Muramasa stared at the collapsing reality.

A content smile on his face, even as he felt his spiritual core start to break down. His companions had made it out alive and they resolved this anomaly in the world line. He could even feel the counter force pulling away, basically telling him that his job was complete.

Even as existence around him burned and shattered, he couldn't help but just relish in the feeling of completing his life's work.

Closing his eyes finally, he looked inward, his gaze falling on the consciousness of the body that he inhabited.

It only took a conceptual poke to awaken the lad that had so readily handed over his body to a stranger.

"It is time to awaken, my descendant." He ushered, feeling the boy open his eyes.

"Muramasa…." He whispered, the memories of what happened flowing over from the bond they currently shared.

In the metaphysical realm that was their inner world, time seemed to slow down.

A willful thought and the scenery changed, they were in a familiar house sitting at a table with a couple of cups and a bottle of sake.

Shirou looked around, recognizing the replica of his home instantly. "So what happens now?"

"I disappear and you return from whence you came, the counter force should ensure that you go to where you were supposed to be lest an error in the timeline occurs." The old smith replied, taking a sip of his drink. "Or atleast that's what I think, but what do I know, I'm just a sword smith." He gave a small laugh.

Shirou gave a wry smile, reaching for his own glass. "Just a sword smith, I think any other sword smiths would be rolling in their graves if they heard you speak like that. I doubt just a sword smith could craft a divine construct." He deadpanned.

"Bah, I cheated." He waved off his comment, though a large grin made it's way to his face. "Your swords formed the foundation; without your little world of steel I wouldn't have been able to complete my dream."

"I'm just a faker…" Shirou dismissed.

"You don't give yourself enough credit, lad. Do you think all my swords were mine and mine alone? I may have crafted them, but I took whatever knowledge I came across and made it my own."

There was silence for a few moments, each just quietly sipping their cups, watching the realm outside tear itself apart.

"This is nice, I don't think I could have asked for anything more. I completed my life's work and I got to meet my last descendant." The old smith mused. "That is until you have some brats of your own." He gave the boy a smirk.

Though Shirou just smiled a bit awkwardly, choosing not to reply.

"….unless there is a reason that my line will end with you?" He eyed the boy suspiciously.

Shirou sighed, there was no reason to hide his motives, but it wasn't exactly an easy conversation to have. "It started with a fire….."

There was silence between to two auburn-haired men.

Shirou recounting the story of his life had left a bit of an impression on the old smith. He'd just been staring thoughtfully into the distance for several minutes now, the only sounds were the cracking of reality around them.

"Truly, you are a fool." The old smith finally spoke, barely more than a whisper.

"So I've been told." Shirou replied, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

The sword smith's smile grew bigger, a large laugh echoing out. He downed the remainder of his sake, slamming the cup on the table. "What will you do now, my descendant?"

"I'll keep searching." He replied, not even a second of doubt.

"You would condemn yourself to a life of anguish and sadness just on the infinitely small chance you manage a miracle and enter that distant utopia after your death?"

"I would."

"As I said before, you are a fool….no you transcend a normal fool and enter the realm of kings. You are the king of fools." The old smith snorted, though his hardened expression softened slightly as he noticed how resolute the brat was. "But…..I would expect nothing less from someone who carriers my bloodline!"

The smith stood up. "All Muramasa men must aim for the heavens, never be content with mediocrity. If you seek a miracle, then you shall settle for nothing less!" He slammed his fist on the table. "They said I was a fool for my dream, a blade that cuts Karma, destiny and fate. But I succeeded, thanks you to my descendant. And now you present a dream that could match my own in foolishness? My blood is boiling just thinking about it."

Shirou felt something stirring, the gears of his reality marble started to crank. His inner world was shifting at his ancestor's declaration.

"I pass the torch onto you, my descendant. My form may be disappearing, but my spirit remains strong. In these last moments, I will give everything to you."

As the words left his mouth, Shirou felt something grip his inner world. He collapsed on the ground, a pain he'd never experienced before was permeating his entire body.

"Bear with it my descendant, I'm not a spellcaster so I don't know the intricacies of what I'm doing."

"What…..going on…?" Shirou gasped out.

"That Mashu girl gave me the idea, I'll give you a portion of my spirit origin. But I'm not a magus, I don't know the magical theory needed for this, so I can only stick to what I know, forging a sword."

Hundreds of thoughts flashed through Shirou's mind amid the words spoken. But he realized the significant of what was happening, a boon like non-other. A chance that would never come again.

The young magus grit his teeth, the pain was eclipsing the times he had turned his nerves into circuits.

But….his thoughts turned to a certain girl. Blonde hair, green eyes, her gentle smile welcoming him home.

His hands clenched, he stood up, compared to the feeling of losing her, what was a little pain?

"My body is made of swords."

His reality marble shuddered, a semi-actualization without invoking his aria.

"Indeed, it is." The smith laughed. "Just as you have given me your body before, take the knowledge of my craft!"

The swords in his reality marble vibrated.

Fakes they were, fakes they would always be. But, something within them changed, they had a bit more weight in them. The knowledge of how to create their likeness had flowed into the young magus.

In response, his fakes were becoming closer to the originals. The great chasm that separates his projections from true counterparts had lessened to a substantial degree.

Such was the knowledge of forging that came from a man who crafted a Divine Construct.

The gears in the sky were turning, the wind whipped around. A few notable blades were glowing brighter than any others.

On the largest hill, at the center of his inner world, a single sword let out a song of majesty that eclipsed all others.

It grabbed the attention of the old smith immediately, he stared at it for some time, a small smile making it's way to his face. "I see…..so that's her sword. You chose well, my descendant."

It wasn't just the sword, next to it laid a sheath of indescribable beauty.

Tranquility.

Safety.

Protection.

The concepts it embodied, the origin of its creation.

He looked at the boy who was doing everything he could to continue standing. "This is the precipice of choice, brat. You could continue your previous path, become a hero that gained the right to join her in Avalon after your death. You would retain my knowledge; you would go further than ever before. But there is still the exceedingly small chance you would succeed; you may still never see her again."

Muramasa could feel the emotions of the body he inhabited. Some he could recognize others were somewhat foreign but nostalgic.

How long had it been since he considered matters of the heart?

He always placed his craft above love, only vaguely remembering a girl he was sweet on in his youth. The intense longing he could feel emanate from the boy…perhaps for the first time in his life, the old smith wondered, did he walk the wrong path?

Did he truly have to forsake everything to reach his goals?

Regrets.

Before he finally fulfilled his dream, he was almost nothing but regrets.

If he had one final wish, he hoped that his descendant didn't have the same ending that he did.

No, he wouldn't let it happen. "But, I offer you another choice. You have my knowledge, but I have a bit more I can give. It will be painful, more so than previously and I do not know how it would change you. But…..I dare say you would have a much better chance of reaching where you wish to go."

"A higher chance…..?" Shirou mumbled. He knew it better than his ancestor, he knew how infinitely small the chance for two miracles to line up was.

Pain? Who cares about pain, he'd suffer worse.

Change? People change every day, every experience changes someone be it small or large, what was there to fear in change?

But most important, there wasn't a force in Heaven or Hell and everything in between that could change the way he feels towards her.

"Do you even need to ask?" He stared into the eyes of the smith.

The old smith let out a hearty laugh. "That's how all Muramasa men should be! These Fae are quite the craftsmen, but I aim to surpass them! Let us show them, let them see a mortal transcends their toys. You will be my last creation, my descendant. A sword that will pierce into the impenetrable defense that is Avalon!"

"Take my everything, descendant, my spirit origin is yours. You will become a Demi-servant like that young lady." At his proclamation, the world once again shifted.

This time, Shirou fell to the ground, teeth grit in a silent scream but he refused to let the sound pass his lips.

Muramasa could only look on in pride. "Truly, I have been blessed with a good bloodline."

The metaphysical hammer collided with the inner world of unlimited blades. The physical projection did not change but the underlying essence started to shift accordingly.

Forging a blade was not something one would describe as gentle. He would have to hammer and refine the edges of the boy to fit his essence into him without overriding his core. Perhaps if he was a magus in his life the process would have been smoother.

Even now, Muramasa could feel himself practically gone. It was a fight against the clock, he would have to finish before the world recalled his spirit back to the source.

The thought was cut off, eyes widened.

"I am the Bone of my Sword."

The encroaching of an alien world onto reality. The counter force wished to purge it's existence, removing any trace of this singularity, but the inner world of Shirou's threatened to explode out, buying a few moments of time in which the laws of the world focused instead on ridding this anomaly as opposed to the unimportant spirit.

The old smith grinned, of course his descendant would know when to perfectly assist in the forging process, as expected he should say.

No words needed to be exchanged, even as Shirou collapsed into unconsciousness.

The fact that he had held out this long was a testament to his unyielding will.

"Rest now my descendant…..no, Emiya Shirou, I will finish this by myself."

The only reason this was even remotely possible was due to his having worked with concepts in the past, inscribing all manner of odd abilities onto his blade. Maybe even the final push in insight was him finally forging that sword.

As his spirit left the boy's body, he admired his work one last time.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was keeping in, ready to embrace the pull of the deterrence force. Except, he noticed something odd.

The purging wasn't just targeting the realm he was in, it locked on to his descendant.

Was it considering the boy an anomaly now because of his interference?

Perhaps the counter force did not want to allow a demi-servant free rein in the material world?

"So….the trials of my descendant start even now, does fate truly conspire against him?" The old man muttered. "It matters not!" He shouted.

"I already went this far, I may was well see it to the end." The old man's form started to stabilize, his vague and transparent outline reemerged in something more tangible. "I'm nothing more than a phantom, not even fit to ascend to the throne of heroes. I never did anything heroic in my life, just content to my isolation and craft my swords…but right now I can't help this burning in my chest. Is this how you feel my descendant?"

"I have no mana left, nothing except this withered husk of a spiritual core. But….i've worked with less before!" He roared, the energy around him bursting out.

"If I have nothing to work with…then my soul shall be the crucible"

Igniting his spiritual core, a suicidal notion for a servant, a guarantee to be forced back to the throne. But for him who wasn't of the throne, his entire existence was being used to fuel this last hurrah.

"Still not enough…." He mumbled. He needed something to cleave a path for his descendant to escape this purge. "Ah…..i suppose I could borrow from you for a moment." He said, looking down at the unconscious form of Shirou.

He placed a hand on his body. "The bonds that tie us together are almost gone, this will be my last gift…..Emiya Shirou. For this last time, allow me to bear just a small amount of your burdens."

"Now how did it go…..oh yes…Trace On."

Igniting his soul as the fuel and his descendants magecraft as the forge. A bare blade appeared in his hand, one without engravings or even a proper hilt and guard.

"Much easier the second time." He laughed.

"If fate wishes to deny my descendant…then once again, I shall sever the bonds of fate, destiny, and karma!"

"Gaia, Alaya, Gods or Demons, it matters not! Don't look down on a Muramasa!"

"Takes this….."

"This is my Tsumugari Muramasa!"

Shirou's eyes shuttered open, briefly adjusting to the rays of sunlight hitting his face.

He took a moment to recall everything that had happened, he didn't know how long he had been out, but it felt like almost an eternity.

Looking around, he realized he wasn't in that collapsing world any longer.

The mana in the air, while feeling odd, was more…..stabilized. But besides that, he truly had no idea what had happened, only remember falling unconscious at the final moments.

Dusting of his pants, he sat up, taking another look at his surroundings.

A forestry area, it didn't seem too alien. The trees looked like what he was used to except there was an odd scent in the air.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye a familiar haori, one of white with decorated flowers. He smiled fondly as he went to pick it up, running his hands along the edge.

A memento if nothing else.

It took him a moment to realize he was equipped with Muramasa's servant armaments. The red sleeve that covered his left arm the familiar weight of the steel rods sowed into it. His black pants and pouches still attached to his body. The armored shin-guards and sandals still resting on his feet.

"He did it…" The young magus whispered.

Somehow, the swordsmith had turned him into a demi-servant. Something thought impossible by normal magi, but somehow accomplished by a smith that had no knowledge of the magical craft.

He couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"Don't underestimate a Muramasa." He chuckled, though he didn't know where the phrase jumped out from.

But for some reason, his felt a pit in his stomach. Reaching up, he unconsciously whipped away a few tears from his eyes.

'Why did it hurt?'

He looked up into the sky, the forest canopies the only thing that greeted him.

"Thank you…..old man." He whispered, coming to his own conclusions on what happened. "I won't let you down, I'll never stop searching….." He promised. "But first…" He turned around, looking at the glowing red eyes in the shadows.

Several large beasts stepped out to greet him, all growling.

The oddest thing though, they were covered in white masks and other bone protrusions, but otherwise all black.

The amount of negativity was practically palpable as it radiated off these monstrosities.

"Well then…." He realized that words would be meaningless in this situation, well, maybe a couple would suffice.

"Trace, On."

Author's Note.

Once again, the muse strikes.

Got this idea of a what if, what if the Shirou from the fate route was the host to Muramasa. Maybe he would get the idea in his head that he could forge a sword to reach Avalon? Took a bunch of liberty with the FGO canon a bit, i know that technically Muramasa basically went kapoot right after he swung the sword initially, but meh.

Thats bascially going to be the gist of the story, Shirou trying to forge this sword, finding materials in the various worlds he ends up in. The first being RWBY if you didn't catch the grimm being described. I don't plan on this being particular world-heavy. Maybe like 3-4 worlds in total, but i have no idea how many chapters or words that would amount to.

Anyways, any thoughts or questions, please leave a comment, as always i read each and every one.