Shirou had always wanted to learn how to whistle. His father was, of course, not the type to try; the poor mood that he carried around did not seem congruous to something so cheerful, and Shirou did not know anyone else well enough to ask. Instead, as he ambled down the scenic route to the market, he absent-mindedly blew air through pursed lips and hoped that no one was around to hear him. He woke up even earlier than normal on Sundays specifically to catch certain early morning deals and the freshest ingredients.

On his shoulder he carried his trusty messenger tote, empty of everything save his shopping list, a small ice pack for meat, and a notebook and pen. Shirou had learned long ago that recording thoughts and ideas was essential to an organized life, and for several years now he always made sure to have a notebook on hand. It still left plenty of room for his purchases.

He didn't plan on buying much, given he only brought the tote, but the trip was also an important opportunity to make the socialization rounds. There were people here that had seen him come and go for many years, and keeping up with their stories was... kind of satisfying. As he emerged into the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, he felt reinvigorated by the hawking shopkeepers and the sound of life.

"Hoi, boyo!" Shirou smiled as he came to old man Kenta's shop. "Early as always, looks like!"

"Hey, old man," he replied, waving as he pulled out the ice pack. "The usual, please."

"Yup, I've got it right here." His elderly arms, still thick with muscle, reached beneath the counter and pulled out a few brown paper parcels. "How've things been going? You keeping up at school?"

"Yes sir," Shirou nodded, stashing the meat in his tote. "I'll definitely be graduating this year."

It was disappointing that the Holy Grail War had thrown his life so badly off course that he needed to repeat his final year of school, but it gave him more time to consider what exactly he wanted to do. He had initially thought about being a lawyer or police officer, but dealing with the challenges and battles of the war gave him a sense of... emptiness in those ideas. Saving people felt abstract at that point, and the law did not defend the people who Rider had killed to survive on mana, or protect the victims that powered Caster's magecraft.

Shirou had been powerless, and continued to feel powerless, but at last he had found something resembling a purpose.

"Good, good!" A weathered hand clapped down on his back, sending him stumbling."I was worried for you last year!"

"I appreciate the concern," Shirou said with a smile, bowing his head. "Please give your family my regards."

"I will!"

With his bag now slightly weighted down, Shirou felt like his day had really begun. He had a plan, a schedule, and a firm idea of how his day would go. He was feeling good.

That feeling was short-lived, as moments later he tripped in the middle of the street, feeling like a complete idiot. Time slowed around him just so he could watch people's expressions as they saw him fall closer to the ground, concern and amusement warring in their eyes.

And today was going so well, damn it—

[Sorry, Shirou. Isekai's gotta happen somehow, you know.]

Shirou gasped, filling his lungs with air so hot it felt like it might ignite at any moment. His eyes shot open, and he could taste his heartbeat as he came to. He was no longer in Fuyuki.

The cavern was neither wide nor tall, but still spacious enough not to feel claustrophobic. Stalactites hung menacingly from the ceiling, and a river of magma slowly flowed along one wall, passing through an opening that led down into smell of damnation was in the air.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake."

Shirou turned and immediately recoiled as a large, disgusting, red bug creature made its way toward him. Compound eyes stared down from atop a fat carapace, and frighteningly thick teeth reflected the dim lighting.

"W-Wha—"

"Listen, I don't really have time to deal with you today," said the bug creature. "I'll make things quick. My name's Beelzebub, and you're in Hell. You're still alive, so you're going to have to find a way out of here. I'm not going to be able to help you right now, but if you survive for a little while, I'll see if I can find you and we can figure out an easy exit together."

"I'm in Hell?"

"Come on!" roared the bug creature, making him flinch."I was hoping that live humans would be more coherent, but no; just like the dead ones, you just brainlessly repeat exactly what I say!"

"But I don't—"

"Whatever," it said, and with one clawed hand picked him up by the arm with surprising gentleness. "Doesn't matter. You'll figure it out. This place is pretty self-explanatory anyway."

Shirou's head spun as he tried to process what was happening, so disoriented that he didn't scream until the bug creature opened the large door behind it and threw him out. He found himself falling down a very large height, sulphur wind rushing around him and drowning his scream.

"I'm in Hell?!"

For all that the dizzying altitude made him feel like he would be trapped falling for days or even months, it felt like only half a minute had passed when he hit the ground. To his surprise, rather than his entire skeleton shattering in the process of going from terminal velocity to null velocity, only his back complained at the impact itself. He checked himself after sitting up—all bones remained in place. He remembered what it felt like to break them, so it wasn't too hard to—

"Ow!"

Shirou held his nose as his messenger tote bounced off his face and fell into his lap. Realizing that it had weight, Shirou checked inside and sighed in relief as he realized that the meat he had bought was still there alongside his papers. Grunting, he hoisted it onto his shoulder again as he stood up. The ache wasn't going away, but he had gotten used to ignoring pain over years of magecraft training.

He was in another cavern, much larger this time, with vaulted walls and decaying columns collapsed around a large flat plain. Everything was colored in varying shades of crimson, both blood-red and firelight-red. Flames smouldered in braziers, casting shadows across the space. It seemed with every flicker of the light, shaded humanoids would move in and out of them.

His fists clenched. Of course. It's Hell. Why wouldn't I have to beat up some monsters? That's exactly how it worked in the Bible, right?

Little did Shirou know that Dante Alighieri had long ago learned that it's more fun to bully people in Hell than to beat them up. Perhaps he was better off with that ignorance.

Not with ease but with practiced intent, the Married Blades chambered in the barrel of Shirou's mind. Honed by a future he planned to never live, imbued with experiences he hoped to never have, they were his most comfortable weapons. Despite having rarely used them, he knew them as if they were extensions of his own body. Another consequence of the Holy Grail War, one that he benefited from, but not without cost.

Shirou was not a type for sneaking, as much as he tried. He did not attempt to get the drop on any of these things, armored in white bone, but rather walked into their midst and approached the nearest one he stumbled across.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for an exit?" he asked politely. His only response was a growl and a lunge from the beast, forcing him to dart back. Projecting Kanshou from his mind, with a quick motion he slashed the beast's torso in half. He winced, expecting blood to spray all over him, but instead the two pieces exploded into a cloud of smoke and dust, making him cough.

"What the...?"

Bakuya appeared in his other hand as he twisted to bisect another monster that jumped at him, and the same explosion of smoke occurred. Shirou slowly made his way through the small crowd of beasts, his focus nearly as sharp as his blades, but a small voice in his mind continued to question what happened to them when he hurt them.

As the last one fell before him, Shirou grimaced.

Don't even think about it. This is Hell, you can't save anyone here.

He let that thought simmer for a few moments before moving on. After it was clear that no one else would attack him in the imminent future, Shirou let the projections go and readjusted his tote, following the twisting path of a tunnel that exited this particular cavern.

Passing under a set of arches decorated with runes that resembled eyes and an alphabet he couldn't begin to recognize, he found himself standing in the first real room he'd seen since arriving at this place. It resembled a box, stretching farther away from him than to the sides. A full set of torches provided a reasonable level of illumination, soothing his subconscious and revealing a wooden desk, complete with a person sitting behind it. and the only notable object was a wooden desk and the person sitting behind it. Her head was buried in a collection of books, clipboards, calculators, and even a laptop computer to her side. She muttered to herself as she flipped through pages and scribbled down notes, yawning loudly intermittently.

"Um, excuse me?" Shirou asked as he approached. "I'm looking for—"

"Bathrooms are back where you came from, two hallways down, sixth doorway on your left," the woman interrupted in a monotone.

"No, I don't need—"

"Appellate courts aren't on this floor," she continued, "they're a couple floors down, very bottom of the first circle."

"That's not—"

"Visiting hours depend on what circle the person you're visiting is on," she drawled, flipping another page, "but generally you'll have the most luck in the late morning. Guards aren't as sensitive then and won't kill you on sight. Ninth circle occupants don't have any visiting hours, though, so if your friend is down there, you're screwed."

"Excuse me!" Shirou raised his voice in frustration. The woman stopped for a moment and looked up at him, round glasses framing a face lined with exhaustion. One eyebrow was raised in an unspoken question. "I'm looking for the exit," he said.

"...what?" She tilted her head to the side as she considered him. "What makes you think you can get out of here? You're in Hell. No one leaves Hell except the boss herself."

"I..." Shirou scratched his cheek uncomfortably and looked aside. "Listen, I got lost and stumbled down here somehow. I'm just trying to get home before my guardian gets back. Can you show me the fastest way out of here?"

"Did you not hear me right?" she said in a louder voice. "I said you can't—wait, you stumbled down here?"

"Yes," he said patiently.

"Are you... alive?" she asked hesitantly, which made him pause.

"...yes?" he replied in the same tone. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh, fuck me." She buried her face in her hands, releasing an exasperated sigh. "Of course I have to deal with a live one right before I go on vacation. Damn it all. Fuck!"

Shirou took a step back. I didn't realize I would be such a problem...

"Um..." he said after a few moments of silence. "Sorry?"

"Shut up for a second, please," she said. "I just... I need a minute. I haven't had my sixth cup of coffee. I'm not ready for this."

"Do you... want me to go make some...?" Shirou asked carefully.

Her head shot up, eyes alight with eagerness.

"Please."

"No problem. Where's your kitchen?"

"Kitchen?" She shook her head in amazement. "You're in Hell, kid. The only kitchens are the ones that cook people alive. We import food from the surface. The coffee machine is back where you came from, first hallway, second door on your right."

She folded her hands in front of her and gave him a very serious look quite unlike her previous expression.

"Depending on the quality of this coffee, I will either make this a quick and painless process, or..." She gave a small smirk. "I'll make your life a living Hell."

He groaned. I should have expected this.

[Yes, Shirou, you really should have.]

She sipped at the mug softly, gently, and Shirou tried not to let the nervous rhythm of his heart show on his face. While he had been gone, she had brought in a regular wooden chair for him. It was uncomfortable even for him, when he had hoped she would at least be hospitable.

Maybe that's expecting too much from a resident of Hell...

"Well?" he asked after she had sipped at it a few more times, each time increasingly louder and more obnoxious. She tilted her head from side to side in thought.

"...I am considering if it's worth bearing your offspring now or waiting a few years for your brewing skills to get even better."

Were Shirou to be the one drinking, he would have spat coffee all over her. As it was, he choked on his own spit. She watched and waited while he pounded at his chest, trying not to suffocate.

"W-What?"

"Just kidding." The earlier smirk was back, having grown even larger and more devilish (a pun that also made Shirou groan). "You're good, I'll give you that, but you're certainly not the best I've ever had."

"O-Oh, uh, okay..." Shirou couldn't maintain eye contact and looked to the side, wishing he had a glass of water or something else to sip on. "So... are you going to help me?"

"Yeah, sure." She shrugged. "I'm bound by law to do so anyway, even if it's a bunch of bureaucracy I don't want to deal with—the amount of forms and reports that will need to be filled out after you're gone are disgusting—but you do brew a mean cup, and a demon does keep her promises."

He sighed in relief. Maybe that Beelzebub person won't have to come help me now. I wouldn't want to take up any more of their time.

"Thank you so much." He stood up and bowed deeply to her. "I greatly appreciate the trouble you are going through for me."

"Oh, please do mention it." Her smirk had not left. "I'm going to make you pay it back with many pounds of coffee. But count yourself lucky—I'm not draining you of your blood."

"You drink—"

She laughed in his face. "Not even close. We aren't vampires, and your blood, whether living or dead, tastes gross. So much metal. Nothing like the warm richness of..." She inhaled deeply and sighed. "Yeah, not bad at all."

"Right, um... when can we leave?" he asked, somewhat impatient to get going. If Fuji-nee gets home and doesn't find me there...

"So eager to leave me?" She quirked an eyebrow. "No, don't answer that. You're too easy to screw with, it's getting less fun. Let me finish this mug and we'll get going. Look forward to lots of coffee-brewing in the future... what did you say your name was?"

"Shirou." He managed a smile. "Shirou Emiya. Yourself?"

"Hm." She looked him up and down. "Pandemonica. Not too much of a mouthful for someone who doesn't use a Latin-character alphabet, I hope?"

"A Latin..." He stopped. "Wait, aren't we speaking Japanese?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Hell is a universal entity expressed in various forms over a number of different faiths," she said, sipping at her coffee occasionally. "Everyone who comes here speaks a different language. We don't bother accommodating you, as you're in Hell, so right now you're speaking English. You haven't realized it, but there's a kind of magic here that warps your brain to have you speak English."

"What?"

Shirou replayed the last few minutes in his head, intensely thinking about the conversation they had had, and how it was spoken. As he thought about it, he could feel some kind of... obscurant cloud over the words being spoken. Their dialogue was fragmented in both Japanese and English, and the more he thought about it the more his head hurt.

"If you're wondering why English," she continued, "it's reflective of the dominant cultural language upstairs. A few hundred years ago it switched between French and Beijing-dialect Mandarin, and yes, it was as confusing as you're thinking. Ever since the British Empire created the largest sphere of influence, later replaced by the United States, we've been speaking in this weird tongue that's a mutt of Germanic grammar and roots mixed with Greek, Latin, and French."

Her expression tightened in disgust.

"I almost want to go back to Mandarin..." she muttered before raising the cup to her lips again. She frowned when she found it empty. "Hm. Alright, let's get going. You got your stuff?"

He tugged at his messenger bag again, then double-checked that all of his belongings were still there. Nothing had changed, and luckily the meat was still fine. "Yes."

"Good." She got up from her desk, closing the computer and stuffing her papers in a leather briefcase. "We're going to take the scenic route, because the boss loves the melodrama of taking humans through the whole place. 'Look at how much we torture you after you die,' crap like that. If I take you any other way, she's gonna be pissed at me and then I'll have to fill out more forms and I really don't want to deal with that hassle."

"Um, okay." He would have preferred a speedier exit, but considering how scary she could get on the turn of a dime, he kept his mouth shut. "Thank you again."

"Try thanking me again after we're done with all this." Her smirk came up again as she lifted her own briefcase. "It's gonna be one Hell of a time."

Shirou groaned again.

This is going to suck.

"Oh no," I hear you say. "Not another story. Aren't you spread thin enough as is, you ass? I already haven't seen an update to Ether of Hope in months, and when the hell is Shirou going to get to shoot more demons with Doomguy?!"

Take a deep breath. It's going to be okay. This was how The Saga of Shirou's Summons was structured—maximum flexibility to work on whatever I like—and this will be how I write stories in general. I do have a vision for this story, though, and I'll see if I can update it relatively quickly, though don't count on it.

Helltaker really grabbed at me like no game since Doki Doki Literature Club has, and so I had to write something for it. Of course, being the one-trick hack that I am, it had to involve Shirou, and so you have this. For those coming from the Helltaker Discord with no experience in the Fate fandom, welcome! All you really need to know about the Fate parts was explained here, I think—Shirou Emiya is a 18 year old kid who can create swords and survived a magic tournament that changed him forever. That should be enough. Feel free to ask me anything on that Discord, or on my personal Discord! You can find the invite code to that on my profile page.

Thanks to my good friend TungstenCat for editing this chapter. It was alright before, but she made it look a lot better. I really appreciate that she did so.

Your ending theme is an AMV called This is (not) the greatest song in the world., uploaded to YouTube by camhcom. Have fun with it.

And as always, thanks for reading.