Chapter 1: Chapter one
When he woke up, he expected a hospital, he wasn't disappointed.
What he wasn't expecting was his hand-eye coordination to be so bad that he accidentally slapped his cheek.
Nor did he expect his bodily functions to be so bad that he would fall off the bed he was on.
(Well... This is awkward.)
He was sure that he was hit by a truck...
A truck on an empty road...
It was Truck-Kun!
That bastard!
"Hey, are you okay?"
Hearing an unfamiliar voice, he looked up, only to see an older man, life as dead as they could get, with a slight stubble on his chin and black, unruly hair.
Must have been a doctor.
"Y-yeah..."
Why did his voice sound so... Squeak-ish?
Why were his hands so small?! What the hell was going on?!
"Here, let me help you up."
He was picked up effortlessly, which should have been impossible, no man could pick up a seventeen-year-old with no strain at all.
When he was put on the bed again, he got a good look at the small body... His... small body.
He was a baby...
(Damn you, Truck kun!)
___
(No, Seriously, fuck you, you psycho truck.)
He found out his name, a very familiar name.
Shirou Muramasa, now Shirou Emiya.
Emiya was shorter so he will go with Emiya, Muramasa was a mouthful.
... He was Shirou Emiya!
That dumb, self-sacrificing, love triangle creating, Hero of justice wannabe.
"...Dad, why is the water on fire?"
And he needed to learn how to cook.
Right now, he was watching what had to be magic. There was one Kiritsugu Emiya, trying to put out the flame that somehow managed to keep going despite being in a pot full of water.
He was making noodles.
Fucking hell.
Grabbing the lid, he walked up the footstool that was in place for him to reach the sink and placed it on the pot.
Kiritsugu stared at him for a moment and he stared right back.
"Get out."
"...Okay."
___
From that day on, the cooking duty fell on him... Along with the housework because someone, somehow broke the broom.
But that was not the point right now, he needed something, something that should not be a problem to get.
"Can you teach me magic?"
Kiritsugu looked up from the newspaper, who reads newspapers nowadays?
The older man stared at him for a moment, seemingly trying to peer into his soul.
"No."
Drat.
"Then, can I have a forge?"
That got the elder man's interest, and he knew that by the fact that he finally put down the newspaper.
"Why would you need a forge, Shirou?"
Because if he wanted to fight in the future, he would have to make something good, the projected constructs, the unlimited armory, Excalibur, Gae Bolg, rule breaker.
He didn't even have any guarantee that any of the servants would be the same.
He needed good weapons, no, he needed a good weapon.
Sengo Muramasa not only knew how to make swords but he knew how to use them too.
He trained in the forest near Fuyuki.
... Was it just him or was this a bit too convenient?
He was never credited for his sword skills, however, he trained in the basics to test out the swords he made.
"I remembered."
His eyes widened.
___
Muramasa was the one who created blades that went down in history out of common and basic materials, he was the one who was blamed for all the misfortune that happened to the wielders of his blades and he was his ancestor.
It would be stupid to rely only on the swords that were inferior copies of the originals.
He already knew how to infuse Prana into a sword so things should be pretty simple.
He just needed to activate his circuits...
...
...
...
The hammer hit the metal.
Pain shot through his body.
He passed out.
Mission accomplished.
A good thing Kiritsugu was out on one of his trips.
He didn't know when he woke up, but it was already morning.
Looking at the clock, he absently noted that oversleeping was bad.
Sitting up and stretching he concentrated on his circuits, just like he remembered his ancestor doing, and counted the circuits that came to a total of fifty-four, it wasn't as good as that one blonde-haired girl with a hundred circuits whose name he couldn't remember right now, but it would do.
Wasn't the original number about 27?
Shrugging, Shirou stood up and went to the newly made forge... In the basement.
Why would anyone make a forge in the basement? Under a wooden house? And for a seven-year-old, nonetheless.
Sighing, he walked down to the basement and opened the door to the forge.
He could train the only four spells he could use later, now was the time to practice some blacksmithing.
Hopefully, the place would still be standing when he came back. But seriously, Kiritsugu was a shitty teacher.
Weekly Power Status
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