Archer the Sorcerer Chapter 2.5

Chapter 2.5: Death Visits

The night was quiet in the Gojo Family Compound, a sprawling estate filled with endless corridors and rooms.

The five-year-old Shirou Gojo wandered the halls, his small footsteps barely making a sound on the polished wooden floors.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the meticulously manicured gardens and the ancient, imposing structures of the compound.

It made him remember that specific night… where he had his last conversation with his father, the previous one.

“Since you couldn’t do it, I’ll be one for you – a Hero of Justice.”

No matter how much despair he had experienced, or how many lives he had lived, he always remembered that specific moment.

All of this was going on while his small legs were having a walk around the family compound. His ‘brother’ and the new head of the Gojo Family had already left with his friends to go on a mission. That too, made him have another train of thought.

‘Knowing Satoru, he’ll probably just breezes his way through his missions, as usual,’ he inwardly thought, thinking that there would be no danger to Satoru Gojo whatsoever.

Little did he know that in a day from this exact moment, Satoru Gojo would experience his hardest and most traumatic mission; as he would meet the Star Plasma Vessel and the Sorcerer Killer.

But alas, as of this specific moment, the former Heroic Spirit turned five-year-old boy had little thought of Satoru being in the midst of danger whatsoever.

He kept walking while still looking at the moon that was shining the courtyard of the family compound. As Shirou Gojo kept walking, he then saw someone sitting all by himself on the porch, looking at the moonlight as well.

The funeral of his ‘father,’ the head of the Gojo family, had been a grand and somber affair, attended by many who spoke in hushed tones and wore solemn expressions. He had seen faces he recognized and many more he did not.

Among them was an old elderly man in his twilight years who had caught his attention, standing slightly apart from the others, his eyes filled with a strange, knowing light…

The one that kept looking at him in a very shocked reaction.

As he turned a corner, he was surprised to find the very same man sitting and looking out at the moonlit garden.

The old man turned as if sensing Shirou's presence, no smile whatsoever spreading across his wrinkled face.

"Ah, so you’re finally here," he said, his voice soft but a bit resonant. "Finally, you’ve come to see me…"

The boy in question hesitated, his large eyes studying the man before him. He was dressed in traditional robes, his silver hair neatly tied back, and his posture exuded a calm wisdom.

"What do you mean? I just can’t sleep, that’s all," He asked what the old Gojo elder had meant, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No, you don’t…" he said. "You’ve come for me, haven’t you… o’ Death?"

After hearing what the old man had said to him, he had a confused and shocked reaction, taking tentative step closer.

"What… do you mean by that?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. ‘Is he getting senile or something? What is going on here?’ he inwardly thought.

The old man's eyes widened a bit, making the five-year-old child seeing his dark blue eyes having a bit of glow.

"These… may not be the Six Eyes, but they can see more... more than everything. I’ve known that… I would meet Death face to face, but I never thought that he would be in the form of a child… and be from my own blood, no less," he replied in a very hoarse voice, as if he was struggling to talk.

The elder’s visage did indeed look like he was reaching a century, but Shirou couldn’t focus on the person’s state, but at what he was insinuating.

‘What do his eyes see? What is he saying all of a sudden?’ he inwardly thought heavily, thinking about the old elder’s ocular powers.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he responded in a stoic manner, even though on the inside, he was feeling the opposite.

"What I’m seeing is not… a young child. But a man with hair in the color of winter, skin as dark as the very ground we walk upon... weapons, protruding from his back…” he started to describe everything in a slow pace, making the atmosphere grew rather eerie.

“Red all over… from head to toe. Blood… so much blood is smeared, on your hands.”

In his eyes, what he was seeing was not Shirou Gojo, the five-year-old boy who was the younger brother of the current head of the Gojo Family, but Heroic Spirit Emiya, the Counter Guardian.

Emiya could only widened his eyes after hearing it, a mixture of shock and confusion crossing his face. "You… can see who I really am?" he asked softly.

"Yes... the more I keep my eyes on yours, the more I see what’s waiting for me. A dark, desolate sky… swords—no, they’re tombstones… protruding from the ground and filling the horizon..”

The old man started to pour his tears as his wrinkled face was getting wet. "I ask again, are you here to pick up another soul, Death? Even though you already took a life today... in this very household?"

The one who was being questioned was speechless, couldn’t even find any words to respond. This old man was basically on his deathbed, and with his ocular powers for some reason, he was able to see his true nature.

Even though he got mistaken to be the grim reaper and being asked about whether or not he was there to claim a life, the old man wasn’t too far off… for he had been Death incarnate, a Counter Guardian for the Counter Force, who eliminated anything and anyone to preserve humanity, before he arrived in this world.

“I am that, no longer,” Shirou Gojo answered not to just the one in front of him, but to himself as well.

“Then… what are you now?”

His expression grew serious, as that question made him having another chaotic train of thought. It made him remember the dream he had of Rin, hours before this moment.

“You have a second chance now… are you truly trying your best?”

He felt a strange mix of emotions. Part of him felt confused by the idea on what he was supposed to do. But another part of him felt liberated, and at the same time, unsure of what it all meant.

“I don’t truly know, as of right now,” he answered, his voice was soft and trembling slightly.

Shirou Gojo looked at his small hands, trying to imagine what he needed to do in this ‘second chance’. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked, looking back at the old man.

"I see," the old man answered, "Death has always been a common visitor… not only for this household, but for all Sorcerers. Yet he himself, doesn’t know how to be anything but…"

The old man finally stood up from his sitting, starting to walk back to go back inside the house. "To see him as a confused child saddens me… I hope you find your answers, but what I wish to suggest to you…"

The five-year-old boy straightened his small shoulders, a determined look on his face as he looked above him to see the old man’s hunching figure.

"Do not be death. Be life, instead."

The night air was cool and refreshing as they stood there, the garden below bathed in silver light. The five-year-old took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.

"Thank you," Shirou Gojo said softly.

As the moonlight streamed through the porch, casting a gentle glow on the two figures, Counter Guardian Emiya figured out what the old elderly man was trying to say to him. He then watched his hunched figure walking slowly toward the dark corridors of the house.

It had indeed been a peculiar moment for Emiya to experience ever since he had rebirthed, but this actually made his head a little clearer, somehow.

This old, elderly member of the Gojo Family, who was known to be senile and rarely went out from his chamber, would never be seen ever again as a month and a half from this night…

Death would finally visit him, for the last time.