[FF] Phantoms (by Burnout)

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Deader than a dotstabbed zombie.



EDIT: NOT ANYMORE! Burnout's back! \(^_^)/

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Makiri.


Last, and least, of three houses of Fuyuki, of the visionaries and architects behind the Grail. Once- *once*- they were mighty, in times long past; Once, they stood amongst the great, united in their common goal of achieving Akasha, of reaching the Root Of All Things c


-They fell, of course. Vision became hubris, and their vaunted powers withered over the weight of centuries. Their bloodlines weakened, and very soon, the end dawned. In the last half-century, there was but one Makiri sorcerer a generation, their works fading one by one, until the legends became just that; Mere myths.


There are still Makiris, of course. The line remains, even when the power does not. The story of their rise- and their fall- is a cautionary tale, a warning to stay apart, not a part, of the human race.


I 'd heard the story, in passing. I'd studied the legends, the myths, as diligently as any scrap of lore I 'd found about the War of The Grail. But they had all agreed on one thing; The Makiris were a spent force. Played out, exhausted, their descendants too weak in circuits to manage the simplest sorcery -


-Until now.


***********************


"Why," I began, bolstering myself with foundationless courage, "-Am I here? "


Makiri Kazuya stood, his chair creaking as it scraped across the floor. He moved with an easy, unaffected grace, complementing his wiry build; I noted how he kept the piano between us as he stepped away, brown eyes never leaving me.


Clever boy. I 'd pegged him for a roughneck, at first glance- He looked every inch the delinquent, the troublemaker, all action and no thought. But no; He had the same look I fd sometimes seen in Shirou, alert, full of acute, incisive intelligence.


Kazuya coughed, gently, into a balled hand, eager to defuse the uneasy tension. Knowingly or not, I was already sizing him up, searching for the flaws, the angles cThat quintessential spark, the tiny, whining gear in the machine.


"We 'll talk," he answered, raising a hand to forestall questioning. "-But not here."


There was a door at the far end of the room; Another ornate piece of furniture, all wood and gold leaf. Kazuya covered the distance in three long strides, stepping to the side. He gestured at it, a simple flick of his fingers. "After you, " he suggested, glancing meaningfully at me- Giving what, to me, seemed an insincere, forced smile. He was nervous, his form like a coiled spring cReady to fight, or to run?


I shrugged. "All right," I answered, keeping my voice level. "All right. "


I 've said it before, and I 'll say it again; I loathe the unknown. Nothing- *nothing*- erodes your confidence, your focus, than the loss of control, or even the illusion of it. The thought of not *knowing* something, or being under someone fs influence- It made me writhe within.


Before I could change my mind, I opened the door and stepped through.


***********************


The hall beyond smelled of must and age, the narrow, oppressive corridor extending onward and upward. On either side, the walls were lined with portraits, frames- A cross-section of history, generation upon generation of Makiris gazing sightlessly down upon us. Most of them, of course, were so blurred, so faded, as to be nearly indistinguishable, as distant and as unapproachable as the subjects themselves.


I kept a brisk pace, slightly disconcerted by the eerie, otherworldly feel of the gallery. It struck me as infinitely melancholic, the way the rot had been captured. The line had died, one by one cDied, then slowly vanished, even the memory forgotten, in the very house they fd held closest. It was dismal, but instructive- Another justification for the xenophobic, discriminatory policies of the Association, much as I despised them.


Kazuya kept pace, politely but firmly herding me forward, each time I dallied a little too long. I was curious, really; It was like walking through history, from the past through the present. Still, I limited my observations to quick, furtive glances c


-And stopped.


There, the last picture before the door. It was a group photograph, still crisp, sealed behind a glass frame; Four people, looking uncomfortably stiff in brown school uniforms, mugging and posing for the camera. Two girls; Both stunning beauties, one with long, purple hair, and a figure to kill for, and the other c


Tohsaka-san?


I turned peering closer at the photograph. Two boys; One handsome, with an annoyingly superior smirk, his blue-tinted hair brushed back from his face. But it was the *other* one, the ordinary-looking youth with a certain familiar set to his jaw, who stunned me.


I heard Kazuya's soft footsteps behind me, his shadow falling over the image. I almost didn 't notice, wondering. It couldn 't *be* him ; The man I remembered was tall, tanned, his hair white and dead like bleached bones - Yet there was a resemblance ...


"-Is something wrong? "


I turned, so suddenly, so abruptly, that Kazuya was forced to step back.


"Nothing," I lied. "Nothing at all."


The Makiri heir almost- But not quite- sighed. He made an impatient, rolling, 'follow-me' gesture as he continued to walk, oblivious to the past gazing down on both of us.


I followed, but not without a backward glance at the photograph, at that happy young group of friends, at perfect ease. Again, not for the first time, I wondered what happened to it all.


***********************


I followed Kazuya through the rooms of that magnificent, sprawling disaster of a house, all rambling chambers and hallways without rhyme, without reason. All the rooms were dark, shuttered, the few pieces of furniture still covered in dust sheets, or worn and old. I was reminded, forcefully, of the Clock Tower, the endless twisting passages leading everywhere and nowhere at once.


We stopped in an unlit sitting room, low couches and upholstered chairs looming within the oppressive darkness, their coverings neatly folded and put away. A jug of water and some small, covered dishes stood on an inlaid table, the legs styled like fanciful branches, sprouting from the floor.


Kazuya snapped his fingers, and wan, guttering light filled the room; Candles, fat and yellow, spontaneously lit, bursting into bright orange flame. The sudden light set dust dancing, sent tiny insects skittering into the shadows.


I glanced at him, sidelong.


"You have an affinity with fire. That 's rare."


He shrugged. "Oh, you get what you get, Tanaka-san. Your talent, though- I don't believe I 've ever seen that before -"


"It's a lot more common- Wait, you can read that? In me? "


"Of course, " he answered, favoring me with an arch glance. "I'm not a complete amateur- I have my ways, after all. "


I 'm sure you do, I thought, not unkindly. Fire sorcery, and some form of perception - I was impressed, despite myself; It'd been decade since there had last been a viable Makiri sorcerer. The bloodline had been so diluted, in fact, that the Association had skipped the once-compulsory rounds of testing...


-They 'd missed one.


My host cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. Steeling himself, I noticed- Not nearly quite as confident as he fd seemed, after all. Again ...Interesting.


"Well," he said, at last. "We 're here. "


"And 'here' is?"


"See for yourself."


The shadowy, shadowy curtains drew back like a shroud, sending the candle flames dancing in the gust, and I saw-


They 'd been hung on the wall, sealed behind the ghostly shimmer of a glass case, on display like some common portraits, or tawdry baubles. The sullen ingot of the Black Barrel Replica, resting uneasily in its holster. My talismans, my things of magic, still sealed within their individual compartments .


-And proud Tyrfing, within its steel sleeve, gleaming with a light of its own.


"You kept them," I breathed, a smile working its way onto my face, cracking the calm.


"Well, not *all* of it, " Kazuya murmured, sounding pleased and awkward at the same time. "-We found what we could, but I'm afraid ..." He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. "It's yours. A sign of good faith. "


With an awkward, spontaneous grace, he perched himself on the couch, settling into the plush seat. He'd poured himself a drink of his own- I noted, with amusement, how he toyed with the glass for a long, uneasy moment, before abruptly setting it down.


"No, please. " Kazuya urged, brushing a wave of red-brown hair away from his eyes. "Feel free to take a look. "


There was the click of a lock disengaging itself, and I reached out- A liquid surge of power- as, quite suddenly, sheath and holster filled my hands, smacking solidly against my palms with a thwack.


Without thought, working in quick, practiced motions, I buckled the gunbelt on, coiling the case's carrying strap around one fist. I felt myself stand a little taller, a little straighter at the familiar weight, immensely comforted by their restoration- Settling my world back into place.


I could feel Kazuya 's eyes on me, that taut nervousness still lurking in every motion- No, not unease.


Awe.


"They belong with you," he muttered, abstracted- Then, with a start, he caught himself, clearing his throat, gaze flickering to the side, as if for a cue; I saw nothing- No motion, no ripple in the air, but there was a sensation, a sense of something that made me revise my assessment of him...Upward. Kazuya 's mouth clicked shut, his fingers lacing together as he watched me with that pleasant smile.


Silently.


Waiting for me to say something.


"Why," I asked, finally, "Am I here?"


"I'm interrogating you. "


I raised an eyebrow.


"Oh, yes. I am. " Amazingly, he winked. "I'm a terrific interrogator."


"You haven't even asked me a question. "


By way of reply, Kazuya reached into a fold in his shirt, and pulled out my AZOTH knife. He hefted it in his hand, smiling. "I already have the answers. " With a flick of his wrist, he set the dagger spinning, like a bottle, whirling in perfect circles.


"But you, however -"


The spin wobbled, slowed, trickled to a stop, the blade centered squarely on my chest. "I believe, " Kazuya said, blandly, "-That means you 're It." A neat trick; I nodded to myself, measuring him again- I hadn 't even felt the spell.


"Makiri," I said, "-is an old name. One of the oldest ."


"And it is, in fact, " he admitted cheerily. "I, ah, try not to bring it up. Not usually, you understand- But here and now, I thought it'd be appropriate. Company of equals, and all that. "


"What do you want from me? "


"Well. That 's the real question, isn 't it? There 's a variety of things I could do. I mean, I 've captured an enemy Master, haven 't I? You might be valuable, to the right people- Like, say, Berserker 's Master ." Kazuya tilted his head, glancing at me sidelong. "You don 't seem concerned by the possibility. "


If he'd wanted to turn me over to van Einzbern, I wouldn't be here.


I waited. Silently.


"And you're right, " Kazuya sighed, after a moment. "I 'm no friend of the others. Besides, there might be something you could do for me- seeing all the trouble I 've taken to bring you here ..."


I remembered- Flash, scream of particles ...And I clenched one palsied hand into a trembling fist, until the shudder of memory died away. Still I said nothing.


"Well, I see it like this. Here, I have a sorcerer. I'm thinking that he's also someone on the capable side- Recent performance excluded, of course. Dangerous, probably; Since, after all, he resembles a certain fellow - One, hah, behind the recent 'gas explosion' at the school. Now, it 's possible that if he were to deal with my existing problems- I'd feel compensated, wouldn 't you say? For saving his life twice-over. "


"Twice? "


"Then," Kazuya said, still smiling. I'd seen corpses with more expressive smiles.


A beat.


"And now. "


"I see, " I murmured.


"Maybe you do. And maybe you don't. I need some, well, reassurance, you understand? Something to show that I can trust you. Given the choice, I 'd put my faith in your word- But we live in suspicious times, and I'm not sure that fs the best decision I could make, right now. You see? "


And I did understand. "What kind of reassurance do you need? "


Kazuya 's eyes glinted, a flicker of triumph. "A magician 's Contract. Your vow, to never raise a hand against me- "


"No. "


He scowled at me, almost petulant. I stared back, gripping Tyrfing a little tighter, feeling how to lift and strike, to slay or hold hostage, to cleave that handsome head from its shoulders-


"Look, " the Makiri said, lowering his voice, "You don 't really have a choice. I can keep you here a very long time- "


"No, " I answered, a little louder. It was bad faith, and it went against the unspoken agreement of give-and-take ...But no. He couldn 't ask that of me, not when we both knew there was only one way, really, to the Grail.


Kazuya fs face darkened, and the candles spat and crackled, making the shadows leap and writhe. I shifted my stance, slightly, one foot behind the other, feeling for the moment -


A piercing, liquid squeal, like a wet finger sliding down glass, stabbed into my mind. Pain, red pain, crackled through my nerves, and sizzled down my spine. I fell back against the wall, hard, feeling bricks grind into my back, blood pounding through my head, pulsing against my brain, my eyes -


-Don 't-


The squeal increased in power. I convulsed, teeth biting into my tongue; My fingers locked up, curled into twisted claws of cartilage and bone, warmth trickling from my mouth, over my bottom lip. I could the presence, a monstrous, driving pressure, thick and blinding, choking off all thought- spearing into my head, making me shriek.


Need him -alive!" Kazuya was shouting, his voice surging and receding like the tide, ringing in my ears. "He's useless like this!"


-Better, I 'heard '. The agony was immense; it felt like my skull was cracking, splintering apart, vile, chittering parasites gnawing on the meat- Gauss lightning sparked through my mind in flares of color, shading fatally to black-


Let him-


"...Go! "


The squeal went away, and took some of the pain with it. Gasping, I slumped forward, catching myself on my hands; Thick, clotted blood stained the fabric beneath me, speckling it with wine-dark spots. Half-blinded, I heard Tyrfing 's case clatter and roll away, tumbling from my slack fingers. Dazed, I glanced up.


And up.


A slim, tall figure, hooded robe roiling in smooth, fluid motion-


Royal purple and gold. The symbols, the signs- Intricate, writhing pathways, like a knot of frail decorations swept on a chill wind ...


-And the helm, haloed by cising power and wyrd-light, patient tics of lightning scrawling their way from point to point, across high-branching antlers and sparking gems-


"You," I wheezed, aspirating blood, swaying unsteadily to my feet. I knew this. I knew this -


The figure made a warding gesture with a gloved hand, the fingers eerily long and tapering; That alien, fluted helm turned to face me, regarding me with its cool, faceless gaze- It would never be drawn back in my presence. I wasn 't worthy enough to see the face beneath.


"This is Ichiro, " it spoke, voice a phantom echo- Dopplering in and out, with a strange cadence no human could ever match. It reminded me of wind on sand, a dry, lifeless rasp: Empty of inflection, of tone. Of life. "Violent. Flawed. Easier without him ."


"And worse, " I countered, But I'm necessary, am I not? "


A beat.


"He vouches for you, " the hooded figure said, finally, the merest suggestion of light from beneath the fluted helm. "I have contented myself with that. "


"Then what do I call you? "


"You won 't have any need to, " it replied, bluntly. I felt myself bristle, and bit back a sharp retort-


"Please, " Kazuya cut in, clearly discomfited. "Tanaka-san, you may refer to Ci- I mean, my Servant, as 'Caster '. Caster, can you tell our- guest- what you have seen? "


Caster. The wizard of the Servants- And, arguably, the weakest, ranking lower than the three Knights . But he 'd handled Berserker with a single surge of gauss lightning, and sent my mind reeling into unconsciousness- Clearly, this was a real threat. And- 'seen . Future perception? Divination? I wondered .


Caster said nothing. I waited, shifting my position, ill at ease- I didn 't pretend to understand this; Any of this. More than ever, I wanted to be out of this crumbling, ancient manor, out into the cool night air-


-Assuming it was night, outside. Assuming I could even get out .


"I don 't have time to listen to all of this, " I said. "I have to- "


"Time, " Caster said, "Time is not what you think it is." Like a shade, the Servant drifted across the room, silent as a ghost. "You can never see it- All of it- at once. So many move from room to room, from moment to moment ...Starting at the basement, and ending at the ascent; Never going back, never breaking the sequence. But if- if- you could move freely through the corridors, from one floor to the other, skipping spaces, living ahead -"


I shook my head, slowly. "I still don't know what you 're talking about- "


"A thousand futures, " Kazuya murmured, his fingers gliding across the table 's sleek surface, "And every one filled with the dream of the burning city ."


My blood turned to ice.


"What? "


It was a small word, a simple word- But even to my own ears, it didn ft sound like my voice. It was deeper, darker, echoing hollowly with a life of its own - And it smoked with fury. With fear- That secret fear, a private horror brought back to the light .


They couldn 't know that. They couldn 't.


"You 're lying, " I said, evenly, and thought calm, calm.


"You think you have secrets from me. But I can see it within you, too, beneath the tower you once built. The fire that seared your world - And the beast that ate your heart. "


Caster's voice never rose above that dry, dusty drone, as flat and as lifeless as the ultrachrome mirror of the Servant 's mask. "The Grail brings us gifts, you see- To steal a look around the corners of time. And each time- every time- forwards or backward, I see you there. You, looking past it all...Into the flames of the burning city. "


I shuddered, a frisson of horror shivering up my spine. There was something in Caster fs words- Something deep and full of portent, a secret that held the key to everything.


Or lies.


Just lies.


"And after that?"


"Nothing. "


"Nothing? "


"Because there is no future left to see. "


***********************


Kazuya led me out, personally. A wall that had seemed solid parted like smoke, and we walked through it, side-by-side. The Makiri heir was oddly quiet now, uneasy; There was a low clinking as the thin silver rings on every finger of each hand clicked together, a counterpoint to the clack of his shoes on the polished wood of the floor.


We walked in silence, for a while, until I felt the chill bite of the wind, the musty, stale air giving way to the crispness of frost- Snow crunched underfoot, and the skeletal shapes of bare trees loomed into view. The transition had been a subtle one; The endless hallway had merged with the forest without in a single seamless journey. Out of habit, I looked back- And saw nothing, only the horizon, blurred into a rushing smear.


"Well," Kazuya said, lightly, "This is your stop. "


"It seems so. "


He gave me a lopsided grin, tipping his head to the side.


"So, " he began, shivering slightly in the cold; "Did you believe her? "


"Should I? "


"Perhaps not. Still, we did go to great lengths to co-opt you, heal you...All for this little chat. That should prove our sincerity, right? "


I didn 't answer- Not directly.


"I owe you, " I observed, pulling my tattered coat a little closer, "But yet I 've paid nothing. "


He dipped his head in sarcastic obeisance, then grinned, waggling his brows. "No, you haven 't," Kazuya purred, walking past me, the swagger of a victor in his stride. "But then - The first one 's always free. "


And then he was gone.


I began the long, slow trudge through the snow, away from the winter forest, back toward the marginal safety of Fuyuki. Far, far away, at the very edge of my vision, I could see cA castle?...its silhouette blurred by distance and snow, yellow light flickering like a perpetual, cycling wink c


The Einzbern castle.


Soon, I thought. Soon.


It kept me warm all the way home.


***********************


The Association 's manor was exactly as I 'd left it; The door swept a clean half-circle through the dusty floor as I swung it open, fumbling wearily for the light switch. Tracking slush onto the linoleum, I limped through the maze of furniture and cupboards, tapping flasks, peering at dubious shapes suspended in bubbling fluid ...


A dusty, gray-green bottle was in a glass-fronted cabinet, half-hidden behind a tangled wad of bandages. Fishing it out, I started the tap running, filling the silent room with the white noise of flowing water, thumping against the steel basin in a steady stream.


I cupped the tepid water in my hands, wincing as I sluiced the liquid against my wounded skull, knuckles scraped and burning beneath the steady stream. The throbbing in my arms, chest and skull numbed, until the world went pleasantly soft-edged and blurry around the edges, tunneling my vision into a long, black column of fatigue .


I found a moth-eaten couch, still indented by the shape of a former, long-ago sorcerer, and pulled myself to it. For a long, long, time, I sat motionless, against the threadbare cushions, eyes closed. Resting my head against the edge of my hand.


Thinking.


Finally, I sighed, and lifted my head, turning my arm back and forth, gazing at the wavy, warped sigils incised into my flesh.


"I know you 're there, Assassin, " I said. "Come forth. "


And he did. Reality stuttered and slipped sideways; The dimensions of the room tightened, pulled momentarily askew, as a whisper of wind swirled in roiling motion...


Assassin oozed from the shadows, the dark sliding from his spotless white gloves as he groped for a handhold, dragging himself back into the solidity of real. Smoldering emissions hissed from his limbs like steam from a forge, tendrils of shadow bulged from his spine- Like veins, throbbing and pulsing against the air, pumping Od into his tattered form. He ghosted and hardened, then faded to smoke, like a film slow-cranked into flickering flames ...


-But behind his mask, there remained something- Some essence of self, some flicker of inchoate will- As diamond-hard and lethal as ever.


"Master," he hissed, taut effort in his voice as he rose, swaying slightly on his feet- It was odd, to watch that vulnerably human motion ...And disquieting. His cloak hummed like an agitated hive, roiling about him in fluid motion, with a grinding buzz that set my teeth on edge.


"Assassin, " I acknowledged, waving him over. "Come. Sit. "


He came over to the table, dragging a rickety chair into place facing me. I could glimpse the floor through his half-translucent legs; I blinked twice, and the mirage faded, banished by his growing solidity.


"Is there a point to this? " Assassin inquired, unclasping his mask- He set the dull ivory grotesque down on the table, gloved fingers rubbing it possessively, as if trying to reassure himself of its presence.


I unstoppered the old bottle I 'd produced, blowing dust from the surface. I sloshed a measure of dark, pungent fluid into two stained glasses, listening to the pleasant hiss of liquid as it churned against the sides, sloshing as it settled.


"What 's that? "


"Try it."


He picked up his thimble, sniffing it dubiously- Then took a cautious sip. A haunted smile transfixed his face, some color returning to his skin. "It's been a while, " Assassin muttered, downing the rest in a swig, sliding the empty glass across to me for a refill. "Good, too. What is it?"


"Plum wine . It's special stuff, for special occasions." Tactfully, I didn't mention that those occasions were, well, funerals. Or maybe, it was simply appropriate...


"What are we drinking to? "


I emptied my cup- The wine went down smoothly, burning like ice, tasting of spice and fruit cAnd something else, too, something rich with noble rot.


"Survival."


"That's something, at least."


We clinked the glasses together, and drank again. This time, I passed him the bottle, covering my half-empty cup. I 'd thought that Servants had no need of food, or sustenance ...But Assassin seemed to enjoy it, sighing contentedly to himself as he poured another draught from the rapidly-emptying bottle. I merely sipped at mine, watching him, waiting for the right moment .


"Reiji," I asked, directly, "Why do you want the Grail? "


"Does it matter? "


"Indulge me. "


He chuckled, swirling his drink absently, forced levity in his voice. "Living like this, after all this time - One forgets." Reiji's eyes dimmed, too, lost in the unfathomable past. "Because I was stupid, and desperate." he said, quietly. "Because I had it all, and it was taken from me, and I wanted it back. And..." and there was a wry smirk in his voice, "There was a girl involved."


He turned to face me. "Look at me. You think I chose this? Sooner or later, it swallows you up..."


"What happened?"


"I got in over my head. When I realised I'd hit bottom- I ran. I was caught. And now..." Reiji gestured, a sweep of his hand that took in everything that was, everything that had been. "-Here I am."


I mulled over this, thoughtfully. "Didn't you...Well, see where you were going?"


"Did you?"


"No."


"You couldn't stop it. And that's how it was for me, really. One mistake at a time...But I started thinking I could get away, find somewhere to-" He shrugged. "Somewhere. Somewhere I could start again, somewhere I could live with the things I'd seen...The things I'd done. That's where I thought I was going."


I heaved myself to my feet with a grunt, leaving my coat draped over the couch. "Go to sleep," I suggested, gently, "Tomorrow is another day."


I don't care, but it doesn't mean I don't understand.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

[VI/Conqueror Worm]

Once...Once, a long time ago, when she was a child, she remembered how her brother had skewered caterpillars on twigs, and watched them struggle to walk...


She'd ripped all of her clothes off, tearing them up.


They were dirty.


They'd touched her skin.


She tried to burn them, but her hands were shaking, and the matches kept going out.


...Wasps smelled of choking smoke and poison, just before the glass made their abdomens crack, writhing to nothing in the glare of the sun...


The smell.


That smell.


It was the smell she couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard she tried. In the shower, she used up all the soap, the shampoo, the perfume, the caustic cleaners...But it was still there.


And then, when the soap couldn't get rid of it, she fetched that wire brush-


...In truth, she was a little crazy by then, after all...


Half an hour later, she passed out. But then- Even then, she could still smell it...In her writhing, restless dreams.


******************


The dream had started out so nicely...


She was beneath the brilliantly blue sky- And he was there, and they were friends again.


"Hello."


"Hello," he answered, brown eyes warm- He was tall, strong, his shoulders hunched-ever-so-slightly...But unbowed, despite the lines of worry in his too-old face, in the whitening of his hair. "It's been a long time...I missed you."


"I thought...Well, after the last time I saw you..." and her voice faltered, and she glanced away, blushing, "-I thought you didn't like me anymore. Hah, I'm hopeless, right? I know that- That you've changed, but...You're still my sempai. I c-can't get used to calling you anything else. I'm sorry, I know, but..."


"It doesn't matter. Not any more." For a moment, he seemed distant- almost sad, a thousand miles away. But then he smiled, and everything was all right again. "I can still be...If it's easier."


"I- I thought you hated me. I thought- I was going to lose you...Oh, I..."


And then they were both laughing, and he hugged her back, so hard it hurt- But that was okay. She buried her face in his chest, and held him like she would never let him go again...


After that-


He had changed so *much*. There was a new strength now, an unfamiliar confidence- And a sadness, too, deep and endless. But they went together, into that too-large, empty house...


(...A sudden scent of roasting worm flesh, acrid and bitter, sulphur and rank decay...)


There was something wrong with that memory, the dream wavering and twisting, like a cloud passing before the sun. She could feel...the beating of miniature wings, the dumb, blind motion of reeking bodies...


Here...


She didn't want to think about it...But the smell was everywhere.


The pleasant, sunlit home began to spiral and whirlpool, running into a darker, blacker landscape- From deep within her, she could feel itmoving, crawling toward the light...


And she knew.


And she knew where the smell was coming from, the burning, reeking stench...


Her knees buckled before the awful force of reality, his name scrawling itself in gruesome, wriggling letters across her mind-


It's her.


She cannot tear the filth away- Or burn it, or smother it, or scrape it from her skin-


-Spinning reel of memory, of a corpse writhing with new life, eating from within by the worms that tunnel beneath its skin, through the ripe, pale flesh, their blind heads digging away from the burning light-


**************


And she woke, and waking brought her no relief.


Somewhere in the night, a shockwave of evil rippled out, like a stone flung into a pond, hurling the distortion out and away in crests and peaks. Outward, toward infinity. The waves rolled out, in swelling, building darkness...


And Sakura Matou, as she did every night, went out.


Went out walking...


The freezing fog a baptism against her bare skin...


Into the snow, beneath the uncaring stars.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

[VII/Blassreiter]


The church was dark, but cool, the white marble deliciously chill in the rising heat of the day; In the chapel, candles fluttered on a brass stand below high windows, stained-glass fittings casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the carpeted floor. A single figure knelt at the rail, all lines and angles, the low murmur of it's voice muted echoes in the magnificent, spacious emptiness; A mote of human life, in a cave of stone.


Beneath the arched, bare roof, shafts of golden sunlight met brushed tungsten, glinting off the great helm resting on the crimson sweep of the carpet; Chrome steel gleamed in the first light of dawn, sparking off the curves and angles of mirror-bright armor, so bright it dazzled the eyes...


-In the sunlight, the knight was golden.


The man within eclipsed his wargear entirely- Wiry, copper-red hair curled away from a high brow, pale eyes set deep behind cheekbones, angling down like axe-strokes to an aquiline nose, and a broad, thin-lipped mouth. There was a calm certainity in those icy blue eyes, a translucent shimmer of revealed truth, the gaze that comes from absolute, unshakable surety...


His snow-white surplice- Marked by the crimson slash of the cross- rustled as he rose, rippling like watered silk; Cunningly jointed gauntlets creaked as his fingers unclenched, offering a smile that never quite rose past his arctic eyes.


"Deus Volt," he rumbled, bowing his head for a long, silent moment; His footfalls made slow, heavy treads as he strode from the chapel, out into the caress of the sunlight beyond.


Arisa Ortensia exhaled, slowly, and discovered that she was trembling- Her pale hands clasped behind her back, to conceal the minute shiver to her fingers.


This was not *quite* how she had expected matters to go.


She took a deep, strengthening breath, letting the serenity of the church comfort her- Before turning to the chamber's other occupant.


"Well, now we are partners, in truth: Together, we face either complete success, or utter failure," she mused aloud, and sighed. "We are, as they say, off to a flying start."


Across the pew, Rin Tohsaka met her gaze with unblinking calm.


"Well begun," she answered, "Is half done."

[ItsaRandomUsername]

A cold, silent alley, the walls pitch-black slabs of stone, and I was lost. I was lost and exhausted, running and afraid for a very, *very* long time- So I slid down to rest, slumping gratefully against the chill walls. My arm *hurt*...And without surprise I saw that the wall had grown spines, like a thicket of thorns, one of them digging deep into my flesh...Gouging deep, growing *inward*, a bear-trap in reverse...


I had to get up, had to find *someone*, had to-


-wake up.


Stiff and slow, I straightened from the ragged couch. Sense was slowly returning, my mind feeling as pinched and as numb as my body- A dozen minor aches and pains yammering for my attention. My neck and stomach hurt, it felt like I'd jammed my right wrist, both knees *ached* from the leaps and rolls I'd pulled off, in that surreal battle in the snow...


-In other words, I'd gotten off easy.


I flexed my hands in front of my face, wincing at the brief, stabbing pain in my shoulder... Gently, I pulled the bandages away, thick, gummy blood clotted on the pad- It stung, but not as sharply as before, the flesh half-knitted back to form a stiff, brittle seal. I waited it out, breathing deeply, reminding myself that a Servant's weapons could be far, *far* worse...


"Master?"


I looked up. Assassin stood nearby, holding a bowl of- something- that steamed and bubbled.


"What time is it?" I asked, accepting the proffered bowl with a nod of thanks.


"About...eight."


I sipped, eyebrows raising at the taste. Not *bad*- A trifle metallic- but pleasantly meaty, a few sprigs of parsley and chunks of onion floating in the broth, at a brief nod to flavoring. "Good," I murmured, taking a longer draught this time. "Anything to report?"


Reiji shrugged. "It's quiet." His brown eyes flicked up, to the ceiling, and he exhaled, slowly- I felt a brief chill along the bond, a questing, a reaching- a slow shudder coursing through him as he drew the observer *back* into himself, with his next indrawn breath.


The Association's manor was warded- Not powerfully, in the way most sorcerers protected their domains, but subtly so...A spell that smoothed over one's view, that told them to look somewhere else, in an exceedingly insidious effect- After all, if you don't know what you're looking for...


-But I'd gotten Assassin...One of Assassin's *bodies*, anyway...to stand guard while I slept. No point being careless, after all- And I liked to think I could still learn from my mistakes.


"There's bread, too, if you need it," Reiji offered; He'd stacked a half-dozen buns on a chipped plate, each one looking oddly forlorn without...Without...


"-Hamburger stew?"


"It seemed simplest."


I grunted, noncommittally, draining the bowl in three long draughts- Mopping up the dregs with a hunk of bread. Still chewing, I brushed crumbs from the coffee table, shell casings and last night's glasses rattling as they rolled aside- Uncovering the tourist's map of Fuyuki I'd torn from the brochure, recent additions drawn in with thick, forceful strokes of marker, the occassional idiot scribble marring the creased paper.


Behind me, there was a hesitant slurping, as Reiji tried the stew.


Fuyuki's construction was, well, *unique*. The three founding Magi had been geniuses, centuries ahead of their time; They'd designed a city meant to resonate with the leylines that criss-crossed the earth, channeling power through a complex, interlocking matrix of structures...A shrine *here*, an abstract twist of art *there*, forming a symmetry, a secret order uninterrupted by Fuyuki's growth. Even with the distortion of the urban sprawl, the true purpose hadn't changed: To guide the flow of power, directing it- channeling to...


-Where?


I folded the map, and tossed it aside. There was no center to the vast, astral construct- No keystone to anchor, no lynchpin to invoke. As far as I knew, it'd been created simply *because*, the system of the Heaven's Feel almost incidental...


"It doesn't matter," I murmured, gazing abstractedly into the distance. I didn't have to understand the mechanics of the Heaven's Feel, of the Holy Grail, to *win* it.


And speaking of winning it...


I thought of my own spies, at work; All one thousand eight hundred of them. Each one a marvelously articulated puppet, in the shape and size of a common crow- Some of had *been* crows, at least at the beginning, though little more than vessels of meat now; Later, though I'd refined my technique, I found that those formed entirely from fu were never *quite* as good as the originals.


Flesh carries one's will better than paper, after all.


With every passing minute, they were probing the fabric of Fuyuki, spreading wider, those beady eyes recording *everything* they saw; Some would be found, some taken by accident or mishap or simple error, some others would incinerate when their paper hearts combusted...But some would feast, and transmit their diet back to me...


-In time. For now, though, there were places to go...


*****************


"A day off?" Reiji couldn't *quite* hide the flash of surprise in his voice- Or the even briefer spark of interest, quickly muted as he glanced aside. "You're giving me...The day off?"


"Mmmm-hmmmm," I demurred, tilting my cup, enjoying the soothing clink of half-melted ice. The coffee had been lukewarm to begin with, but a splash of yesterday's wine helped the flavor *immensely*. I smiled, just a little. "I can't have you going stir-crazy now, can I?"


He didn't say anything- Just poured himself another *very* expensive glass, filling up well above the point he customarily cut it off. It was almost fascinating to watch- He didn't (Couldn't?) seem to get drunk, no matter *how* much he tried, but I simply didn't have the heart to tell him.


I jostled the ice a bit more. It was such a nice sound.


"When you say 'day off'...What *exactly* do you mean?"


I sighed. "Exactly what I mean. You're free to walk around Fuyuki- I've provided you with enough prana, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem." I gestured with the (mostly empty) cup, narrowly avoiding another stain on the weathered table. "You never *did* get a chance to...familiarize...yourself with the city, after all- And a Master-Servant pairing, traveling together?" I shook my head. "They'll identify us too easily."


If they hadn't already. I couldn't help but chuckle darkly, padding barefoot over to the coat rack. "Not that they'll move on us, anyway...Not in the day..."


A thought struck me, and I rummaged through the coat's pockets- Tossing what I'd found to Reiji, with a flick of my wrist. He caught it easily, blinking at the solid weight settling in his hands. "Here," I said, over my shoulder; "Don't spend it all at once, okay?"


When Assassin didn’t comment, I glanced over; He was tossing the wallet lightly, from hand-to-hand, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly...


"What are you planning?"


"What makes you think I'm planning anything?"


He shrugged. "Call it a guess."


My gaze fell on the scrollwork of Tyrfing's sheath- And the touch-coded seal embossed on the blue steel. I raked my fingers through my hair, snagging the case by it's strap; I couldn't bring it with me- Not now, at least...But the thought of leaving it *alone*, *here*, made me squirm.


"I'm just going to...Pay my respects," I murmured, almost to myself. "After all- It has been five years..."


"Hnnhhhh. An old friend?"


I squinted, wonderingly whether that was *quite* the right term- Then nodded, reluctantly agreeing with him. "The oldest," I lied, and *hoped*. "The very oldest..."

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Before me, Fuyuki stretched forth like a waking dream. The city was coming to life, shaking off the slumber of the night- Even as the first snows of the day began, drifting down from above like a blessing. My breath puffed forth in clouds of white mist as I walked on, boots crunching on the ground; Each step slow, measured, taking plenty to time to gaze around me as I sauntered on.


I was in no hurry. It was a cold day, the brisk bite of the air reminding me of London’s constant chill…But there was *something*, a freshness to the wind, entirely unlike the fat, greasy snow that piled up on the older city’s ancient cobbles- Without the eternal charred scent to the air…


I shuddered, and turned my collar up. The sunlight felt raw, to my newly-healed skin; The *rasp* of heavy cloth against the wound in my shoulder a constant reminder of the potency of Rider’s weapon. I’d packed it, with a layer of gauze, when the power I’d channeled had knitted the flesh back only reluctantly- Leaving a jagged line of scar tissue, still tender, ready to be broken open all over again.


A sigh, as I ran fingers through my short-cropped hair, drawing to a stop~ This was the commercial district, the vibrant heart of Fuyuki; Quieter now, than ever before, but still bustling, still *vital*~ The tinny echo of some jingle weaving it’s way between the buildings…The grumble of engines, as cars chugged past, punctuated by the ever-constant, near-subliminal murmur of the people…


-There was someone watching me. I could feel it, somewhere up in the eaves and sills and rooflines, dusted with snow, but I didn’t take it personally. As per the edicts of the Church, the day was a time of rest, of truce- To keep the secret War hidden from the eyes of their flock. So; No Black Barrel. No Tyrfing, strapped to my back like an artist’s easel. Just my coat, lined with memory wire, and precious few talismans thrust within it’s folds; Enough to make me feel underdressed, *vulnerable*~


Still, I couldn’t help but remember times past- A time before all this, when I’d have been pulled along not *quite* unwillingly, hearing the rustle of paper bags, the familiar lilt of her voice, the way the world had seemed *just* that much brighter…





-Elise, I thought, in uncomfortable realization. Elise would have loved this.


I hadn't thought about her in three years.


I gave the tiniest shake of my head, to stir myself from my reverie. For a moment, I had the sudden, superstitious belief that if I turned round, I’d see her, glimpse that bright smile, see her familiar silhouette limned against the wan sunlight-


“Ichiro-kun?”


I turned- As shamrock-green eyes met my own. The resemblance, for a moment, made me start; The same slender figure, slim fingers clasping the doubled clasps of shopping bags~ Except for the crimson splash of her scarf, the tails swaying in the gentle breeze- A contrast to the sweep of silver hair, stirred by the rising wind...


“Fancy meeting you here,” Arisa Ortensia said, and smiled.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Ball's in your court now, Burnout. My work here is done.

[Burnout]

(First off, a big thank you to ItsaRandomUsername, and his incredible work in backing up- And going out of his way to- repost the fic. Thanks again- This wouldn't be here without you.)


At this time of the morning, the café Ahnnerbe was nearly empty- The early-morning crowd had come and gone, wan sunlight sheeting in from the veiled window; It was a cold day, lazy flakes of snow wafting down from a steely sky- A stark contrast to the black-and-white checkboard of the tiles underfoot. The rich smell of coffee and spun sugar hung in the air, over the muted murmur of conversation from the mostly-empty booths, criss-crossed by the great circuit of lattice windows.


I’d felt a shiver of nostalgia at the familiar scents- Except for the view outside, it could’ve been any number of grey mornings- When I’d made the trek away from the Clock Tower, for a late breakfast of pastry and thick, sludgy caffeine. Now, though…


“-What’s she like?”


I looked up, from the menu I was still studying. The staff had seemed glad for something to do; Coffee, and a wicker basket of fresh bread, had arrived in record time- Almost before I’d unloaded Arisa’s shopping bags.


Arisa, though- I still didn’t know *quite* what to make of her. I’d thought I had taken her measure- A Church Agent, cast from the same rigid mold of their kind. Except…This was a side of her I’d never seen before. She’d seemed so at ease, so normal, as she’d lead me on a meandering trek through Fuyuki- Pacing ahead to gaze at the bright lights of window displays, with an oddly charming grace- then turning back ever-so-often, as if to make sure I was still following.


I’d just begun to wonder *exactly* where we were headed- Right before she’d ducked into the Café. Now, though…


Nearby, there was the rattle of the dessert cart- A girl in an apron rolled the trolley up, making as if to unload it- Then left it there, at Arisa’s nod. I waited, until she’d left, before I answered.

“What’s *who* like?”


“Your Servant, of course.” Arisa clarified~ Her silver spoon clinked against the side of her teacup, as she tonged a half-dozen sugar cubes- one at a time- into her tea. Absently stirring, she eyed me over the table, her emerald gaze (Weren't they blue, before?) meeting mine, just for a moment…Her pale hair framing paler features, intent.


“-Yours is the only one I haven’t met, you know.” Faint creases appeared around those startling eyes, as if she was about to smile. Then, softer- “So? What’s her name?”


A beat. She sipped her sugary tea, and I winced.


“Well, that depends,” I mused, almost to myself, “-Is it Ortensia-san asking…or the Manager? Come to think of it…Isn’t meeting like this against the rules?”


Arisa made a dismissive gesture- turning her hand, slim fingers parted. “I’ll allow it.” She did smile, this time- Ever so faintly. “It’s not like I could help you, anyway…”


“-I gathered that,” I said, slowly, checking an urge to sigh. “His name is Reiji-“ I paused- But no, she didn’t seem to recognize it. “…And he’s- Well, he’s different from what I expected.”


“Oh?” she said mildly, angling her head towards me.


I stared down into the percolating depths of my coffee.


“Which Servant were you hoping for, Ichiro-kun?” Arisa’s voice was soft, lilting- But I tensed, warily. “-Was there…Someone you wanted to meet?” She’d canted her head to the side, regarding me with brittle curiosity…


“No,” I answered- A little too abruptly. “-It’s fine like this. I’ll manage.” My voice trailed off; Come to think of it, why Assassin? Why not Saber, Lancer, or Archer? If only she’d returned Tyrfing earlier- Or I’d chosen somewhere else…

With a casual shrug, Arisa helped herself to a wedge of lemon tart. I watched, with wry amusement, as she made it vanish, bite by bite. “-You really like sweet things, don’t you?” Either that, or she had a hummingbird’s metabolism.


“A girl’s body is made of sugar- So it’s all right.” Arisa managed, indistinctly, still chewing; her chin flecked with whipped cream. On a whim, I reached out- napkin in hand, and-


“Ah…” She made a small sound, low in her throat- blinking up at me, going stiff with surprise. By the time I’d leaned back, folding the soft cloth, color was rising in her cheeks, a slow-spreading flush beneath her skin. “T-tell me before you do something like that, Ichiro!”


“Oh, Ichiro, is it now?”


Her flush deepened. “Tanaka-san,” Arisa corrected, flintily, a slight frown creasing her forehead…


“Sorry, sorry,” I said, mildly, holding up a hand.


She flicked her silver hair back from her face, still looking faintly put-out. “-A while ago, I asked…I wanted to ask…about-“


The Incursion.


Her eyes- the color of rain- met mine. “-Will you tell me about it?”

****************************

The Incursion.


The Atrocity.


The Horror.


Different names for the same event- A nightmare outside the ‘common sense’ of the world, on the very anniversary of the end of the Great War. I recall the hellish glower of light beneath crimson clouds- Weird electrical effects, lighting the low, sinister sky in sullen flickers- limning the writhing skyscrapers with eerie corospant.


-I remember the glass underfoot. The open spaces, the roads, were littered with mirror shards. Every step crunched, the air shimmering with unreality, a great unmaking- a thousand thousand reflections, a million flickering phantoms of the burning city. Fragments- Like glittering snow, on the overturned husks of vehicles, burning in the rain.


It was always raining, when I recalled it. Swirling curtains of it, falling from weeping skies- A bitter monsoon that tasted like tears. The light of firestorms casting shifting shadow, distorted and extended, falling long and lean across the pitted ground- Across the bodies, some heaped, some whole, some still burning with weird pyreflame. The smell, a vile, inhuman stench- Thick and sour, sweet with rank corruption.


And a distant figure, half-glimpsed in the tortured light- A fluttering swirl of red, receding further and further away with each step…

****************************

For a long, cold beat, I looked at her. Just looked. She let me- But I wasn’t really seeing her, anyway.


I was seeing a sky marbled black and red, like raw meat beginning to turn. Hearing the insidious whispers; A buzzing, buzzing, like the surrusation of a million insect wings at the very edge of perception…


-Feeling claws rake through my filthy shirt, hot carnivore breath down the side of my neck-


There was a soft clunk as I set my enamel mug down. “I’m sorry,” I said, slowly. My voice sounded flat, even to me. “…It’s- kind of a longer story than I really want to get into right now.” Distantly, I realized that my shoulder was beginning to ache and throb beneath the hasty bandage.


She waited for me to elaborate. I waited for her to get tired of waiting. Eventually, she surrendered a reluctant nod, her eyes going distant; “That’s a shame,” Arisa murmured, distantly- She looked so downcast, I found something to look at in the slate-grey sky.


“A day or two,” I offered, tentatively- “-Give me a bit to work up to it.” Promising that much made my voice catch. Arisa lowered her head, taking a deep breath- Not quite meeting my eyes, as she began to rummage through one of the pastel-colored bags; Withdrawing a felt-wrapped bundle, beginning to unroll it on the table.


“I have something for you,” she said, softly- And something in her tone made a quiet hiss flicker inside my head. Metal clinked, gently, as she opened the bundle; Revealing sleek, arcing loops of brass, slim bars hung on delicate chains. As she offered it to me, the faint breeze teased a delicate chime from the, the…


“-It’s pretty,” I observed. “What is it?”


Arisa spread her hands. “For luck.” Her stare was entirely innocent. Calm. Empty.


I turned it over in my hands, taking in the single kanji for ‘Fortune’ etched into the sandalwood tile…My finger tracing the mark thoughtfully, as I tucked the charm away into my pocket.


I nodded, slowly, as I signaled for the bill. “-I’ll be needing that.”


And I thought-


Ryuudou Temple.


Of course.

[giodan]

the story is still alive!

now is a zombie fanfic!

i'm happy!!!

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Don't go dropping any holy water on it now, otherwise it'll combust.

[FlameStrike]

Holyshit, it's alive?! I'm amazed. I thought this fic was deader than a dot stabbed zombie, but it has been resurrected! Hurray!

[ItsaRandomUsername]

(First off, a big thank you to ItsaRandomUsername, and his incredible work in backing up- And going out of his way to- repost the fic. Thanks again- This wouldn't be here without you.)

This makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside. :')

[Burnout]

(Sorry for the long delay.)


From the outside, the school resembled a kicked anthill. Criss-crossing lines of yellow tape sketched a shivering barrier before the barred gates, a picket line of police cars forming a crooked barricade, like teeth in a broken jaw.


Reiji didn’t want to be seen, so he wasn’t seen. The police sergeant, conferring with the detective in a low, tired voice, never looked up as Assassin paced past. People rubbed tired eyes, glanced at ringing phones, or looked down, and not one saw him.


He paused, just once, to take in the ruin; Above, the twisted girders and trunctuated pipes of the shattered corridor drooped forlornly, a perfect, spherical bite providing a cross-section view of all three levels. The walls were peppered and riddled by gunfire, from the night before- Punctured, holed and splintered. The damage made distinct arcs and sprays, chasing something that’d moved with prenatural speed.


The slightest shake of his head- It wasn’t what he was looking for. He walked on.


Just past the quad, there was a walled, tree-lined lawn beneath the eastern elevation of the school; Dry leaves, caught in a gust, milling in futile motion around his feet. There were busts, too, of past figures too faded, too bearded with lichen and moss to remember; Reiji kept count of the pedestals, with infinite patience. He paced down the path- Reaching out with senses he’d only recently known he’d possessed, tentatively…


The last time he’d been here, it’d been different. He remembered the coppery gunpowder-and-smoke smell, the solid stock of the stolen AK-47, clutched in his fists- The spreading wetness beneath his shirt, the slow, sickening realization of his own growing weakness…And the rattle of gunfire in the distance, just tiny, uneven flashes of light…


There.


He scraped away the knurled gravel and dirt with his hands, digging down into the worn hollow beneath. There was something beneath- Something hard and metallic, his fingers closing tight as they withdrew.


Grimy with half a century’s worth of dust, the brass pocketwatch- Grains of sand sifting from the chain- glinted in the wan light. Carefully, Reiji brushed the worst of the dirt away- Raising it to his ear, to listen for the tick. There was none- The watch had stopped with Cal’s heart. A tiny crack spiderwebbed across the glass, as he tilted it to catch the light; the hands frozen eternally at 8: 17.


Quite why he’d done it, exactly, Reiji wasn’t sure- He’d remembered thinking coldly, distantly, that he’d come back for it later, with the surreal clarity that came from low-gauge shock. He’d raked a small furrow in the earth, peering over his shoulder for the first sign of carnival-masked killers all the time…Then scraped dirt back over the pathetic monument, before he’d found the strength to rise, to break into a lurching, staggering run…


-Perhaps it’d been a promise that there *would* be a later. A promise to himself, there that was something beyond a night of fire and steel, and the long, long mourning to come.


-Feeling the cold, slippery jelly of intestine beneath his hand, the way each breath sears his scorched lungs-


-“Elen is still alive,” he says, and Scythe’s aristocratic face twists in an ugly sneer of remembered fear, his finger squeezing the trigger-


He realized, belatedly, that he was bleeding- His fists clenched tight enough for his nails to slice into his palms- And even the ruddy crescents closed with a sickening slowness, the way a smile slowly fades. What welled up from within smoked and spat, curling away in tendrils of mist, where it dripped to the ground.


“-Cal, Elen…I’m back,” Reiji said, softly. “I came back.”


It’d taken him an eternity of nightmares, but he’d clawed his way to a second chance.


The cold air howled through the gutted building, and, as silent and unnoticed as a wayward Phantom, Assassin left the way he’d come.


-And only the detective, who wasn’t really a detective at all, lifted his head to watch him go.


“Interesting,” the detective said, with a smile that never touched his eyes, then- because old habits died hard, and he was a conscientious man at heart- he closed the report he’d only been pretending to write (Blank except for an idiot scribble or two) and reached for his phone.


His lady and employer, Lucille von Edefelt, would wish to hear of this- Immediately.

[DreamsRequiem]

IT'S ALLLLIIIIIIIVVVVEEE!

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Still so good~

[Grant]

IT'S ALLLLIIIIIIIVVVVEEE!

Just like Frankenstein, good ideas never really die.

[Kieran]

Nice to see this back.

[Soldat der Trauer]

I second all the above comments. Phantoms was the 1st fanfic I ever read, and what initially led me to the original Beast's Lair website.
I probably wouldn't even have bothered w/ TVtropes.org or the other stories it led me to if it hadn't been for Burnout's having impressed me so much.
This was where it all began...

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Interestingly enough, Phantoms was also the first Type-MOON fanfic I ever read. And you never forget your first.

[Fangstrike]

It's even more awesome than I remember it. Now, the relevance of where Reiji/Assassin was summoned makes sense to me, though I'm guessing there's probably more to it than that. Still, the Assassin class as usual seems weaker compared to the other Servants. Wonder how the underdog will come out on top.