only wonder.

   There were parts of me that always felt it right to adhere to habits. Adjustments came easy when I needed to be quick on my feet, but there was enough peace to be found -- stillness in the the night -- that I soon fell into a rhythm. My familiarity with the make of these buildings came from months of learning the lay of the land, charting out mental maps for whatever purpose I had in mind.    But now, I was rusty.    Age took me by surprise. There wasn't much to say on it, because there was no one I could speak with about it. The thoughts kept themselves locked inside my head, whirling about until I finally came to the conclusion -- I needed a whetstone, the kind that works best on brains. In other words, first hand experience was my choice of refreshment tonight.    It's the breeze that knocks the wind out of me first, the air chilly as could be up on high. Behind me I hear the door slam shut, the fluttering of a dark coat worn about my body. There's not much for me to react to, even when the sight of someone else comes into view. It could only be a resident. That I had to consciously make myself aware of that fact is just another reason I'm up here -- it showed that my perception had been dulled. I feel concerned for it, and if only to satisfy the urge, I spoke up as light as I could over the shrill moans of the wind.

“Do you happen to live here? I didn't mean to get in your way, and I don't plan on sticking around long. Sorry to have bothered you.”

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    Nobody cared who he was until he put on the mask.

“You think the hamburger is your ally? You merely adopted the burger. I was born in it. Molded by it. I didn’t use a grill until I was already a man, and by then it was nothing to me but hampering.”

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   ‘Wasn’t good enough for them’? From the looks of it, it seemed this version of himself knew more about this place than he did. And, from the way the man who greeted him when he first arrived spoke, the city must’ve been around for a while…

   How long had this city been here? And what else was going on that he’d yet to see?

“That’s right.” He’d nod, still looking uneasy. The sudden change of tone sounded… eerily familiar. Not exactly, but close enough. He knew who it sounded like, and maybe that was done on purpose. Or not, he couldn’t tell. That wasn’t important. What was important was…

“I think you’re the second double I’ve met here.” It wasn’t as if it was something new. He’d already met himself once, and it wasn’t because of any kind of cross-dimensional city. But once the already bizarre met the absolutely unfathomable, well… “Mind being the first to explain things to me? With how I’m seeing more of myself lately?” He’d cough a bit, covering his mouth with his fist after saying that. Damn. Looks like he’s beginning to feel some of the symptoms too? (Well, not like it could be that big of a difference swapping bodies with yourself… right?)

   Inexperience made the man. Shirou Emiya had been defined by it in the grail war, an outsider playing the part of a Master by a stroke of fate. Our origins were the same, our outcomes were not. The difference between us was just that palpable. That's what I wanted to believe.    This dead silence on my part was all I responded with. It was all I could respond with. When you're face to face with a man who was shaped by opportunities you were never allowed, choices you didn't make, there wasn't much to say. Not a single phrase or pleasantry could make meeting a phantom of my past any easier an encounter.    I had worked off of inference for a while, pulling my intuition together in an attempt to gauge what exactly made us so different. There were other ways of getting information out, other than through simple talk. Speaking from prior experience, contact with another self was one of the simplest. The circumstances surrounding today's events only made it less painful.

“We'll talk,” I hear myself speak with seriousness unfounded in all my time in the city. “But not here. Keep up. Eyes on my back, don't lose your focus.”

   Each and every step of the way marked another milestone for my conviction. The gravity of the situation was insultingly worrying. They must have enjoyed the thought of leaving another good-hearted kid hellbound in this city. I wasn't going to allow that. I might have sold the world I had been dreaming of for years, but there wasn't a chance that I would let them put someone else through that. Especially not myself.    The crowds thinned while the path we walked on widened. However long we had walked, however far we had gone, I didn't stop until we were on the edge of the sector, and into the barren wasteland that we called Lambda. The only thing that I was concerned with was getting the two of us away from anyone else for the time being. Spreading the infection around didn't make for good conversation. Between the two of us, there was just enough of it to share. I didn't want this for anyone else. No one but me.    They came from underneath my waist, where I usually held them. No longer hidden underneath my jacket, a pair of swords flashed in the air, sticking themselves into the ground in front of my double. Kanshou and Bakuya were the swords I had wielded through countless battles, but not once were they my own. To say otherwise would go against the reality of who I was -- who we were.

“Take up the swords.” Not a beat after that, there was another pair of blades in my hands. “I saw it, once you got close. That battle you fought against yourself. Me, I -- I never had that opportunity. You have questions, I have answers. The best way to understand is to see them for yourself.”

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It’d be a lie to say that Marisa is any good at interpersonal relations; the majority of the time, all she gets is a first meeting and a fight – goodbyes are secondary, an afterthought to the beatdown. Trying to make friends is a skill she has little practice with, and the few she has are coincidental with her line of work, she recognizes.

Hard work done in secret doesn’t win people to you, doesn’t make them like you. She keeps this in mind all the time.

<<Boiling over? More like hangin’ out ‘n’ simmerin’ – didn’t no one have the energy to get into much trouble this time, I think.>> She makes her observation from firsthand experience: this incident wasn’t as bad as last time, and hey, she herself couldn’t even get up to much. Funny, she works with heat and light for a living, and yet hot temperatures are her least favorite. Water temperament, indeed.

<<Well, I guess some people mighta been up to trouble but hey, business as usual, am I right?

<<On the note of gettin’ ready, I was actually on my way to get some supplies, special. If ya wanna walk ‘n’ talk, by all means.>>

“Can you really blame them? The heat was enough to make anyone feel like tossing themselves in the ocean. I was just happy to make sure everyone got the drinks and food they needed. I haven't had to cook that much food in a very long time.”

   He nodded pleasantly, thinking back to the beach. Conversations were aplenty there, and he had had a fairly eventful time during the whole happening. It was a far cry easier on him than anything else had been in the past. In recent times, his thoughts had become full of what to do with himself now that he was soon to be one of Citta's finest -- the Saviors.    The sense of responsibility had led him once more into the streets, taking on whatever duties he could afford to, and that in turn was what had brought him out today. He wouldn't be speaking with this person had he not been feeling up to doing something particularly heroic. He didn't let that slip into the conversation, however. He could manage to keep his thoughts in tow.

“Sure, I don't mind -- though, using supplies makes it sound like you're planning something.” He spoke casually, knowing that he himself also went on searches for the right materials to use for a good sword to make in his spare time. “Mind if I ask what for?”

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  The situation seemed to get stranger and stranger as time went by. The entire city seemed to run on that idea. Just when he’d thought that things couldn’t get any stranger, the people in charge stepped up their game. In a way, they were both geniuses and totally insane.

  But what he began to feel was not unlike something he’d gone through in the past. A flash of memories, through eyes shared by the same man. Through the eyes of Emiya Shirou. It was what he had gone through whenever he came into contact with his other self.

  But nowhere did he see the man’s impressive stature, with silver hair and red garbs that only a hero of justice would bear. No, this was not him. This was someone completely different.

  Or rather, someone exactly the same. All it had taken was the familiar incantation to get his attention.

“…Y-You’re…”

  His mind, stumbling through headache pangs and a fog of confusion, looked for answers. His first, immediate thought was of the disease which plagued the streets. People trading appearances, and in fact, abilities. Had he been another victim–?

  He’d look down at his hands. The same (for now). He’d feel his face. The same (for now). Not satisfied, he’d look to the side at a window of one of the nearby buildings. Both his reflection and that of this strange double were exactly the same (bar an odd shroud on the left arm of this ‘Shirou’). Had a step of the process not happened yet? Or…

  His gaze would turn to the unknown before him. Who was this?

“…This is how I normally look. So then who are you?”

  Likewise, the pains plaguing his mind didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon.

 My intuition never let me down; what reason was there for it to start now? Guess I could add another tick to "Emiya Shirou's instincts were right again" counter. I wasn't as reliant on them as I used to be, but they were still as sharp as ever.  Another "me." I doubted we had identical pasts, though. From the first few months of being here, I knew that the people who had the names of those I had known might not be the very same. Identity was a funny concept in this city where nothing was impossible.  In the last event before this, I didn't have any run-ins with an alternate self, as many others had. Was this compensation for that? The guys at the head of this operation, they've got a sick sense of humor.  My right eye forced itself clamped shut in pain as a few images flashed in my head. Things I didn't remember, couldn't remember. Things I'd lost. Minor little instances that "I" had little interest in at the time, but they were something that I was eating up like candy. A past that I never got the chance to experience was interesting enough to shut me up for a solid half minute before I broke out of my thoughts and answered in a voice all too awkward to sound right.

“Ah -- I'm Shirou. Emiya Shirou. Looks like you're fresh off the boat, huh? Hasn't even been a month, right?”

  --That sounded way too pesky. I'll need to fix that the next time I open my mouth.   Before I know it, I'm coughing into my hand, half due to the disease that's spreading around -- of which I now realize I must be carrying --, and half due to the fact that I want to deepen my voice a bit in order to ease the experience on my friend here.   A surge of prana goes through my vocal cords. I remember once seeing Archer do it, just like this. Hopefully I don't end up talking like him, but a difference between the two of us here would be nice.

“Guess I just...wasn't good enough for them.” The words come out in a significantly deeper tone, and I'm almost surprised by it myself. “Had to pull in another just to keep things interesting. Sheesh.”

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          “Then why don’t you start it up here? I’m sure many would    appreciate it some kind of dojo. I know another just opened up,    but what’s a little friendly competition?”

“...Huh? No, no--! It’s nothing like that -- er, was nothing like that. It was just a part of the house. It wasn’t like I had people coming in and out like crazy. It was pretty neglected up until the last few weeks I spent before coming here.  Kept it clean and all, but no one ever went in there besides me -- well...there were, but she’s--” Dead? “Not around anymore. ...Anyway, I’m sure there’s an empty gym around here if we look around.”

 --Wait. Why am I already talking like we’re going to fight? I’m sure there’s no harm in letting someone who knows their way around a blade get into a spar, but even then -- who’s gonna be the opponent?  It’s then that I realize, it’s going to be me, no matter how I try to avoid it. ...Great. I hear myself sighing with acceptance. Guess I’ll have some bruises to deal with later tonight.

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bladewxrks

  Common sense gained more distance the longer I stayed in this city. Tossed out the window a while ago, all I could do was sit and wave, watching as my knowledge of how the world should be went bye-bye. Scattered in the wind like tree leaves in autumn.   From memory travelling to looping labyrinths and plague-spreading zombies, there was nothing this city could toss at me that I wasn’t half-expecting in the back of my mind.   Dopplegangers were the least of my worries.   Had enough experience with one of my own to warrant a full college course and extra night classes on top of that. Dealing with another self was like a part-time job back when I had striven to flush out injustice wherever it took place. Nowadays, it feels like I’m the one that got flushed instead.   Recent events were quite tame compared to what I had expected. What I had thought would be complete and utter chaos turned out to simply be some overblown infection where, in the worst case scenario, people would only give you the stinkeye. Nothing so serious as to make me miss a day of work, so out here I was.   But it was strange. The “boss” -- or whoever this was, I couldn’t recognize the number -- had texted me something like, “Didn’t know you had a phone. Meet up at the usual place in the market district.” ...then went on to list an address. Which was a ways away from where I usually worked, though not so much that I would do much more than quirk a brow.   That aside, I had no issues heading that way, and here I was -- on the edge of a plaza area, people stepping about like clusters of worker ants. The shifting movement makes me think of a pot of boiling water, with its bubbles foaming on one side before floating to the next.   Maybe it’s that mental image that gets me, but I suddenly feel the urge to vomit. The feeling's quite familiar; it’s the shock you get when your alternate self steps in range of you, and suddenly the World sees fit to mesh your consciousnesses together.   That said, it wasn’t that simple. I didn’t see a flash of silver hair anywhere, and while the infection spreading around had effects similar to what Archer and I had in the past -- I wasn’t touching anyone. Something was strange, wrong, and had to be solved immediately, lest my headache get any worse.

“Trace, on.”

  There’s prana in my eyes before I even finish the mantra. The words came out as a matter of habit, not conscious action. Maybe it was a stab at getting whoever was out there to notice me; maybe they would be able to see me before I saw them. Whatever the case was, I felt the need to wrap my head around it.   The headache wasn’t getting any better.

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              “I probably should have guessed that. That place is full of–        I’m not looking to get into trouble or anything like that. Jeez, I’m not a        reckless fool. Though… a sparring match would be nice.”

“It’s a fairly obvious answer. But it’s not like I spend a lot of time there -- Vario’s more my style. Been thinking of getting a place there when I have the opportunity.   Now that I mention it, my old home back in Fuyuki had a really nice place for what you’d want -- a traditional dojo, no funny business about it. It was perfect for training. In fact, it’s where I went every morning for years. ...Kinda miss having it around, now.”

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           “Where is it you live again— I used to train almost every day       but then I started working at Eden, and I just.. stopped. Like I said       I’ve gone soft since arriving. I haven’t had to face any real danger.”

“The only place where someone would shoot you in the foot for looking at them the wrong way. ...Well, there’s plenty of those in this city -- but, um, to be particular: Sector 3. Lived there practically the whole time I’ve been around.   ...If you want ‘danger’ -- though I can’t say I approve of that --, you could head over there late at night. ...There’s plenty of better alternatives, though. Do you want a fight, or something?”

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          “Not at all. I swear, Shirou, this city’s made me soft. I haven’t         woken up that early in a long time. It’s starting to get frustrating.”

“You don’t say. I have to be on guard most of the time considering where I live, but beyond my daily training, I don’t do much beyond making sure people don’t cause trouble around me. Frustrating is right. But I’m not sure where to start fixing that.”

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tofrost:

          “You know that feeling you get when you’ve slept for        too long and you’re more tired than you were before you        fell asleep? Because hello.”

“Can’t say that I have. I always wake up at half past five, and on the rare occasion that I don’t, I still get up refreshed. Guessing that you can’t say the same.”