Twelve Days of Yule
Day 12
To save the Girl
—It was said,
That during the night of Christmas, everything was possible. For it was the night of miracles…
For example, a hen that lays golden eggs.
For example, a beanstalk that grows to the skies.
For example, a happy ending.
Yes. A happy ending to call her very own, unsoiled by the needs of others. Something just for her, and her alone. She alone would be loved, and love in return. There was no part for anyone else in there.
That was the true enemy of Emiya Shirou.
A wish for a happy ending, at the cost of everyone else.
The frozen air of winter night, chill and sharp as a blade of a sword, pushed past Shirou’s face as he braved the wind, eyes locked to the glow ahead. Had he be doing the walking, his legs would have, most likely, frozen already.
But instead of him, it was the power of the wooden giant that took every step.
London Bridge is broken down,
Broken down, broken down,
For a moment, he felt how the contents of his stomach tried to crawl up his throat.
There was a simple reason.
For him to allow such a vulgar, different, alien magecraft to touch him, there had to be price that was paid. Whether it was falling down the rabbit’s hole, or attending a tea party, there had to be a price.
Or maybe the price was the sound of the two little pigs, running around and whispering to his ears, that Emiya Shirou heard?
Nevertheless, this was only the beginning. Or perhaps this was the conclusion.
“—!”
Shirou could only let out a wordless grunt as the tower that he rode took another step forward.
The blades of his body creaked in agony, and strengthened.
—What, he did not know.
Whatever it was, it had been taken as a price for his sanity. Pain of reality. The more he allowed himself to mingle with the existence of this creation he could not understand, the more would be taken from him.
But it is alright.
Will reinforce it.
Whatever it is, he will bring it back.
“…There isn’t anything that is more important right now.”
Shirou’s eyes, clouded momentarily by his sweat, bore a hole into the artificial barrier that loomed ahead of them.
A mockery of magecraft, a purple boundary infused with the characteristics of a certain magus.
The darkness was like it had been his.
Golden symbols and arcs, running through the space, informing where the boundary lay for the outside and the inside.
Within it, the factors outside the story could not affect. Not readers, not viewers…
…Perhaps, not even the author itself.
And it was through that boundary that the two of them were going.
Straight through, two incompatible forms of magecraft.
Crashing forth.
London Bridge is broken down,
Broken down, broken down,
London Bridge is broken down,
My fair lady.
And thus, with a quake, an artificial rule and that which spits to the face of every accepted rule, met in a gigantic quake that ruptured the air.
Towering form of tangled wood rose up to rebel at the mundane world, the possible, and threw its arm forward.
The result was truly a sight to see.
An explosion so mighty it nearly threw Emiya Shirou off from his perch.
Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay, wood and clay,
Build it up with wood and clay,
My fair lady.
It was a miracle of innovation. Shirou knew that whoever had built the barrier was one of a kind mind, able to blend the nature of magecraft into technology.
—But.
Unfortunately, that was not enough.
Because, for the one who accompanied him, attacking that barrier was nothing more than a meager task, stomping a pitiful bug.
One who was the child of the green.
An existence old enough to compare to Servants themselves, something that stood proudly against the time and endured, no matter what humanity threw at it.
What he was, Shirou understood only vaguely.
Emeth.
That was as much as he had seen, and he left it at that.
He did not need to know more.
The Great Bridge roared and its fury descended upon the barrier.
The whole part of the city seemed to shake under the weight of the Thames Troll, the creature that had finally unleashed its strength.
The area covered by the barrier was large enough to cover a whole section of the Miyama Town, all the way to the bridge.
—And, even so, Falling Down’s mere collision with the Boundary Field caused the whole area to quake.
The giant roared.
And the spirit of the city seemed to roar in return, for the barrier cracked under the weight of Falling Down.
Pushed from two sides, by the base and the invader, the Bounded Field warped around the spot where the huge hand, made out of nothing but roots, had struck against the violet surface.
Mère l’Oye, a chant of a savior of this moment, filled the air.
And the servant answered its master’s call.
Roaring again, Falling Down brought down its other hand, sending rippling waves of pure destruction along the surface of the barrier.
And there, it appeared.
A hole in the barrier.
Ripped apart by roots, branches and vines, countless and growing in number. It appeared just below where Shirou stood, and there was no mistaking it.
—It was an invitation. For him.
To finish this fight.
“Then, I’ll see you on the other side. Once I’m done.”
His words fell to deaf ears, and so, struggling to say them had been for naught.
Shirou chuckled, only to find himself spitting out blood.
Array of blades hovered in his eyes for a moment, but by smacking himself, he drove away the nightmare.
He had to concentrate. Their mismatching natures could not bring down the end of this tale.
Therefore, Shirou grasped his bow tight, and his sword even tighter, and sprinted from the extended hand into the pit below.
The switch between inside and outside was abrupt.
Like passing through a veil of a theater, the canopy between the stage and the dark, he dropped down into the world of snow below.
—What greeted Emiya Shirou, was a battleground.
And what hit him straight, was a barrage of emotions. Commands, shouts, demands that ripped into his brain.
There was a maelstrom of emotions that existed inside this Bounded Field.
And there was a single woman at the epicenter of that typhoon.
Long, dark hair, extended arms, gown as white as virtue.
Her eyes saw nothing, and yet she saw everything.
Shirou looked up to the skies in horror, understanding that he had been seen the moment he set his foot under the dome of this barrier.
—Her vision was in the sky. And she had noticed him.
“—E, yaargh, arr, gaa,gggggaaa!!”
Shirou fell to his knees, clutching his head as the suggestions of death and suicide bombarded his head.
There was nothing about him that could stand up in that storm.
The voice of the woman was too strong, too encompassing to leave any part of hi free now that he had been seen.
He had entered the war with an intent to win, but not knowing what he was up against.
Fujyou Kirie, the woman guarding the source of this all, the one trying to rip apart the status quo, had all but defeated Emiya Shirou.
It had been easy.
He was nothing but a bunch of swords after all.
Metal moved under her command, folding itself deeper and deeper, as his brains twisted in pain under the malicious, contradicting commands.
All of the commands said “die”, yet none of them said it like the others.
That was what she had cast out from the sky, what she had seen upon him, and what she had made him feel.
—Under her gaze, the very essence of suicidal impulse was festering inside Emiya Shirou.
But her concentration on him left her very open.
Someone she thought she had defeated already had merely began her attack.
And while the snow, the spirits and the storm raged in the clearing, a lithe figure, looking like she did not belong in that madness in any way, calmly approached the sight.
She was bleeding.
She had been wounded.
But still, Kuonji Alice calmly braved the mental assault that had brought Emiya Shirou to his knees.
A black confronting white, two girls so similar yet so different, facing each other in the quiet of the eye of the storm.
Other floating, other walking.
Fujyou Kirie stared down at Alice, her eyes narrowed into an expression of pure rage.
The ghostly body wavered under the strain of emotions.
“I should have, I should have, it should have—! Why was I not allowed to live!? Why was I not allowed to love him!? Why only me!?”
Kirie’s voice was like a strike against the face of the story itself.
The resentment of a character who was cast down, unable to climb as high as the others did.
Denied of the future she might have hoped for herself, even in the ink of someone else, she was permanently declared dead for the sake of the story, unlike all the others.
—Therefore, she resented. She hated. Fujyou Kirie accepted the changing of the world in this Christmas miracle, and embraced it.
She would not float. She would finally fly.
…But, even those who fly, can have their wings plucked off by the cruelties of life.
And such was the power at the fingertips of the girl opposing Kirie.
“…Let us start his. The night has grown already long. Dolls are perfect to oppose a body of a doll.”
Kuonji Alice’s cold words rang throughout the clearing, chilling and strong.
She did not back down an inch, though blood had stained her black clothes.
She chose to act as a messenger of defeat in this foolish battle.
And,
“Here we are, once more, ready to serve!”
“Not a moment too soon, not a moment too late!”
Out of the mist covering Alice, two forms appeared like fantasies of a little girl. Plump, round shapes, so unthreatening it was almost comical.
Black and white pigs, adorned with bells, floated on both sides of Kuonji Alice, pointing their snouts straight at Kirie.
The long-haired woman recoiled back, fear shining in her eyes.
She knew what was coming.
It was the time of the Nocturnal Feast, the throw of a dice: Diddle Diddle.
“——“
Alice did not have to say any words. The two would know what to do already. The far-too-happy pigs would perform what they were meant to do, and that was the extent of it.
Suddenly, the floating figure of Kirie swung down, her bare feet splashing against the melting snow.
The raven hair unfurled in the wind, and her place face jolted straight up. Two eyes locked into the harmless looking pigs, and thus, the connection had been created.
Be they familiars, be they Servants, as long as Kirie had her gaze set on to the target, she could turn them against their owner.
“—Fall!!”
Her scream echoed towards the skies, causing a momentary lapse in the raging storm of emotions.
They were no longer a free-spirited storm, trashing about, but a well-aimed arrow that pierced both of the pigs.
Released from his ensnarement, Emiya Shirou coughed and regained control.
His feet dug into the snow, and he struck the sword into the ground. Thusly, he could lift himself up even though his mind had been ravaged by the conflicting commands.
His body was creaking, moaning, rusting, because of his close proximity to Kuonji Alice and her creations.
There was something in them that, by nature, opposed his own existence.
But that did not mean he could not marvel their beauty.
Especially not after those same dolls proceeded to save his life from the watching guardian that had been set to guard the scene of final battle.
Going to and fro, the two balls shaped like pigs bounced between the buildings, approaching Kirie in almost comical manner.
Her shout of “Fall” struck them again and again, and the suggestion of the girl dug deep into the toys.
—Yet it failed to affect them.
“———FALL!!!”
Arms raised, Fujyou Kirie screamed at the dolls, and her whole existence slammed against them.
A fatal mistake.
Like laughing at her misfortune, the pigs split in half, jagged mouths extending all the way to the end. In a cheerful fashion, they bit straight down, digging themselves deep into the woman’s flesh.
—The overwhelming force was enough to make Kirie drop to her knees. She gasped for breath, panic glowing in her eyes.
Two pigs, biting all the way to her shoulders, had immobilized her perfectly.
“Now we have you!”“Now we got you!”
““Dum and Dee apologize for the inconvenience, but this is our job!””
Happily, so happily, the two pigs laughed.
They were holding the girl down with relentless power, rendering both her body and her mind unusable.
Just like that, the storm of emotions and death had calmed down, and was defeated along its creator.
It had not been an effortless victory, the red marring the black of Alice’s clothes told that clearly.
But, at the sight of another hero, Alice had known that she merely needed to stall Kirie. Be they different from familiars, the resistance to suggestion would only last as long as Kirie would not understand their true nature.
The moment the fantasy was understood, it became like a dream and ended.
And its worst enemy was those of the lucid dreams, like Kirie, who commandeered what they saw.
So, for now, the only thing Alice could do was to keep her in the dark, without knowledge.
—And, having done that, she turned towards the red-haired boy.
“…Emiya Shirou. Go. I shall remain here and guard this woman.”
The voice of Alice was as cold as her expression. She bit her lip momentarily, chasing away the pain, before her stern eyes moved to the boy again.
“There is someone waiting for you out there. Fighting and waiting. She is keeping the change at bay all by herself. So, go.”
—That was an order. An order Emiya Shirou gladly accepted.
“Yeah. I will.”
His feet kicked the snow and like a whirlwind, he took off, grasping his bow and his arrow.
Emiya Shirou quietly left behind the scene of the battle and the two girls, one opposing the change and one endorsing it.
He himself had not truly understood what was going on, but he knew that there was trouble. There was a chance that someone might get hurt. Even killed.
He had to stop it.
“—Ha, haa, hah, haa, haa!”
His breathing grew more and more ragged as he tore his feet of the chilling ground, putting one foot ahead the other.
The streets were bathing in the streams of lights that exploded nearby. Maybe behind the next building, maybe behind the one after that.
Since the sound was coming from everywhere, Shirou could not make out the source.
But he knew he was getting closer and closer.
There was no need to see where it was. He would knew when he would get there. And till then, he would have to move as fast as his body allowed him to.
“Nnngghh!!”
—The swords creaked in the frost.
His body, even without doing anything, had been put through a lot today.
But it was not yet over.
As Shirou passed yet another corner, he could feel the prana splash against his face, as yet another explosion ravaged the peaceful town of snow.
After all,
—He had arrived into the middle of a war.
“---------------!!”
A brown blur moved through the snow, and something sharp and metallic gleamed momentarily in the air.
It cut through the snow with elegance of an opening flower, yet with enough speed to decapitate anyone.
That move, flawlessly executed, was crushed to pieces as the opposing force spun around and kicked the hand that held the sword.
But that was not enough. Before the kick had even been begun, the one holding the sword had jumped up.
She easily let go of the sword, and pulled up an array of syringes to her left hand, plunging them down, towards her opponent’s neck.
And then it happened. Another explosion. Cursing under her breath, the girl whipped a piece of sapphire from her sleeve and struck it straight against the syringes.
The resulting explosion, both of the magical power in the gem as well as the liquids inside the syringes, threw the opposing combatants away from each other, beaten and battered.
It was then that Shirou finally saw who the two were.
—Luvia, her right hand completely limp and her dress torn, blood covering her tired face.
—Kohaku, her kimono in shreds, hair flowing freely, angry expression on her bruised face. Blood seeped down her exposed leg.
“You… I don’t get you. I simply do not get you.”
Kohaku’s voice was as accusing as her eyes, boring a hole into the soul of Luvia.
“You are one of us, are you not, Luvia-san? A heroine forgotten by the writers, forgotten by the readers, by the creators themselves?! Someone who might or might not have gotten their time, only to end up the limbo afterwards!”
Her shout was an ugly thing to hear.
Truly, the resentment in Kohaku’s voice was understandable. Shirou, though he could not relate to the situation, sympathized with her, in his own way.
But he did not accept it.
And he saw, from the eyes of Luvia, that neither did she.
“Q-quit… quit talking trash, you crazy maid. That isn’t how this world works.”
Luvia, despite everything, managed to smile smugly at Kohaku.
“Readers, writers, who cares about any of that crap…? It’s our own job to do what needs to be done. Take a hold of the reins of fate by our own hands, not through some miracle that might or might not exist.”
—Luvia spat to the ground, looking as equally angry.
“I don’t care that I am a side-character. I don’t care that I don’t have my own route. What I care about is that Shero is spending a Christmas with me, and I’m going to take everything I can out of that.”
“L-Luvia?”
Surprised by such a proclamation, Shirou, with flushed cheeks, took a step backwards.
His eyes met with equally flustered eyes of Luvia, only now realized that they had company.
“Erm… well, Shero. That’s… how it is.”
Luvia groaned and bit her lip, before pointing weakly at the boy.
“This is a bad time to talk. Let’s wrap things up here, and then I can explain it all. About how I feel.”
“Sounds good.”
Shirou smiled at the girl, and loaded the sword to his bow. He placed it on the string, and gazed into the darkness.
—Like he had expected, during their short talk, the mechanical warriors of the maid before them had arrived to help their master.
“I’ll handle the robots. You defeat Kohaku-san.”
Shirou walked next to Luvia, so that their backs faced each other. Luvia, with a grin, patted his shoulder and turned her attention to the maid once more.
“Sure enough. One crazy maid vs. hundred crazy robots. I say it’s close to a fair trade.”
----------------And without further words, the fight exploded into action, rage of the combatants lighting up the sky.
“—!”
Shirou’s first arrow flied straight into the crowd, cleaving asunder tens and tens of robotic maids.
The magical bullet, red in color and with destruction in its core, rends into the mechanical mass without mercy.
—Explosion shakes the grounds, causing more and more of the robots to fall.
Trace, On!
Twenty seconds.
Simply by opening up his circuits and summoning forth the projectile he already had an focused image of, he could create it in 20 seconds.
By allowing the trigger to rise and lower, he grasped yet another Hrunting, and trained it at the approaching mech-maids.
“—Ha, Haaaa—!”
The second shot pierces the air, and the metal of the building shreaks.
Cracks run through the ground, and send crackling energy amongst the opponents.
Shirou’s eyes, fixated to the approaching threats, see that their mass extends all the way to the root of the bridge.
That’s too many. There are simply too many.
But it does not stop him.
A bullet flies past him, and stray one. And it does not stop him. As the destructions spreads after the wake of the second shot, the few who could aim their weapons at him get a free shot.
A bullet hits his shoulder.
Meaningless.
The liquefied metal dents the swords, but cannot pass through. The creaking sound is in harmony how his teeth grind together, but the pain is irrelevant.
—Produce another sword. Another shot.
Twenty seconds are up.
Hrunting, the hound of red plains, howls once more, and is released to the crowd.
The mechanical automatons groan and vanish in explosions, and yet they do not complain. They simply continue advancing.
“…Gnh—!”
Shirou forced himself to stand his ground. His leg goes for a sweep, kicking down the closest advancing maid.
Meanwhile, his hand draws yet another black, twisted, crooked arrow from the air.
There is no need for him to fear the assailants.
After all, he trusted his back to Luvia. And Luvia, in turn, trusted her back to him.
For that reason, more than anything else…
“—No one shall pass, here!”
Shirou’s roar is accompanied by another sword, tearing apart the mechanical army and exploding in a red whirlwind of power, just like all the previous ones.
And, behind his back, a similar strong opposition to this change, to this selfish desire, is formed.
One accepting her part in the stories, yet never losing faith, never resorting to altering the truth itself.
Luvia, with a mocking smile thrown against the face of Kohaku, digs into the pocket of her skirt.
“Do you know, Kohaku-san? There is a saying in my homeland…”
Luvia’s smirk becomes freezing.
“They say that the dress was invented to ensure that women could not run faster than men. If they were, men would be hunted down by the women.”
Kohaku, confounded by these strange words, narrowed her eyes.
“What… why do you say it now?”
“It is just something you should know, Kohaku-san.”
Her fighting-style, wrestling, had disappeared from Luvia’s stance altogether. There was nothing but the useless arm and the other arm, reaching for something in her pocket.
—It was unnerving, even for Kohaku, who had seen it all.
“Let’s go then. This is for the sake of all of those who yet keep on trying, and do not succumb. Never succumb.”
Perhaps Kohaku was about to say something, no, she was definitely about to say something. Nevertheless, her words are torn apart by the dress that is ripped aside.
Luviagelita Edelfelt, the pride of her clan, simply rips off her skirt like it had been her shackles.
And just like that, its blue surface, rippling waves, are replaced by an even brighter, blue glow.
“Path, Set.
Limit, None.
Harmony in the name of Two.
This is our power.”
The shine and brilliance of the Mystic Code is without equal.
—No, it is not a Mystic Code. Or, it was. Or perhaps it is now.
No magus, other than those of the Edelfelt-clan, could answer that question.
The two tattoos on her legs, brilliant blue in color, spreading like two wings that want to encompass the whole sky.
Their stylized feathers wrap around her muscular legs, and prana runs through their surface like in a kaleidoscopic reactor.
Her arms folded under her breasts, Luviagelita Edelfelt allows the two tattoos owned by her to accumulate power from the world, staring down at Kohaku.
—Double Life.
The connection between the sisters of Edelfelts, and the fruit of their labor. These tattoos are what connects the twin heirs, creating the effect the world knows as “Scales.”
They are supposed to be used b twins.
One in each.
—And yet.
Luvia is in possession of them both. An artifact which generates, compresses, and accelerates prana, causing it to course through her like another stream of blood.
“What’s wrong? This is only the end.”
Luvia’s eyes glow with cerulean light.
And springs into action, reducing the snow under her into a pile of dirt.
Sensing the approaching monster, Kohaku jumps back and grabs her sword from the ground.
Hidden inside a bamboo-broom, it is the sword that has served her well so far.
But now, before this enemy, she feels… fear.
She feels that her sword can simply break.
Blade flashes, and the magic crashes, the two forces meet in a wild whirlwind-melee that threatens to engulf their surroundings.
It is purely a physical confrontations, made so blindingly fast that even Shirou would not be able to keep up with it, were he to look.
Powered by the excess prana in her legs, Luvia uses her lower limbs like talons, rending towards Kohaku.
In perfect harmony, the two legs become more than weapons and start approaching the territory of enemy themselves.
It could be said that Kohaku was fighting against three opponents.
“-----Haaaa!”
Her good hand is struck against the ground, supporting her weight, and Luvia spins around, her legs striking at Kohaku, who responds with her sword.
A raging dance of the weapons, blows scattering in the air like a wildfire, creating sparks.
—Kohaku’s sword, as fast as it might be, it losing. Her attack is only one, while, Luvia, becoming a human hurricane, delivers at least five in the same amount of time.
To call that fight bizarre would have done it no justice.
The sheer speed of the two girls, Luvia’s footwork and Kohaku’s swordsplay, becoming forces of nature in direct opposition.
There was haunting beauty to it, as the red and blue intertwined in a battle to the death.
The deadly flashes of the steel blade are broken by the innumerable attacks that flail at Kohaku from all sides.
Whether it is the air or the ground, Luvia moves like a beast, attacking with her legs.
The elegance of it is in the natural wildness of the technique.
It is not about flawless executions.
It is about being better than your opponent in every aspect.
The bloodshot eyes of the blonde magus tell of a story, a story of a technique that, in its core, is meant to “win”.
—Double Life, Ever Might.
The cry at the skies of winter, to become the strongest there is.
The moment of beginning for the Edelfelt.
Through the bloodied haze of battle, Kohaku, for the moment, saw that scene.
With the small, flaxed-haired girl staring up at the moon on the clear blue sky, in the middle of white.
It all started with that single girl.
And it all came together in Luvia, the strongest of her bloodline.
Truly, she does not have a limit.
Under her noble exterior hides a ferocious predator, just like her homeland. Beauty that hides death.
She is Luviagelita Edelfelt:
—Beauty and Beast.
Too late, Kohaku realizes just what she was up against. Her sword, as fast as it is, is not meant against an enemy like that.
Had she been a half-blood, Kohaku’s victory would have been sealed.
But now, against something that had simply removed their limitations as a human, she was…
“—Useless, isn’t this?”
Kohaku whispered.
The air explodes once more to a flurry of attacks and counter-attacks, blades and feet cutting the air to ribbons.
The acrobatic movement is performed at breakneck speeds, causing both the combatants to slide away from each other.
Kohaku’s sword has drawn a long cut to the side of Luvia.
Luvia’s right feet just destroyed three of Kohaku’s ribs.
And yet, both of them smile in lame satisfaction.
“I want to my own destiny. A one where I am the only one. To seek my own happiness, is there true selfishness in that?”
Kohaku’s words were asked with a surprisingly calm voice.
Her sword stung like a bee, creating a web of death in the air, but the blue comet that was the blonde magus did not stop for a moment.
“—It is about becoming what you want, despite what those who observe you desire. Writers, authors, viewers, readers… I want life beyond them!”
And then, without any warning, Kohaku cast aside the scabbard of her blade.
There was a quick move, and a horn-like shape suddenly shone in the air.
The black, sleek barrel was trained straight at Luvia, who ran like the wind.
Thompson Contender.
A Mystic Code.
Stolen from its owner.
“Tell me, Luvia-san! What is wrong in what I am trying to do!?”
Gunshots broke the air, and the sword stayed at the side, forgotten. With an expert-like movement, every shot bullet was replaced by Kohaku with a new one.
The blazing fires pierced the air, searching for their target: the blonde magus.
Luvia, becoming nothing but a blur, moved closer and closer to Kohaku. The wings on her leg shone and screamed, creating fountains of prana that streamed after her.
Like a mirage moving at the speed of thought, Luvia approached Kohaku.
One more bullet. One more step.
And then the two forces collided.
Crashing sound. Broken parts of the gun flew everywhere as Luvia’s leg destroyed both the gun and the bones in Kohaku’s left hand.
The maid stared in fear at the sight of the magus.
“—H-how!? How did you…!?”
Kohaku’s words died in the chill of the night. She saw the oozing blood. She saw the popping veins. She saw the burning Magic Circuits, which forcefully repaired themselves.
—Blood colored the blue jets of prana behind Luvia.
And yet, she smiled at the maid. A dark, gentle smile.
“To destroy it, I could not dodge. There was no other choice.”
There were at least seven bullet holes in her body.
And yet, Luvia smiled.
“I simply had to have the resolve of them?”
Kohaku, grasping her sword once more, stared at Luvia with anger and dread.
“The resolve of who!?”
Explosion of movement, a blue glint closing in the distance between the two in a fraction of a second.
Kohaku was unable to even realize what had happened.
Before she could raise her sword, a knee collided with her stomach.
“The resolve of all the women…!!”
Luvia’s power, before the eyes of Kohaku, was brilliant to behold.
And her shout became synonymous with the expression of anger and hope on her face.
“…Who crawled through mud to become heroines on their own!!”
The finishing move, a roundhouse kick from above, was so powerful that it ruptured the earth below them.
And with that move that signaled the defeat of their leader, the army that had been slowly engulfing the city, was finally brought to stop.
It spread like a wildfire, and soon enough all the robotic maids had come to a full halt, simply staring ahead in their confusion.
The one who had been issuing commands for them had suddenly stopped completely, her brain-activity having all but vanished.
The most autonomous versions of the mechas even questioned about what had happened, confusedly trying to see if they could find their leader.
But it was only Luvia who, at the moment, knew what had happened to Kohaku.
—After all, the maid lay in her arms, passed out.
Supporting Kohaku’s frail form with her only good arm, Luvia, exhausted beyond belief, looked behind her.
There, she saw the face of the young man who had fought with her till the very end.
He was beaten, he was bruised, and yet, he was smiling.
It was the sort of smile that Luvia could not help but to reflect back at him.
“So…?”
In the strange silence, Luvia was the first to speak up.
“Do you think we could talk…? After we host the Christmas Day special?”
Shirou scratched his chin, before nodding vigorously and giving a slight grin.
Even though he had to support himself by his sword, he looked happy.
Very, very happy.
As happy as a man who has discovered something he had not thought possible.
“I’d love that.”
Shirou said, and took Luvia’s hand on his own.
The End.
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Originally Posted by RadiantBeam
