The little girl was having a dream.
An unpleasant one, to be sure: Seven lights surrounded her, burning like blood-soaked stars. Her body was being set ablaze: It hurt, it hurt, it hurt...
Then, she woke up, her silver hair drenched with cold sweat. The little girl forced her raging heart to calm down.
She was used to such visions, after all. It was her fate.
The fate of a homunculus designed to host the Holy Grail inside her.
The fate of an expendable life whose sole purpose was to serve as fuel for the never-ending greed of mankind.
Yet, she never hated her cruel fate. If she were to describe her emotions towards her imminent future, rage or sadness would never cross her mind.
How could she hate it, when said fate brought her so many beautiful memories?
For a "senseless existence" like her, whose original purpose was to act as an emotionless wish-maker, it was truly a precious, priceless life.
Getting the chance to experience the love of a mother, the warmth of a father...
Experiencing what it meant to have a family, to have someone who would care about you not as a tool, but as a living being.
Yeah, Illyasviel Emiya von Einzbern was truly grateful for the life the gods bestowed upon her.
If she had a complain about it, it would probably be about how little time she had to enjoy such feelings. Now, even the few remaining days she could spend at the Emiya residence felt too short.
Well, no point in crying over spilled milk. She still had many beautiful memories that no one could take away from her, that would suffice.
And she had a duty to fulfill, too.
Well, not exactly a duty. After all, her father never wanted to impose such burden on the shoulders of the silver-haired girl. Not that she thought about it as an oath either.
Maybe promise was a more precise word.
The promise that she would stop the Holy Grail War.
With far more energy than a little girl should have, she tossed apart the sheets and ran to the kitchen, where the breakfast was already served, looking almost edible. The burnt crisps were like a signature of Taiga's cooking, and one of the few things that separated it from attempted poisoning. She would thank her later, anyway. After all, she cooked for her, and even tried to clean up the kitchen afterwards.
Illyasviel (Or Illya, as Taiga called her) finished her plate and began to clean the house, which could be summed up as a lost war between the little girl and the battlefield that, probably around 8 o'clock, could still be called a kitchen. Taiga's attempts to tidy the room only made things worse, but well, at least she tried, and the burnt marks would probably go away after a few hours of cleaning... Probably.
Illyasviel proceeded to clean everything with mechanical efficiency. In less than two hours, every spot of the house was practically shinning, and even the scorched marks seemed to have a little decency, going away without making much of a fuss. Now, the snow-like homunculus had all the time in the world to make the preparations for the ritual and put things with her classmates in order.
Well, she already had everything she needed for the summoning, and there was not much to put in order anyway. Taiga called and told her teachers that Illya wasn't feeling very good, and that she would probably need to spend some days at home. Two days already passed, and she could extend it for another two or three. After that, well... Maybe getting scolded wouldn't be her most important problem.
So she decided to spend the rest of the day with Taiga.
It wasn't the first time she went to Taiga's school, and in fact most of the teachers knew Illya by her name now. She usually caused some ruckus within the class, but Taiga's lectures weren't exactly peaceful anyway.
She arrived at lunch break, so the place was full of noise and people. Illya liked that. After spending half of her life inside the walls of the castle, surrounded by homunculus, she liked the company of humans. They were lively, usually making a ruckus for even the smallest details, while the creations of the Einzbern were always mechanical and, to put it into words, way too perfect. In comparison humans were clumsy, silly and even sometimes flat out stupid, but she liked it. No, she enjoyed it. For someone who was supposed to be a perfect being, their little everyday conflicts were like a treasure. They were something worth fighting for.
Above the noise, a conversation picked up Illya's interest. Two students were talking to a third one. Well, to be more precise, a female student was interrogating a male one while a third was watching them, emotionless.
"What happened to Sakura?" Asked the female one, in a voice that implied that an unsatisfactory answer would likely end in something that would make the Apocalypse look like a child's game "Why hasn't she come to school today?"
"For the tenth time, that arrogant bitch wasn't feeling well this weekend, so she decided to stay home for a few days!" The man shivered, his body jumping to avoid a kick that had too much strength for the thin legs of the black-haired girl, catching the attention of the nearby students "Ah! Have you gone mad? Emiya, stop her!"
The third student replied with an indifferent look, shrugging his shoulders. Illya quickly recognized them.
Matou Shinji, Tohsaka Rin, Kotomine Shirou.
Then, a chill ran through her spine.
The one who hadn't uttered a word was looking in her direction, his colorless eyes piercing through Illya's tiny body.
He wasn't looking at her with hatred or malice, not even joy or curiosity. His stare was empty.
The emotion that those eyes held was far beyond indifference. It didn't just pierce her, it passed through her with ease, like a knife would pass through empty space.
Then, the emotionless face contorted into a condescending smile. His eyes closed for a second, becoming full of something that could be called compassion.
"Tohsaka, stop. It's obvious that he didn't have anything to do with Sakura's absence, he's just too coward to do anything to her." Bluntly stated the red-haired boy "Anyway, looks like we have a lost child over here."
Using the distraction, Shinji escaped Rin's reach, running through the confussed students. She sighted.
"You know that he's up to nothing good, right?" Muttered the black-haired girl, annoyed.
"Let him be. Getting labeled as bullies doesn't help us either, right? Anyway, we should take this child to miss Taiga's class." Replied the boy, walking towards the silver-haired doll.
And then, Illya saw it.
A gentle smile, full of sincerity and good intentions, and a firm yet friendly hand stretching towards her.
"Hi Illya! do you want to see miss Taiga?"
The voice of the boy was calid and peaceful, his whole being irradiating a goodness that most saints could never achieve.
He was like a warm sun, attracting everyone towards him, as they comfortably danced across his orbit.
It wasn't the first time she saw that man. He was sometimes in Taiga's class, almost always looking at the window with a bored expression, but this was her first time talking to him, to that person who looked full of sincerity and good intentions. If she hadn't met his stare before, she would be wondering how someone like Kirei could raise a boy that looked so ordinary, but now she knew the truth about him.
About the fake known as Kotomine Shirou.
----------
The fog began to gradually fade.
In the center of the circle, an imposing figure was standing, waiting for orders. Opposing him were only two human beings: A young woman and an old man.
Both had crimson stigmas carved in their right hands.
The woman raised hers, with a dim light still emanating from the seals, showing the creature her authority. It made a reverence, acknowledging her.
"It's perfect, grandfather." She expressed her satisfaction, while the old man simply smiled.
"Yes, with both Berserker and my Servant, the Grail will finally descend upon the Makiri household, as it should've rightfully done centuries ago."
"Oh, but wasn't it due to your own incompetence during the previous wars that we haven't obtained the Grail yet, gramps?" Taunted the girl with a sardonic smile.
"I won't tolerate such impudence a second time, Sakura." Replied the old man, killing instinct emanating from every ounce of his body. Sensing the danger to the one in charge of the Command Spells, Berserker's prana began to accelerate, taking the form of blood-drenched lightning, only to be stopped by Sakura's sheer pressure.
"Just kidding, guess I felt a bit too euphoric after summoning my Servant." Replied the purple-haired girl, tossing the old man a faint smile "But you should take caution too, gramps. Berserker is really difficult to control, and who knows how it could react to a threat to it's master."
After launching her veiled threat, Sakura began to walk towards the armored warrior, anxious to test the limits of the skills of the Servant she summoned. A few steps back, Zouken couldn't help but remember how different things were in the fourth war.
Kariya was the exact opposite of the Tohsaka's discarded child. While he was just a spoiled brat with no talent, she was a genuine prodigy which far exceeded anyone in the last iterations of the Makiri. He molded her, turning the once innocent girl into the greatest weapon at his disposal. In return, her whole life became just a tool for the old man to use. Without external interferences, she had grown into the perfect heir for Zouken.
The dark queen of the Makiri.
Sometimes, the old man wondered if she taught her far too well. Recently, even she was beginning to grow out of his control. Giving her the Berserker class was in fact his own attempt to hinder her, in case she decided to turn against him. The ridiculous prana consumption of the mad warrior should at least hinder her abilities a little, until she became a pure vessel that not even himself could control anymore.
Well, if things came to worst, he had already prepared a counter-measure. It couldn't be helped, he didn't outlive Nagato and Justeaze by growing attached to others.
For the time being, he was satisfied with the results, at least partially. The servants his heirs summoned recently tended to have the annoying ability to hide their true natures, so the old man couldn't see anything about the silver-clad warrior's skills, although he could sense that they were of the highest class. Well, he could let others find out more about Sakura's Servant once the battles began. In fact, he would make sure that they had at least a taste of that cursed broadsword, coated in a suffocating bloodlust.
And so, the fifth Servant of the war was summoned.
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