Wrong Reincarnation (Fate/Stay Night FanFiction)

Chapter 2: These First Roots Are Foul

A/N: Chap 2 here.

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DRIIIIIIING! DRIIIIIIING! DRIIIIIIING!

The alarm clock started, as the infernal sound was booming in the room.

My face was under the layer of my sheets. The warm heat produced by the sheet was blissful, the comfort of the pillow was extraordinary, and the delicate sensation produced by the enormous bed was wonderful.

I felt divine.

Why would I get up, when right now was the best moment I could ever have?

DRIIIIIIING! DRIIIIIIING! DRIIIIIII...

I let my hand out of the sheet and punched the thing, letting it fall on the floor. You got that right, you fucker! That's what you get when you mess with my sleep!

And as per karma, the alarm clock ringed again...

...But this time, louder.

DRIIIIIIIIIIIING! DRIIIIIIIIIIIING! DRIIIIIIIIIIIING! DRIIIIIIIIIIIING!

Frustration was the only thing I was feeling, but ultimately I decided to wake up. I moved my body, getting up from the bed, and started standing up.

I stretched for a minute, letting my muscles wake up from the slumber, and choose to continue to look at the mirror.

My blue hairs were a mess, enormous bags were under my eyes, as my body was aching from staying up all night.

As much as I hate my current predicament, I am Shinji Matou. My future has only tragic ends, as the best ending I get is the Unlimited Blade Work's route one after being used as a vessel for the Grail. Apparently, the conscious part of Shinji is somehow alive even after our souls fused while myself still not being used to my new life.

And so, with a pair of dead eyes I got from the planning I prepared the prior day, Shinji's daily routine started.

It wasn't anything special, the usual routine you would perform on your school days: Taking a shower, dressing in the school uniform, washing your teeth... you know, the usual stuff.

Thirty minutes passed, and I was overall ready to go. Suddenly, my stomach started to growl, as I remembered what I had to do.

Right, people do eat.

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I was now in the hall, leaning next to the door with my arms folded, watching Sakura preparing breakfast.

Her movements were swift, the timing she had while cooking would surpass any kind of expectation you would have for an 11 years-old girl, the scenery destroyed by the dead eyes she had: she seemed a corpse, a doll that was anything but alive. Her movements were almost mechanical.

After a minute, she finished cooking Toast, Eggs, and bacon. The usual western-type of breakfast.

She positioned the two plates on the table, each with a considerable amount of distance, as she seated.

I was still watching her with my arms folded, not moving an inch from my position.

Five minutes passed, and she didn't dare to touch anything. She seemed overall confused by my behaviour, as she sent me some looks, but immediately broke them the moment her eyes met mine.

Another handful of time has passed, and I could see her still refusing to call me out.

"Oi, Sakura."