[FF] Trinity VII: The Twilight (Type-Moon/Harry Potter X-over)

[Faraway-R]

Or, you could try and do both (this idea I'd also like to get feedback from other readers on). Basically, introduce a little bit of anachronistic order for a chapter or two, and make a "flash forward" chapter or two that gives us teasers on the Scarlet Seven situation, then go back to our scheduled Japan.

[Malphas]

I think it would be confusing Faraway-R (in fact I'm not even sure I understood what you meant ).

Kieran, I understand your concern (especially about point A), but since I'm bad at anticipating the results of such choices, I cannot really help you choosing...
All I can say is that I've never been disappointed by the development of this story this far, and you are undeniably a better writter than I would be, so feel free to choose what you have the best feeling with, I'll read the result with pleasure.
And sorry : my answer probably IS a coward's way out...

[Kieran]

I appreciate your time, effort, and confidence nevertheless - thanks.

For the moment, I'm going to concentrate on getting the rest of "Crisis of Fayth" back up, and then turn to "Trinity" in earnest - so some time next weekend, hopefully, you'll have the next chapter.

[Funderfullness]

What a coincidence, I just found Crisis of Fayth. FFX has been burning a hole in my Vita for a while now and I think now's the time to start.

Also, I was looking for the Trinity Bad End you'd written some time ago and I can't seem to find it. Does anyone have a link to it?

[Kieran]

What a coincidence, I just found Crisis of Fayth. FFX has been burning a hole in my Vita for a while now and I think now's the time to start.

*Chuckles* Sometimes, things work out that way.

Also, I was looking for the Trinity Bad End you'd written some time ago and I can't seem to find it. Does anyone have a link to it?

It's a bit hard to find, because I hadn't made the "Angles" thread when I wrote them - maybe I should think about reposting them there . . .

Regardless, ask, and ye shall receive: Parts 1, 2, and 3. Enjoy.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Harry Potter and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of J.K. Rowling, along with her publishers and Warner Bros., as regards the movie material.

This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.



Writer's Note: Certain dialogue sequences in this story are lifted from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but I trust in the intelligence of my readers (and the availability of the books) to recognise them.




Chapter 57 – Awaiting Tomorrow


November 21, 1997






Hisui had been one of the personal handmaidens of Akiha Tohno for over seventeen years – and her primary caregiver for the last six months. As such, she developed several mental tricks and skills over the years, among them the ability to detach herself from her emotions.

Truthfully, that skill had been practised by her for a decade beyond even that timeframe, thanks to her sister’s situation. As a result, the maid could confidently state without hyperbole that she’d come to the point where her emotional control could rival that of any Master Occlumens.

Thus, falling several hundred feet straight down, her arms clasped in a death-grip around Shiki-sama’s torso, with only his acrobatic skills to save them, was no great thrill for her – not on a mental level, at least. She could dispassionately note her rising adrenaline levels, and even admire the aesthetics of his obvious athleticism, without succumbing to panic. Either her tears’ effects were more potent than she’d realised, or captivity hadn’t dulled him as much as she’d feared, and he’d obviously trained hard in the years of their separation, regardless.

(And if anyone noticed and had the vulgarity to ask, she was blaming her hardened nipples on fear. It was sheer terror for her life that was responsible – and the fact that, being late November, it was cold outside. That was her excuse, and she was sticking to it.)

There was an undeniable artistry in Shiki-sama’s movements; spread limbs to slow the fall, kicking out to catch a wall and slide down, bouncing up and off to catch a flagpole jutting from another building, and perform several rotations to burn momentum . . . It all looked random, but each motion had a purpose and a plan behind it, gradually reducing their speed as they drew closer and closer to the ground.

For Hisui’s own part, however enthralling it might have been to watch, she found her stomach and nerves ill-suited to enduring it. She found all the exhilaration she required in closing her eyes and spooning more tightly against her master, even as her innate Sight allowed her to observe what he was doing at a safer, third-person remove. It seemed much easier to bear, when she viewed it as though at a cinema or theatre performance.

Cowardly, perhaps – but Hisui knew her limitations. It was one of the reasons she had never been as terribly hurt by Shiki-sama’s departure as her mistress had. She would not have had the courage to do so, though she could admire him for it. When added to her Sight’s ability to watch him, even with the range restrictions that were imposed upon it . . .

Shiki-sama loved his wife, and his family. He was happy with them – and for her, that was all that had ever mattered.

That was not to say that she didn’t wish to be happy, as well – hence, her request to be taken with him. Hisui could admit, even if she perhaps did not wish to hear the words spoken aloud, that she would never hold his heart the way that Ciel did – but she was, as Akiha-sama had once said scornfully, “a faithful little hound.” So long as she wasn’t turned away . . .

If they let her be near him, it would be enough.

. . . And in the meantime, the maid clung tightly to his back, and breathed in his scent, enjoying what sensations and seconds she could steal.

However, it seemed to be all too soon that they reached street level, and she was forced to dismount from her perch. They’d managed to make it down safely, somewhat to her astonishment, though Shiki-sama’s hands and feet were badly abraded, and no doubt several muscles had been pulled or strained. Even a magical constitution and resistance to damage had limits when dealing with the amounts of friction and force that they had been, after all.

Still, Hisui was surprised at what he’d been able to accomplish, and with as little seeming effort as he had. And something of her feelings must have shown on her face, to judge by the smile that Shiki-sama offered after a moment, when he’d turned to face her – either that, or he had somehow learned to read her at some point, and she’d never realised.

“Takara got interested in parkour, several years back – and Ciel decided it ought to be a family bonding activity,” he explained. “And it should come as no surprise to you that being able to move at high speed through a complex and cluttered environment is a nice skill to have in my line of work.”

There was little she could say to that, and so she merely chose to move on to the next topic of discussion.

“What now, Shiki-sama?”

A momentary pause for thought, before he answered, “We try to meet up with Arcueid, and whoever else is with her.”

Hisui blinked, as the name brought back the decades-old memories of a golden-haired Veela who was not her master’s wife. Whom she knew was in the country, and could even surmise why . . . But of all people, Shiki-sama expected to meet her, and not his wife?

“. . . Arcueid-san?” she prompted him finally, unable to contain her curiosity. “Not Ciel-san?”

He shook his head. “Ciel might be with them, but it’s Arcueid who’ll be tracking me, because she’s the one who can.” He tilted his head thoughtfully towards her. “You’re much the same, that way.”

In more ways than one, Hisui believed – because if the Veela was truly capable of tracking him as she was, then that had to mean that Arcueid had chosen him as hers, too . . .

Though that’s hardly a surprise, the maid reflected, given how she reacted at the party . . .

Banishing a memory nearly two decades old (and one of her most painful, at that), Hisui returned her full attention to her master, in time to hear the rest of his statement.

“—best if you stay behind me,” he said. “After all, assuming Arcueid’s gotten the full report from Kiritsugu, her last knowledge of you will be as having been bait for the trap that caught me. And whether or not you did so willingly, she’s not liable to be inclined to treat you civi —”

His statement was interrupted by an avian screech that was loud enough to rattle some of the intact window panes. It was a cry that seemed to be equal parts joy and fury, somehow, manifesting itself as being wholly, unmistakably passion, and it caused both of them to look up in search of its source.

It wasn’t hard to spot, either. Diving out of a hole in the hotel wall high above them was an avian form wreathed in flames – particularly in the burning blue of its eyes . . .

Moreover, it was a distinctly feminine form.

“. . . Oh, crap,” Shiki muttered under his breath.






Most forms of magical transportation were deemed unwise, in Akiha’s present condition, to say nothing of her present size. She could hardly sit astride a broomstick, or comfortably handle the jostling, whirling vertigo of a Portkey – and the less said about the squeezing sensation of Apparition, the better.

And that was even disregarding the fact that she’d be Side-Along Apparating in a group of five people all by herself . . .

In any case, that regrettably limited her to more mundane modes of travel – though with the enchantments on her personal car, “mundane” was something of a misnomer. To begin with, it was a 1994 Rolls-Royce Silver Spur III Armoured Touring Limousine – not the sort of vehicle which went unremarked, or was casually available. Furthermore, it was enchanted; it operated not unlike the Knight Bus, in terms of speed and terrain versatility, though offering a far smoother and steadier ride.

As well, in a pinch, flight and invisibility charms could be activated – though given the size of the vehicle, and its ostentatious appearance, these were best used sparingly. Invisibility enchantments was notoriously unreliable on working vehicles, known for shorting out at the worst possible moments; and the Notice-Me-Not Charms that were activated when the limousine went into “overdrive” were already taxed. Essentially, they were there to offer a last-ditch escape attempt from attackers or pursuers, and nothing more – and the knowledge that they might be needed tonight did nothing to assuage her mood.

Nor did the fact that it was Miyako who was driving her, and not Hisui or Kohaku – she was a better combatant than either of the two maids, it was true, but not as fully a confidante. They agreed on the matter of Shiki, of course; but Miyako had not been a constant fixture in her life for nearly three decades, as the maids had. Akiha was simply (and understandably) not as comfortable with the younger woman.

As a result, the Tohno head had little to do during the ride but brood silently on the state of affairs, and what options were at hand for her to deal with them, lacking the familiar sounding board that she was accustomed to.

This was that woman’s doing; Akiha was certain of that much. Whatever had occurred to drive her subordinates into this frenzy of suspicion, accusation and violence, she was at the heart of it. And worst of all, it was intended as nothing more than a distraction – which she regarded as an insult of the highest order.

One that she absolutely intended to repay in full . . .

But in the meantime, she had to quell the riots, deal with fending off whatever rescue attempt that woman had devised, and prevent the Imperial Bureaucracy from discovering Shiki’s presence, or otherwise finding too much to take the clan to task for. The Emperor was far from pleased with them already, and given how much trouble her idiot son had caused abroad, adding fuel to the fire might see the clan dissolved as he had threatened to do not even a year ago – if they hadn’t reached that point already.

. . . Oh, yes – and incidentally, there was every possibility that the renegades within her own clan might try to assassinate Shiki under the cover of “restoring order,” as a means of undercutting her. So if she wished him to survive, to say nothing of retaining her own authority, she would have to guard Shiki as heavily as possible, while at the same time making it look like he was never there . . .

All while juggling the above three tasks, of course.

She ground her teeth, secure in the fact that no one could see her do it, and thus, she wasn’t failing the standards of a proper clan head. If only that woman had never come! The marriage she’d been anticipating since she was a little girl would’ve happened, this mess wouldn’t have occurred – and even if a similar situation to this had arisen, she would’ve had Shiki to support her, rather than having to face everything herself!

Despite the fact that her limousine compartment was secure, and had enough charms on it to make it more impenetrable than many modern tanks, Akiha cast a few more privacy spells just the same. She wanted the freedom to cry for a while, and know that no one else ever would. Pregnancy hormones might excuse it, but it was a loss of face – a show of weakness – that she could ill afford.

After she came back to herself, Akiha considered her goals, and what she could do to achieve them.

The answer, sadly, was “not a great deal.” She was the most powerful of the Tohno clan, as well as its rightful leader. The latter gave her a great deal of authority, and the former protection against treachery; for all the rivalry and intrigue she was dealing with, no one dared to challenge her directly, nor had they attempted a subtly violent overthrow. Her forefathers were too canny for that – by position and blood, the oaths of loyalty that bound them to the clan prevented such things. Sadly, those oaths were not all-encompassing, because the result tended to create servitors that were little better than mindless drones . . .

The Tohno head paused. The thought reminded her of an ability she could use, in her position as clan head, which would quell the riots and give her the capacity to carry out her other aims – but it was a dangerous one, given that it would require her to assume her battle form. Aside from its being frowned upon in the modern day (being difficult to hide from non-magical society), the doctors had warned her that, her own nature aside, the extremes caused by her transformation might endanger her babies – perhaps even kill them.

At the time, Akiha had dismissed the possibility of ever needing to shift forms before she’d birthed, but now . . . Now, it was possibly the only way to regain control of her clan. To say nothing, she admitted to herself, of garnering sufficient force to stand against the Aozakis and their allies.

Reluctantly deciding that she would have to risk it, as her enemies would hardly show mercy to her babies, after all, and it was only a chance, the Tohno head stepped from her conveyance and into the melee. She observed her surroundings, noted the most likely target prepared to release the power – in truth, the creature – within her . . .

. . . Only to be halted by a sudden explosion of sound – of command.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” bellowed a masculine voice.

Around her, Akiha could see the combat come to a halt, people tensing as though someone had struck the world’s largest (and loudest) gong. Muscles universally seized up, freezing everyone in place; everyone save the still-enraged Veela in the air, at least, but even she descended as a deathly silence suddenly filled the air.

Akiha’s heart hammered. Only one force in Nihon could so absolutely compel obedience – the Emperor, or one of his envoys. She was too late . . .

“Members of the Tohno clan,” said a deep, smooth voice – belonging to an almost feminine man who was nonetheless among the most attractive she’d seen. “You stand in violation of the laws set forth by His Most August Imperial Majesty, and in defiance of his prohibitions on your behaviour, proclaimed not two seasons ago.”

For all his physical beauty, however, Akiha found the envoy’s dark eyes were unnerving, however, seeming snakelike in their jewelled gleam, and their emptiness. An emptiness which seemed hungry as he continued, his face set into a stern mask such as a marble statue would envy.

“And worse – in so doing, you have brought dishonour to the citizens of Nihon, by behaving no better than the worst barbarians, and showing us to be no better than they, as we should be. You have broken the oaths sworn by His Most August Imperial Majesty regarding the conduct, honour, and good faith of that citizenry to those of the outside world – you have cost Him face.”

A shudder ran the Nihon-born among them at the words, as they imagined the shame the Emperor would feel, at having to face the councils of the other magical nations; those lesser leaders who imagined themselves His peers, with this stain upon him. It was a burden that would break any lesser being than the Emperor – but though bear it He could, no one doubted that His fury over the necessity of bearing it would be terrible to behold, indeed.

“I must protest!” Akiha exclaimed. “We are at fault, but not responsible – we have been the victims of an insidious and unprovoked attack by the Aozaki clan —!”

“UNPROVOKED?!” came the explosion from somewhere within the crowd, the sheer force of the cry parting it to reveal the source. Not that Akiha required her eyes to know who’d said it – even after almost twenty years, she knew that woman’s voice – and her hair began to writhe angrily at the mere sight of her.

That woman was pale and trembling, but her voice said it was not from fear, but a fury that matched Akiha’s own, as she spat, “You kidnapped and imprisoned my husband – made me believe he’d died – and then tried to do the same to my daughter – and you DARE to claim this UNPROVOKED?!”

“Aozaki-san,” said the envoy coldly, cutting her off – and then his serpentine eyes swept the field, and he corrected himself. “Aozaki Ciel-san, Aozaki Aoko-san, and Aozaki Touko-san – what a surprise to find you here . . . Particularly given the instructions you were given at court, and your reputation for good sense, Touko-san.”

He didn’t pause to see her reaction, but instead continued sweeping the field of battle. What he saw did cause him to pause, eyebrows rising. “And the Emiya clan and the Spirit Court is involved, as well – permit me to offer belated greetings on behalf His August Imperial Majesty, Arcueid-sama – we were unaware of your arrival in Nihon.”

“Please convey my sincerest apologies to my cousin, noble Envoy,” the Veela replied, with a bow just shy of that required of an equal. “It was a necessary deception, if we were to save my Chosen’s life.”

“Mine,” said a somewhat ragged voice – Shiki’s voice – and Akiha’s heart soared even as her blood froze, which meant that he was still alive . . . Which meant that her clan was doomed.

The envoy’s eyebrows rose, if possible, even higher. “Aozaki Shiki, I presume? How very interesting to find you here – especially given that you were reported killed some time ago . . .”

After a moment’s thought, he announced, “I believe that even I, The Emperor’s Voice, cannot adequately adjudicate this matter. Instead of delivering summary judgment, I order the majority of you will surrender yourselves to the proper authorities immediately for chastisement. Meanwhile, the Aozakis, Arcueid-sama, their allies, and all of the Tohno clan crucially involved in this plot will present themselves to His Most Imperial August Majesty Himself for judgement.”

A light smile stretched across his lips, but there was nothing positive about it. Instead, Akiha was again reminded of a serpent – as it prepared to swallow its meal whole.

“I have no doubt his wisdom will grant you all what you deserve.”

Nor did she, and at the thought, Akiha felt a numbing dread creep over her, a terrible certainty that the dissolution of her clan was all but accomplished . . .

And yet, a hope remained; it was a desperate hope, perhaps even a mad hope, but it was a hope, nonetheless:

When the Envoy had spoken, with all the authority and power of the Emperor Himself – she had not felt a compulsion to obey.






It was quite accurate to say that while Takara had known Galen longer, Hermione knew him better.

This was not out of any deliberate choice, but the simple fact that, with the Legilimency link her vampiric powers provided, she’d simply had a deeper experience with Galen’s thoughts and memories. Coupled with her own natural powers of recollection, which had been further boosted by her years of Occlumency training and it wasn’t at all exaggerating to say that she likely knew Galen even better than he knew himself.

And given how much time he’d spent in his own head prior to his death (a period which amounted to years of self-examination), it was fair to say that that was a genuine achievement.

As such, Hermione left Galen alone for a time after Remus Lupin had staggered back into view. Well, not alone, precisely – Mirai was settled into his lap, getting apologies and cuddles for the impromptu thunderstorm which had frightened her. Still, after a while had passed, the vampire witch gathered up Crookshanks in her arms and set out in search of her boyfriend.

Hermione found him in (appropriately enough) the sitting room, sprawled along one of the chesterfields with his back leaning against an armrest at an angle, and his legs running across its length. Mirai was likewise sprawled across him, half-ascended up his torso and purring loudly as his fingers kneaded the top of her head. If he shifted down far enough to fully recline, she had little doubt that the cat would’ve settled onto his chest, if not come right up to his face.

That being the case, she almost felt bad about asking, “Is there room for two more?”

Galen’s response was to shift into a properly-seated position, with Mirai letting out a huff of annoyance before curling into a ball in his lap. The vampire witch felt a little sorry for her, but at the same time, she knew feline body language and mannerisms well enough to understand that the black cat was quickly getting comfortable again despite the interruption. Galen was Mirai’s favourite chair and plaything, after all (second only to Takara’s hair); there were lots of ways she could enjoy him, and as long as she got the chance, she’d take whatever she could get.

Hermione understood that reasoning perfectly. The rationale for leaning against Galen and settling Crookshanks in her lap was much the same.

Galen continued murmuring endearments to Mirai, albeit at a lower volume, while she petted Crookshanks into a similar state of rumbling contentment. After her cat was properly relaxed, Galen glanced at her with eyebrows raised, as good as asking out loud, “And what brings this on?”

Her response was to arch an eyebrow of her own and give him a flat look.

Oh, please – as if we’re not both well aware that by now, you’re feeling at least a little guilty over beating Remus that badly, as you took out all your frustrations on him. Or if not, then you’re feeling guilty about not feeling guilty, and wondering just how much of a monster you are . . . You can’t lie to me about something like this, and you know it, so stop pretending and just take the comfort in the spirit I’m offering it, would you?

Galen sighed, annoyed at being caught out in his attempt at pretense, and Hermione huffed in response. Both of them offered affectionate smiles, however —

And the quiet, companionable silence was suddenly broken by giggles.

Witch, wizard, and cats all turned to see Takara leaning against the doorway, hand over her mouth. Her fit of giggles quickly developed into an actual fit, leaving Takara collapsing at the knees as she devolved into full-blown belly laughs such as Hermione had rarely heard from the Japanese witch. She frowned in concern – but while Galen did look worried, there was also the hint of a smile on his face . . .

That puzzled her, until Hermione realised that this was the first time in a while that Takara had actually let go of the “reserved Japanese lady” persona she generally wore to please her mother. Part of it was stress, but the fact was that Takara, in this world, was generally somewhat more of a yamato nadeshiko than she’d originally been. Laughing in such an undignified way was much more suited to the tomboy Galen had first met, who’d insisted on arming herself to help fight in the Grail War.

. . . Or, for that matter, the girl with “pretty kitty eyes” who’d only agree to be a princess if she could be like Princess Leia, and fire off blasters and quips, even if she did occasionally have to be rescued.

The thought eased her worries somewhat, but not entirely, as Hermione asked, “Care to let us in on the joke?”

Takara took a moment to master herself, but her voice was still thick with emotion as she choked out, “Two things, really. First, I just watched you have an entire conversation without actually saying a word – and the first thought that occurred to me was that you were just like an old married couple. Then I wondered that since I understood that conversation, what did that make me?”

Unsure whether the emotion was amusement or strain, Hermione deliberately tried to keep her voice light as she asked, “I thought we’d agreed that you were the wife, and I was the mistress?”

Left unspoken was whose mistress, precisely, she was supposed to be – but any response Takara might have made to that, however, was cut off by an sudden and imperious meow from Galen’s lap.

“Budge over, please, Hermione?” Galen murmured. “Sorry about this, Crookshanks.”

The vampire witch picked up her cat before sliding over a cushion space, allowing Galen to do the same. Unlike Crookshanks, however, Mirai came back down on her feet, allowing her to stretch lazily before settling across both his and Takara’s laps in a sprawl. She gazed intently at her witch for a moment, before Takara began scratching her scalp and ears, while Galen went to work on her hindquarters, eliciting purrs of delight. In no time at all, the black cat had slumped into a boneless, furry puddle of bliss.

“Between the pair of you, you’ve raised quite the little hedonist,” Hermione observed with a teasing tone. “Or sensualist, at least.”

“She takes after her mother,” Galen replied quickly, grinning as he said it. His tone then turned equally teasing as he added, “With a few nods of encouragement from her big sister, of course.”

As if to prove his point, he quickly reached up and began stroking her hair in the same way he was Mirai’s – and to Hermione’s embarrassment, a purr that matched the cat’s emerged from her throat at the contact.

Takara giggled again, drawing everyone’s attention.

“This is what brought on my second thought,” she explained. “I remembered, way back when, that one of the reasons people thought Hermione belonged with Ron was because ‘they argue like an old married couple.’ Which, considering that I’d just thought of you that way . . .”

Hermione had to admit, the image was sort of funny – mainly because she just couldn’t see Weasley communicating through familiarity and facial expressions, as they’d just done; it was more likely that he’d just end up looking constipated, really. Regardless, that sort of insult match simply wasn’t the way they argued – nor, for that matter, did any of their parents (the “old married couples” that they knew). When they did argue, or tease, there was audible affection in it, as opposed to venom.

Aloud, however, she merely remarked, “While I agree with the first part Takara, if that second one seems funny to you, then you must be getting tired.” She shook her head and offered a tiny smile. “But that’s no surprise, really; after all, it’s not only late, it’s also been a very long – and very stressful – day.”

Galen moved his hand from Hermione’s head to caress the crown of Takara’s instead, as he softly remarked, “Maybe you should head for bed – tomorrow isn’t liable to be any easier.”

Takara had unconsciously relaxed when he started stroking her hair, and her head was beginning to droop as it continued. She really was tired, the vampire witch realised, and it showed in the languid way she shook her head negatively at the suggestion.

“Mmm – not yet,” the Japanese witch protested. “I’m comfy here.” The statement was followed by a plaintive mew from her familiar, who clearly was in full agreement.

Hermione noted with amusement that there was a hint of a purr in her voice as she answered. In Takara’s case, though, it had less to do with feline genetics or psychology than it did with nostalgia (well, that and they all knew that Galen adored their purring, too). For all that the other witch griped now about her being told she had “pretty kitty eyes” as a child (and that was more over being teased about it than anything else), it had been a wonderful compliment for a little girl who adored cats the way other little girls loved ponies.

Still, as she considered the matter, Hermione found that she couldn’t disagree with Takara’s (and Mirai’s) sentiment: this was comfy. The room was warm and quiet, the chairs were soft – and they were surrounded by the people they loved, and who loved them, even if their entire family couldn’t be here right now. There were far worse ways to be spending a cold autumn night . . .

Hermione smiled, realising that in a way, she was getting a glimpse of what the future might be, for the three of them (and their cats) – and it was an unexpected balm on her troubled mind.

Letting out a contented sigh of her own, the vampire witch rested her head against Galen’s shoulder again, and resumed murmuring endearments to Crookshanks. Galen was right, she knew: tomorrow would no doubt bring an entirely new series of problems and troubles. So she took what solace she could in the warmth of the bodies around her, and the harmony of rumbling, contented purrs – male and female, as well as human and feline.

Hermione was resolved to enjoy this, while it lasted.








Additional Writer's Notes: Posted ahead of schedule as a reward for your patience - and again, I'm sorry for the delay. The good news is, I'm now prepared to move to November 22 in the story (yay!), and I have an ending planned for the Japan arc. It's not necessarily a good ending, and certainly not a pleasant one - but it is finally an ending.

. . . Anyways - hope you enjoy!

[Heart of the Star]

Very nice. Thanks for the update Kieran. I really liked the fluffiness at then end. But why could Ahika avoid Kotomine's command? The obvious answer is that she never took the Oaths. But seeing as she was surprised I'd guess she somehow got released from them at some point.

[Kieran]

Not quite - but someone hasn't taken the oaths. Four someones, to be specific.

[Funderfullness]

So pregnant women are immune to the Voice? Or the babies just outnumber her? Either way, that's one hell of a loophole.

It's been awhile since we've been to Grimmauld Place. That scene made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

[Kieran]

So pregnant women are immune to the Voice? Or the babies just outnumber her?

More "they haven't taken it, and they're technically part of her, so she hasn't taken it" - though numbers are probably what swung it in that direction, rather than the opposite. It's not unlike that "Harry's blood made Voldemort's body, ergo Voldemort is Harry" loophole.

Either way, that's one hell of a loophole.

Probably not normally, but when dealing with a Tohno . . . Well, yeah.

It's been awhile since we've been to Grimmauld Place. That scene made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

That was kind of the thought - and partially to set up for Galen's birthday, perhaps.

[fsnfan]

So Japan never realized that loophole because they never used it on pregnant females. Or is it that they left that loophole as a measure of mercy for those who are in a delicate state?

[Kieran]

To be fair, I'm not sure it's ever come up. By and large, the fidelity to the Emperor is such that his need to make direct proclamations is rare - odds are, it's just the first time this situation has ever happened.

. . . Of course, if the Emperor does dissolve the clan, it's not liable to protect Akiha, or the babies.

[MWkillkenny84]

... I hope Akiha is not thinking of attacking Kotomine or doing something equally foolish...
The results will not be pretty.

[Kieran]

At this point, killing Kotomine wouldn't accomplish much.

[Faraway-R]

Speaking of the babies, I find their chances of survival are slim...

Sad but true.

First of all, while they are contested due to being descendants of wounded party, they are also inside their mother. Delay necessary to let them gestate and be born isn't something Akiha will be allowed lightly, if at all. Even if it is the last thing to be allowed her in this life.

Second of all, I claim foreshadowing and/or red herring on the fact Akiha was told taking a different form would imperil them.
Incidentally, a corollary. If Akiha does transform, and if it does kill off the babies, Akiha will definitely lose her surprise immunity to Emperor's authority. Whether the orders of previous times will apply to her retroactively or not, the very situation is more than likely to put her in vicinity of the Emperor or his Voice.

Third of all? The only way Akiha might survive personally with any degree of guarantee, is if she uses her surprise immunity to escape her homeland, to never return. And that requires her to cut off everything and run.

On the note of Galen and co? ♥Purrrrrzzz. :3♥

[Rai Burnout]

Yeah, sad times are in store. Personally I would like to see the kids live because killing them off would be taking the easy way out. But the way it's going seems like they're going to die and know we know how.

Also its a bad idea to necro a thread. If you have something to say and the thread hasn't been updated in a bit then sending a pm is usually the way to go.

[Kieran]

Maybe, but it's only been a week (plus a few days) - I'm not sure this counts as necro-ing, per se.

And yes, things look grim - I did say that I didn't have a pleasant ending in mind . . .

On the note of Galen and co? ♥Purrrrrzzz. :3♥

Yeah, that was kind of the idea.

[Kieran]

So, I'm 2 1/4 pages in to the next chapter (about 23% complete), and I've run into a small snag . . .

Specifically, I need to decide the actual identity of the Emperor of Nihon. To this point, I've been operating under the assumption that it's actually Emperor Akihito - but now I'm wondering, given future developments in the series, if that's really a good idea. Failing that, I've been looking through his family history for a replacement. The best idea I have is that one of his sisters (who died in infancy) was adopted into the magical side of the world following her "death" (traditionally, apparently, royal children - or at least daughters - weren't raised by their parents in Japan), and had a son who currently reigns.

Any opinions or suggestions?

[hatori]

It IS an AU after all, it's kinda alright to work with politicians or royalty with different quirks than in RL if you're not sure.

[Malphas]

I don't see why not, this emperor seems a bit too nice and modern for Nihon (which has quite an enormous gap with modern Japan).

It would also be possible that there is a lineage of emperors with magical powers and another 'puppet' one without (a bit like the PM and magical minister in England), which would mean you can put anyone there (or even use the previous emperor since wizards are supposed to live longer),
or that this emperor happened not to have magical powers and was casted aside by the magic world, or that AU stuff happened,
etc.