"What if (Almost) Everybody was Shirou's Servant" by Mereo Flere
"Onii-chan, wake up. It's time for your execution."
Emiya Shirou thought that he was a pretty nice guy. At the very least he couldn't think of any reason he would have made any enemies – even Shinji, who occasionally complained about his sister visiting him too often, was still on speaking terms with him. He had been sure that he had not wronged anybody on purpose and if he had then certainly not to the degree of making people want to kill him.
And yet, here he was, in his bedroom dressed in his pajamas…staring at the girl who had just barged into his home in the dead of night. Though it took a moment he realized he couldn't even recognize her, and if he had ever met a girl that had the kind of long white hair and red eyes she had he definitely would have recalled her. To begin with, you only saw that kind of character in an anime or a game – and it seemed a little unreal for one to invade her room like she did.
"I see, I haven't woken up yet," he said with a nod. He had to admit, however, that there was probably something wrong with him, if he dreamt about little girls running into his room calling him Onii-chan when he didn't even have a sister. He wasn't perverted like Shinji was – at least he didn't think he was.
"On the bright side, at least it isn't that kind of dream. She's only trying to kill me, after all."
The girl stared back at him, before giggling. "You're so silly Onii-chan. However," she continued, her lips forming a mischievous smile. "You really should wake up."
All of a sudden, a grey giant appeared beside his bed – standing over Shirou with a stern expression. Before the young man could even react to the mountain of muscle seeming to materialize out of thin air his shirt was grabbed by a massive hand that raised Shirou into the air. Then, with an almost lazy throw, the giant tossed Shirou through the bedroom door.
Ilya whistled appreciatively after watching Shirou sail over her head. Then, just as Shirou picked himself up off of the ground she walked over – taking in the expression on his face as he shakily got back onto his feet. As he realized, quite painfully, that this wasn't a dream after all, the shock and confusion slowly turned to dread and panic.
"Just wait a second," he said hastily. "Look I don't even know who you are – I haven't even seen you before today!"
"Ah, of course," the girl said with a covered gasp, as though that fact had just been pointed out. Then, she curtsied politely before him, as though she hadn't just told him that he was going to be killed just moments before. "I'm Ilyasviel von Einzbern, and this is my servant Berserker."
"That's not really the issue here," Shirou said, honestly not caring what his killers' names would be. "Look, I bet you don't even know who I am!"
"You're Emiya Shirou, aren't you Onii-chan?" Ilya asked, tilting her head curiously.
He blinked. "Well…yes."
"Then you're the person I'm looking for after all."
If he could have risked it, Shirou would have face palmed right there.
"Okay," he said, getting more unnerved about the situation the longer their conversation went – but at least the longer they talked the longer he had to think about it. How had she even gotten past the alarm without him knowing? Or better yet – "So you know who I am, but why are you trying to kill me?"
"Ah, times up," Ilya said, looking at a nonexistent watch on her wrist. "The time for questions is up – you should start running if you want to live."
Shirou looked at her, and then to the man called Berserker behind her. Sometime during their discussion the giant had pulled out a giant axe club from nowhere – and it was simple enough to understand what Berserker planned to do with it. Though it hurt simply to look at the sharp, jagged edges of the weapon, it would be far worse actually feel it dig into him as it tore him apart, however quickly it would be.
"Well," the girl said, raising a brow. "What are you waiting for?"
This girl was serious. She was seriously going to kill him.
Emiya Shirou ran for his life. Scrambling through his house, he hoped that the giant's size would get in the way of the attempted murder in progress. He had no such luck today, however. As he ran sounds of crashing – of walls being torn open as if they were made of paper, could clearly be heard behind him, usually followed by a guttural, almost inhuman roar. Against his better judgment he glanced over his shoulder to see his greatest fear confirmed – Berserker was simply charging through any obstacles, in a straight line towards the boy. Berserker didn't even need to swing his sword to knock things away; he simply went through them as though he were a bulldozer, and the man only continued to catch up with him.
Suddenly, Shirou decided he had to change his plan. Changing directions, he broke towards his household's backyard, hoping that he could at least get to his workhouse. At least there he could find some sort of improvised weapon, even though he couldn't be sure just how effective it would be against his assailant. Still, it was better than just being run down like road kill.
He dashed barefoot across the empty field. In his mind, he counted down the meters until he would reach the workhouse doors – trying to ignore the quickly shrinking distance between him and the enemy behind him.
As he neared the door, he felt hope rise inside of his chest. For a moment, he believed that he might stand a chance of making through it alive.
It was naïve, however. Dropping out of the sky, a familiar figure landed in the ground in front of me, a few cracks forming in the earth where he had fallen. Shirou barely stopped himself in time avoid crashing into the servant, luckily tumbling out of the way when the axe club swung down into the space he had occupied just a second earlier.
He rolled back onto his feet immediately, but froze when he noticed Berserker wasn't following up his attack. Though he knew he should keep running, he finally understood that it wouldn't matter if he tried. He was completely at the mercy of Berserker's whims.
"You've already given up running Onii-chan?" a disappointed voice behind him asked.
No wait – not Berserker's whims. The girl's.
Shirou didn't dare turn around to face the girl and turn his back to Berserker. If he was going to die, he'd die facing his killer. "This is just a game to you, isn't Ilyasviel?"
"I was hoping I could see you run around a little longer."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"Well then, if you're not going to play…Berserker, finish him!"
The servant looked at Shirou, raising its club high into the air. Shirou rose to his feet, ready to meet it.
"Just to make sure," he asked, hoping to clear one last thing up. "It's only me you're after, right?"
"If you're worried about your friends – don't worry. I only came after you tonight, Onii-chan."
"Ah…well that's good."
The axe club came down. Shirou closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, but the inevitable never happened. Instead, what came were a sound of stone against steel and a wave of air harmlessly passing over him.
He opened one eye, and then another. Standing between him and Berserker were six new figures. Two of them, a pair of swordsmen – one a samurai, the other an armored knight - used their blades to lock Berserker's weapon in place. Another, a blindfolded woman in an amazingly short dress, wielded a chain that was wrapped around the axe club, helping hold it down. Yet another, a spearman dressed in blue held a blood red lance at the man's throat. Finally, another two, a cloaked figure and a man in a red coat, stood off to either side – simply watching the giant.
Behind him, he heard Ilyasviel gasp in horror. Whoever these people were, it was clear she saw them as an enemy as well. Before he could ask what was going on, however, Berserker roared – tossing aside the obstacles that had gotten in his way. Then, breaking through the line of Shirou's mysterious allies, he barreled towards Ilya, picking her up before jumping away.
"So, they got away," the man in red said, sounding amused.
"Quiet, it's not like you did anything!" the blue one shouted, rising back onto his feet.
"Of course. I thought you guys would be able to handle things fine. Forgive me for overestimating you."
"Though I loathe letting them go," the knight interjected before an argument could explode between them. Now that Shirou looked closer, he could tell that she was a young woman. "It would be unwise to chase after them, as disorganized as we are."
"Speaking of which," the samurai said. "How did this even happen?"
The man in red shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe our friend here screwed up the summoning ritual so much he accidentally managed a miracle."
"Not that I don't appreciate your help," Shirou said, finally speaking up. "But…just what's going on?"
The six figures turned to him, exchanging a few looks between them. "I suppose there's no point in delaying it, after all. We have to do that," the spearman said, shrugging.
"Hey – don't ignore me!"
"Ah, yes, that," the samurai said with a smile, as if he were intentionally trying to annoy Shirou.
"What do you guys mean by that?"
"Of course, of course, that is very important," the man in red said, this time definitely trying to annoy Shirou.
"What they mean by that is a question we must ask of you," the knight said, giving the other servants a stern look.
"A question?" Shirou asked, blinking.
"Are you my master?" the cloaked figure asked, finally speaking up for the first time.
"Are you my master?" repeated the samurai.
"Are you really my master?" asked the spearman, raising a brow.
"I can't believe you're my master!" the man in red said, exasperated.
"At least do this properly!" chided the knight, before adding, "Are you my master?"
"Yes, yes, are you my master?" the man said.
"...there is no reason to ask," the blindfolded woman said, as the others looked towards her for her turn. "This man is without a doubt my master."
Shirou stared at the group. "To be honest, none of that helped me figure out what is happening at all."