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First/night
For half a decade, the life of Shirou Emiya has been a simple one.
Wake up. Do morning training. Eat breakfast with Sakura and Taiga (while putting up with Taiga’s antics). Go to school. Take care of repairs as Homurabara Academy’s unofficial handyman. Go to work. Eat dinner with Sakura and Taiga. Do my magus “training”. Take care of more repairs. Go to sleep. Wake up.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
That was the daily routine I’d become accustomed to, which an outsider might find mundane, safe…predictable, with each day a seeming repetition of the one before. But if one looked closely, one could see that no two were quite the same, for no matter how trivial slight differences may seem, they build upon one another, making each day an irreplaceable moment one can never go back to once it was gone.
So I find myself thinking (while musing on the aptness of “May you live in interesting times” as a curse) after everything changed in the course of an evening, when I was unceremoniously dragged kicking and screaming into the moonlit world.
It’s an elegant, poetic name, evoking a land of mysteries and shadow pictures, where the watery light of the snow moon hides the flaws laid bare by day. Another world where miracles are everyday occurrences and reality is the stuff of dreams—or better say nightmares, as the name belies its ugly nature. For those who were fully part of that world, everyday brushes with the profane and the forbidden were common, with the heartless grim reaper the only true companion such a being might have in an otherwise solitary existence.
Kiritsugu had warned me of such a thing – that to be a magus was to walk alongside death, to live a life of danger, deceit, and disappointment – and I had accepted it the moment I first constructed a Magic Circuit, where any misstep could be my end. Intellectually, I had known that one day, when I was ready, I would enter that ruthless world of mysteries and unpleasant truths so I better learn how to save people—but I had never expected that people already part of that world would take an interest in a magus of low caliber as I was now.
Ready or not, a trial was upon me, and somehow I knew that if I failed—or refused to face it, that would be my end, as surely as my spilled lifeblood stained the night a crimson hue.
Mysterious figures, alongside those familiar, but unexpected.
The “enforcer of the Association” who could have killed me at any time, wielding with ease a great sword that would have seemed unwieldy in anyone else’s hands, and terrible magics the like of which I had never seen—a being on a completely different level from anything I had ever thought possible.
The rose-haired gun-blade wielder who calls me “Master”, a beautiful but deadly warrior whose soft features hide inhuman abilities--though not quite up to par with the "enforcer's."
The lance-bearing knight, referred to as "Servant Lancer”, whose youthful appearance does not extend to aged and weary eyes.
And of course, there is Rin Tohsaka, the school idol that most of the track team seems to worship Mitsuzuri-san seems to have issues with, and I...um... I kind of admire. Apparently, she's a rather powerful magus--and her real self is utterly different from the front she puts up at school.
At this rate, the ethics teacher will turn out to be an undercover assassin. Or maybe the mysterious Sajyou Ayaka, who runs the occult club, will actually be a witch hiding in plain sight.
...stranger things have happened.
With all of the recent upheavals, I have resigned myself to taking comfort in the few truths that I am fairly certain of.
One of which being that Tohsaka is right: Lancer can make tea.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, given that he seems Japanese and tea ceremonies were once a symbol of the samurai class, but it is still a little unsettling how he can go from mad warrior to brooding wallflower in the blink of an eye.
Some time has passed since Tohsaka forced me to invite her into my home so she could fill me in on what the hell is going on. Currently, we are seated across from each other at the dining table, sipping tea as she tries to figure out where to begin explaining, and I'm running through the few scraps of information I have so that I won't seem completely uninformed.
...no one wants to look foolish in front of someone they admire, after all.
The atmosphere in the room is, well, hard to pin down, and tension and uncertainty swirl about in a devil's brew, mingling with confusion, disappointment, weariness, and a host of other things--and that's just the faint impressions from the two of us.
The presence our "Servants" does not help matters, with "Lancer" and "Saber" standing behind Tohsaka and myself respectively like silent sentinels, watching for any attempt on the part of the other to violate the uneasy peace. No truce has been declared, no alliance made, and so our Servants remain vigilant in case this is a trap. At first glance, this doesn't seem to be the case, with the pink-haired swordswoman coolly glancing about the room and over at the spearman every once in a while, while the spearman in turn is withdrawn, utterly apathetic about the goings on around him.
But to accept those surface impressions as truth would be foolish, as a more discerning eye reveals that that both are closely watching the other, assessing the threat each poses, the abilities that each has revealed, and everything else they know of the other. Hard, cold, gazes, but not out of animosity, simply out of professional concern, as neither have any reason to trust the other.
For some reason, that really bugs me.
True, when Lancer appeared and blew up my backyard with a cast of his spear, I was nearly caught in the blast, but he and Tohsaka showed up to stop the monster in human shape trying to kill me, so they should be allies...right? After all, conventional wisdom would have it that the enemy of my enemy is my friend...though from Saber and Lancer's mutual attitude, they see the enemy of an enemy as merely the enemy of an enemy, nothing more and nothing less.
I get the sinking feeling that Tohsaka shares that viewpoint as her eyes flick from me to my Servant, and then to the mark on the back of my hand, her lips tightening ever so slightly as if forcing down something she found distasteful.
...she was a lot more transparent than when she was at school, but maybe she simply figured that if both of us knew the other was a magus, neither of us had anything to hide. Which isn't quite true, since I don't quite want her to know of my weakness - not my weakness in using magecraft, mind you, but that I found her...quite attractive.
Still, even if she doesn't like the situation, at least Tohsaka is willing to put that aside to get me up to speed, instead of leaving me in the dark like she could have done. It's certainly nice of her, though it does detract from the aloof image of the ice queen she likes to present. B-but I'm sure she didn't save my life and decide to fill me in about these odd happenings because she likes me or anything. I wouldn't want to get the wrong idea.
“The first rule about the Holy Grail War is this,” Tohsaka begins at last, stirring from her reverie, setting down her teacup, and assuming a lecturer's pose, sitting upright with the elbow resting on a palm, as her free hand gestured and gesticulated to emphasize important points. “ ‘You do not talk about the Holy Grail War.’ ”
…I can't help but think I'd heard something like that before, though exactly where escaped me. I just knew it had something to do with explosions, mayhem, and...fat -- I think Makidera-san mentioned something about it? Regardless of what it reminded me of though, it gives me the distinct impression that the following explanation would be more convoluted than I anticipated--or desired.
And I'm right. Tohsaka's explanation is long, detailed, and confusing enough that I regret not taking notes on it. Geez, you'd think that she thought of all this as the basics of the basics, which even an amateur like myself (I admit it) should already know. Right now, asking her to stop so I could take notes would probably just end up making her mad at me - and I mean really mad - so I figure I might as well try to absorb as much of what she is saying as I can.
After the altercation with the man in black, I already have enough repairs to make to my shed and the yard - I don't need to give Tohsaka's Servant an excuse to blow up my dining room too. Saber could probably stop him from killing me, but not before he inflicts major property damage...and Old Man Fujimura wouldn't be too happy if I asked him for a loan.
Still, I can barely understand half of what Tohsaka is saying. Heck, even Lancer looks bored out of his mind, except he clearly knows better than to say anything.
From her explanation, I piece together the following: The woman that I somehow summoned (and yes, the swirl of light and power was apparently a summoning - something which should have been far beyond my level of ability) is something like a familiar. I say "like" because normally a familiar is weaker than the magus, but not in this case, with Saber being as far beyond me as...well...that man in black. But it makes sense, given that she is apparently a "heroine" out of legend, summoned forth to do battle in a free-for-all between magi with the prize being the Holy Grail."
...wait, that Holy Grail? And if these "Servants" are supposed to be heroes of legend, then why don't I recognize Rin's Servant, whose name she blurted out by mistake? I don't know of any hero named Shinji Ikari, much less a spear-wielder, of which there aren't too many in Japanese legend.
But I push these thoughts aside as Tohsaka sums up her long explanation with nine simple words: A fight to the death, to put it simply.
I don't really react to this dramatic summation.
As someone who wants to be a hero of justice, my blood should be boiling at the realization that a sick "game" like this is taking place, that in a quest for unlimited power, seven magi...well, six if you don't include me, intent on killing one another will be blasting through Fuyuki without care for who else might get hurt.
It should be, but at the moment, I’m actually feeling more confused than anything else.
Tohsaka sighs dejectedly, as if she can read my thoughts. “You’re still feeling a little lost, aren’t you?”
I blink. I don't think I was that obvious about it.
“Does it show on my face or something?” I ask, curious at how she could see through me so easily. This is bad. If she can read what I'm feeling just by looking at me, then I don't stand a chance of--
“No," Tohsaka says, hiding a smirk behind her hand. "You said it out loud.”
...well, shit.
Did that really happen?
“If that's a problem, Emiya-kun, you might want to get that checked out…” the school idol ribs coyly, rather more amused than I am comfortable with.
“What? Oh. Nope, no, not a problem," I ramble. "Uh...heh...it just kind of slipped out, I guess.” So I admit to Tohsaka as I scratch my head out of a nervous reflex. “This is kind of a lot to swallow.”
“Well then,” my fellow magus responds, looking away in the direction of the other part of town. “If that is the case, would you like more details about the Grail War?”
How should I put this tactfully? I do appreciate her going out of her way to help me, but...I don't think she's exactly used to explaining things simply.
"If you don't mind," I say after some moments of thought, trying to avert the headache that I know is coming from being flooded with too much data and too little useful information. "There are a few things that I'd like to hear about in detail."
She purses her lips, as if weighing my response, and lets out a small 'hmph', getting up from her seat, with Lancer moving to guard her.
“Well, if that is your answer, then I’ll have to ask you to come with me - and bring your Servant with you. It would be bad if an enemy just so happened to attack when you were completely defenseless..."
...um, Tohsaka, what was that smirk for? Was that a threat?
But I'm probably just reading into things too much - I'm a little on edge after nearly being killed quite a few times, and losing so much blood. About the only reason I'm alive is Saber's odd potion, and somehow, I get the feeling that if I don't agree, I'll probably end up dead.
For if I'm right, the swordsman in black, the being of absolute malice and despair that attacked me earlier tonight is probably related to the Holy Grail War as well. He seemed to know that I would be a Master, was aware of how he could force me to summon a Servant, and could more than match a Servant in combat in his own right. If he is planning to attack me again...well, any help would be useful.
I'm a little allergic to death, you see.
“Wait Tohsaka,” I follow suit and likewise get up from where I was seated. “Where are we going?”
As I do so, Saber moves slightly, just enough that she could cover me from an enemy attack at a moment's notice, her cool, precise movements still as professional as her first impression showed. Looking over at her, I feel reassured by her quiet competence, as she moves with the lithe grace of someone who has spent her life learning and practicing the art of war, until every movement is refined into part of a dream-like whole. Considering she is on my side, as my partner in this War, I feel some hope that I might be able to survive, despite the fact that the life I knew was swept away what seem like days ago, even though it has been less than an hour.
It's like the fire all over again.
From the hallway with Lancer at her side, she answers with an indecipherable expression before walking out into the cold night: “We’re going to pay a visit to the mediator of this game.”
Damn it Issei, you were right...life really isn't fair.
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“Stille nacht, heilige nacht…”
“…Alles schläft; einsam wacht…”
A stifling, oppressive silence hangs over Miyamachou as Tohsaka and I wander through the empty streets, accompanied by our now-invisible Servants. In and of itself, quietness isn't too out of the ordinary, given that this is a residential neighborhood not prone to wild carousing or raucous goings-on, but this isn't the simple lack of sound that marks the witching hour. Rather, it is an anti-noise which blanks out sound in its entirety, leaving in its wake a world as desolate as the surface of the moon.
If someone was killed right here, struck down in the middle of the street say...by a sword, no one would notice or care--no one would even find out until morning, when the formerly unaware residents catch sight of dried bloodstains tagging the concrete like cheap graffiti.
It is a fey stillness that I am hesitant to break, and certainly not simply to wonder if I'm following Tohsaka, or she's following me. At first, she had been leading the way towards the neighboring town, but after I showed her a shortcut or two, she let me guide her without objection.
To the unsuspecting world, Tohsaka and I seem just a girl and a boy walking together side-by-side in the dead of the night, no doubt having just returned from a romantic outing of some sort. But this isn't so, as things are still tense between us, and two spectral forms trail us silently, ever vigilant, ever watchful. I can feel them hovering closely, though not in the “literal” sense, as I can't pinpoint them.
I just know that Lancer and Saber are there, as their presences are distinctive, like the scents of blood, steel--and roses, blending together in a strangely redolent mix.
In strange company, my footsteps lead me to the bridge over the river that divides Miyamachou from Shinto. A Shirou Emiya had already crossed it once this night, yet the Shirou that used it then and the Shirou walking on it now are two different people.
It is sometimes said that at a certain point in a person’s life, one comes to a bridge that spans an otherwise impassable river or crevice that one needs to cross. But the bridge is only good for one crossing, and as soon as you step from it onto the other shore, it collapses, leaving you no way to return, no choice but to keep going. And yet, a version of you remains behind in memory, wondering what would have happened had you not crossed, and the you of memory and the you of now grow ever distant.
Once, I was certain of how things would be, but things have changed, and now I cross this bridge towards uncertainty, accompanied by Tohsaka and the ethereal bodyguards that have sworn themselves to us.
“…Nur das traute hochheilige Paar...”
“…Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar…”
After some time, we finally arrive at our destination: the Kotomine Church, a place that I’m far more aware of than I’d care to admit.
Is…is this really the place Tohsaka wanted to take me?
The Church that was once an orphanage, the place where the children orphaned by the fire ten years ago were sent?
I shiver, and not from the cold.
Maybe I'm not as well-adjusted as I think I am, if these things still trouble me.
As soon as we reach the top of the hill, Saber abandons her state of intangibility, her form becoming corporeal as she comes to an abrupt halt. Her eyes are sharp in the darkness, catching what little light is scattered about as she regards the church with wariness and hostility, her jaw tightening ever-so-slightly as her hands move towards her gunblade...then stop.
It is the most she has yet shown by way of outward expression.
“Is something wrong, Saber?” I ask my Servant, noticing how she seems suddenly on guard, almost as if expecting an attack. “Is something bothering you?”
The rose-haired swordswoman's eyes narrow and she seems to relax slightly.
"This is as far as I go,” she explains, meeting my gaze unflinchingly. “That is not a place for one such as I.”
“I’m…just going to wait out here, too," Lancer likewise breaks in, willing himself out of spiritual form and rubbing the back of his head in an almost thoughtful manner. It is the first bit of independent action I have seen of him. "Take care of what you must, Master."
At these ominous words, my eyes dart to Tohsaka's face, trying to see how she would react to the scene before us. Oddly, she seems calm, which assuages some of my apprehension, though certainly not all. Saber seems tense, a change from the norm - and in a situation like this, I'm fairly certain change is bad.
“Very well then," Tohsaka says after a moment. "We’ll be back soon, so don’t do anything reckless or cause any property damage while Emiya and I are gone, understand?”
Do I need to be worried about that, too? This Holy Grail War sounds like it will be expensive, and I don't exactly have much money to pay for such things. Taiga alone nearly eats me out of house and home!
“As you wish, Master. Take your time.” Lancer sighs, before turning his gaze to something in the distance. Tohsaka seems satisfied enough with his answer, as she nods and turns to head to the church's door.
Similarly, I turn to give Saber my answer, but she preempts me.
“Be on your guard, Master. A storm is coming”
More ominous words, but before I can reply, or process them in detail, Tohsaka interrupts.
“Emiya-kun – come on. We can’t keep that false priest waiting.”
She stands in front of the large doors, arms crossed, tapping her feet with a slight air of impatience.
“I'm coming, Tohsaka,” I tell her, nodding at Saber. No sense keeping the honor student waiting any longer, right?
Together, we step through the gateway.
“…Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh…”
“…Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh…”
The doors to the house of worship creak loudly as we open them, stepping into the chapel of the church. It is a fair-sized chapel, not quite magnificent in size, though atmosphere is grand enough to impart the sense of awe that churches are supposed to inspire. Rows of wooden pews line the aisle that leads to the altar, and the space, though spartan, is well maintained.
It is empty, not that I expected anyone to be worshipping at this ridiculous time, as the only ones would be at a church this late at night are those who have pressing business to conduct business within its walls, business far removed from the singing hymns or murmuring prayers.
…those like Tohsaka and I, though why we have set foot upon the territory of the Holy Church, I don't know.
Such a thought disturbs me, for by their nature, a magus and the church cannot be in harmony. The Holy Church hates the impurity of magic, seeing those who wield miracles other than the divine as heretics and targets of elimination. Even the Association has trouble with them, with members of each organization trying to kill the other at every opportunity despite a non-aggression pact between them.
Still, she obviously brought us here for a reason, so perhaps there is someone here that she needs to meet--the false priest she mentioned? But this place is just quiet as the silent city outside – is there really someone here?
“I know you’re here, you fake priest. Stop lurking in the shadows and come out already,” Tohsaka says bluntly, tacking on four very worrisome words as an afterthought. "We need to talk."
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence at this late hour?”
A footstep echoes loudly, as a man steps from behind the altar and calmly turns towards us, utterly unfazed by Tohsaka’s barb.
“Can it Kotomine, you should know why I’m here.”
Kotomine. That name. Without a doubt, this strange priest must be the man entrusted with this church...and apparently the supervisor of the Holy Grail War.
"Indeed so, and I see that you have brought a guest. He is the seventh one, Rin?”
Tohsaka nods stiffly, and the priest turns to me, regarding me with eyes that betray nothing.
"I am Kirei Kotomine, the mediator of this Holy Grail War," he says as he approaches us, every footfall deliberate. "What is your name, seventh Master?"
I hold my breath somewhat as I meet his gaze, willing myself to stand my ground before what Tohsaka called a false priest, but as it is, I step back almost without realizing. It's not that he's scary, or that I feel hostility from him, but his presence seems to make the shadows darker, the air cold and heavy, making me feel like Atlas, bearing the weight of the world.
There's something off about him, but I can't quite identify what. In fact, he is completely unreadable to me, which only sets me ill at ease...and it seems as if he’s noticed.
“Emiya,” I answer the priest, glaring back at him in an attempt to hide how unsettled I am. "My name is Shirou Emiya, and I haven't agreed to become a Master yet."
That I will agree is not in question, given how I was thrust into the role, but for some reason, I don't want him to know that it's already a foregone conclusion.
The slight upward curl of his lips only makes his smirk all the more apparent, as the atmosphere turns cold. “Emiya…Shirou. Shirou...Emiya.” Kotomine lets the sound of my name roll off his tongue, as if he’s rediscovered a favorite wine that he has not tasted in years.
By now, I was more than just a little on-edge.
“I thank you then, Shirou Emiya, as you have brought my errant apprentice,” Kotomine intones, diverting his attention to Tohsaka now. “So you have finally showed up, Rin. Then I presume you have summon forth your Servant and now seek make your status of Master official?”
“Yes, and Shirou as well."
“Hang on a second Tohsaka,” I protested, frowning at both Tohsaka and the fake priest. “I didn't come here because of that.”
If looks could kill, Tohsaka’s glare would no doubt be serving a life sentence for first-degree murder in a maximum security facility right now.
But I can handle her ire more easily than the uncertainty that hung between us since our meeting earlier in the night, and so steadied myself, as dealing with the priest is a more pressing issue. I'd rather be far away from here, but according to Tohsaka, he's the man who knows the answers to my questions, so I will have to grit my teeth and endure it.
“Um, sorry,” I somewhat sputter as I correct myself, “What I mean is, I still have some things that I need to know about this whole thing.”
“Ah, so you seek clarification? Very well then, if it is within my knowledge I will answer any inquiries that you have concerning the upcoming miracle.”
“…Stille Nacht, heilige Nach…”
“…Hirten erst kundgemacht…”
Just as he said he would, “Father” Kotomine further expanded my knowledge of Grail War protocol and procedure with each of my questions asked. As it turns out, once a person has been chosen to be a Master by the Holy Grail, there is no real way for them to get out of it – or at least, not without the equivalent of magical neurosurgery, which sounds…unpleasant. Maybe not as unpleasant as the training I do each night, but I don't have any intention of letting this priest muck about with my head...or my Magic Circuits, with which the holy sigil of the Command Seals are linked.
Further, as it turns out, though it is said to be a free-for-all, the Masters don’t have to kill one another, but it is a traditional strategy used for several reasons: thinning out the competition, preventing wayward Servants from being re-contracted (or a less than loyal Servant from stabbing his or her Master in the back and finding another to serve), and because even without a Servant, magi could be quite dangerous. Still, I was relieved to hear that killing wasn't mandatory, as there might be some Masters out there that I’d rather not see dead anytime soon.
Masters like Toh–
Anyway, speaking of the Holy Grail, the great prize of this war…where to begin? Was it the “true” Holy Grail, the cup that Christ drank from and into which his blood was spilt? The very cup that many have pined for and devoted themselves to, the thing of legends and mystery itself?
No…and yes.
While it wasn't the original or "True" Grail, that didn't matter as long as it could replicate the original's effects. It might be the 726th item to be recorded as a Holy Grail, not the first, but as long as it could realize miracles...such as summoning allowing magi to summon the souls of Heroic Spirits to fight by their sides, then it made no difference. Absolute power, after all, was absolute power, no matter the source, so Masters competed for ownership of the Grail, regardless of authenticity of the artifact’s pedigree.
Not that that was my reason for participating - I couldn't care less about power, and in that sense, I was unsuitable to be a Master at all, being simply a boy caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time through a series of unfortunate coincidences. Yet I couldn't turn back, as whether or not I decided to fight, I knew at least one person in Fuyuki sought to kill me, and without a Servant I stood no chance of survival.
“All of them were killed. By a long sword-like weapon, judging from what I heard.”
What's more, that man hunting me - who must be a participant in the War, is a murderer who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. People have died because of him, are dying because of him...will die, and if I do nothing when I had chance to stop him, I will be just as guilty of their deaths as if I had killed them myself.
And worse...if such a man were to win the Holy Grail, the result would be nothing short of disaster.
"Indeed," Kotomine intones, driving the last nails into the coffin of the notion that the half-magus named Shirou Emiya would drop out of this War. "Such was the case ten years ago, when an unsuitable Master tried to claim the Grail as his own. I do not know what that Master wished for, only the results of the disaster that came afterwards."
Ba-dump!
For an instant, the image of hell is imprinted on my brain, before I manage to banish it from my conscious mind.
"Hold on," I repeat, my body trembling--though whether in fear, anger, or revulsion, I did not know. "That can't be…"
"But it is," the mediator affirms, his empty eyes watching me as he frowns. "It is an event that everybody in this town knows about, Shirou Emiya. Five hundred killed or wounded. A hundred and thirty four buildings burned down. That inferno, still unexplained, is the remains of the Holy Grail War."
Hearing this makes me feel as if the world had been pulled out from under me, or if some leaden giant of legend had sucker punched me, tearing me in half.
My vision blurs.
I lose concentration and I can't focus my eyes.
My body stumbles, and I nearly collapse.
But I hold myself firm.
I hold onto consciousness by clenching my teeth.
I hold back my nausea with the anger boiling up in me, the tightly-coiled rage that festers in the heart of those who have ever been helpless.
"Emiya-kun? What's wrong?" A voice asks, seeming far away. Ah, that's right, Tohsaka doesn't know my past, does she. "You're pale white. …I know it's not a comfortable story, but… if you want, we can take a rest for a while."
I must have looked terrible, as I've never seen Tohsaka worried about anyone like that.
Slowly, I focus on the sound of her voice, turning to look into two concerned aquamarine eyes, as a firm hand rests on my shoulder. With her help, I steady myself, smiling weakly.
"Don't worry about me, Tohsaka. I feel better after seeing your face," I manage to mumble, earning me a half-glare from the girl in question.
"...hey, just what is that supposed to mean?" she demands suspiciously, trying to look through me as she had earlier.
"Oh, nothing really. Just that you really are a good person," I say without thinking, thankful that she couldn't get a good read on me. "I like people like you..."
"W-w-wha...?"
...though her not being able to read me apparently doesn't help if I say what I'm thinking out loud. Hmm, this is a problem, but I blame the blood loss.
She looks shocked, her eyes wide and mouth nearly hanging open, hand pulling away from me as if burned, and in the back of my mind, I think to myself that she looks cute even when she is at a loss for words.
"Is there anything more you wish to ask of me, Shirou Emiya?" the smooth but vaguely sinister baritone of the priest echoes, bringing my attention to the smirking clergyman. "Or have you come to a decision?"
I swallow under his scrutiny, but meet his gaze regardless.
“I’ll do it. I’ll accept my role as Master and fight in this War. I’ll do anything I can…to prevent that from happening ever again. This is my chance, my one chance to set things right.”
Upon hearing this, Kotomine’s smirk widens with satisfaction. “Excellent. I trust that this is a decision that you will not come to regret?”
What else can I say? As one of the "Grail Orphans" I know, better than anyone else, what is at stake, and this, this is what I have always wanted: the power to save, to help - to protect, where others seek to destroy. I’m not one to believe in fate, but deep down I’m sure that everything else up until now was just preparation for this day, I know it must have been.
“E-Emiya?” Tohsaka’s voice sounds odd, even a little timid in the aftermath of my declaration. Why? Was she expecting me to decide otherwise? Or...?
“I told you what I think already,” I say, repeating my decision to Kotomine, almost daring him to say otherwise. “Ready or not, this is something I cannot back down from."
“Hm, it was foolish of me to think that I needed to ask again. After all, your resolve is firm and your decision has been made.”
No matter what it takes, I’ll be sure to keep that prize out of the wrong hands and ensure that it will not be used to bring about another catastrophe.
“Then it is settled. Henceforth, in this Fifth Holy Grail War, let it be known that the ones named Rin Tohsaka and Shirou Emiya are hereby Masters. In this instant, the Seven have been chosen, in this instant, the Holy Grail War begins. So I attest, so I bear witness, and I approve the battle in this town, from now until only one Master remains.” Raising his voice by nary a decibel, Kotomine announces this to no one in particular. Without an ounce of fanfare, and with none to bear witness to its true commencement, the Holy Grail War starts.
There’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was going to be any in the first place, that is.
All has been said and done that needed to be said and done. I have no further business here at this church, not unless I lose Saber and am forced to seek shelter here until the game ends. However –
“Y-you can go on home, Emiya," Tohsaka interjects suddenly, her voice still a little subdued as she brushed her hair...nervously? "I still have business of my own to discuss with Kirei.”
– it seems as if the same cannot exactly be said about Tohsaka.
“Huh? You mean we’re not walking home together Tohsaka?” I had been under the impression that we would leave as we came here – in each other’s company.
For a moment I think I see her eyes widen slightly, but it must have been a trick of the light.
“No, we’re not," she says quickly, almost too quickly. "I just said that I’d take you to the church so that we could straighten you out. Otherwise I’d have flab on my mind about leaving you hanging.”
“Then…does that mean we’re going to be enemies, Tohsak – ”
Wait. Did she just say her brain is fat? Well, I suppose the fat content of the brain is about 60% if you take all the myelin insulation and long cell membranes into account, but somehow, I don't think that's what she means.
“Yes, we'll part here, Emiya-kun," she answers, looking at me strangely. "I've done more than my share in bringing you up to speed, but since you've chosen to fight, it would be troublesome if we stayed together any longer. From here, we'll be enemies, since you’re not the only one who wants the Grail.”
I guess she wanted to end the ambiguous position we were in now. She went out of her way to save me and even helped explain things when she found I was clueless about the War. Honestly, if she thought it was troublesome, she could have just left Saber and I alone against the man in black. I really don't like my thoughts on how that would have turned out.
I suppose it could be worse, since even if we'll be enemies, she's a good person. I can at least trust her to be fair, even if she is flippant and aloof and a complete one-eighty from how she normally is at school.
“Alright then, Tohsaka. If that’s how you feel, then I’ll respect your decision." I say, though something else crosses my mind. "But before I go, I just wanted to say one thing to you.” Our eyes meet squarely as I say this, and I note with some slight unease and minor amusement that this has the priest’s full attention. “Thank you.” She gasps quietly, her eyes widening, and I can tell she’s flushing gently. I smile genuinely at her.
"H-huh? What are you saying all of a sudden? D-don't get the wrong idea. As the Second Owner of Fuyuki, it would be remiss of me to let an uninformed magus blunder into a sacred ritual," she states, crossing her arms. "I-it's not like I wanted to help you or anything. I won't go easy on you even if you say kind things."
I almost smile at her display.
"Still, thank you everything you've done for me tonight. I really do appreciate it.”
As I turn to leave the church, the priest directs a few final words towards me. They are not coming from Tohsaka’s mouth.
“You are an interesting one, Shirou Emiya. Rejoice, boy, for your wish...shall be granted.”
The doors creak loudly as they shut, leaving me alone in the winter night.
“…Durch der Engel Halleluja…”
“…Tönt es laut von fern und nah…”
.
] | [
.
Wait…
What?...
What did he say?
I would pound my fist on the door in protest seeking an answer, but there’s no point to it. I know perfectly well what Kotomine meant when he said that to me, the last and most virulent of the triumvirate great curses that begin with "interesting times."
Your wish...shall be granted.
And in the process, shown that what you wanted was not quite what you thought it was. For instance, I wish to be hero, to protect others; yet this means that those who I wish to protect must come under threat. For every Bellerophon, there must be a Chimera, after all; for every hero, there must be something that that hero must fight, as they are part of one whole.
A hero can only exist when safety and peace is violated, when people encounter hardship, else there can be no such thing. When enemies of the peace reveal themselves, a hero will rise to stop them, but in the same way, when a hero rises, others will test him or her, and so invariably ruin comes.
None can escape that cycle. None can escape that truth.
...not even me.
I don’t like it, but I need to accept it, as that is why I have entered the Holy Grail War: to stop those who would wish disaster on the world.
“Are you done, Master?” Saber asks when I make my way over to where she has been waiting for me. "Have you decided?"
“Yeah, I'm done," I confirmed, nodding at the rose-haired warrior. "As for my decision, I'll fight. What other choice do I possibly have after everything that has already happened? I’m too deep in this to pull out now. ”
“Understood, Master,” Saber acknowledges, seemingly pleased by my decision, though there was no one obvious sign of that. “What are your orders?”
She cuts straight to the point, doesn’t she?
“Huh. Well, let’s go home. It's been a long night for the both of us, and there are things I need to do when I get back."
First and foremost, cleaning up the warzone that was formerly the backyard of the Emiya residence. I have enough problems already without having to explain what happened to Taiga, or worse, try to come up with an excuse. Or to Sakura, come to think of it, as she'll be quite worried and dismayed by its state of mangled disrepair.
Either way, I am not looking forward to trying to explain things, so cleaning up--or trying to--is about my only recourse.
“Reasonable enough.” My Servant concludes succinctly, taking spirit form once more as her voice speaks into my mind. “Let’s go.”
As we start down the hill, Saber and I pass right by Lancer. As I end up making eye contact with Tohsaka’s Servant I notice a somewhat inquisitive look on his normally apathetic face. “You’re going to have to wait a little longer, Lancer. Tohsaka’s still in there, and I don’t know when she’s coming out.”
“Oh.” Lancer replies in a simple, matter-of-fact manner. “Okay then…thanks…Master of Saber.”
“She’ll be out eventually, so don’t worry too much about it.” I nod to the boy before setting off continuing on my way once more.
It’s still deathly quiet and eerie as I walk through Shinto’s empty streets, seemingly alone to the eyes of any normal human, with the clopping of my shoes echoing like screams in the uneasy silence. I think to myself that I can't even hear Saber breath or move when she's invisible, and such a thing unsettles me, though I find it awkward that I'm even listening for it. I can sense her presence by the vague scent of attar of roses, but other than that, it is as if she isn't even there, which I find less than reassuring.
For some reason unbeknownst to me, I’m finding this silence to be very unpleasant, but I can’t really explain why. But I just can’t leave it like this – I have to break some actual ground with the woman I’m partnered with in this Holy Grail War, or how will we ever learn to work together?
“Saber?” I stop my walking and call to the empty street.
“What is it, Master?” The voice of a woman responds, seeming to speak directly into my mind once again, which I find more than a little disconcerting.
“Do you have to stay invisible like that?” This is slightly perturbing, in my opinion.
“It’s best this way, as we can maintain a lower profile, with potential enemies unable to tell that you’re a Master until it’s too late.” She reasons while still remaining in spirit form.
I’ll concede that me being seen in the presence of a visibly armed (and very attractive) pink-haired foreigner isn’t exactly low key, since this isn't Akihabara, where throngs cosplayers can be found at all hours, but that's not the point. Shaking my head, I calmly voice my displeasure. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I want us to talk right now, and I’d like it if I could see you in front of me.”
"Couldn't that wait till we return to your home, where the situation is less likely to turn dangerous?"
Also a valid point, but when one is tired and nearly overwhelmed, one doesn't tend to be in a state where reason trumps emotion.
"It would only be for a minute."
Saber does not reply, obviously thinking that a minute would be all an enemy needed to launch an ambush, particularly if that enemy were say...Archer or Caster.
“Please don’t make me ask again, Saber.”
The air shimmers as the Heroic Spirit I summoned takes on a solid form, a trace of irritation in her pale-blue eyes. “Very well, Master. What did you want to say?”
As I turn to face Saber, my eyes can't help but trace the contours of her body for the briefest of moments. I know that I can’t allow myself to get distracted at this time, but it’s kind of hard when you’re being looked at directly by an admittedly attractive young woman who wears clothing that draws attention to her long, athletic legs and slim, powerful arms. So after a second, I force my eyes to hers.
“I’d like to talk about our partnership, Saber.”
She lightly cocks her head quizzically at me. “I thought you already settled your doubts at the Church,” she notes simply, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you bringing this up again?”
“I did make my decision. It’s just that there’s more that I have to say – more that I need to say.”
“Like what?”
“About the contract. We’re a completely accidental team, and because of this there are probably flaws with the connection," I say all at once, my words coming out in a rush. "Look, I'm not a great magus and certainly shouldn't have been able to summon someone like you - yet somehow, we’ve been paired together to fight in this twisted game – a Master / Servant contract that shouldn’t even exist in the first place.”
The gunblade user is silent, looking at me expectantly as if wanting me to say something meaningful in my rambling. From the way I’m going on, it probably sound like I'm having second thoughts and want to break my ties with her – but she waits patiently, as if she has dealt with people like me before.
“Don’t misunderstand me. Nothing has changed, and I still plan on seeing this through. It’s just that…” I offer my hand to Saber, thinking that the gesture might better sum up what I can't quite say with words. “…Partners?”
A flicker of surprise creeps across Saber’s face momentarily, though it is quickly dispelled as she eyed my outstretched hand with an eloquent “Hmm?”
“It’s just that I’d like to start this relationship off on the right foot, I guess. Without all of drama of assassination attempts and getting talked at and miles-long treks through the city at night and more lectures. With all of that going on, I’ve realized that we haven’t had the time to properly formalize our bond.”
“Master, this is hardly necessary," she states bluntly, voice hard. "Our contract has been established and the proof of it is on your left hand. Anything else would be a gratuitous waste of sentiment.”
My face falls and I shake my head slightly.
“It's just the way I am, Saber – I’m just a straight-up guy who wants to do the right thing – and this feels right," I admit. It comes easily enough, as confessions do after life and death situations. "Look, I can’t do this without you, Saber. I can’t help anyone in this War without your help – we both know that much. I can’t fight Servants. I can’t even do basic magecraft that well - all I can do is reinforce things. I need you, but it doesn't feel right to just have you bound to me because of something beyond our control. I mean, I'll swear myself to you on everything that I believe, but what about you? Will you fight by my side, as I entrust my fate...my dreams to your blade?"
Unknowingly, my words echo the traditional words of the servant summoning ritual, causing Saber's brow to furrow thoughtfully. At first, she seems as if she doesn’t know what to think, as she considers what I said, but she takes my hand in her gloved palm and shakes it in agreement.
“I will.” The soldier answers me - a woman of few words, it seems.
“That’s great,” I honestly reply, relieved--at least until she released my hand and took astral form once again. “Um...can you stop disappearing like that? I’d rather walk alongside you.”
“...if you are going to work with me as a partner, Master, please trust my decisions."
I had the distinct feeling she was rolling her eyes at me.
"...then can you at least stop calling me 'Master'?" I asked, shaking my head as I began to walk once more. “I like ‘Shirou’ better. We’re partners, after all, and--.”
"You talk too much."
Her reproach was succinct, but I got the impression she was slightly amused. At least I hope it was amusement and not irritation, or things might not go so well.
“…Christ, der Retter ist da…”
“…Christ, der Retter ist da…”
Huh?
What?
What is that?
In the distance, a quiet melody echoes, carried along quietly on the wind, as if it were a lullaby.
I can't discern where it's coming from, only that it is echoing through the sleeping town, drawing ever nearer--and this unsettles me greatly. Why I am uncertain. Perhaps anxiety due to recent events, perhaps unresolved tension, perhaps simple trepidation.
“…Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht…”
“…Gottes Sohn, o wie lacht…”
...or perhaps it is because the cadence of the words evoke the feeling of a requiem mass, reminding me that Thanatos was brother to Hypnos--and to the malevolent Keres, the female spirits of darkness and nightmare made real.
The words sound peaceful, the song familiar, but for some reason my spine feels frozen, as if the gentle lyrics are the whispered promise of delivery from pain...through death.
It is haunting, in the way of wolves howling at the moon, an eagle crying out as it spots prey, or the wails of a whale as it is torn apart by sharks in a feeding frenzy.
Why?
I don't know, simply that it struck me to the core, uneasiness amplified by ethereal mystery and intangibility, as fear of the unknown is the oldest and most powerful of the terrors of man.
“…Lieb' aus deinem göttlichen Mund…”
“…Da uns schlägt die rettende Stund…”
Yes.
It's that simple.
The reason it is haunting is because of deep-seated FEAR.
“…Christ, in deiner Geburt…”
“…Christ, in deiner Geburt.”
The song reaches its conclusion, and in its wake, an eerie silence lingers.
It’s over…and I'm still alive.
But I had no time to enjoy my reprieve, as burning pain races through my nerves, as if my hand had been plunged into a vat of molten metal, making me grab it reflexively.
‘No, not my hand...my Command Seals.’
A dreadful certainty fills me and I turn, finding my vision drawn to the one who must have been singing earlier, only to stop dead at the sight.
The clouds have parted, and a bright moon illuminates the fey-like figure on the top of the hill like a spotlight.
A small, but striking figure.
Standing before me is a young girl, garbed a warm winter coat and dress, both dyed a royal violet. Her flowing hair glistens like freshly fallen snow and puts the glittering moonlight to shame. A pair of eyes the color of blood focuses intently on me, as if judging me and finding me wanting. I know then that the legends of the mad fey must be true, for what else could seem so unreal, intangible, fairylike – yet induce a certainty that she was real, and entirely at her mercy.
The white-haired girl seems so unreal, intangible, fairylike – it is as if she is just an illusion brought on by the haunting atmosphere.
A being of the moonlit world, passing strange...and yet familiar.
"You'll die if you don't summon it soon, Onii-chan."
“It’s you…” I whisper before I can think, the words escaping my lips without conscious thought.
Summon?
She was the one I met the other day, the one who warned me of my plight in a most cryptic form, telling me to summon...my...Servant.
Oh crap.
She knew...somehow, she knew what would happen to me, just like my assailant. But that means...
“Good evening, Onii-chan. How nice that you remembered me," the girl giggles lightly with a voice like tingling bells. "Did you enjoy my singing?" She smiles darkly, the cold smile of certain death, starkly at odds with her childlike appearance, as she lifts her skirt and curtsies unsuitably for this situation. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Illya...though perhaps you would better understand if I said Illyasviel von Einzbern.”
I didn't recognize the name, and I suppose it must have shown on my face, as the girl seemed surprised and...disappointed?...for a fleeting instant. But that uncertainty fades as quickly as it came, and she simply smiles again, as my spine freezes.
No, not just my spine, nor my body, but my mind as well.
For she – Illyasviel – is not alone.
A long shadow stands behind her, a strange shape that shouldn't be here in this pale town of shadow pictures.
Without a doubt, it isn't human. It can't be human - there's no way it could be.
It can be nothing but a Servant, and a particularly dangerous one at that.
"Berserker."
A muttered word resonates in my mind from across my link with Saber, naming the foe before us, looming over the girl that must be his Master like an ebon statue, silent and imposing.
Two meters tall at the very least, muscles so massive and corded that they border on the grotesque, bronze skin protected in armor of congealed darkness like a living curse that seems to drink in the very night, eyes glaring menacingly from slits in an evil-looking lupine helmet...all of these things alone are discomforting enough.
And then there is its sword: a gargantuan blade, slung over its shoulder, looking as tense as a drawn bowstring. The sheer size of the sword is ridiculous – it’s so big it practically can’t be called a “sword” anymore, but rather a massive slab of sharpened metal wielded like one. And from a glance, I know that that weapon goes beyond anything physical, for it is a blade forged to slay even the most powerful of phantasmal beasts - one that can slice spirit as easily as flesh.
Yet more than any of this, this Servant is horrifying because of the aura it exuded of sheer, mindless, impossible power, like nothing I have ever known or dreamed of in my blackest nightmares. It paralyzes me and strikes me dumb: unimaginable destructive potential coupled with the prospect of certain death.
A Servant?
No.
This is a destroyer. A being wholly specialized for the obliteration of life, with no purpose but to choose a target and attack, attack, attack with relentless fury and unstoppable force until that target was nothing but ground up meat and bloodstains, at which point it would move onto another target, and then another, and then another, until there was nothing around it but death...until it was the only thing alive.
This fear is different from gamut of other terrors that I have faced down tonight.
It is not the raw terror and certainty of death that my first assailant inspired, a crushing sense of malice and despair that made all my struggles and rage seem futile and insignificant. It is not the sudden shock I felt when I witnessed Lancer blowing a hole in my backyard with his weapon, nor is it the apprehension I felt in the Kotomine Church, a feeling compounded from its association with the fire.
No, what I am feeling is more primal than that, a response hard-wired into every animal that has ever had the misfortune of being on the wrong end of the food chain.
Every instinct, every nerve, every iot of reason remaining in my body screams at me to run, to get the hell out of there and not to look back. And even then, I would likely be annihilated, with any thaumaturgical or biological distinctiveness irrelevant against such demonic strength.
Resistance would be futile.
The snow fairy takes note of my silent terror and chuckles coyly, her gem-like eyes narrowing wickedly with the promise of unending pain.
"Oh, I see you've met Berserker, Onii-chan. His name is Guts, and he wants to splatter yours all over the sidewalk.”
The monstrous Servant, Berserker, lets out a low and feral growl as he regards me, leering with his gaunt and glowing eye.
This is it, I’m going to die. I know it…I’m…going to die.
“Go ahead, Berserker. Kill them.”
…She orders the strange shape behind her, as if she's singing.
“HRRRRYYAAWWWRRR!-!-!”
The giant man is in motion before the little girl even finishes her command, the ground cracking under the immense pressure as he kicks off the ground, leaping forward with an ear splitting roar, racing for me like a bolt of darkness.
I can't move a muscle.
It would be pointless even if I could.
Any second now I'll be torn in two by the murder machine at Illyasviel's beck and call without even a chance of escape or survival. I’d have a better chance of outrunning a freight train, and the end result--the bloody remains of body splattered across the asphalt--would be the same.
Whump!
A sudden violent jerking motion, so fast I don’t even register the pain.
I’m knocked off the ground. The wind rushes by. I feel as if I’m floating…although I know that the feeling will end abruptly and messily in a split-second as...
…Odd. I’m not a bloody smear on the pavement, my lower body remains firmly attached to my upper body, and my limbs are all pretty much intact. At any rate, I don’t seem to be dead. But how come I –
– Saber.
In less than a blink of an eye, Saber has materialized and jerked me out of harm’s way, setting me down on the other side of the street. She gives me a quick one-over to ensure that I have not been harmed by the rush of g-force to the head. “Stay. I’ll take care of this, Master.” Those blue eyes of hers reassure me that I am safe. "Haste."
“Hey! Wait – ”
My protests are answered only with the distinctive sound of crackling gunfire as tracers of light and fire blaze forth in the darkness. Faster than humanly possible, Saber has already drawn her gunblade and is loosing a hail of lead at her enemy.
Just how fast is she?
It's obvious to me by now that the physical capabilities of Servants are far beyond that of any being of flesh and blood (with the possible exception of some elite magi or the Dead Apostles that my adopted father mentioned on occasion), but how much beyond?
Fiery discharges illuminate the scene of battle, as molten rounds tear through the air, screaming as they crash into the armor of the demon.
Berserker screams, a half-formed inchoate keening of pain and fury as golden sparks and bursts of red appear on his torso where Saber’s bullets wounded him. But cosmetic damage is the only indication that he has been hurt, as the foe is not slowed or impeded at all, as if mere damage is meaningless against him.
"NUAGGGAHHHH!-!"
His movements grow faster, harsher, stronger, as he puts more pressure on his foe, the mindless killing intent spilling off of him tinged with uncontrolled rage.
The black swordsman swings his massive blade once-twice-again, releasing shockwaves and animalistic howl as he bears down on my Servant. It's almost like watching an avalanche in motion, with every attack bearing so much raw power as to be ridiculous, as he tries to destroy his enemy with strength alone.
In contrast, the gunblade wielder strikes like lightning, flash-stepping through her opponent's defenses nimbly, avoiding his strikes, slashing at any vulnerabilities with quick, efficient violence.
There is no thought of defense - only attack, with both combatants obviously masters at their method of dealing death. Berserker is reckless with his motions, sometimes overextending, sometimes going wide - but it does not matter, for in this form, wounds do not trouble him, and every blow he makes, if allowed to connect, would be fatal.
If there is overwhelming power and speed, there is no room for technique.
Techniques are something humans invented to compensate for their weaknesses.
Weaknesses are things that the giant doesn't have.
Similarly, Saber makes no attempts to block, simply avoiding where her enemy would strike in a blur of scattered afterimages, her body wreathed in the same blood-red aura that had marked the enforcer as she ducks and weaves, sliding into the monster's blind spots, her blade striking home!
A grating thrumming, as the gunblade slices right into the monster’s side, blood spurting through the air in a parabolic arc mimicking her action, a sure sign of a severed artery at the very least.
But Berserker doesn't so much as flinch, and the fight continues.
A wide slash.
Saber avoids it without breaking stride, countering with a concise slash in retaliation, carving through armor into unresisting flesh, though Berserker doesn’t spare the resultant wound more than a cursory bark of anger before continuing his relentless onslaught.
That is the way the entire fight has gone so far: Saber has managed to strike her opponent time and time again, bringing superior skill and agility to bear against her monstrous foe, but for all that she has savaged the enemy, its meaningless. None of her attacks have been fatal, and if this Berserker is anything like the ones who gave “berserker” its meaning, then he will not stop unless he is killed – or has killed everyone else on the battlefield in the way the nightmare soldiers of the Norsemen for which the term berserker was named charged into battle wearing only bear hides.
Already, the evil-shaped one is healing, his body twisting and warping slightly in time with a sickening sound like grating, grinding metal playing in the background, a jarring white noise that resonates in the bones and flesh. Is his armor somehow repairing him, preventing any wounds from truly lasting?
"AWOOOUGHHHAAHH!"
Another blow lashes out with more ferocity and power than Berserker has yet shown, too fast for Saber to avoid this time, as she was closing in to strike once more. With no way to evade, no way to dodge, she has no choice but to meet the blow with her own weapon.
But at such a speed, with that much force behind it, will her weapon even stand a chance in a head-on collision?
CLLLANNNNGG!
The oversized thing of sharpened metal that’s supposed to be a sword slams down with the intention of cleaving apart everything in its path—air, sword, wielder, and ground—but it is stopped by the gunblade.
There was no time to redirect the force from the attack, so her weapon took the brunt of that slash. Yet…her sword is undamaged. Shaking violently from the pressures both combatants are exerting against one another, yes, but still in one piece, still as flawless as on the day of its forging.
That weapon – its amazing. Certainly, it is sturdier than its outward appearance would suggest.
But I’m not surprised.
Just by looking at it I can tell that that is no ordinary implement of war, just as Saber is not a simple warrior. Obviously, if she is a heroine, then her gunblade must be a heroine’s weapon, worthy of the role and name. I wouldn’t even bat an eyelash if I found out it were made of some unbelievable, legendary material—the fabled adamant, for instance.
A sudden skittering breaks the tense contest of wills as Saber leaps back away, Berserker’s sword slamming into the ground where she had been but moments earlier with a resounding boom, tearing through pavement with no effort at all. In the precious fractions of a second it takes for the mad warrior to free his sword, Saber has increased the distance between them, though Berserker chases after like a hound of hell, his black cape billowing behind him as he seeks to crush the one who offered resistance.
Illyasviel hasn’t moved from her starting position, save to turn and regard me with a cruel smirk, in a manner that makes me think of poisoned honey – sweet but deadly.
“Aren’t you going to go after her, Onii-chan? She is your Servant, after all.” The young girl coolly asks of me, her merciless eyes judging once more. “Or maybe it doesn’t matter. After all, she’s only a tool to be thrown away, right?”
‘Tch!’
I have no time for the white-haired girl. There’s something much more urgent to deal with.
Saber.
I have to go after Saber.
I can’t just leave her to go off like that, after she fought to protect me. What kind of partner would that make me if I did so? Even if, even if I can’t do anything useful for her, I –
I’m her partner. We’re partners. It’s something we decided upon: not to be Master and Servant simply because it was ordained by contract, but because we agreed to it.
Saber…
Before I know it, I am in motion once more, my legs propelling me deep into the night towards the bellows of sound and fury in the distance.
.
] | [
.
I pant furiously, my feet slapping against the concrete as I race down the deserted streets of the city, desperately trying to find any sign of the Servants.
They are nowhere nearby – nor is there any reason they would be, given the speed at which they were moving. Still, I know the general direction in which they headed, so as long as they haven’t vectored off down another course, I should be able to track them.
Hopefully.
Yeah, I know, I’m probably deluding myself, since the chances I’ll encounter them if they’re fighting a running battle are slim to none. Compared to them, I’m running blind, with only scraps of information to go on and nothing else to compensate for it. I dare not ask Saber where she is over our link either, in case I distract her at a critical moment. I’ve seen how powerful Berserker’s attacks are – she doesn’t need me throwing her off her game.
Eventually, I don’t know whether because of heretofore-unknown intuition or gut instinct or dumb luck or whatever, but my tired feet lead me to a construction site – the place where a new community center is being built. I shake my head, almost prepared to dismiss it out of hand, but my doubts are banished by the sounds of clashing swords and battle-rage induced screams.
‘This must be the place. Saber’s in there!’
Without another thought I dash into the site. The fact that this is a “hardhat zone” flashes through my mind as I run past the heavy equipment used to build this place, along with the snarky thought that a hardhat was unlikely to offer much protection in a fight between Heroic Spirits. Hey, people react strangely to anxiety and I’m certainly no exception.
My footsteps echo hollowly in the half-completed hallways, dank and dark and cold as I move through the gloom. What meager moonlight shines through empty windows casts long shadows, washing out detail in a silver haze as orchestral shrieks of metal scraping and smashing against metal ring throughout the site.
The sounds are loud but muffled, and each of the cacophonous crashes cause the building I’m in to quake, knocking dusty flecks of plaster loose with each reverberation. It feels as if this whole place is about to come down with all of this shaking – which shouldn’t surprise me, given some of the abilities I’ve seen Servants display thus far, but it does.
Probably because I’m in said building, and I really don't like the idea of being smashed by concrete, falling steel girders, or other--
CRASH!
I swallow, jumping back as a fairly large chunk of concrete and copper comes loose from the ceiling and smashes itself to pieces less than half a meter in front of me with a cloud of dust and an incredibly jarring din.
That must mean that Saber and Berserker trading blows on the floor above me!
Spying a flight of stairs, I make a beeline for it, dashing up the wrought-iron steps to emerge onto a war zone.
I’m greeted with the sight of the two warring figures continuing the clash that started in the streets of Fuyuki, with sparks from the crashing of gunblade and gargantuan sword lighting up the empty room. Such flashes of light illuminate a devastated battlefield, terrain pockmarked with deep gashes and littered with mounds of rubble. Broken steel, slabs of concrete and shards of glass are strewn all over, crunching beneath their feet with every step they take.
A metallic shriek as a back-handed swing of Berserker’s blade smashes through a nearby I-beam, shattering into shards of oversized shrapnel that tear through space, with miniature sonic booms trailing in their wake. Just at a glance, I can see that this isn't the first support beam that has been cleaved through as a result of their fight, and the other pillars are beginning to creak in a very worryingly fashion, even as a symphony of smashing steel resonates continuously as Saber weaves around the pillars, evading the oncoming storm that is Berserker.
“RAAARRGUHHH!-!”
Berserker’s ferocious speed makes him a force to be reckoned with, but his very size, coupled with the size of his blade and his less than nimble movements slow him down as he crashes into obstructions, leaving him vulnerable to attack.
It’s actually a rather pragmatic strategy on Saber’s part: by using her surroundings, Saber can manipulate a situation that is favorable to into happening. In this case, it’s slowing down Berserker enough for her to get in a decisive strike on him.
Taking advantages of opportunities and openings – Kiritsugu taught me to do this, mentioning that it would help me win most fights that I get into.
But it seems that any advantage will be fleeting: whatever Saber’s plan, she had better find an opening, fast. There are fewer standing I-beams, solid walls and construction equipment than there were before – meaning that Berserker will soon be able to take full advantage of the open space, for whatever time that open space remains.
“Saber!” I call out to the woman as she narrowly avoids a harrowing strike from the black swordsman's great blade.
“Master, what are you...?!” she gawks, momentarily surprised at my appearance, before her words take on a harsh quality. “Get back now! This is no place for you!”
“HRRRGRAWWH!-!-!-!”
Looking back, that really wasn't one of my smarter decisions, and I've made some pretty dumb mistakes in the past.
As if interpreting my presence as a threat, or instinctively realizing that offing me would end the threat Saber posed to his existence, Berserker focuses on me, gripping his sword tightly as he barrels for me. His tattered cape flaps wildly and his helmet’s eyespots glower menacingly, closing the distance between his great blade and Shirou Emiya, with nothing more than insignificant piles of rubble to impede his bloodthirsty charge.
Saber’s a fast Servant, no doubt about it, even without her haste spell, but she cannot compare with Berserker when he draws from the fullness of his rage. The only reason I made it out alive before was because Saber was next to me when the black-armored beast charged us the first time.
Here, she’s too far away to do anything, and Berserker far too close to stop.
She moves to stop him, but it is too late.
The black sword is swung.
Cold iron smashes into my left side.
Several of my ribs are broken instantly from the force, my liver and spleen are ruptured, and my breath is literally knocked out of me as I am effortlessly tossed through the air like a cockroach flicked from a windowsill by the finger of god.
The feeling of déjà vu from an hour or so earlier returns full force and is overwhelmingly sickening – because I know there is no way out of this one for me. But this time, I don't have to worry about emotions of impending doom because my world goes dark as my body plows through when my body plows through drywall.
The pain……stops.
…
…
…
…
…
…When my eyes wearily blink open sometime later, I think to myself that I really shouldn't be alive, given all the damage I took earlier.
Honestly? How many times can one guy cheat death in one night? Surely there must be some limit.
The sounds of battle continue in the distance, and I'm still in the structure, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, so I'm pretty sure I'm not dead. The scent of blood and...um...incontinence wafts from my torso and lower body, and under my upper back is a soft warmth.
That’s…weird.
My head feels…feels…heavy, almost as if everything was underwater and moving in slow motion, sounds muffled, my perception of time off.
A lingering, distant pain.
My vision blurs and swims and distorts, as flecks of red and black and white dance about before me, slowly - painfully slowly - resolving into a large dark blur and a smaller white one which seem to be fighting one another.
Oh. I see. Saber and Berserker.
My shellshocked brain can barely register their forms before me, and it is not because they are moving too fast for the eye to follow. It’s because there’s something genuinely wrong with me right now. No surprise there, huh? After all, right now I must be half dead or something…
…something like that.
It takes me a while to figure out when my senses finally begin to function with a semblance of normality, since two spots of pinkish-red stubbornly refused to fade like the rest. Only natural, I suppose, since those spots turned out to be a pair of upside-down pink-red eyes set in the pretty face of a fey-like girl, staring into me as if reading the history engraved on my soul. And who knows, maybe she was, since the greatest of magi can see things like origins, life force, or one's intentions with their mystic eyes.
The owner of said eyes - Berserker's Master - is close, too close, but I can't move away. Her snow-white hair gently tickles my semi-numb face as she holds me prisoner, forcing me to feel her warm breath on my abused flesh and breathe in her exotic scent. It’s…subtly sweet, almost enticing in a way, like the smell of rain on dry earth. And there, there it is: the triumphant smirk of hers that goes “We’re going to play, but I’m the one calling the shots.”
Illyasviel von Einzbern.
Oh. I see. That’s what it is – my head is in her lap. That explains the unexplained warm softness I took notice of a moment before.
“Oh, so you're awake now, Onii-chan? Hmm, that’s good. I had to use a whole Command Seal just to make sure you wouldn't die on me, so I do hope you appreciate it,” she informs me in a saccharine-sweet voice, though her expression betrays her true intentions and desires. Her soft hand strokes my cheek gently, possessively even.
A shiver runs down my spine, but I cannot for the life of me tell what emotion caused it to happen. There’s too much conflict going on, too much to register, too much everything!
“There’s no need to be nervous," the snow fairy remarks devilishly, taking notice of my involuntary reaction. “After all, I won’t do anything more to you – not while we have front row seats to watching your Servant get killed by mine.” Illyasviel cradles my head if her soft palms and directs my immobile gaze to our battling Servants. "Besides, I'll make sure you don't die until I'm finished with you, since it would be too boring just to kill you here, right?"
Am I stiff? Am I limp? I can’t tell – all I know is that my body isn’t listening to me and that I can’t move at all, like the commands from my brain have been shut out. It’s just…doing nothing. Not responding one bit. I, I can’t move. I can’t even talk. I can only look on helplessly as this girl does whatever she wants to me.
I'm pathetic...
“Don’t worry, it won’t be too long now," Berserker's Master says, a smile on her face that would make a succubus proud as she holds my head close to her body like a stuffed animal. "It’s only a matter of time before Berserker kills your Servant, you know. There's no way you can win, so just accept it. No one will save you, and soon there won't be any nuisances left."
How long have I been out? How long have I been lying like this? When did this girl get here? I was certain that I had left her far behind when I ran off, and I ran rather far, too. Minutes? Hours? Seconds?
It seems the damp puddles I was feeling before were my own blood, pouring from wounds I obviously must have obtained from Berserker’s attack. The dampness is in my clothes, but not my actual wounds, almost as if my wounds were sealed up, healed by some outside force.
…those warm fingertips.
She must have poured her magical energy into me, paralyzing me and keeping me from bleeding out.
This isn’t the way Masters are supposed to fight a Grail War, right? The focus is supposed to be on Servant-versus-Servant matches, so why? What does she want me for? Does she have some fixation on me? But I don't even know her. Or is she just naturally this playfully sadistic? No matter how I slice it this does not bode well for me…or Saber.
The smashing blows make the entire floor tremble as the merciless onslaught continues. The whole room has essentially been clear cut by Berserker’s reckless, deadly swings. There is nothing to hold back his strength, nothing to prevent him from using the entirety of his force and momentum to waste Saber--except the threat of imminent structural collapse, which no one seems to be thinking about.
Left, right, overhead, backhand – follow-up after follow-up relentlessly rips through the air as the mad one attempts to strike Saber down.
Saber…looks terrible. She’s covered in abrasions, cuts and bruises that are steadily trickling blood – wounds remaining from prolonged exposure to the elements and Berserker’s unrelenting anger. Even her ineffably stoic and cool expression is tinged with pain and desperation as she forces herself to hold against Berserker’s anger.
An especially furious “HRRRGGHHHAW!-!-!” issues from within the wolf-shaped helmet.
A hopeless situation. I feel like a condemned prisoner. I feel so helpless, Saber is trapped fighting for her life and I’m at the mercies of this cruel, merciless girl, unable to do anything at all. This is the very definition of “hopeless situation.”
And it’s entirely my fault.
Illya urges her Servant to follow through. “Come on Berserker! You almost have her! Finish her off...and then you can do anything you want to her!”
WAAAARRRAGHHHHH!
An earsplitting mechanical roar rivaling one of Berserker’s own warcries interrupts the one-sided fight’s impending conclusion. Streaks of burning light come blazing forth from a higher floor above us in a storm of molten metal rain, as spent casings clatter on the ground – what seem like 50mm shells.
Non-nonsensical and absurd as it may sound, someone is actually shooting at a Heroic Spirit with a gun--no, an autocannon, and a heavy-duty one at that.
Saber may be exhausted to the point of collapse and Berserker may be a wild beast with no restraint, but their instincts are both sound enough mind to break up their duel in order to avoid getting shredded to pulpy messes. Dust clouds of eviscerated linoleum kicked up by countless projectiles draw a line to the Servant of Rage. Snarling furiously all the way, Berserker kicks the ground and leaps away from the stream of bullets repeatedly.
‘No way – is he actually dodging the gunfire?’ Not literally, but still, that’s scarily impressive. Instead of having honed reflexes that allow for evading the blazing tracers, he is using pure strength to force himself out of the way – it’s a wonder that he wasn’t able to put Saber on the ropes earlier in his fight, though Saber's skill helps to counter his brutal power.
“Berserker is really quite amazing, isn’t he?” Even though I’m paralyzed, Illya can see how awestricken I am. “This is why as long as I have him, I can’t lose. No one else is as strong as he is – he isn’t one to let a minor distraction ruin his debut spar.” She states this with smug confidence, like it is supposed to be a blatantly obvious fact that even a moron would know.
Aside from the initial shock of the loud noise, was she even fazed at all by this? In light of recent events, she didn’t even flinch! Is this girl really that confident in her Servant’s ability?
'But why would he need to dodge? A mundane weapon wouldn't be able to hurt him, and I can't think of any magus who uses guns as part of their combat style. Most don't exactly care for modern technology, after all.'
Having taken the initiative, as his battle style dictated, Berserker actually leapt into the rafters to go after his prey, leaving a man-sized hole in his wake. A hair-raising yowl was followed immediately by a definitely-human cry of distress, as a massive sword is swung...and makes contact with the gun.
Metal cleaves metal easily.
The two large halves of a cleaved gatling gun crash uselessly to the ground before exploding into smashed steel and – dispersed prana? But before the oversized gun’s existence ended, it left a small of puddle of something behind, as if the gun had been soaked with it beforehand. A clear, water-like fluid, but it somehow smells of blood.
A slim, athletic figure leaps down from the rafters above and deftly lands on all fours to escape Berserker’s charge, though the black Servant immediately follows, driven by blood rage. Strangely, his quarry plunges an arm deeply into his stomach, but not a drop of blood gets spilled. The new arrival jerks hard, as if to rip out something from deep within – but Berserker is too fast: the black swordsman has already closed the distance.
Whatever his plan is, it won’t come to fruition. Berserker won't allow it. But it doesn't matter, as the newcomer abandons his original plan and instead literally rips a nasty-looking combat knife dripping with that same unknown substance from his shoulder, seeming to vibrate at a shrill, piercing frequency.
This is just plain surreal, is this guy some sort of living sheath for his weapons or something, a storehouse? Wait…does this mean that the gun he had came from inside of him as well since it was also covered in that fluid?
That's so surreal it’s mind boggling.
He nimbly ducks under Berserker’s swing and dashes away from the deadly foe, since against a terrifying weapon with an even more frightening wielder the dagger can only provide marginal defense at the most. The monstrous Servant is not about to let this prey get away to bring out whatever new weapons it might be hiding, however, and so lunges to smash open the newcomer’s head.
What I hear next is not the sickening squelch of steel ripping through bony flesh, but the clang of metal on metal, a sweet melody to my ears.
Saber has recovered, holding Berserker back with the flat of her blade, the worst of her injuries seemingly healed. Her knees are buckling under the pressure, which can only be enormous. Yet, even with her injuries, she is able to bring herself to continue fighting like this because the new guy bought enough time for her to recover enough to go against Berserker for a second round. The third party that has intervened with this fight, against a mutual enemy, the new Servant...
…is without a doubt, Lancer.
“That’s enough, Illyasviel von Einzbern. Put him down.” If that Servant is Lancer, then that voice can only belong to one person.
Her voice, Tohsaka’s voice sounds alien and muffled to my distorted hearing. Out of the corner of my eye the bright crimson of her sweater contrasts with the moonlit darkness around her. Her arm is outstretched, her hand pointing squarely at us like a gun. I don’t know her capabilities, but Tohsaka is certainly ready for a confrontation. She and Illya are having a staredown – Tohsaka’s expression is deadly serious, while Illya maintains her whimsical lidded smirk.
Such a tense situation, it’s like one of those “Mexican Standoffs” you’d see in a Western. Both girls are in positions of demand and power, and both are unwilling to back down from the other.
“If it isn’t the scion of the Tohsakas. How are you this fine evening, Second Owner?” Illya politely addresses her while still cradling my head in the direction of the fight in her lap.
“Cut the crap, Illyasviel," Tohsaka snaps, her Thaumaturgical Crest glowing in the darkness. "Let go of Emiya now.”
“Oh? And do tell me why I ought to do what you want me to?”
“I’m an enemy Master making demands of you and threatening your life. You try anything funny and Berserker won’t have a Master anymore."
“Trying to be a hero, Rin?" the snow fairy inquires sardonically. "That’s rather cute of you.”
“No, I just owe him, and the daughter of the Tohsakas repays her debts. Emiya-kun is not yours to keep, Illyasviel.”
A wicked smile, as the white-haired girl brings a finger to her lips, as if tasting something delicious.
“Oh, so he's yours?”
“T – that’s not – ” Tohsaka stammers, caught off guard by the girl’s bluntness. “D-don’t skew things, you brat. Let Emiya go and I’ll let you walk for free.”
“Why do you want him so much, Rin? After all, if I recall, it was you who abandoned him after you walked him all the way to that Church, wasn't it?”
Tohsaka grunts as if acknowledging the hit. There isn't much she can say about that, as Illya’s claim hits close to home. Actively trying to rescue me like this, she must be feeling some kind of guilt about this, otherwise why would she be here in the first place at all?
“He was just a lost puppy wandering around without an owner, all alone like that. I decided I liked him after a little bit of testing, so I took him for my own. How do they say it? ‘Dibs?’ ”
“Don’t screw with me, Einzbern.”
Tohsaka was all but snarling now, and the increase in magical energy was quite palpable, even to an amateur like me. Unfortunately, the snowy girl was using me as a shield, so if Tohsaka opened fire, my abused body would no doubt suffer even further.
“How uncouth. Are you sure you’d want to go with her, Onii-chan? She seems like a real iron maiden, greedy, oppressive, and uncivilized. You’d rather play with someone better, wouldn’t you?”
Barbs traded back and forth, all for an attempt to reach a deal made at metaphorical gunpoint involving me – Wait, hold up…are these two girls…actually fighting over me? I ought to be flattered that I’m in such an enviable situation, but now is really an inappropriate situation for this.
“It’s two against one, Illyasviel. Our Servants have yours pinned down, and I have a curse primed and ready to be fired right at your pretty little face if you don’t surrender him immediately. The odds are not in your favor.” Tohsaka sternly dictates her demands to the other girl, not letting down her guard at all.
From what I've been able to tell of my magus classmate, when Tohsaka makes demands, you have to take them or leave them, and choosing the wrong option will not benefit your future health. The sounds of continued battle, which had up until now only been redundant background noise to the drama occurring in front of me, are still ringing clearly as Tohsaka says all of this.
“Silly, silly, silly.” Illya seems downright incredulous. “It doesn't matter how many Servants you have – Berserker is not one to lose against them. That’s a simple fact. He just won’t, and nothing you try to do will change any of that.
Loathe as I am to admit it, she does have a point. I’ve seen what Berserker is capable of first-hand; I know what’s in store for our Servants if this keeps up. Saber was losing to him, even though she had the territorial advantage and faster speed.
Here, both she and Lancer cannot fight at their maximum potentials for whatever reason – Saber because of her previous wounds (and because in this confined space, she can't use some of her more powerful abilities without accidentally hurting me or accelerating the collapse of this already-unstable edifice) and Lancer because the pressure Berserker has on him is keeping the spearman from drawing his true weapon and using his strength to the fullest, forcing him to resort to defensive-acrobatics with what very well might be just a fruit knife against this adversary.
Looking closer at the two-on-one battle, I can see that the fight is clearly not in our favor. It’s the same story as before – Berserker is too fast, too strong, too resilient, relentless, mighty. The most Saber and Lancer can hope to achieve working together in their conditions is a stalemate. They’ll be worn done with enough time, and that is when it’s all over for them.
Tohsaka says otherwise, but she can’t take the risk of killing Berserker’s Master while he’s still contracted to her – just the mere act of attacking his Master will set Berserker off irreversibly, this much I know by instinct. But like the guarantee that the sun will set at night, the longer this standoff lasts takes, the sooner Illya’s eventual victory will happen. We want to think otherwise, but in actuality this is entire situation has been in Illya’s favor.
Or so it seems until a snarl of "Ruinaga!" sunders the air, and an explosion of concussive force tears through the immediate area, sending Berserker flying, forcing him to defend for the first time as Saber attacks with renewed vigor, her gunblade shining with inner light, blasting the enemy from point-blank range as he...retreats.
With this, Lancer finally has enough time to sheathe his knife, trading it for the crimson bident he had used earlier, a demonic weapon that sought blood.
For a moment, all was still, as Saber and Lancer faced off against the Black Swordsman, weapons at the ready.
“Boy, this is getting really annoying and dull, Rin.” Illya sighs…pouts, even? It’s subtle and cloaked behind her usual expression, but she hides it well. “If you really are going to be this bothersome,” Illya rises from her kneeling position and sets me on my back on the ground, “Then I’ll just have to continue this later.”
Tohsaka tenses up like never before, but I can tell that that’s because of the incredible nervousness plaguing her. After this “diplomacy” and aggressive negotiating, she finally gets her demands, yet something just feels plain…off.
I can’t shake that feeling either. Something is definitely up, and it’s nerve-wracking.
“Berserker.” The young girl calls to her Servant. The mad warrior pulls back immediately, and in an instant, is at her side with a pounding leap that can smash concrete under the right circumstances. The sudden retreat causes the two other Heroic Spirits to stop immediately as well, but that could also be because they know that this fight is over – inconclusively yes, but over nonetheless. Illya nods to her Servant, which responds by reaching down and lifting her up to his shoulders in a manner not unlike the way a father would give his child a “piggyback ride.”
"Don’t misunderstand me, Rin.” Illya continues from atop Berserker. “I’m not doing this because I have no choice, I’m doing this because I have choices. With my Servant, I can finish this anytime I want. When that happens, your little prize is forfeit.”
She looks right at me with her piercing eyes. “Bye-bye, Onii-chan! See you later. I hope you get better soon.” After saying this bubbly, dramatically contrasting farewell, Berserker walks unhurriedly with Illya to the open edge where a window used to be before it was smashed. One bound fueled by bestial strength later and they’re gone.
Illya and Berserker…are truly gone.
“K – uh. Wuh…”
“Emiya-kun, are you ok?! What did she do to you?”
Feeling returns to my entire body. I, I can actually move again. I shakily stand up from the rubble lying around me for the first time in minutes. It’s over. It seems surreal, but it is finally over. Tohsaka walks over to where I’m standing.
“How are you feeling Emiya? Are you all right?” She asks me with a genuinely concerned look. That's twice now she's saved me.
“Tohsaka?” Now that the fight has indecisively concluded, Saber and Lancer bring themselves over to Tohsaka and I, looking even more weary than I am, but satisfied to be alive after what they’ve been through. “I’m a little shaky, but other than that I – Gyuh! U-Uuhh..!.?...”
That’s when everything goes wrong.
It is as if some seal just came undone. Shoulders, ribs, thighs, abdomen, chest, calves – wounds open up all over my body and blood begins pouring freely from them. The red stains on my clothes grow bigger with the new influx of spilled blood. Wetness pours down my arms and legs, all places. The pain, oh god the pain.
I hurt everywhere. I bend over in pain, grip at the pain, try to rip the pain away, but it's no use. Nothing makes it better, like I was being ripped apart from inside out.
The shock is just too much – the intense pain makes me black out for real this time.
I’m sure I collapsed unceremoniously to the ground after that.
“Emiya? Emiya?! Emiya! Hey, Emiya! EMIYA?!...”
.
] | [
.
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"What the hell? Where is everyone!"
"It would seem we were too late and missed the chance to participate in this battle."
"Tch. What a waste."
"Well, perhaps if you were more focused and not going off on a tangent as usual, we might have gotten here on time. Our failure to arrive on time is your fault, after all."
"Gee, well excuse me for raining on your parade, little miss heiress."
"I did not ask you for your half-hearted apology."
"Damn, what a sullen tightass."
"…"
"Alright! Alright! Sorry, okay?"
"As I said, do not apologize – just do not let it happen again in the future, otherwise we will not make any progress."
"I can't promise anything."
A sigh.
"That is the best I can get out of you."
"Heh. Better than nothing."
"Now let's see here: It has been some time since the conflict occurred, but there is still enough magical residue left over to potentially track the combatants. If you were any other Servant besides…well, you, I could send you off to trail one of them while I go after another. But since you're so reckless, our best option – regrettably so – would be to wait until tomorrow night and try our luck once more."
"Hey. Why can't we just kick some ass right now?"
"Because it is nearly dawn, idiot. Rules are rules, I'll have you know."
"Bah, whatever. You win this round, 'Master.' But we're definitely doing stuff tomorrow!"
"…of course. Now then, let's return back to the safehouse. The sun will rise soon, and our time is up."
"Yeah, sure - to the rathole we go!"
.
] | [
.
Keyword: ["Kotomine"]
Ever since the disastrous 3rd Holy Grail War, events which Kirei's father Risei bore witness to, the Holy Church has sent a representative to serve as an impartial mediator in order to maintain a sense of order within the city of Fuyuki during the period that the War is going on. The Kotomines have since served this role since the 4th War ten years prior to the events of destiny/Inertia Dawn.
Keyword: ["Einzbern"]
One of the three Founding Families responsible for the creation of the Holy Grail War. Provided the magic necessary for the summoning of Heroic Spirits as Servants, as well as the vessel needed to contain the essence of each defeated Servant as the War progresses.
Notable for their signature use of artificial humans known as homunculi, each one created with their own specialties for an express, well-defined purpose. The current Einzbern Master is, in fact, one of these very beings. Something seems to be very much amiss with this one, though...
WELCOME TO…THE TIGER DOJO
Taiga: Hiya everyone! And welcome to destiny // Inertia Dawn's very first Tiger Dojo! The hint corner for all of those who encounter such tragically unfortunate bad ends and need some good ol' fashioned help to set things right.
Illya: But sensei, did Onii-chan even die this time? I don't recall that he ever did in this chapter. Sure, I did…things to him, but he survived until the end…so why are we even here?
Taiga: Excellent question, student. We're here to deal with all hypothetical Bad/Dead Ends should they arise.
Illya: So we've become the astrophysicist's equivalent of a hint corner? By discussing how to handle theoretical meta-situations? I guess that means I could be Heisenberg and you could be Dirac.
Taiga: Wait, now you're confusing me.
Illya: Score one for the loli.
*THWACK*
Taiga: It's not going to happen again!
Illya: The pain...
Taiga: Back to the matter at hand…OKAY! So why are we here today?
Illya: We're here because Onii-chan "did" something really stupid and ran right at the scary man with the big sword!
Taiga: Exactly! Even though Saber-san told you to run away to safety, you did so anyway! Remember: Discretion is the better part of valor. People die when they're killed. Even if you have a body of swords, you're not exempt from this truth [red text, red text, red text!].
Illya: What's this talk about "body of swords," sensei? Spoilers are bad.
Taiga: He has a body of swords, but if you think that's something then wait until you see the rest of him!
Illya: Oh, I'm looking forward to that, Onii-chan…
Taiga: Hey student! What's with that lecherous look in your eyes?
Illya: Ohhh…nothing, sensei. Just thinking about all the fun I'll be having with him…
Taiga: You naughty little minx! Don't be thinking such improper things!
Illya: Oh? And why not?
Taiga: He's! Your! BROTHER! IT'S IMPROPER!
Illya: Spoilers again, Taiga.
Taiga: It's fanfiction! Anyone reading this is more likely than not knows all about the source material! It doesn't matter! I, however, am more concerned with your shamelessly amoral behavior!
Illya: I'm not shamelessly amoral, I'm just a girl who knows what she wants. Besides, we're not even related by blood, so what's the problem?
Taiga: Look, Shirou. I'm going to go explain to my student what is and what is not acceptable by society at large, and you can go back to your last save and make the right choice.
Illya: But there's no game to save.
Taiga: Then go read Gut's character sheet; It's just below us. See you soon at the next Tiger Dojo then! But not too soon, you hear?
] | [
- [ Berserker ] -
Original Name: Guts
Designation: Heroic Spirit
Master: Illyasviel von Einzbern
(( Berserk - Manga, 1990))
Strength: A+*
Agility: A*
Endurance: A*
Prana: B+*
Luck: B-*
Noble Phantasm: A+*
Alignment: Chaotic Insane
*Denotes rankup via Mad Enhancement parameter boosts*
=Skills=
Mad Enhancement, Rank B*:
Raises basic parameters in exchange for hindering mental capacities. At this rank, all parameters are boosted by one rank, but most sanity is lost.
Battle Continuation, Rank A*:
Capacity to remain fighting even severely wounded. Guts may continue to fight even after taking fatal damage.
Self-Modification, Rank E*:
Berserker possesses a prosthetic left mechanical arm that has a magnetic grip and also conceals a cannon & repeater crossbow. Due to Mad Enhancement's debilitation, Guts is only able to make use of this device and the techniques allotted with it with slightly less efficiency his usual self.
Brand of Sacrifice, Rank E:
The Brand marks those sacrificed during a sacrificial ceremony in which an Apostle or God Hand is created. In response to hostile intent or evil, the brand will bleed. This detection ability can penetrate even the highest levels of Presence Concealment, at the cost of acting as a beacon for malevolent vibes.
=Noble Phantasms=
Dragonslayer
Phantasm-Killing Sword
Range: 1-5
Target(s): 1
The signature weapon of the Black Swordsman, possessing anti-spirit, anti-evil, and anti-dragon attributes. Against beings with one of these attributes, damage is doubled, with the damage bonus stacking if a foe has more than one.
Berserker Armor
Shell of Madness
Range: 1
Target(s): 1
Intrinsically linked with suffering and vengeance, the Berserker Armor is a cursed suit of armor which dominates the wearer and gives them incredible strength and endurance at the cost of one's sanity. For an already berserk Servant, it removes the wearer even further from their innate humanity, and quickly elevates them to a demonic existence the further it is used, a Servant that is the Berserker Armor itself rather than a Servant that dons the Berserker Armor. The armor forcibly binds wounds received by the wearer, working in conjunction with Battle Continuation and the Servant's own regenerative properties, making all wounds but the most fatal lasting. Grants progressively stacking ranks in to the skills of Mad Enhancement (one with no bearing on Luck), Battle Continuation, and Self-Modification already present in Illyasviel's Berserker's.
{ ABNORMALITY: }
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Originally Posted by alfheimwanderer
