Welcome everyone, to the next installment of my Fate series! I am X the Reaper, and for everyone who is a new joiner or returning from my previous story, I welcome you with open arms!

This story takes place after the events of the epilogue of Fate: Zero Sanity, and will detail Shirou's time as a member of Ordinis Sancti Gladius, the group which appeared throughout the previous story. What changes will occur, and how will these events impact Shirou in the long run?

Oswald: We'll never found out if you keep talking.

Right. Onwards with the disclaimer!

Disclaimer: Fate/Stay Night and all series mentioned in this story are the property of Type-Moon and their respective owners. X the Reaper owns nothing save the storyline.

And with that, let us begin. Welcome, my viewers, to Fate: OSG.

Sometimes, things happen when you least expect it.

...I know that might seem like kind of a obvious statement, but for the life of me, I can't stress how true it really is. All my life, I've found that the more you try to prepare yourself for the worst, the more likely it's going to find you on the rare occasions that you don't prepare for it.

I can't begin to list just how many bad things have happened in my life because I didn't expect it or didn't expect enough. Like the time I faced down an undead Cerebus that happened to be my grandfather, or when I pissed off a being who could vaporise me with just a thought, or the time I broke a promise to a talking pink pony (which happened to be the most horrifying of experiences)...

...I'm sorry, I'm just rambling on now, aren't I? I've found myself doing that more and more recently. Why am I even writing this down?

Oh yeah, a good friend of mine said it would be healthy, claimed I would be able to pass on my knowledge to the next generation so they could learn from my mistakes if I died. That's a laugh. Few could make as many mistakes as me, but I can see his point.

Well, I guess I should start this properly by introducing myself. I was born the son of the banished crown prince of Titania (don't ask, you won't find it in any texts), raised as wielder of one of the most deadly weapons in existence.

I have slayed dragons, fought through the Netherworld, killed countless warriors on the battlefield, and loved one of the most beautiful women the world has ever known.

I have died, been reborn, and offered a choice.

I have travelled dimensions, faced beings on par with so-called 'gods', and recruited warriors from the brink of death just as I had been.

I am the leader of one of the most powerful organizations on the face of this world, in charge of maintaining a balance of sorts between the others and defending the innocent from the planet's vengeance.

I have gone by many titles in my time: Tool, Shadow Knight, Demon, Odette's Pet, Cousin, Husband, Boss.

Today, I go by Edgar Silverstein.

...

Edgar put his pen down as he stared at the first page of his journal. With a sigh, he shut the book, putting the pen away as he went back to his desk.

"Sorry Earl, but I'm just not cut out for this sort of stuff," he muttered as he looked at the sheets his secretary, Lyn, had given him earlier. "Sentimental stuff isn't my strong suit."

Edgar was an interesting man to look at. In terms of appearance, he had the looks of a man in his early twenties, a face that most women would swoon over, that stood out in contrast to his white-grey/white-blond hair, which was styled in a somewhat spiky fashion, though mostly only in the back. He wore a black pin-striped suit with a red dress shirt, black tie, and black matching shoes. His eyes were what caught most people's attention though. The left was an emerald green while his left a golden brown.

All in all, not the appearance one would expect of a guy who commanded one of the strongest organizations on Earth.

A knock at the door distracted him. Glancing upwards, he eyed it for a moment before sighing. "Come in!"

A young man, appearing around Edgar's own age, entered the room. He had long blond hair fashioned into a ponytail and blue eyes, over which were a pair of square-framed glasses. He was wearing a black shirt, over which was a long-sleeved red jacket, beige cargo pants, and red shoes. His face was young, though it seemed somewhat aged with stress, small bags under his eyes, though it had the appearance of someone who often smiled as well. About his forehead was a plain white headband, just wide enough to cover it and adorned with two tiny pins on either side, with the first being a tiny version of some sort of logo: a golden ticket with a pink/red letter G in the center. The second pin resembled an emerald-green saber.

"Hey Edgar," the figure greeted his leader. "I see you're doing well."

"'Doing well' is subjective, Giro," he replied as he scanned the reports. "I'm trying to deal with the damn Association's half-hearted efforts to shut us down again, avoiding Zeltrech since his last favor, and now Earl's efforts to make me write about my history."

"So... standard?"

Edgar shrugged. "Fair enough. How's things going with Jeanne?" he asked in turn, referring to their newest 'otherworldly' recruit.

Giro didn't say anything, but Edgar could hear the slight shifts in his stance. "She's... doing rather well, all things considered. She appears to have fully adjusted to life within this dimension, and she seems rather happy, overall."

"Well, she's had five years," Edgar reminded him. "How are things between the two of you specifically, though?"

Giro didn't reply for a moment, but Edgar could have sworn if he saw his face, it would be turning red. "We're... doing rather well."

Now Edgar glanced up. Yup, face definitely red. "Well, that's a relief. I was afraid when I heard you two mysteriously vanished about a week ago that she had decided to try and kill you. Though why you two would be wearing a dress and suit if that was the case was beyond me..."

"Anyways!" Giro interrupted, making it clear he didn't want to continue this, "I brought you some news from Maka and Soul."

Edgar's attention was immediately on him fully, teasing tone gone. "Yeah?"

"Kiritsugu is dead," Giro replied solemnly. "Died just two days ago."

Edgar sighed and bowed his head, Giro doing the same. Kiritsugu Emiya, former Magus Killer and Master in the Fourth Holy Grail War, a secret War in which Seven Magi fought for the right to earn the Holy Grail, a wish-granting artifact, had been a former member of their group. Even if they had had a falling out in the end, he was still well-known to both of them, and they always honored a fallen comrade.

"When's the funeral?"

"Scheduled for the end of the week, three days from now." Giro replied. "When do you want them to talk to Shirou?"

Ah yes, Shirou Emiya: Kiritsugu's adopted son and the whole reason two of his agents were in Fuyuki City. Five years ago, Edgar and several others had come to Fuyuki after the end of the Fourth War to find the city in panic. A great fire had sprung up and killed hundreds of innocent people. Shirou Emiya was one of the few survivors of that disaster, taken in by Kiritsugu as his own adopted son and saved from death by use of an ancient magical item.

Edgar had promised his old comrade to train the boy, who had already begun to show signs of a desire to help others out of a sense of survivor's guilt, as a fighter, so that he would be able to help others for real, and not kill himself in the process. After all, OSG was filled with many a person who could be and had been considered 'heroes' at one point or another.

One condition though: Kiritsugu had to be dead before that happened.

"...Tell them to give the kid some time." he replied, "allow him some time to clear his head, decide what he wants to do before popping the question."

Giro raised an eyebrow. "I would have thought you would have told me to tell them to ask him now, what with the way you've been waiting for him."

Edgar rolled his eyes. "I'm not heartless, G. The kid needs time to cope, and so do Maka and Soul. They were at least somewhat close to the old fool. I'm not ruining their mourning period with an offer. There's time for that afterwards."

Giro nodded his head, but Edgar could see there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Good to see you still care about us lowly minions, sir."

"I've always cared. You just need to look hard to find it," Edgar replied, then a slight teasing tone entering his voice. "So... about you and Jeanne..."

Giro immediately turned around, though not fast enough to hide his once-again redding face. "I'm leaving."

"When's the wedding?" Edgar called after him.

"I'm done with this conversation!" Giro yelled as he shut the door behind him.

Edgar chuckled slightly, but then quickly sobered up as the significance of what Giro had told him came back to the fore. He sighed to himself as he glanced at one of the items in the room: A single-handed, straight-bladed cutlass, its basket-shaped guard, hilt, and pommel a dull gold and its grip a beautiful shade of deep blue.

"...Looks like I'll be paying an old friend a visit..."

Fuyuki City (Emiya Residence) {One Year Later}

Shirou Emiya sighed to himself as he sat down on the steps of the storehouse at the edge of the lawn, rubbing his eyes as he tried to shake the sleep out of his head. He glanced down at his watch, a gift from his mentor/friend Maka last birthday, and saw the time.

"2:30 in the afternoon?" he muttered to himself. "When did I go to bed last night?"

He glanced back inside, noticing the dust on the floor and the disturbed area that he had been resting in until just recently. He looked down at his clothes, rumpled and covered in dust. He sneezed as some of it got in his nose.

"Oh yeah, I never left..."

He had been doing this quite a lot recently, coming here just to think and work when he wasn't busy at school or training with his legal guardian and friends, and then falling asleep inside the shed.

The old building had been there for as long as he could remember; the door was faulty, the inside covered in dust, two windows were missing glass, only to be covered up with some wood, and all in all was in some real need of repair.

In other words, it was his favorite place to be at save the kitchen. It gave him a calming feeling whenever he was nearby, as if the spirit of his father was there watching him.

He sighed again. His father, or rather the only father he ever remembered having, Kiritsugu Emiya, was dead. He himself was no stranger to death, in fact, it had been the first thing his father had taught him after all: To be a Magus is to walk with death from the moment they start using magic. Even so, he couldn't accept his father was really gone.

It really was surprising, in a way. He never would have thought the last time they had a conversation would really be the last time they had a conversation, even if his father's condition had been getting worse and worse over time.

It had been so sudden too. When he saw his father just sort of slump down at the end, he had just assumed he was asleep and put a blanket over him, heading off to bed and expecting to see him in the morning. It took seeing his godmother Maiya in the morning, with tears in her eyes and standing next to a completely still Kiritsugu, for him to realize what really happened.

The few days afterwards had been a blur. He remembered talk of funeral arrangements, condolences from his friends, bits and pieces of his classes, going about his chores, schoolwork, and even training, but it really seemed like he had just been on autopilot during that time, just going through the motions.

It had only been after the funeral over a year ago had he truly seemed to come back to his senses, but even then, he tried to avoid others, only interacting when necessary. Even with his training sessions with Maiya, Maka, and Soul, where he learned how to properly shoot firearms and knife-combat from the former and sword practice/some practical magical theory from the later two, as well as something he often looked forward to ever since he was ten, he only spent a minimum of perhaps an hour or so each compared to his usual of three per each one.

He knew they were worried for his mental state, but they also knew he needed time. He was thankful to them for that, and it was that knowledge that they were still there for him, plus a few heart-to-heart talks with Soul, that allowed him to recover enough to get back to his normal routine after about a week.

Even so, for the past few months he still been somewhat distant, though no longer of grief reasons. More and more, his thoughts were turning back to the last conversation he had with Kiritsugu, of his promise to his old man: To become a hero of justice, someone who could save everyone.

He snorted, just amused at the timing of saying such a thing. "Funny that I make that promise just minutes before he dies," he muttered to himself. Picking up a stick next to himself, he eyed it for a moment, then shut his eyes.

"Trace On."

Those words were his trigger, the command that allowed him to prepare his body's magic circuits for the task at hand. At one point, they had also been his trigger for creating said circuits, temporarily and (inadvertently) converting parts of his nerves into magic circuits. The pain was like inserting a hot iron rod into his spine, and often left him drained afterwards too much to effectively practice Magecraft. Unknowingly to him, he was risking his life every time he did it, as failure would result in his body breaking down from the inside out.

This was due to him misunderstanding his father when he said in order to perform Magecraft, he would have to open his circuits. What he meant was "you need to channel Prana through your still-sleeping ones to wake them up", while Shirou thought he meant "you need to channel Prana through your body to create them". It took Maka watching him doing it, him explaining what he was doing when he collapsed in pain, and her asking Kiritsugu if that was what he was supposed to be doing before his father realized he had misinterpreted his words.

Since then, almost three years ago, he had managed to finally open his circuits at will and began training with those. He had 27 circuits in total, each capable of channeling up to 10 units of Prana without trouble and up to 25 units if he pushed to his limits, though doing so could damage them. Despite having more circuits than the average magus, which was 20, his circuits were also of far lower quality than most, so he was still with a handicap.

He mentally envisioned the hammer of a gun, cocked back and ready. As he spoke those words, it came crashing forward, signalling the firing of the gun and activation of his Circuits.

"Structural Grasp."

In an instant, a mental image of the stick appeared in his mind, almost like a blueprint of sorts. Structural Analysis magecraft, one of the first that Kiritsugu ever taught him. It allowed him to see whatever he was viewing as a blueprint of sorts, essentially granting him the ability to memorize every piece of its design and structure to search for flaws. He could literally create a carbon copy on paper if he so chose to, and actually had on several occasions to practice his attention to detail.

Pleased that he managed to do that without breaking a sweat, he then began the next level of his training, Reinforcement magecraft, the second he had ever managed to master at least somewhat competently. This was also the magic that Maka and Soul practiced with him in terms of practicality in a fighting situation.

"Reinforcement of the weakened parts."

He began analysing the stick itself: It's components, how much of each were within it, where the flaws in its design were, and where it was at its strongest and weakest. He then slowly channelled his Prana through it, trying to fill the gaps and imperfections within it. To his disappointment, most of the Prana refused to bind with the object, but some of it did, strengthening the stick to the point it was comparable to a piece of sturdy iron.

With a slow breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding, he looked down at the seemingly fine stick, wiping sweat from his brow. 'Looks like I've got some ways to go,' he thought. 'That's maybe the third thing I've ever managed to reinforce without failing or just making it explode...'

True, he had made practice swords stronger during bouts with his friends, but that was mostly because he was constantly using the same sword every time, so he had gotten used to it. The only other object he had successfully reinforced was an iron pipe, and that was due more to accident than anything else.

Looking upwards, he noticed one of the targets that he practiced his knife throwing with Maiya on laying across from him, about six feet away. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he threw the stick straight at the wooden target with all his strength. Instead of bouncing straight off, it sunk to about a quarter of its length within the three-inch thick hardwood, straight in the center bullseye.

'Well, my aim is definitely getting better,' he thought.

"Nice shot, Shirou."

Eyes widening, Shirou quickly turned around, only to relax when he saw Soul, wearing jeans, a yellow T-shirt, black jacket, and a black headband, walking towards him, hands in his pocket and usual grin plastered on his face.

"Oh, hey Soul," Shirou replied, forgoing the usage of honorifics. Maka and Soul made it rather clear from the beginning they didn't like them, and preferred that the residents of the Emiya household just refer to them by name. "I didn't know you were stopping by alone."

Soul picked one of his ears with a hand lazily, not even bothering to comment on Shirou's appearance. It was rather common these days. "Yeah, Maka's still at the library, and I got off early today from work, so I figured I'd stop by before doing something else."

Translation?: "I wanted to see if you were doing alright, so I came over by myself since Maka's working."

Shirou nodded. "That's cool, I guess."

A brief awkward silence descended on the two of them. Shirou got the distinct feeling that there was something that Soul wanted to say something, but couldn't quite figure out the words to do so.

Shirou decided to make the first move. "So... things going well with you guys?"

Soul's head snapped up. "Huh? Oh yeah, it's been great," he replied while scratching his head. "In fact, Maka and I plan on taking a vacation for a month or so. Stretch our legs a little."

"Where to?" Shirou asked, genuinely curious. Aside from occasionally disappearing for a week or two to go somewhere, Maka and Soul were two constants in his life, having been with his family almost since the beginning. He more or less considered them his older siblings, if not in blood then in spirit.

Soul shrugged. "Eh, probably back to the States. Visit some old friends, that sort of thing."

Shirou nodded. "Well, good for you two I guess."

Soul was silent for a moment, then sighed. "Actually... the reason I'm here is because Maka wanted me to ask you something..."

Shirou looked at him quizzically. "What?"

His white-haired friend scratched his head again, then answered. "Do you want to come with us?"

Shirou stopped, his planned response leaving him as he processed what was just said. Him, go with them? Out of the country?

"I know it's kinda sudden, what with everything that's happened," Soul continued, "But school's over now, and you're not really doing anything over the summer after all, so we just figured that you might want to... you know, hang out."

"I-I don't know," Shirou stuttered. "It's just all a little sudden..."

Soul shrugged. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, it's not that, it's just..." Shirou replied quickly, "I mean, wouldn't Maiya..."

Shirou knew his excuse was sort of flawed: Maiya was perfectly capable of handling herself, especially with Taiga around to 'help' out. He just didn't want to leave her. She was the only official family member she had left, after all, and he was somewhat (irrationally) worried something would happen to her while he was gone.

"Maka actually talked to Maiya about it already, about two days ago." Soul assured him. "She said it was fine, assuming you wanted to come." He then grinned. "Come on, Shirou, she's a grown woman. Trust me, I know that she can handle herself."

Shirou was silent for a moment longer, to which Soul decided to add something else.

"By the way, those 'old friends' I mentioned earlier?" Soul began slowly, "They might be able to help you with that little dream of yours."

Shirou immediately focused on Soul, his eyes burning with interest. "Really?" he asked slowly, his tone indicating he was smart enough not to just be suckered in by that single sentence. He had told Soul during one of their talks about what he promised Kiritsugu, and the white-haired man had just ruffled his hair playfully. "Hey, anything's possible." he had replied simply.

Soul grinned. "Trust me, if there's any group on the planet who knows what it means to be heroes, it's them. Maka and I wouldn't even be here today if it wasn't for their help."

Shirou tilted his head, the desire to see this group growing stronger and stronger, but the common sense that Maiya drilled into his brain was still holding precedence. "Well..."

"Want more evidence? Kiritsugu used to be a member, according to their word."

Shirou just rolled his eyes, finally giving in to his friend's not-so-subtle prodding. "Okay, okay!" he said as he cracked a smile. "Assuming I did go, how long would I be gone?"

Soul shrugged. "The max time is two months, because that's when we're coming back here regardless, but I guess you could leave anytime earlier if you couldn't take it." He then looked at him with a grin. "What, are you seriously considering going?"

"...If what you weren't lying about what Maiya said..."

"I would never!" Soul replied indignantly, then muttered, "She'd kick my ass if I did..."

Shirou chuckled. "Then if I talk to her myself and she says 'yes'... then I guess I will."

Soul shook his head and looked towards the main house, one of his eyebrows raising. "Well, here's your chance."

Shirou followed his gaze, eyes widening as he caught sight of what his friend did. Walking towards them, wearing black pants, a black short-sleeved shirt, and and black shoes, with a small frown on her face, was Maiya Hisau herself. Aside from a few gray hairs, she hadn't changed an inch from the time when Kiritsugu had adopted him.

Suddenly, Shirou was aware of something that he should have remembered earlier. He was still covered in dust and looked like he had been sleeping outside, which wasn't really far from the truth as the shed wasn't exactly the most secure place to sleep in. If there was one thing that Maiya didn't like him really doing, it was sleeping in the shed.

"Shirou," Maiya began calmly, "What have I told you about sleeping in the shed?"

Shirou tried his best to look small under her iron gaze, scratching the back of his head rapidly. "Maiya-san... Eh heh heh... sorry?"

Soul sighed. Just a standard day at the Emiya Residence.

And so ends the first chapter of what will hopefully be an interesting and successful experiment. As you can plainly see from the length of this, I have no intentions of making this the door stopper that the first one was. In fact, I'm hoping to finish this before June is over with.

Still, I have no intentions of compromising quality. I'm still giving this my best efforts!

Stay with me, my viewers! And remember, if you see any tropes worth mentioning about this or my previous story, please put them on TvTropes page 'Fate Zero Sanity'.

Until next time!