Shirou's Thirty Million Avatars

All the way back to ten years ago, if the Holy Grail War ended somewhere I didn't know about, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

So I had to get qualification to participate as soon as possible.

Kariya Matou was a dead end, so that left only Ryunosuke Uryu.

My body had shrunk back to seven years old, but the Baji Quan and magecraft I'd learned from Kirei over the past ten years were still firmly etched into my memory.

Beating Ryunosuke Uryu shouldn't be a problem.

Of course, that assumed he hadn't summoned his Servant yet.

From Shirou's estimate, even if he hadn't summoned one, it would be soon.

"It's cold, and I'm a bit hungry. Let's find a place to rest for a while."

As for the method, it was simple.

Find an ordinary household, like Waver did, and use Suggestion Magic to make them think I was their relative.

Walking along the familiar streets into the residential area, Shirou went by instinct to a house at an intersection and rang the doorbell.

But there was no response.

After waiting over ten seconds, still nothing.

"The lights are on, so why won't anyone answer?"

Shirou muttered in surprise, turned to leave, when the door suddenly swung open, revealing a young man with orange hair.

From Shirou's perspective, he was very tall, with a fake smile plastered on his face, giving off a subtle, unsettling vibe.

"You're a kid from this house too, right? Why are you back so late? Mom and Dad are waiting for you inside."

Ryunosuke Uryu!

In that instant, Shirou's body tensed involuntarily.

"Huh...? Did I slip up somewhere? Or did I accidentally splash blood on myself?"

Before he finished speaking, Ryunosuke Uryu pulled a watermelon knife from behind him and stabbed forward.

An opening!

"Mana Reinforcement—Arms!"

Shirou, skilled in Baji Quan, easily dodged the attack, planted his feet, and drove both fists into his stomach.

But the punch had no effect.

Ryunosuke Uryu neither staggered back nor clutched his stomach.

Though from his expression, it wasn't completely painless.

Still, it was safe to say my attack hadn't pierced the enemy's armor.

"I don't hate you, kid. Confident people are the coolest! But the moment that confidence turns to despair—that's the tastiest part."

Laughing, Ryunosuke Uryu swung the watermelon knife again.

Shirou hurried to dodge, but he'd charged in too fast, and with his short legs, he didn't fully evade.

In an instant, the blade was right in front of him.

It's over!

The gap between seven and seventeen was bigger than I expected.

In the end, Ryunosuke Uryu had appeared too suddenly.

If I'd been prepared, I could have won.

After all, a prepared magus and an unprepared one were completely different things.

Ambushes and chance encounters were also two entirely different outcomes.

At that moment, time seemed to freeze. Ryunosuke Uryu held his slashing pose, while Shirou could only stare at the blade inches away.

White mist appeared out of nowhere, enveloping Shirou completely.

In a daze, Shirou found Ryunosuke Uryu had vanished from sight, and his surroundings were no longer streets or houses—only endless white.

No sky above, no ground below, nothing but vast white fog in every direction.

"Where is this?"

"Is anyone there? Who's over there?"

Two voices suddenly sounded beside him, snapping Shirou back to reality. He quickly turned around.

What came into view were two vaguely familiar men.

One looked about twelve, wearing patched clothes that, from the style, seemed to be from ancient Western times.

Blond hair, blue eyes, and a neat short haircut gave a decent impression.

The other was about two years younger, dressed in ornate aristocratic clothing, with a transparent bubble over his head.

Black short hair and white gloves on his hands gave off an extremely arrogant vibe.

The space between their brows was strikingly similar; at first glance, they looked like blood brothers.

As Shirou studied them, they studied him in turn.

After a few seconds of mutual staring, they spoke in unison:

"Shirou Emiya?"

"Shirou Kotomine?"

Shirou glanced between them, a guess rising in his heart, but he didn't voice it directly: "No prefixes. Just Shirou."

"Feels a bit like me from two days ago, doesn't it?" The blond boy rubbed his chin, sizing Shirou up. "I think I said the same thing right after I transmigrated."

A transmigrator, a face somewhat like his own, plus that familiar look in the eyes and tone.

At that moment, Shirou's suspicion grew more certain.

"I'll go first. Ten years ago, I transmigrated to Fuyuki City, was adopted by Kirei Kotomine, and became Shirou Kotomine."

"On the night of the Fifth Holy Grail War, after allying with Rin and Sakura, I died in my sleep at home."

"When I opened my eyes again, I was back ten years ago."

"Finally!" The black-haired boy suddenly shouted in excitement. "Finally found you—glad I never gave up. Eight years! Eight whole years!"

As he spoke, he grabbed both their hands.

In that instant, Shirou felt a strange electric jolt.

Then, two different streams of memory flooded his mind.

Those memories were utterly real—every second, every day felt like his own lived experience.

In the first memory, he died in his sleep, crossed time, and returned to Ancient Roman period, two thousand years ago.

As the Third Son of a Farmer, filling his stomach was the biggest hope each day.

On the second day after transmigrating—yesterday evening—he lay by the river watching the stars, missing home, and couldn't help singing a nursery rhyme.

Halfway through, a female voice suddenly joined in from behind, harmonizing with him.

He turned to look. Under the moonlight, a girl riding a white horse smiled at him.

"My Lord's singing talent is fine—though not a ten-thousandth of Mine, it's rare in this world. Wasting it as a farmer is too much."

"I hereby declare: from today, you are Mine... Come, hold My horse's reins."

And so, at just twelve years old, he became the coachman of the infamous Tyrant Nero.

In the second memory, he transmigrated a second time as a newborn baby.

Fortunately, the family he was born into held high status, with no worries about food or clothing.

Two months after birth, he saw a newspaper article about the "Demon Child."

Flipping through old papers and asking adults for information, he quickly confirmed that this second transmigration was into the One Piece world.

Panicked, he suddenly noticed his transmigrated parents returning home with strange bubbles on their heads.

It was then he realized he had become a detestable Celestial Dragon.

After that, a life of luxury and idleness began.

Chapter 3: Shared Assets

Section 3: Chapter 3: Shared Assets

At age five, he begged his parents to buy the Logia-type Snow-Snow Fruit and began secretly training.

He planned to train hard for ten years, then stun the world.

But three years had passed, and he hadn't mastered the Six Powers, nor made much progress developing the Snow-Snow Fruit.

With Fisher Tiger about to come free the slaves, he, as a Celestial Dragon, couldn't help feeling a bit panicked.

After a long moment, Celestial Dragon Shirou released the other two's hands and said flatly, "Thought I could latch onto a strong backer, but turns out I'm the one carrying you."

Young Shirou gave an awkward smile and didn't reply.

In that moment of hand contact, aside from memories, abilities, physical fitness, and combat skills had all been shared simultaneously.

Compared to Celestial Dragon Shirou's Snow-Snow Fruit ability, half-baked Six Powers, and knowledge of the Three types of Haki, neither he nor Coachman Shirou had anything worth sharing.

"It's just too short a time—I only reincarnated a few hours ago. Give me longer, and I'll definitely have something to share."

"Same here. Just two days—what can I do?" Coachman Shirou nodded vigorously in agreement.

Young Shirou stared at him for a few seconds, then his eyes lit up with a smile: "No, there is something! Aren't you Nero's coachman? Could you trouble yourself to steal a personal item of Nero's for me?"

As fellow Shirous, Coachman Shirou instantly caught on: "You're planning to summon Nero?"

"That's right." Young Shirou nodded repeatedly. "If I don't use a Holy Relic, I'll definitely summon Archer."

"Is Archer bad?"

"Bad. I'm too young. If I summon Archer, he definitely won't listen to me."

Coachman Shirou nodded in agreement, then mused:

"True, having the upper hand is crucial. I can give it a try, but once you're done borrowing it, you have to return it to me immediately. Otherwise, I'll definitely end up hanged."

"Don't worry. As soon as the summoning's over, I'll come right back in and give it to you."

With shared memories, Shirou naturally knew his words weren't an exaggeration.

As a coachman, stealing from his master's household—if discovered—would only lead to one outcome.

"Wait a moment. I'll go and come back. Stay here for a few minutes."

With that, he vanished from their sight.

Inside the mist-shrouded space, the two remaining exchanged glances for a few seconds. Celestial Dragon Shirou spoke first, smiling:

"I've been here quite a few times. I thought it was just some kind of storage space, but I never expected it to be the Clone Flow Cheat."

"Eight years have passed. I've almost forgotten what Rin and Sakura look like. I really didn't expect this..."

"I'll take good care of them." Shirou naturally understood what he was thinking, his gaze extending into the white mist behind him.

In that direction lay some belongings Celestial Dragon Shirou had stored.

Devil Fruits, Famous Swords, Beli, gold, and even clothes and fruit.

For the past eight years, he had been using this space purely as storage, stashing quite a few things.

"Can I take a look at your collection?"

"Let me think about it."