HELLOOOO THERE!

*Schiva numerosi coltelli* I was prepared for this for months, fuckers!

Also, this chapter doesn't have any EMIYA POV!

*Schiva ancor più numerosi proiettili NATO 7.62* Oh, how I missed to make you angry!

I think that there is also an angry Lich in there, Am I wrong?

Oh well, I think I was talking enough!

Now lets start again after summer with:

GOD OF SWORDS: HOW A SWORD IS FORGED

CHAPTER FOUR: THE YEARS OF A SWORD.

Year 1; The aspirant hero;

'Ah, how much is beautiful the winter's sky.'

It was of a blue that made me relaxed, even if I preferred the blue of the ocean, looking from Montauk.

Or the blue cookies. Or blue pancakes.

It was a difficult choice, after all.

"Kid, if I wanted for you to rest then I would have hit you on the head."

Aaaand here it comes the meanie teacher with the meanie comment.

Along with the pain on the side and the burning of the chest, it was one of the things that made me dislike training with him.

Because he was really, really meanie.

Or sar-ca-stic, if what my mom had said was right, along with the dictionary.

Even if it had taken ten minutes to read the definition, it was Sheru's up to a t.

…

Well, at least the snow made me feel much better, like my pain was fading away, and I wasn't feeling the February's cold thanks to the Circuits which made me much more warmer.

"Kid, I know that you are awake and that you are unharmed, so get up. If not, we will simply do Magecraft training today rather than tomorrow." Was the dry comment of her teacher, which made me get up with a jolt and a sheepish smile, shaking the snow from my clothes and my short cut hair, while Sheru was looking at me annoyed, his training spear and small shield at rest and the bit of snow which was on my skin was melting very quickly.

It was a very good feeling, and I felt better when-

*Crack* *Crack*

*SWOOOSH!*

"Pay attention to the foe you have in front!"

-I had a spear in front of my face!

"Oi, it's not fair!" I shouted, having swished away from the "pointy" end of the iron lance, while having moved it with my shield, and still feeling the air hitting the right side of my face.

I decided to be a good sport and to attack him with my own weapon, a Xiphos, while pulling back my shield.

But he knew that it was coming, and he deflected it with his shield, like I expected.

So I punched him with my shield, like Captain America would do.

Even if mine was much uglier than his, and probably less sturdy.

You don't know, being this shield much bigger than the one I used before.

And I was not as good as Cap, because the meanie just jumped outside my reach and attacked me to the foot when I wasn't protecting it, hitting it and making me almost cry, even if it had been blunted and my own leg was being Reinforced at one and half times its normal resistance.

Just at that moment, ignoring the pain, I rose my Reinforced arm and slammed my shield down to the shaft, breaking both the shield and the spear, both disappearing in blue lights.

I smiled at that, and maybe, just maybe, I lowered my guard, being surprised at being able to do that.

Bad idea, past me. Very bad idea.

Because when a hand clamps on your face and then, after making you trip, slam you on the snow and concrete, making you shout at the pain on your back of the head, and then put the shield on your throat, you understand two things:

One, that it's a bad idea to not destroy the enemy in front of you;

Two, that Sheru is very, very mean.

But I already knew that, so I waited for the shield to disappear while the pain on the back of my head was already fading, like the sword in my hand.

"Oi, are you all right, kid?" was the calm voice over me, while he offered his hand to help me get up.

"Aside from losing I'm good, sensei." I jokingly said, making sure to punctuate the title that would make him annoyed, if the twitch of his white eyebrow was a good sign of it.

"…I don't know why my mother has said it to me, nor do I know why you want to use it, but I will not let it disturb me, little girl." The start was good, but in the end he used a more meanie tone, along with a smirk and a "I am too tall to talk face-to-face so I am bowing.".

He was just three inches taller than me!

"Stop calling me that! You are just one year older than me!" I shouted with all my anger, my gloved hands shaking while the pain had completely faded away.

"…You know that we have known each other for only eight months, right?" he said in a meanie tone, his smirk still in place and one of his brows risen, something which made me more annoyed.

"Yeah, so?"

"So how much did you change in these months?"

I stopped for some moments, thinking about it.

Then I touched the pendant that the meanie had given to me, hidden by the coat her mom had gifted me to "play" in winter.

She probably would scold me if she knew what my "playing" was: a lot of fight one day, and a lot of "studying" on the other.

Studying other things than school subjects, I mean.

At least the meanie wasn't mean enough to not help me after beating me black and blue with a big stick while he was always walking away like a rose.

*BRRR*

While I was starting to feel as cold as a snowman.

Or rather snowgirl.

Well, the Circuits warmness would make the snow melt, and the water would become warm after that, but…

I had magic tricks, why shouldn't I use them?

So I closed my eyes, I concentrated on what I wanted to happen, and then, with a small amount of Prana, like, really small, pumping in my Circuits and my right arm in front of me, I said my Aria:

"Oh blood of life around me, be it ice, water or steam, come on my palm!"

The water, because yes, even if I used a "useless naming" (meanie, it was cool and that's that) to call it was water, started moving from around me, even if it was the mist from my heated skin, the (little) snow still present three feet around me and, most importantly, the water which was drenching me, and gathering on my palm.

At least that was what I had in mind for it to do, and the meanie had confirmed that it was working, even if he still forbade me from using more Prana.

Worry wart.

"You are doing good."

Aaaand now my hand and arm were drenched again.

Dammit.

I turned to the meanie and I glared at him.

He was just there smirking, and then he said with that mean tone, shaking his head:

"Well, still not good enough, it seems."

Root damned meanie!

"EHI! Why did you do it?!"

"You still have problems in focusing, so we have to make you better in that. Now let's go in, today's training is done." The meanie answered with the same amused tone, starting to walk towards the door.

"Then why didn't you wait after I was done with the magic trick to make it?!"

"Because it wouldn't have lasted this long. Also, you should not ever lower your guard until you have killed the enemy in front of you, nor let a distraction distract you from you goal. It's still one of you biggest vices, something which we will have to rectify." The older boy said, his tone emotionless while he tore me down without turning towards me, making me look at the side and rub the back of my shoes.

Then he continued, his voice taking a… strange tone, just before opening the door: "But you were able to almost defeat one of the most skilled soldiers which fought in the Thermopylae, one of the knight of Leonidas no less, and your technique is becoming better and better with every session. So don't be saddened by your defeat and instead learn from it."

I immediately turned to him, but a clang made me know that he was already gone.

Oh well, that meant one thing.

"YEAAHHH!" I pumped my fist to the air, happy about one of the few compliments that the meanie ever gave to me.

Wait.

He had complimented me.

That also meant…

"Oh yes, the day after tomorrow we will change your "sparring partner" to something more difficult. Congratulations! Also, remember to revise geography for the test." Came the meanie voice from the other side of the door, which made her freeze in the pumping motion.

Dammit.

Well, at least my goal was closer and closer, wasn't it?

To be able to protect my family from everything which would hurt them.

So that, finally, they wouldn't have to be hurt for me.

…

Now, if only that way wasn't through study of Maths and ancient myths, or continued repetion of exercises with magic, than it would be much better.

Year 2; Danae reborn

Friday 9th of June, 2006

Today is one of those days which Kajiya would call "Material gathering".

I prefer to call it "getting stuck inside an hive and taking the honey without being stung".

Long name, but very apt for the situation.

Because I will win in a casino, and not being kicked out, while practically cheating and, in the end, taking the money.

Even if someone could call the use of Mysteries simply an ability of a person, not an external mean which would give an unfair advantage, but I don't think that the heads of the casino would think about it that way.

But unfortunately this was the fastest way to get money without being on the wrong side of the law.

Now the problem, which you can ask, is "how do you win against the house?".

If I have done the things right, I should have already taught to you that, in every case, the house wins, so you should never, never, get inside one.

But, if you are in a situation in which Kajiya isn't with you and you have to make money in a fast way, you take the route of the least fight, while taking as much as possible.

In this case, poker.

The house doesn't have as high stakes as in blackjack, where it's an active player, but thanks to its popularity there will always be a lot of people playing it.

With a lot of tables, where the stakes are high enough, it wins in every case, without having the edge which it usually has.

So now your only enemies are the other players.

And here comes the Mysteries.

And also the answer to another question that you have probably just made: "Why didn't you continue with the repair thing? It worked just fine in the first month."

The reasons are multiple, and are:

1) It's a way to train with Mysteries in the field, which is always useful, even more with my own "Origin".

2) I don't want to make an unfair competition to the Kajiya, even as small as this, nor do I want to make the young Shirou work so much (even if he would repeat again and again that he also gains from this kind of deal), and I already feel guilty about using him as a bodyguard for one night a month.

3) It's a way which doesn't give a lot of information about myself, only my surname at most, and a sometime not even that.

4) I want to spend as much time as possible with you.

I know that someday you will have to go to the Camp.

I know that someday the gods, in their immense pride and lust, will try to get their paws on you, and you will have to fight for your life.

I know that someday you… you…

*CRACK!* *plick* *plick*

Before a drop of salted water, followed by another and then yet another, would fall on the page of the notebook with a blue 2006 emblazoned on it, I closed it abruptly, the few things on my desk rattling, and I took a few, deep breaths, while I carefully rubbed my eyes with my free hand.

When I calmed down, action that took more than a few moments, I started putting the things which fell over, being already ready to get out.

The blue paper flower made by Pen when she was in kindergarten; a blue wristband that she had made, that had taken one week for her daughter to make using a rubber band and a lot of blue tinted wood cubes; the letter of the school which congratulated her rising grades;

The photo of us two in Montauk the first year we went there, when she was just three years old, with both of us smiling at the camera.

I put it in its place, I put down the pen, and only then I got up, grabbing the notebook and moving towards the cabinet at the side of my bed.

I opened the second one, completely similar to the other drawers, and I took out the toiletries from it, leaving only a brush on the bottom of it.

I grabbed the brush and I lifted it.

The false bottom of the drawer came up along it, showing the hidden content.

There were five other notebooks, which started from 2000 to 2005, some hundreds of dollars inside a purse and a small silver disk with a reflected seven (a reversed Ansuz, as the young blacksmith called it) sculpted on one face and an I (Isa) on the other, with a string that made it wearable around her neck.

It was a small trick that I had always used since I married that… thing.

Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath.

He was no longer here, Pen was now in less danger than she has ever been since she was born.

Calm down.

After a few minutes of breathing technique, I put the last notebook inside and took out the disk, wearing it and instantly feeling a not small amount of Prana flowing inside it and activating the runes, and, after making sure that the blue dress I was wearing was in order, the purse with the money taken, I started getting out of my room.

It was all done in mechanical motions, my mind blank, concentrated on the upcoming task, then, when I was closing the door, I remembered something that I forgot.

I took the blue wrist band, and then I went out of my room, paying attention to not make too much noise, even if I had already seen that the runes put on her daughter's room worked.

I would now have at least seven hours, thanks both to the training and her heavy dinner, while the runes would make sure that no noise was heard from outside.

Enough to rip off some gambler, take the money and go back and have three hours to sleep.

With that, I went out of the apartment, a photo of us two and the "bat" that "I" had gifted her, along with the baseball cap with a silver "I" emblazoned on it, being the last things seen before closing the door.

…

East Harlem during the night wasn't somewhere where you wanted to walk alone, while the noises of the sick and the calls of the drunk badly covered the not so occasional siren of the police, and where the smell of drugs was able to cover the smog.

Even if the time of entire buildings burning down was now gone since the seventies, even if the crime rate had gone down, it wasn't somewhere where you could say you were "Safe".

Well, unsafe if you weren't trained in "Thaumaturgy".

And the feeling of being observed behind my back helped feeling a bit more secure, even if it could seem paradoxical.

So here I was, walking calmly in the first Avenue under the lamps lights, searching for a particular building.

Then, when I arrived at the crossing with the 101st, I turned to the left and started walking down that road, until I came in front of a small game room.

There was a bag of money in neon, and, over it, there was an illuminated writing which gave me the name.

'La settima bolgia? A good name for this kind of place.'

This had been my first thought when I had seen this place for the first time.

And this remained my belief in front of this small den, only that I was the thief.

I entered inside the bar/small gambling house and, instead of the smell of cheap drugs and urine, I found the smell of cheap cigarettes and cheap beer, and instead of the noises of horns and shouts of irritation, the noises of losses and shouts of defeat.

Nothing different.

Some of the tenants inside turned towards me, and one or maybe two tried to call me, starting with an "N", but they stopped, their excited expressions became flat and then turned to their previous occupations.

Sometimes being able to use "Magecraft" and to also have some instruments to bolster it is useful, but this wasn't the place where I should use it so freely, so I started cutting the power to half of the runes gradually.

I went in front of a bored barman, who had a dirty shirt and was making sure that no-one inside made too much ruckus, and asked, without letting a sliver of apprehension through:

"The poker tables?"

The young man looked at me with red rimmed eyes and, with a raspy voice and a risen brow, he asked:

"Are you sure, lady? Those in the back are not people that you would call "disreputable". You should go away."

I remained stony, but I was a bit surprised at the concern, because it was that.

Concern.

I smiled minutely and I just said, my tone maybe a bit warmer:

"I don't think there will be a problem, I'm use to that kind of people and know how to deal with them."

The barman looked at me with a pitying look, then he asked:

"How much do you want to play?"

I got my hand inside my purse, grabbed the paper and took out five C-notes.

The man's brow rose a bit more, something which looked rather silly, and then he commented, :

"You are playing rather tall tonight, eh? There is one table which just started, and they needed another one to complete it. Look for the one with the woman with a face tattoo and two men with another tattoo on their shoulder. It's a six people table with only five people. All of whom know how to play, lady."

I just stared at him and he, with a sigh, took out a ruined, plastic container, which had several fiches in it, some ruined, some not, but all recognizable.

He took out twenty five fiches of twenty each and he put them inside a paper bag, giving it to me.

"I would say to get out of here and not lose your money like this, but I don't think that you will go away. Just pay attention, miss…?"

"Jackson."

I needed to use my real surname, but I wouldn't want to risk to find the police at home for tax evasion.

Plus the amulet, the lack of any personal information other than the surname, my own lack of incredible characteristics would help me.

"Jack-son… alright, it's good. I have you down in the register so the dogs will not go up my ass. Good luck there."

I nodded and, without showing any kind of anxiety to the patrons, who changed from drunk talking animatedly one another to angry drunk using the slot machines present in the back, moaning about their losses under the dim lights, twisted even more by the smoke of cheap cigarettes.

And the occasional glances from around, with two who downright turned towards me.

And, in the middle of this room, which could as well be two times the bar itself, there were seven tables, with red embers in front of some lips, amber liquid in front of others, a few having a good emotionless face, some being able to at least mask some of their emotions, and the great majority being as open as a plain.

And then I found the only table with one seat, which had five people around it, two of them were men of south American descent, with a tattoo on their shoulder under their shirts, visible due their short sleeved shirt, one red and the other white, two others, of the same descent, had two white blouses, a bit damp around their armpits due to the warmness inside the room, but they didn't have nothing so incredible about them, and were looking at me with half disinterested and half annoyed eyes.

The woman, on the other hand, was much more… interesting.

Even if she was sat she stood above the men around her, wearing a red tracking suit, which stood out even in the extremely informal situation, with the others around at least having jeans and a shirt, while her sneakers were put on the table while smoking a cheap cigarette, showing that she was much taller than me, and probably more than six feet tall.

But her height wasn't the only particular feature of her description.

There were also her muscles that, despite being hidden well under the baggy track suit, were still visible, while her hair were cut short, so that the brown cover wasn't able to hide the tattoos on both sides of her face, which reassembled, for some reason, the scales of a dragon, black and red, but, for some reason, the ones on the left side being less distinct than the ones on the right.

That was interesting, but ultimately useless for my own objective.

The fact that she had zeroed me, even if the illusion was at now fading, was much more important.

Probably she simply had much more resistance to mental pollution than the others, clear sighted- people with "Pure Eyes" were rare, after all.

The explanations given by the young demigod were much more understandable, after all, then just "the Fates willed it", plus it would also explain my… "ability".

Sitting down, when the last vestiges of Prana left the rune and the Mist stopped confusing my features, and, while no-one of the four was openly leering at me, their eyes still lingered lower than they should before they looked up and all turned away their eyes from me, but the woman stared at me for one moment, confused, and then just shrugged and erupted with a booming laughter, followed by these words, given in a boisterous tone and with one hand pumping:

"Finally we have ze sixth! I would have had to call omeone in if you didn't come here, my friend! Grâce à Dieu pour ton arrivèe!"

The other four had different reaction to that, which ranged from slapping their own face to simple turning away in shame of their… friend I think, then one, who was the better dressed and had a slightly bigger amount of chips in front of him, shook his head and said, his accent much less discernible than the French one used by the woman:

"I apologise for my… friend behaviour, but we have waited for a good half an hour before you came here, miss…?"

"Jackson. But for now I don't think it would be useful. Maybe after you have given me your houses, but for now no."

A bit of bravado would make them think that I am trying to be an hot-shot and so just be amused, or annoyed, by my action.

This, coupled with the dress and my own appearance, would create an air of naivety or arrogance, which would make them underestimate me.

Even if I was acutely aware of the stares directed at me by some of the more unruly gamblers, and even if I was prepared, there was always that small twitch that didn't seem to stop, even if the fact that I was putting the fishes on the table, mirroring the other five players, was helping.

But that was irrelevant.

Much more relevant were the reactions of the other players around the table: the men with the t-shirts, who were probably the youngest in the group, had the most visible reaction, with bulging veins, grinding teeth and increased breathing, while the other two didn't show any reaction other than a quick look at my little hill in front of their much more visible mountains, and a minute rise of their lips.

It was almost disturbing the rate of similarity between the two couples, but probably it was caused by the same kind of experience.

But the most noticeable was the woman, whose smirk only widened and shouted in the same way as before:
"Zat's a good spirit, woman! Now we can start!"

Not in that exact moment, no we can't.

I needed to do one last thing, even if I would have preferred, and I still would prefer, to not have to do it.

The Prana stopped flowing through the seven, and, in that exact moment, I saw.

The spirit, the soul, the inner world, the true self inside every person.

And, every time, it was disgusting.

Not because every person had a dark heart inside them, no.

Even inside this kind of location I could see that everyone had both their lights and their shadows, and in all my life I had encountered very few who were completely shrouded by darkness.

He was one of them.

No, the reason was because I felt like I was violating them in such a way that not even him would be able to attain, and I was cursed at birth to do so.

But, at least, this curse would help me to protect Pen, like it did in the past innumerable times.

Then, paying attention to not look at the people around the table, I glared at the cards being shuffled by the still smiling woman and put my chip in the middle of the table.

Now, exactly when the woman stopped shuffling, the last part.

'Show me your history.'

An influx of information invaded my mind: the origin of the materials, the heat at which the plastic was pressed into form and, lastly, what was print in their faces.

Now, I had enough information to practically play solitaire.

…

"BWAAAAAH!"

There were few things truly uncomfortable in this world.

Looking at a grown man, who was, now that I could see him standing, two times me in size, had several tattoos and scars visible under his completely wet shirt, cry because he had lost in poker.

While two were hugging him and comforting him with both beer and words of encouragement (in that specific order), I was looking at them incredulous, with around five thousands of dollars inside my purse, a good but not outstanding taking, after having cleaned the cash, one beer offered by one of the patrons for my "ability at cleaning them", which I would immediately throw away, avoiding to make my tremors known, while the amulet was again at full force.

At least I wasn't seeing the real nature of the entire night population of Harlem, and I only accidentally saw the ones who were playing against me.

It gave me some interesting information, above all about the woman, even if it left me with that disgusting sensation of ripping away their own selves.

Then someone touched my shoulder.

I turned immediately, and, without even thinking about it, I started coating my skin with Prana, like I was donning an invisible armor, which depleted even more my reserves.

*burn*

Only to come to face to the wide eyed woman, who stared at me for a few frantic heartbeats with a contemplative look on her face, her eyebrows crunched and lips on a flat line, her hands risen up as a non-threatening show, while the three men had stopped their little drama and were staring at us, all under the uncaring people around.

During those moments I could almost a soft sigh from above me, even if it wasn't possible, so much were we drown under the sounds of vehicles, drunk and apathetic.

Then the woman, so, so slowly, put the hands down and with an easy going smile she exclaimed, her voice attempting to sound cheerful:

"If you want we have ze car near, and Andreas went to take it. We know zat this isn't ecsatly ze most… secure district to be in."

The attempt wasn't successful, while I could see that she didn't want to mug me and retake her money, I would prefer to avoid to stay near them.

Even if I didn't see any kind of great affiliation with crime groups during the match, it's better be safe than sorry, and I wasn't the only one who would be hurt by that.
I had ways to deal with them in every case.

But a bad reputation, or just being a magnet for fights, would be enough to bar me a lot of roads, which I needed to both have the means and the time to protect Pen.

This wasn't something I could let happen.

So, with a smile as perfect as possible, I explained apologetic the fake reason:

"I live near here, it's not necessary, thank you."

*burn*

Hidden in there was the message "I am uncomfortable around you, please let me go away".

I knew that she was really attentive, I had seen that thanks to the fact she was continuously looking in search of bruises and scrapes, given my previous reaction.

"Are you sure? It's not a disturbance for us to do it. After all you have kicked our asses in a glorious. And made this poor fella cry for some statuette he wanted."

"Not any figure! Sakura Kinamoto you Heretic!"

Also the previously calm man was now shouting against one of the two who had spoken the truth, his eyes now filled with… righteous… anger… for the now lack of funds for a cartoon statuette.

I simply turned again towards the woman, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of her head, and, nodding, I affirmed:

"Yes, I am sure. I don't want for you to be disturbed by my presence."

"You wouldn't be a bozer, ya know. But, in case you need, I will give you somezing… where is it…"

The woman was rummaging in her track suit's pockets, biting her tongue in concentration until she finally found she was looking for and, with a satisfied shout she got out a yellowed, oiled, too much wore out business card, which was then given to me without a lot of thoughts about it in exchange for the bottle, given without any remorse.

Camille la Rue: Private investigator said the ruined letters on it, while under it there was a little figure of the woman in front of me.

I put it inside my purse, making sure to not show any disgust at the greased paper, when the woman was talking in a more calm tone:

"If you ever need some good PI, call us and we shall give you a bit of a discount. Call it…a victor's spoils. Now off we go!" and, with that, the group started moving away, the last glimpse being the woman opening the bottle with her teeth, much to the hilarity of those around her.

Now I started moving back towards the apartment.

*burn.*

I grabbed my right arm, the burning sensation now starting to become much more noticeable, and I moved faster, knowing what would happen in a few moments.

I turned at the main street, the stinging like a swarm on bumblebee around my arm, while, with one hand, I clutched the small rune disk and cut the Prana flowing through it.

*BURN!*

Just a second too late.

The pain was unbearable.

*BURN!*

I could almost hear someone, while my arm felt like someone had thrown a tank of fuel on it and set it on fire.

A thump was heard, but I wasn't sure if it was me or someone else.

*BURN!*

Then that someone grabbed my hand and started directing me, my mind hazed through the pain, but I knew who he was.

*BURN!*

After all he had saved her. Helped her. Even when I knew he could stay away and avoid all, he saved her.

And I had seen it.

*BURN!*

I had seen the desolation, the loneliness and the heavy burden.

The false smiles that were always there for your loved ones, even when all you wanted was to simply jump off a bridge.

I was used to it, after all.

*BURN!*

"ink! –ish –oman!"

But then why, Gods, why did you put such a burden?

Why on him?

*BURN!*

"Drink this, foolish woman!"

An irony taste invaded my tongue and my mind, in delirium, became clear again.

*burn*

I was seeing two cold, metallic eyes when I came again in me, while the smell of garbages and the spare sound of people made me understand that we were inside an alley, the one near the apartment.

Also atop his head there was a cap, the same that we said it was a gift but truly was:

"Woman, you have to get in. If you stay outside for more, you will attract the attention. The kind we wouldn't want here."

I looked at the child, who was now reaching around my chest as height, and said, my tone calm while I started to get upright again, despite the still burning sensation:

"I… think that… I can do that."

"Good." Said the child, his voice flat and as mechanic as possible for a child of ten, almost eleven. Unnatural, like it came from metal.

It was sad that I had seen his nature, and I felt pity for him, and anger against the Gods.

"Now," continued the child in what could be called, despite the flatness, reprimanding, while I could see blue lines spreading on his legs: "I will give your amulet back tomorrow morning, I could cut down the Prana expenditure. I would also have done that before if you had said it before that it took too much Prana."

I looked at him equally emotionlessly, despite the tremors taking a bit of my strength, and asked, my voice firm despite the pain:

"Would it have increased the time for Penelope's equipment? Because then you know my answer."

"And what do you think would happen if you died now? The girl would be distraught, she would lose all the faith in me and also she would go-"

"To your family. I know that Misato, even if she is a bit strange, would welcome her with open arms, and you grandparents would happily-."

"Damn the Root, woman! If you die then who will help me take the materials? Or make sure that Penelope doesn't close around herself or even explain her origin?" was the angry reply, said with an hotter voice, laced with bitterness and fury, while the child's fists closed instinctively and his eyes became almost bright in outrage.

It was heartening to see a bit of emotion inside the child. Every time he did so was a step closer to my secondary objective.

"I don't plan to die, Shirou. I know that I can, you already explained that to me, but I don't plan for it to happen."

"Good." He answered, his stance relaxing, and I mirrored him: "But, before I make the shield I will either better your amulet or make another Code altogether. I had this in mind for some time. I will give you tomorrow when you come for lunch, until then rest."

With that, he jumped for good twenty seven feet, reaching the edge of an open window and getting inside, leaving nothing at his passage, so I, not wanting to remain alone in a foul alley, started moving towards the entrance of the building, despite the occasional pain my arm was in.

Well, now I had to concentrate to my secondary objective, remembered by how the child had talked to me.

"What a little hypocrite." I murmured, faintly amused by it, while I waited in front of the elevator.

Indeed, it was strange to find a child who was a lot like me.

Ready to give up himself for the good of his family, cursed by the Gods to know much more both about this and the other world, and who had to hide it from his family, I the father, he his own "gifts".

But he always got something wrong, and it resurfaced always when I get inside my home and, with a used stealthy step that I had ingrained in my instincts in years with him, I opened Penelope's room.

I wanted my child to be happy.

I wanted for her to have an happy life, even if the silver sword with many runes on it, resting by the nightstand, was only one of the proofs needed that it wouldn't be normal or calm.

And, if some pain or bruises or blood was needed, then so be it.

I closed the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her, and moved inside my own room.

Now I would have more time for her to prepare, away from the Gods who would kill her for some prophecy, and also someone who would walk with her.

As a friend, I hoped, because otherwise I would probably scare him away.

*PFFT*

It was funny.

I laughed.

I could also be happy.

I had started to write again, after years.

I was free.

Now, I only had to make her happy and not let both become heroes.

Year 3; The mother of the oldest

*Clang* *Clang* *Clang*

The heat was there.

*Clang* *Clang* *Clang*

The noise that I had been used to hear since I was twelve was also there.

*Clang* *Clang* *Clang*

And this had been our family forge for three generations: my Jiji, my Touchan and me.

*Clang* *Clang* *Clang*

Now it was time for my Shirou to join our tradition.

*Clang* *Clang* *Clang* *SSSSS*

There was no action wasted, not a thinning too pronounced or a cold hammering.

The moment the metal was starting to become just a bit too cold, it was put again in the furnace.

"Not a wasted action… Incredible."

Touchan whispered beside me, and I could see a surprised expression on his face.

Kacchan was the same, only that she was sporting a proud smile on her face, very much not the same she was wearing when I was making my first, solo, knife.

It could also be because I almost burned down my arm when I made the knife fall in the oil, but details.

Or it could also be for the father.

"Oi brat!" shouted suddenly Touchan, just when Shirou was drinking, waiting for the almost completed blade to reach the 1800 °F (AN for us Europeans: around 1000 °C) for finishing the forgery: "You doing a survival knife?"

"Yes, old man! In 1095 and with a full tang so you are not left with only a piece of tail in one hand!" shouted Shirou, now having taken again the piece of metal with the clamp and letting it cool in air for the first time.

"You sure? I would reckon that you have to also make an handle for that knife, ya know?" Come on, Touchan, this was just teasing.

"Incredible, who would have said that? I have just already made the holes for the pins."

*CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG*

"I think I am done!"

Now came the preparation of the edge.

While Shirou was going to the sharpening stone, my Kaachan touched my shoulder and ordered:

"Come on, daughter. We can leave the two idiots here-"

"Oi, you can call the brat an idiot!"

"-But we need to look at the shop. The lunch break is over, after all."

"But mama!" I pouted, trying to make her let me remain here.

It was the day Shirou would lose his virginity, after all!

But her look made me review the situation and, much to my sadness, I left my dear child with the idiot.

"*TCHUM!* I know you have thought I was an idiot again!" shouted the old man again, and as an answer I made a raspberry.

Something which I immediately regretted, when one hand pinched my hear and started dragging me outside, regardless of my outraged noises.

"Close the door behind you, we will have the door of the court open!"

Naturally it was my mother to accept the request, never letting my hear go, despite my efforts to leave it.

It would sound strange, but my Kaachan had a strength that wasn't so correlated to her old age.

So, when she finally let go, we were inside the shop, which naturally was deserted.

It was, after all, lunch hour.

That made me crush over one chair, trying to find the most comfortable position while waiting for one costumer to arrive, all the while I started searching through the sector books for new tecniques.

They would all be needed, because I wanted for Shirou to be the very best, so that he wouldn't have to be sacrificed in the field.

Our family wouldn't accept to sacrifice another of his kin for people who wronged us, even if the enemy was worse.

"Calm down, Mimi. I don't think that the book did anything to you, right?"

That snapped me out from me reverie and, with an huff, I put away the book, and turned to my mother, who was simply tapping over the keyboard, her eyes concentrated at the numbers coming up.

"Also," she said, not once turning: "If you have some concern, you can ask. You may be adult of thirty two years, but I have known you longer than anyone else, and you aren't angered by anything but two things, which are strictly correlated with each other."

I grumbled at that, slightly annoyed that she had found me so rapidly, but I explained anyway:

"It's just… I am concerned. And lost. I'm now lying about the identity of Shirou's father, and, while Shirou doesn't say anything about it, it's not my father name I am keeping. But there is also the matter of the monster, and the gods, and the camp, and how Shirou acts-"

"Breath with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale." I followed the words, and then, when I calmed down, I ended:
"It's just… I don't know. Maybe I can do better? Maybe I should have done differently?"

"How? Maybe expecting for your partner to be a god? Or maybe expecting for his spunk to penetrate a condom? Or maybe aborting him when it was shown, both through magic and oaths that it wasn't possible."

What a splendid way to end a night: know that sperm could pierce trough condoms, then finding out that your (ex) boyfriend is a good, then finding out that you couldn't abort because then the "Divine energy present inside the zygote would make you explode".

Even if it wasn't true, what could I do?

Go against a literal god?

At least he wasn't a complete shithead, and made sure that, for a time, Shirou would be protected, and he would contact me when the time would come.

Naturally trusting him completely would be stupid, but it's not like I had a lot of sources but myths, and well…

Then there was my little Shirou.

He was a prodigy.

Not only in smithing, that was expected.

But also in maths, literature, American history, even physical education.

So much that they asked if he could go up a few years.

But then he would be even more lonely than before.

"Damn it."

"Well, I would rather use "him" instead of "it", but it works too. Also we know that Shirou is special, and that the price of being so different is being alone, and that it caused us a lot of concern, but don't you think it bettered, at least since a few years ago?"

"Well, yeah, after Penelope came… Wait, how did you know that I changed subject?!" I immediately turned towards my mother, my mouth agape, but she just smiled slightly and, with a conspiratorial tone, she confessed:

"You have this slight tick that when you are highly concentrated on something, you start giving away your thoughts. And also the face."

I just stared at her for a moment, then, mechanically, jerkily, I turned again to the book and started reading.

"Let me say this, though. Don't beat up yourself, because not only you aren't doing anything wrong, in fact you are a good mother, despite your childishness-"

"Kaachan!" my ears were starting to become red, stop it, stop it!

"but also because then we would have to drag you back, and we are old, you know? Despite what your father would say, we are not spring chickens, after all".

I didn't turn, this time, and hid myself behind the very interesting pages of the book.

And no, this wasn't my Kaachan laughing about my ears, it wasn't!

And so we waited, between teasing and laughs and the occasional customer.

Thinking about the too much maturity of my child and the incoming dangers that he would face, I laughed.

Laugh to not cry.

Two hours later

"Thank you for your patronage, have a good day!"

My Kaachan bowed slightly, while I just waved at the costumer, who had been one of the old ones.

I had went back to the forge just an hour ago, and Shirou had just started the normalization of his knife, which was the most boring part of the splendid forging process.

Hey, waving a hot piece of metal in front of a magnet to understand if it was heated enough at least three times wasn't what I would call "fun".

Let me hammer, dammit!

Or quench, or put it inside the oven!

But now instead I was waiting, my Kaachan having finished to make the balance and now was putting on the shelves the products which were sold.

Which was boring!

I understand that there is a need for the shop to have two people inside ready to help, but couldn't Touchan be the one to do it?!

Only because he had the training for first aid, that's sexism I say!

Well, at least I had finished the book and now knew other ways to help Shirou.

Now if only I could go teach him instead of being here!

I want to stretch my legs!

And beat some steel!

Am I not the hand of God?!

*BAM*

This was my head on the desk, by the way.

"Uuhh… How much longer will it take?" I mumbled, my voice muffled by the wood, while I could feel my eyes rotating back.

No, I don't like being on the desk.

"Could you avoid to damage the store's propriety, please? It's not good for our revenues to have to repair a table." Berated the ruler of the desk with a calm tone.

"But I am bored, and I have finished the book, and I am boreeeed!" I lamented, my boredom having already reached a critical point and going towards the deadly.

"…I really don't know if I have to thank the gods for having such a clever daughter, or curse them for having her being such a scatterbrain." Muttered the ruler, while I could hear the sound of rustling hair while she passed in front of me.

"Hey, I am not a scatter brain! Not very much!"

"Are you sure about that, daughter? So you wouldn't immediately dash for the forge door instead of helping with the customers?" she asked, her tone strangely resigned, which made me a bit astonished:

"Hey, take it back, it's not true!"

"Oi, come here, Shirou is ready for the quenching!" Came the booming voice of my father, at which I immediately got up and ran to the smithy.

Fortunately the heavy door was already opened, because there was really the danger of splatting against it.

So now I was looking at my son, who, with an emotionless calm, was moving inside and outside the fiery forge, a barrel filled with Canola's oil at his side, while over the table there were two planks, ready in case the knife came out bended.

While I was raptly observing my son waiting for the last heating, I could hear an huff from behind me, followed immediately after by these words:

"'Not true' she says, and then she run off. Where did I go wrong?"

"Well," was the gruff voice of Touchan, maybe a bit amused, maybe something else: "I think that bringing a camera is a start for the answer."

"…Shut up."

"Oh, is that the one thing the youngsters call 'Tsundere' talking, Ka-mi-san?"

"…I will murder you in your sleep. Try me."

I was zoning them out, completely taken by my son's work.

The actions really weren't wasted, I could see that the holes for the pins already prepared for the handle, while the blade was already thinned an almost ready.

It was much easier to work with soft steel than tempered one.

When the metal reached the colour of a cherry, I almost called him out, because that was the signal that the metal had reached the fabled 1475°F (800 C°), but my son, the moment I was thinking about it, had already sunk the scorching blade inside the oil.

There was fire.

There was the sound of blazing.

There was the smell of burnt oil.

But, above all, there was heat.

A comfortable heat, welcoming and not disturbing.

It was the same as when I saw his father forging for the first time.

For one moment, I could see a man much taller than him, more than one foot taller than me, but, in the same exact moment, it disappeared.

It was the flash of the camera that pulled me out of there, and I shook my head to scatter the remaining clouds.

It wasn't the time for the past, after all.

So I rushed to my son, my dear Sochi, and hugged him, almost making his perfect knife fall.

In the midst of laughter, angry shouts and smoke, while we all went in the middle of our happiness to the oven to temper the blade, I wanted to live every second possible of it.

I so, so wanted it.

Year 4; The One Before All

"This is worrying."

The annoyance was seeping through his words.

It was understandable, after all what was happening was hardly normal, even more it was downright suspicious.

If there wasn't a little, innocent, detail:

"You have put yourself in that spot, old soul. After all, you are the one who didn't want to be simply an average student."

It was still strange, even after all these thirteen years, to talk again with someone.

It was an intoxicating feeling.

"It was either that or having to mask even my emotions. It would be too easy to slip up, and it's better to be considered too clever than having several encounters with a psychologist."

"Well, it's for that reason that now you will go to another school, congratulations old soul! I would give you a cake but alas, I don't think you would be able to taste it."

I tried to lighten the mood, but unfortunately my attempt was shot down by a brief surge of annoyance, and it was soon followed by a gruff reply:

"If I knew that that school had another affiliated outside of the city, I would have avoided it. Now we will be in a foreign environment, with no secure boundaries, while the kid is still in need of training."

I could feel his annoyance, not anger, mixed with the always present hatred and apathy for himself, which, like the sea itself, oppressed any other emotion.

But, even then, there was a sliver of something.

Something which I could use to reach my objective.

"I think that a change of situations would be positive for her. She isn't fought alone against any monster, due to the nearness to the Olympus, but if she is able to go there, and she should, having grades near yours, then she will have a way to start getting experience hunting."

Also there was another reason, maybe more selfish on my end, maybe more selfless, but it was there.

"… That's true. Unfortunately we weren't able to do anything about that, but a change of place could help. The problem will be lack of a stronghold there."

Only a little nudge.

"I don't think that there could be a lot of monsters able to fight against a "D-rank" demigod, am I wrong, old soul?"

…

…

I could feel that the sliver of concern became more resignation, and that resignation became acceptance.

It was logical, after all.

For him, there would be a day where he will be gone.

"All right. It's probably for the best, and in case of grave danger I could always take care of it as silently as possible. I would be undoubtedly good for her growth to be there. The problem would be the training location."

"That's doable through the use of Runes. Not unlike what you did before, I would add."

There were a few moments of silence, then a noisy breath could be heard even through the bond, and it was soon followed by these words:

"Yes, it's possible. We will give our consent to our families to go to this outside branch of the Yancy Academy. If I will need your help, I will call you."

And those were the last words given, before he fell to an extremely light sleep.

I stayed there, waiting, and then let myself go to that far action of sighing.

How many years did pass since that promise?

Centuries?

Thousands?

Millions?

"It doesn't matter now." I murmured lightly to myself.

I was close to finally repair for having broken it.

This I swear upon my name.

END CHAPTER

Non Canon Omake (Give thanks to a guest who gave me the idea)

There were a few people able to do what I am doing now.

A joking vampire.

A disgusting snake.

A girl who had far too much power for herself, shown eight, endless times.

But I was the best.

I was the first.

And I, Merlin-chan, will show them what I am able to do!

And what is the best way, if not using a past of a young man longed by a lot of lasses?

Kekeke… let the show Begin!

OOOOH YEAH!

Now Here we go.

Lets see if I can answer also some questions.

Question about an Omake made by lector123

Oh this is going to be so much fun to write.

Now thank ya all for the comments!

Muchas gracias por el comentario, y prosigo a disculparme por el terrible español que estoy usando ahora. (I am going to kiss you Kminari)

Grazie a tutti per i commenti!

And lets see for the next story

(Cause yes, I am going to do a oneshot)

*schiva diverse armi, sia bianche cha da fuoco* Oi, avoid dirtying the room!

And the fault is of that Lich and of sis, who made me think about it more than before!

It's their fault!

Believe meeeeeeee.

*Non riesce a schivare il masso*

…

AN END