A Stolen Heart

[ItsaRandomUsername]

I meant the "watching anime with you" part.

[Aladar]

Since all of you went and started giving my fic soundtrack, I thought I'd give you the few songs that serve as my... energizer when writing A Stolen Heart and the one that I think fit its atmosphere the most.

Two main themes:

The Servants- Cells (Instrumental Version)

Mozart l'opéra Rock- Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - no idea what the lyrics actually mean but the whole thing, the delivery of the lyrics included, sounds just right. And that female singer sounds just... wow.

Other themes:

Darling Violetta- A Smaller God - for the more... *ahem* intimate scenes

Marilyn Manson- mObscene - for some action scenes

Opinions?

[Sherrinford]

Marilyn Manson- mObscene - for some action scenes

Well, we haven't seen action scenes yet...

Try to check out "Manfred Symphony" by Tchaikovsky, it should work as a "background" soundtrack...

[Aladar]

Chapter IV:
Following The Cherry Petal Trail

The Narrows.


The filthiest, nastiest most downtrodden and wretched part of a whole city built upon blood, lies and betrayals. It was the hive of the worst kinds of scumbags and lowlifes, where even some of the other gangs from the city feared to thread. While an outsider would have said that the Narrows, a maze of backstreets and run-down alleys that encircled the whole city, were like a pack of dirty hungry mutts that had trapped the prim and the proper, it was the other way around. The city of sin had the nasty habit of pushing out all its filth into the Narrows, both metaphorical and not. Like some kind of twisted urban version of the dark and gloomy forests from fairy-tales, the Narrows accepted those dregs of societies that even the other carrions from the city would despise. It was the Banished Land- where the gangs sent those of their members who got carried away just too much with slicing and dicing and the whole rape, pillage and burn shtick. It was the place for the kind of crooks who were into ‘playing’ with little children or too busy knifing their own mothers.

Aye, one could easily say that when the toughest, nastiest, meanest bubs in the city had nightmares, they dreamt of being stuck in the Narrows.

That was why it had been such a surprise when Sherwood had claimed the… neighbourhood as their base of operations. No self-respecting gang would even dare claim such a junkyard as their territory but I and many others had the sinking suspicion that the Greens had claimed it precisely because of what it was. After all, no matter how humiliated and frothing at the mouth with rage the mafia were, they would never even near a place so harsh on their prim and proper noses that were used only to the scent of different perfumes and most definitely not the stench of garbage.

In a sense, by balancing on the rustiest of razor edges, the Merry Men wannabes had found the perfect hideout for when they needed to lay low after their umpteenth hit-and-run against some mafioso’s speakeasy.

And while there was enough logic for me to believe why precisely they had chosen the place, there was not nearly enough of logic in the world for me to understand while one Shinji Matou would be sharing that particular hideout with the Sherwoods. I frankly didn’t know whether Ryuu had just been scared stiff enough to dig up some info so fast or he and his pals had just noticed them loitering around their territory beforehand. Either way, not even two days after I had… requested the toothless viper’s services, I found a very interesting letter in my mailbox. The handwriting was appalling and he had somehow deemed it necessary to omit the g-s at the end of most words and swap them with apostrophes even when he was writing the damn stuff, not saying it.

Why precisely was a mystery I would probably never solve but what was important was that the… mockery of a letter, for the lack of better word, informed me that the Matou had been recently seen in the Narrows with five or so other lads his age.

A rundown ruin of a bar, which maybe a hundred years ago had been a most respectful establishment, was pointed out as their usual hanging spot. The whole thing just raised my suspicions- for a blueblood mafia heir like Shinji to stoop so low as to prowl around the Narrows meant only two things.

He was either very guilty or very scared.

And that was how I found myself in front of the old smelly bar, with right hand buried in my pocket and clutching my trusty revolver tightly. Truth to be told I often forced myself to forget that it had been a present from Archer, the gunslinger that he was, for a birthday of mine years before.

Always leave one empty when loading- for deception.

That had been his suggestion as the best shot on the Force, both back then and now. But at that particular stifling night back in the Narrows, when even the grim clouds above were too damn stubborn to give us folks some cooling rain, I couldn’t help but ask myself why I hadn’t loaded all six bullets. I may have been a big predator, but even a hound like me wouldn’t have been much of a problem for the bigger packs of hyenas prowling around.

Still, I had made a promise to the little goddess (and, in a sense, to Bazett) and there was no turning back.

Not that I needed much of an encouragement really, considering the woman’s screams coming from within, loud enough to be picked up from three blocks away. It seemed that I wasn’t Shinji’s only guest that night but, most certainly, I was the only one crazy enough to be willingly there. The dilapidated double doors didn’t take much persuasion to open widely.

One kick was enough.

Fortunately, my grand entrance seemed to have gathered all the occupants’ attention. Along with the lad dressed in a somewhat dirtied purple suit, one probably expensive enough for an heir to a mafia family to wear, five other slimy gits were gathered around the pool table.

Which, in and of itself, wasn’t a bad thing, if one was willing to leave the half-naked lass pinned down to said table out of the picture.

And even without her pleading hazel eyes, bloodshot from all the tears, I still would’ve done what I was about to do. At least she didn’t seem to have let them get her easily. Most of the Matou’s goons sported swollen lips and bruised eyes. One’s mouth, noticeably missing several teeth, was still bleeding.

“Now excuse me, lads,” I greeted and tipped my hat. “But I’ve to ask you to release that lass over there. And after you’ve scampered away from here to whatever shit-filled hiding hole you’ve crawled out from, I was hopping on having a little talk with Mr. Matou here.”

For reasons unfathomable, they didn’t seem to be glad to see me. It was kind of a shock really.

“Who the hell do ya think ya are, pops?” blurted out Bloody Mouth, finding some difficulty forming words with his bunch of missing teeth. Or maybe he was just daft like that. “You a copper or sumthin’? Well, too bad fer ya ‘cause the law ain’t got no place ‘ere in the Narrows.”

“I’m a PI, folks, so I don’t see how that copper problem concern me,” I replied with a shrug. Inwardly I wondered who would be the first stupid enough to try something funny.

The one who had been busy with ‘massaging’ the lass’s breasts up until then turned out to be the lucky one. With a loud and grating roar, he raised his fists and apparently thought he was tough enough to knock me out in one hit. It was a pathetic try, sloppy, uncoordinated attack. It was way too easy for me to grab hold of his wrist, break it and then use his own hand to pull him down. I didn’t even bother try to pass my expecting knee crashing into his face and probably breaking all of his teeth, plus the nose, as an accident.

“I actually got kicked out of the Force, lads,” I said in deadpan and proceed to grind the bones inside the masseuse’s fingers into tiny little pieces with the sole of my shoe. No more massaging for him, I decided. “Some shit about police brutality, y’know how it happens. A lad gets frustrated easily when he sees a bunch of shits like you messing around with women, he gets angry, breaks a few dozen bones or so. And then the boss shows him the door. Now, that’s when I just get frustrated. If I get angry, angry for real-“

I let them hear the crunch of his bones, snapping like twigs under my foot, to get my point across more easily.

“-You better run, lads.”

Shinji, probably thanks to all the private tutors his folks had most certainly paid a fortune to drill some sort of intelligence into his empty head, seemed to take my hint. The blue-haired lad put his hands up in the air and did the relatively smart thing of ordering his goons back. Looking at me as if I was nothing more than a dirty gum stuck to his snake-skin shoe, Shinji Matou plastered the greasiest of smiles on his face and tried negotiating.

He would find later on that I was a big fan of negotiations. The aggressive kind, mostly.

“Now, now, Mr. Detective, let us not be hasty. I and my boys here might have gotten a bit carried away with the dame but there’s no need for such brutal violence. You said you wanted to speak to me about something,” said the blue-haired lad and narrowed his beady little eyes at me. “What is it?”

“It’s about the murder of your little sister, Mr. Matou. It seemed that she disappeared right after you two had a rather nasty argument the other night. And no one seems to have seen you ever since, too. Now, as a smart lad like you can tell, that’s rather incriminating. I’d be glad to hear what you’ve to say for yourself.”

A cold laugh filled the dingy bar.

“Oh, rest assured, Mr. Detective, I’m not some boorish… brute who’d kill his own blood,” said Shinji and sniggered. “I may have thought that… cheating whore I lesson on what happens when you betray the future patriarch of the family but to kill her? Never, Mr. Detective. I loved her, we’ve loved each other since childhood and then she’d go and cheat on me with my OWN FRIEND!”

The Matou’s little speech was rapidly turning into a spoiled brat’s temper tantrum. He was nearly frothing at the mouth at the end.

“Quite the interesting claims you have, Mr. Matou,” I said and lit up my cigarette. “But you have to admit that raping your own sister doesn’t particularly remove you as the top suspect. Go figure.”

“You don’t seem to understand,” exclaimed Shinji and theatrically buried his face in his palm. “I could care less about who offed Sakura. What’s important is that whoever was the one that killed that backstabbing bitch, he was after the Matous. And I’m certain you would understand why I can’t let you leave this place, Mr. Detective, when there is someone out there targeting my family. My location is a rather… sensitive piece of information right now.”

A beat passed.

“Kill him.”

The lad was apparently dead-set on giving me more and more reasons to bash his skull in, heir to the Matous or not. True, I may have gotten carried away for a moment, judging by how one of his goons had somehow managed to draw a gun before I could. Still, in a way that I couldn’t have predicated in a million years, things turned out fine.

The knife that zipped past my ears gleefully embedded itself deep into the arm that was holding the pistol. A second blade followed soon after, catching the guy right between the eyes. Shinji excluded, three left.

“The years catching up to you, Lancer, ole’ pal o’mine?”

Tossing giddily into the air yet another knife, none other than Ryuunosuke Uryuu, or Plissken as he fancied himself as of recently, casually strolled into the rundown bar. There was not even a sign of the panicky lad that I had found fiddling with stolen cars no more than two days ago. It seemed that even without fangs, the viper could still bite.

Not that I could complain, given the particular situation.

“And what are you doing here, pup?” I asked while still keeping an eye on the rapidly-panicking goons who were still standing.

“Well, we of Sherwood decided that we don’t want ‘em guys wandering ‘round our turf anymore. And I decided to volunteer, considering I knew that my man Lancer was going to be around sniffing as well.”

“Don’t push your luck, pup,” I said and let out a hoarse, bark-like laugh. “And I thought you said you Sherwood folks were doing community services and stuff.”

One of the goons decided to seize the unexisting opening and smash our heads open a billiard cue. A spectacularly idiotic move, considering that blood was gushing out of his throat before I could even squeeze the trigger. I may have never showed it, but deep down it almost scared me how light Ryuu was on his feet. The remaining two decided their sorry lives apparently were worth more money than Shinji could give them so they tried to scram out of the place as fast as they could.

Courtesy of my gun, one received free ventilation for his head. Or whatever was left of it. The other got a shiny new switchblade between the shoulders.

The Matou, seeing the tables turned around on him so fast, reverted to the sniveling worm that he was on the inside. However, crawling between the broken tables and trying to escape in the crossfire wasn’t the most ingenious of plans one could come up with. Soon enough, we were having a friendly chat over a barrel of rainwater. His head was mostly in the barrel, but still, I tried to be friendly. The majority of his teeth were mostly intact- I needed him to speak after all. I sent Ryuu back to escort the lass out of the Narrows and went out of my way to remind him how a gentleman should act.

I could’ve taken him in for all the killing he did, but like one of Shinji’s mooks had said, the law had no place in the Narrows. So I like to think of it as poetic justice.

“I told you I didn’t kill her!” almost shrieked out my reluctant ‘informant’ when I pulled him out for a breather. “I wouldn’t kill my own cousin, dammit! I loved her and we were blood, I told you!”

“That water getting into your brain, lad? She was your little sister, remember?”

“Like Hell! Uncle Kariya knocked up Tokiomi’s bitch way back when and took the baby in ‘cause the Tohsakas didn’t want her. And then he had to unofficially adopt me, or at least pretend to, ‘cause there was no way she’d succeed him as the head of the family. And that’s why Uncle and Tokiomi hated their guts that much, ‘cause of that Aoi bitch and Sakura!”

For unfathomable reasons, my investigation was rapidly turning into a soap opera. I decided to let Shinji freshen up a bit more.

“It must’ve been the Tohsakas that offed her, I’m telling you! They have all the motives! Not too long ago they tried hiring Emiya’s people to kill Uncle! We didn’t know why they decided to make their move so suddenly but we had paid a lot of money to Emiya beforehand to be on our side. So the Tohsakas didn’t know that they had just outright warned us by hiring his people. Emiya sent one of his elite goons to guard Uncle but he got the damn idea that they needed a decoy so he had that goon kill my own father and ditch him on the streets for the Tohsakas and the whole world to see! And then, after proclaiming that his ‘drunkard of a twin had finally done something useful’, the bastard went into hiding along with that new bodyguard of his!”

It seemed that there was a whole bloody conspiracy behind all this, with me now playing the unnecessary intruder trying to sort out all the lies and secrets intertwined into one big messed-up web. Never let it be said that this hound’s life was easy. The fact that I would need to pay the Tohsaka household a visit later on filled me with rather… uncertain feelings considering a certain cat that prowled there.

“Atta boy! Now, before I go, one last question…” I started before submerging the bastard’s head one last time.

***

It was astounding how accurate information could a half-drowned man give you.

His description of the place’s location was spot-on, down to the color of the old mailbox on the other side of the street. Which was quite useful, considering that despite the trade it dealt in, this particular establishment didn’t have a red light hanging above it to make recognition easier. And it was no wonder, considering the usual clientele that place must have handled. It may have been in Lowtown, the Cradle of Thieves and the territory of the majority of gangs in the city, but the interior was lavish enough to make even a senator be giddy to visit. And senators had probably most certainly visited that place, but they must had been giddy for other reasons, if my hunch was right.

Good thing that Shinji had been gracious enough to lend me some money, too, because even with knowing the password (Ambrosia), it had taken one considerable greasing of palms for the guard to let someone like me in. The Madame, a stunning young woman with teal hair and somewhat pointy ears, was quite cheerful and welcoming at first. Alas, questioning my target apparently ranked as bad for her business for some reason. Again, thank the heavens for Shinji’s willingness to give away money. I ended up being forced to pay for a session so I could talk with this Rider woman.

Even as I obediently followed the Madame down one of the side corridors, I was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the case. The piercing gaze of a blonde dressed up in a positively criminal schoolgirl outfit felt like peering right into my soul. The sway of the most stunning pair of hips, belonging to a dame in a Chinese quipao with a slit up almost to her breasts, were like hypnotizing. In a side room, a redhead and a raven-haired beauty, certainly too young to be in such a place- both of them dressed in little dresses seemingly from the last century yet showing enough skin to make you go mad- were intertwining their bodies in an endless dance of passion. And to a nose as trained as mine, the mixed aromas of perfumes and exotic aphrodisiacs filling the air were enough to push me on the verge of seeing in duplicate. The velvet voice of an unseen songstress performing a jazz version of some siren’s song seemed to come in from all directions. And from behind closed doors came moans of pleasure just loud enough to be heard over the music.

The hound inside me howled in thanks to whatever god had led him to this heaven. The detective in me damned this hell, which had sent my reasoning spiraling down into oblivion.

But no matter how strong a hold this world of lust had on me, it was all gone the second I set foot inside the room meant for me and my… companion for the night.

Even to this day, maybe because I really had been half-drugged back then, I can’t accept nothing else than divinity as her origin.

Her purple hair, almost the same color as the little goddess’s, was spread over the crimson sheets like silk over cheap satin. Every strand of it seemed to pick up the light pouring from the crystal chandelier above and sparkle like a little star each and every time she moved. A sound akin to that of snakes slithering through fallen leaves filled the room as she stood up from the bed oh-so-slowly. The velvet sheet couldn’t fall off her fast enough, instead hugging her curvaceous body tightly and sliding down bit by bit, as if jealous of revealing her body to anyone else. The way her chest- breasts of shape and size that could make even the little goddess green with envy- rose up with each of her wistful breaths drove me crazy. Despite the length of her lustrous hair, not even a strand dared hide the divine view from me. Her skin was like marble- as if someone had created a visage of Aphrodite herself in human form and then breathed life into it. And while she remained hidden from the waist down by those thrice-damned sheets, her eyes remained hidden as well. A silver blindfold hid them from view but to me it seemed even more maddening, as if it was left there to cover a part of her skin on purpose, while everything else was left for me to see.

The ultimate of teases.

Once again the sound of slithering snakes was heard- the sound of the chains shackling her to the bed being moved around.

“And what does the good detective want with me, I wonder?” drawled out the beauty, her voice like velvet. The Madame had apparently warned her about me beforehand.

I’m yet to determine how exactly I managed to snap out of my trance, but the detective inside me somehow managed to reply on time.

“I heard that you were quite close to Sakura Matou. Sadly, as you probably know from the papers already, some freak decided to end her life prematurely. I was wondering if you could help me with the investigation.”

A wistful look passed over the goddess’s features, even if only for a mere moment. Lying back on the bed, she turned to face me and answered.

“It’s true that Sakura and I had a… special connection. She was like a collector, someone longing to savor the pleasures of flesh. Like me. Between the two of us, we could share ecstasy like none that any other man or woman could give us.”

A lithe hand cupped her firm breast before sliding down beneath the sheets in search of a certain area between her thighs. Once again the sound of slithering snakes could be heard and the way she arched her back and moaned quietly, biting down on her lower lip, drove a deep wedge in my defense lines. By that time I was certain that not only the case, but my sanity, too, was hinging on my mental fortitude.

“And during all your… sessions, did she mentioning something troubling her? Someone that could want to see her, let’s say, in bad health?” I asked.

The ruby lips curved into a smile.

“You aren’t just some ordinary sleuth to have come all the way here, are you, Detective?” asked the goddess as she slid out from beneath the sheets, drawing close to me like a snake nearing her helpless pray. The chains stopped her advance a mere meter before she could finally reach me and she was left standing there in all her naked glory.

“Let’s say that I’d like nothing more than see this case solved and the murderer caught. A personal interest, lass, if you could call it that.”

“Oh?”was her only answer. Deep in thought, the goddess of lust pondered something for a minute before deciding to give me a chance. “Aside from her no-good cousin, whom she knew was too scared of her father to hurt her seriously, there was one other not particularly fond of her affair with Shirou Emiya. Another girl, a cruel and vicious girl who didn’t shy from showing her hate to Sakura when they happened to be alone, was infatuated with the boy. And I can’t help but wonder, Detective, are you brave enough to walk into the Einzbern’s castle and demand to question their daughter, Illyasviel von Eizbern, about this case. Will you cave in before the might of one of the three families?”

I had already shot down the advances of the Tohsaka’s scion and had half-drowned the future patriarch of the Matous. What was one more to get a full set?

“Oh, rest assured. That’s a triviality to me,” I replied with a shrug. I knew what I was getting into from the moment I picked up that case.

Or at least I thought I did.

I was about to turn to leave when her velvet voice froze me on the spot.

“I’ve been so dreadfully lonely ever since Sakura can’t visit me. And I think, Detective, that you can only gain a better understanding of my late lover if you taste the nectar of the gods she has tasted, if you life through all the heavens of pleasure she has experienced so many times.”

An extended hand was waiting for me when I turned back to face her.

“Quite poetic, eh, lass? Is there even a single person in this world who can keep such a promise?”

“Oh, Detective,” she drawled. “Do not mistake my honesty with being boastful.”

Her lips were parted oh-so-invitingly, colored a deep crimson, like a blossoming rose.

And who was this hound to refuse a lady?

[Sherrinford]

So, it's an overdose of Lancer today? Good, good...

And with this, we have scratched a bit of Matous' little dirty secrets...

[Bloble]

And so Rider gets stabbed by Lancer's spear once more...

And THE GRIT! IT IS EVEN MORE!

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Considering what he's going through, Lancer kind of deserves this.

[Alulim]

Agreed, so much of this.


Unless something changes...

[ItsaRandomUsername]

DAIDS.

Divine AIDS.

NUUUUUUOOOOO

[Altima of the Gates]

Heh, so Lancer just got half of his 'advance payment' for this case.
Now to go back to Rin and get the other half.

[Aladar]

Chapter V:

A Winter Fairy’s Wonderland

It felt like a dream.


Like one of those twisted kind of dreams you got after mixing up every brand of alcohol there is in the bar and then adding something extra special to the mix to make things even better.

True, my vision wasn’t flashing in a nonsensical array of all the rainbow’s colors and there was a noticeable lack of midget dragons so far. And yet the whole thing felt so surreal… like a world from across the looking glass. It was a grim and gritty castle from the outside, a proud relic of a forgotten past still stubbornly refusing to let go of this world and just dilapidate. The gargoyles perching atop the front gate had welcomed me with looks akin to those of birds of prey eyeing a teensy-tiny mouse. And the hound had been forced to pick up his pace, like a scared pup scurrying away from chasing predators. Dozens of more devilish beasts were lined up onto the castle’s walls.

Forever watching. Ever vigilant.

They were the silent guardians of the equally silent keep, as much a part of it as they were individuals. And their piercing glares warned me of what possible repercussions awaited me if I dared disturb the piece in their century-old home. Aye, the castle of the Einzberns was the finishing touch to this city of sins. Like in a set in a cheap crossover between villain franchises, the castle served as the proverbial Dracula’s hideout, neighboring a city of blood-thirsty Tommy gun-wielding gangsters. Somehow, it both managed to look so out of place next to the urban metropolis and seemed to be a vital part of it as much as any of the giants of glass and metal that made up the city itself.

An unholy matrimony, if you could call it one.

When I had knocked on the main entrance I felt like I had been calling the devil himself to greet me. Or, considering what kind of people lived in this city of sins, I thought probably someone even worse would show up on the doorstep. A pair of double-doors towered over me as if to warn me that the ancient building could eat me whole at any moment, perhaps leaving my old fedora behind as a memory to the old hound that had found his untimely death there. And, indeed, the doors opened up in a manner similar of a great beast yawning widely, seemingly getting ready to swallow his unsuspecting prey.

The man who had greeted me I had taken for Frankenstein’s bastard child with some of the uglier hookers prowling around the city. The man’s proportions defied natural laws, and like an unholy mix between a bear and a man, he towered over me in a way a full-grown man would tower over a small child. The arms that had pushed open the heavy doors were as thick as tree trunks and his legs were like two concrete pillars cut short and stuck beneath a human-sized building. The wild unkempt hair falling down his shoulders and his dark skin made him look like one of those wildling people out of the latest Lost World movie. He truly was a fearsome sight.

Or he would’ve been, if not for the immaculate suit that he was dressed in. Three grown men could’ve probably gotten into his clothes and there would still have been plenty of room for more. For a moment back then, all I could think of had been what kind of tailor could make a suit so gigantic. And then I had remembered my purpose of visiting that God-forsaken place at all.

“Excuse me, I’m Private Investigator Set Lancer,” I had said and tipped my fedora at the hulking man in a vain attempt to appeal to him. “I called earlier and Miss Einzbern agreed to meet with me tonight.”

What he had thought of me had been made abundantly clear back then. The way his beady eyes had glared at me and the low growl that had come out of the back of his throat had truly told me more than any words could have ever said. But despite obviously disliking his orders, the hulking man had allowed me to enter the lavish castle. I faintly remember having heard the roar of thunder outside when the double doors had ominously closed behind me, an omen of the most clichéd of kinds.

And then the gigantic butler had directed me to a small hall on the first floor, the place where the strange dream actually began.

While the outside of the castle was grimly stereotypical in its own way and the main hall was lavish and grandeur enough to have been taken out of some king or queen’s own home, the room I was now seemed to defy logic.

The archaic room, sporting a far ceiling high enough to make a man feel like a little pup, housed both regal furniture and things that one could only find in a child’s room. Noble crimson overlapped with girly pink in a surreal way that made me think I was currently stuck in two worlds, not one. An imposing round table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded both by little toy chairs and heavily-ornamented antique ones, towering over their smaller counterparts. On the table itself the picture was similar- expensive silverware and china cups shared space with tiny forks and knives out of a child’s playing set. Positioned on the chairs, both big and small, was an assortment of dolls and plush toys varying in shapes and sizes.

The whole situation felt… wrong.

In this reception hall obviously meant only for the rich and those of noble birth, dolls and plushies and toys littered the floor, some comically small, some big enough to make me think that maybe I had been the one that had shrunk upon entering.

Aye, that world was a Wonderland.

And in the most regal of the armchairs that were currently surrounding the table, stood the mistress of this realm. A tiny and pale, almost fragile thing dressed in a queenly outfit of purple and white. Her seemingly innocent red eyes were currently drilling a hole straight into my naked soul and the way her snow-white hair flickered under the artificial light made her seem like a snow fairy. Or rather, that girl was a snow fairy- and that strange hall was the throne room of her kingdom.

“Please, Mr. Lancer,” she said with an innocent child-like voice. “Take a seat.”

I complied, carefully moving away a teddy bear almost as big as me away so I could take the seat across of her. Plus, that was also the nearest normal chair in the room. The little pixie hadn’t boggled this old hound’s mind nearly enough for him to make him sit in a doll’s chair!

“Earlier, when you phoned, you said you wanted to talk about the murder of Sakura Matou,” the white fairy said as she carefully sipped tea with her dainty hands.

A wave of guilt suddenly washed over me, like the ocean usually overwhelmed those annoying surfers that always visited the city during the summer. Who was I to dirty this little pixie’s kingdom with the corruption of the real world outside?

“Well, it’s okay if you don’t want to ta-“ I began, almost ready to just give up on that particular suspect right then and there.

‘A cruel and vicious girl’? What had the goddess of lust had been thinking when she told me that? The Snow Princess in front of me was but a chi-

“Oh, I have no problem with talking about it, I assure you,” she cut me off and handed me over a china cup filled with hot tea. “I’m just glad that the little… witch got her just desserts.”

Like that time back on the Babylon’s balcony, I felt like my world broke down around me and scattered in a rain of tiny shards of glass. I was almost willing to swear that I had heard her wrong but there was no mistaking that steel gaze and the harshness of that almost child-like voice. First the little goddess and now this winter pixie? Aye, there truly was no innocence left in this crapsack world.

“Isn’t this a bit harsh?” I asked and raised an eyebrow. I was now frankly too scared to drink of the tea, in case it had been poisoned.

And while many would have said that the paranoia was finally catching up to me after all these years, I’d like to inform you that even if the hulking butler had burst into the room right then in there, in naught but a loincloth, and challenged me to a wrestling match, I would have shrugged and considered it more realistic than the behavior of the white princess in front of me.

“Not even a bit, Mr. Detective,” she countered and took a sip off her tea. “That vile woman tried stealing my only love from me. And Shirou changed after he started going out with her. Every time they met at the Babylon he would come home dizzy and with bloodshot eyes. And while he had always been somewhat… heroic, after he met her he started blurting those ridiculous ‘Hero of Justice’ theories more and more. I didn’t like this new Shirou,” muttered the girl and hid her crimson eyes behind her snow-white bangs. “It was like he was speaking more of vengeance than of justice. She changed him and took him from me!”

So that tricky rascal had started getting more passionate about his ideals? True, that blond bastard at the Babylon had mentioned the boy being the idealistic type but it seemed that he his goals had turned somewhat more realistic if he had been considering revenge. But for what? And for who?

There was the possibility that Shirou had uncovered something even shadier than usual and whoever wanted it kept under wraps had killed the lad’s girl as a warning. But wouldn’t that have served only to give him more reasons to fight? It made no sense and I could just feel how I was slowly, but surely, losing the thread I had to chase.

“Miss Einzbern,” I said, more to earn time to think than anything else. “You do realize that talking in such a way can make you a suspect, right? After all, your family has much to earn from any disturbance in the Matou household.”

“There was no need for my family to harm Sakura, no matter how much I wanted to,” replied the white-haired girl with a wistful sigh. “Kariya Matou already signed over all his lands and virtually anything that came with them over to us weeks ago.”

“What?” was the only rational thing to say that I came up with.

“Mr. Kariya was under the assumption that he was going to… how do you commoners say it? Ah, yes! Pull one over the Tohsakas by hiring Heaven’s Fell beforehand. But he didn’t know that Kiritsugu was actually working for us Einzberns all along. After scapegoating his own twin brother, Kariya was abducted by his own bodyguard and brought there. After some… persuasion he signed all the needed papers. Now it’s only a matter of time until we completely chase off the tattered remains of the Matous. And then attacking the Tohsakas from both sides would be easy.”

So Kiritsugu had pretended to be working for the Matous while pretending to be working for the Tohsakas while actually being on the Einzbern’s side all along? Dear God, I was going to need a flowchart if this kept going any further.

“Why would he do it, tho?” I asked and carefully studied my host for any suspicious reactions. “Heaven’s Feel earns so much money precisely because Kiritsugu gladly works for any side and can force them to pay more and more lest someone else hires him. Or at least that’s the word on the street.”

“Oh, Daddy didn’t take any money from us,” cheerfully quipped the girl. The sound of shattered porcelain echoed in the spacious room when I dropped my cup of tea.

“You see, Mr. Lancer, Kiritsugu Emiya was originally hired as a mercenary by my family several decades ago, during the last vicious war between the three families. He fell in love with my mother and they lived happily for quite some time together but, alas, he failed to protect her in the end. It was my father’s love for my late mother that drove him to create Heaven’s Fell and play all three sides for years, biding his time to avenge my mother and repay his debts to my family.”

The dream… the dream was getting way to surreal for my tastes. How deeper could that proverbial rapid hole actually get?

“It’s scary, isn’t it, Mr. Lancer,” cryptically said the girl, refusing to look me in the eyes. “How strong a power love has.”

“Why now?” was all I could mutter.

“Someone else stared all of this. Tokiomi Tohsaka originally hired one of Daddy’s men only as a bodyguard. But Mr. Kojiro failed in his duties and one morning around a month ago the patriarch of the Tohsaka’s was found in his own bedroom, nailed to the wall and with his heart noticeably missing. Thinking that the hit was ordered by the Matous, the heir of the Tohsaka’s hired another of Daddy’s people to kill Kariya. But instead, Lancelot brought him to us.”

I felt like a gaping hole had suddenly opened up beneath my chair and had devoured me whole. So there had been another similar murder even before the little goddess? And since it apparently wasn’t neither of the three families then… the Yakuza? And while I understood that losing the head of the family was a big enough blunder for the Tohsakas to try and cover it up, why hadn’t the Einzberns exploited it when they explicitly knew? That question was quickly answered by the little pixie.

“Oh, we tried. But no matter how outrageous bribes we paid, the police kept on insisting that there was nothing and refused to make a big, embarrassing for the Tohsakas investigation.”

Why would someone at the station cover it up? Unless…

Archer apparently wasn’t the by-the-book cop he wanted everyone to believe him to be. It seemed like when push came to shove, he had chosen his little girlfriend over the law.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked and glared at the white pixie. “With this much clues it won’t be very hard to gather incriminating evidence against your father.”

“Because I want him caught,” replied the white-haired girl and shrugged. “No matter how much I tell him Shirou and I aren’t blood related, he is adopted after all, Daddy just keeps on insisting that he won’t let his family turn into the incestuous wreck that were the Matous. But if he ends up out of the picture… well, no one to hold back Shirou and me now that Sakura is dead as well.”

She was mad. She was stark raving mad and now I was sure that she was no ordinary winter fairy. She was of the fair folk that Ma had told me about, the ones who lived back in Ireland. Ephemeral and mysterious, they tricked people and led them to their deaths or enslaved them with binding contracts built upon sweet words and false reassurances. Tricksters that were so distant from humanity that they didn’t even know that what they were doing is wrong.

Just like the little winter fairy in front of me.

“It scares you, doesn’t it, Mr. Lancer?” she echoed her earlier words. “The things one would do for love. And yet I can’t help but wonder, is love driving your own actions as well? Are you taking on this whole world of darkness and sins only because of the love that stubbornly refuses to leave your wretched little heart?”

My knuckles paled as I clenched my fists. I tried to ignore the girl’s words, to cast them away as the ramblings of a madwoman who just tried to find some flimsy excuse for her actions and yet… what were the reasons I had decided good enough to throw my life away just to solve that case?

No… I had no life to throw away anymore. What life I had had was gone the minute Bazett left his world. But it was going to be a snow day in hell before I admitted to the little pixie how right she was.

“And what about the one guarding Tokiomi? Did he see the killer?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters.

“Well, what I’m telling you I’ve heard from Shirou… as far as I know Mr. Kojiro is now investigating in the Yakuza’s territory because he thinks the culprit must be one of their people. He is a bit of an… overzealous workaholic and honor means everything to him, so Mr. Kojiro refused to let anyone stop him from investigating. He was very ashamed when the man in his care ended up dead.”

Another name, another clue. And as I finally sat up and left behind the snow fairy’s Wonderland, I couldn’t help but ask myself if that spider web of lies was actually solvable at all.

***

The taxi driver didn’t even wait for me to get out of the car completely before he stormed off to somewhere far away.

And it wasn’t like I could blame the poor lad. Yakuza territory was a part of the city where only two kinds of people visited. Those with a death wish and those that had business with the Tigers. And since there was this sinking feeling inside me that they wouldn’t appreciate someone barging into their home and accusing them of murder, I clutched tightly the revolver in my coat’s pocket. Their base of operations was an old Japanese style mansion, positioned dead-center in their turf. Like a giant beehive from where those busy bees clad, in their signature black-and-yellow striped colors, flew off and struck fear into the hearts of the citizens. The trip to said mansion proved to be less than pleasant… or maybe I was just getting picky.

The never-ending cascade of raindrops was like a barrage of Heaven-sent tiny bullets, courtesy of all the angels apparently deciding to mock me collectively. Whoever was in charge of the wind in this damned city seemed to also have some bone to pick with me, because the incoming onslaught of howling air currents was cold enough to make me shiver in my heavy trench coat. Not to mention that I was surrounded by just the most idyllic of sceneries. There was no soul left on the streets, be it alive, dead or in a state in-between. I could hear dozens upon dozens of doors being locked and windows being slammed tightly shut as I walked down the main street. Contrary to what some of you might think, it didn’t take a nuclear genius to figure out I wasn’t the most welcome of lad there. Makes you wonder why, with my sunny demeanor, right?

Aye, in such flowery weather conditions and after such a heartwarming welcome, it must’ve been me just getting picky.

And, as if to taunt me how my whole life seemed to have turned into a excerpt from some crappy detective novel as of late, the gods provided me with a gracious bolt of lightning that split the gloomy skies in two just as arrived at my destination.

Where once had probably stood a tall gate, now lay only pieces of wood and metal, as if the whole door had been practically cheese-grated into oblivion. Almost literal rivers of blood mixed and mingled with the rainwater running down the dirty pavement, coloring it into the most distinct of hues to any man familiar with death.

A deep crimson, like a blossoming rose.

Despite my instincts screaming at me to turn tail and run, I pushed forward. A bold, yet stupid move. One that could have easily cost my life back then. Dozens upon dozens of bodies (or just scattered cleanly-cut off parts of them) littered the garden in the front courtyard. The gravel beneath my feet was decorated with enough cartridges to almost hide itself completely from view. It was like the whole bloody army had stormed the place, tanks included. Following the trail of wanton death and destruction, like a hound sniffing after a bigger predator in hope it had been already hurt, I moved into the inner courtyard.

Two men stood there, facing off one another like two cowboys taken out of some cheesy spaghetti western. Not that they seemed fazed by their utter lack of originality.

In fact, one of them looked too scared to even stand upright. He was literally shaking into his boots, wielding two revolvers which were closer in size to small cannons than handguns. The intricate tiger tattoo covering his shirtless torso was enough of a hint to his allegiance.

The man opposing him was a different story entirely. He looked more concerned about the state of his expensive suit, one perfectly identical to those of Emiya’s people, than with the armed brute in front of him. A particularly long katana was held limply in the suit-wearing lad’s right hand. It actually took some time for me to identify him as a man- the lad didn’t have the manliest of features and the waist-long ponytail he had tied his blue hair into didn’t help matters either. Go figure why. From the tip of his blade, glistening under whatever moonlight managed to break through the clouds, dripped drop after drop of fresh blood.

It seemed that I had stumbled upon Mr. Kojiro, if a tad too late, considering that he was apparently mid-way through his one-person war against the Fujimuras. Did that mean they were the culprits or was that lad actually daft enough to barge in like that just to question them?

“Make no mistake, whelp,” calmly said Kojiro to his quivering opponent, despite the fact that the other man was twice as wide as him. “I usually don’t make a habit of staining my blade with the filthy blood of your kind, but this is a special case. As I told many of your brainless comrades, this can all end relatively peacefully if you just call out your leader. Understood?”

It didn’t seem that his words had gotten through to the other guy. Or maybe shooting off both his guns at once was his opponent’s queer way of agreeing. And despite the fact that there were two bullets big enough to blow his head clean off currently speeding towards him, Kojiro didn’t seem to be phased in the least. The man just steadily leveled his sword with his shoulders in an instant and positioned his left hand along it, presumably to guide the next hit.

What happened next, I still find almost impossible to believe to this day.

The samurai thrust his sword forward- but instead of one, three different blades seemed to slice through the thick veil of the rain. Time slowed down to a crawl, even if but barely and for an instant- but enough for me to see the clear lines in the rain through which one could trace the path of his sword. And then time sped back up, just as quickly.

The katana was plunged to its very hilt into the unfortunate Tiger’s chest, as if using him as a macabre sheath that was several sizes too small to fit. Four distinct echoes filled the air, chasing away the sound of splattering raindrops even if only for a mere moment. The cleanly sliced remains of the two bullets lay on the bloody ground, completely useless.

And then, just as the samurai withdrew his sword from its human sheath, the door leading into the main house burst into splinters. A black-and-yellow blur erupted out of it, like a bullet out of a Magnum’s barrel, and landed with a crash right where Kojiro had been mere seconds ago.

It was a woman, one unlike I had ever seen and. And, losing his touch or not, this hound had seen many a woman- dressed or otherwise- during his life. The one with the short auburn hair and the tiger-striped kimono was an exception. And it didn’t even surprise me when her otherwise effeminate voice came out sounding more like a certain feline predator’s roar.

“WHO DARES TRESSPASS INTO THE TIGER’S DEN?!”

And as I watched the small, almost disturbingly cutesy, tiger figurine hanging off the base of her wooden sword, I came to realize one very important fact. Before me was the Mother of All Tigers, Taiga Fujimura herself. The woman no man had laid eyes upon whilst armed and lived to tell the tale.

Aye, if I didn’t die, I decided that I was surely going to hire some poor lad to write me a biography.

[Alulim]

A wild Taiga appeared!

[SeiKeo]

Oh my. This is sure to be interesting.

[Bloble]

Ilya is even more of a psycho than in canon, and Taiga is taking on a guy who can cut bullets in half.

I'm scared.

[Sherrinford]

Good as always, Aladar!

Very well the mood whiplash between Psycho!Illya and the "Mother of all Tigers", and Kojiro's fight scene is very well described.

... wait, does this mean we'll see Taiga vs Kojiro in the next chapter?



waitin' for the next chap here...

[ItsaRandomUsername]

While reading this update, it finally struck me that the title "A Stolen Heart" refers to much more than merely the murder that sets off this whole story. More than just the organ that pumps fluid throughout the entire body, the "heart" also refers to love, and the way it can corrupt the ways of others and drive them down paths they can never turn back from.

THAT'S DEEP, BRO.

Illya's characterization is also fitting for her and meshes well with the noir-styled setting that A Stolen Heart is flaunting. That's all I can say, really. All I need to say, actually. She's even more unhinged than she is in canon, and that sits well with me.

Another highlight for me was how awesome Kojiro was this chapter. 'nuff said. Kickass swordsman is kickass.

[Aladar]

The Power of Love is a major theme of this fic. But since its main genre is noir, only the corrupting Power of Love is shown.

Also, who do you think will win in the clash of titans? Assassin or Taiga?

[Aladar]

Chapter VI:

A Shinigami’s Requiem

It was a clash between titans.

Either that or all that drinking had finally gotten around to turning my brain into a rotten puddle of flesh. What I was seeing was unbelievable, utterly impossible and, in more than a few ways, as weird as all nine hells combined together. The clouds far above had moved out of the way as if on purpose, letting the moonlight shine upon the two duelists like some extra-large natural spotlight illuminating the boxing match of the century.

The major differences being that not gloved fists but swords were the combatants’ weapons of choice and the total lack of an audience save for one wide-eyed hound who was currently wondering if that tea he had drunk at the Einzbern castle had really being spiked after all. Well, there was quite the assortment of bodies, dead or in the process of dying, that littered the courtyard but they had other stuff to do than watch the duel of epic proportions that was currently taking part.

In a queer combination of gender-reversed roles, the man was the one whose movements were fluid and graceful. Kojiro’s katana cut long curved traces through the veil of the rain as he advanced towards his opponent like a human-sized buzzsaw of death. The sheer speed of his blade made a constant trail of droplets of rain and blood follow it wherever it went, creating an interweaving web of crimson around the sword’s wielder. His opponent however, the infamous Mistress of Tigers, employed a style more akin to a thug trying to smash someone’s head in with a steal pipe. And yet that demon of a woman was fast enough to avoid or counter each and every swipe that came at her, despite the clear disadvantage of fighting with nothing more than a training sword. Her strikes were like thunder- they split apart the air like a knife tearing through a curtain and every time her opponent managed to dodge, a spider-web of cracks was left on the ground when the wooden sword connected.

It was like I didn’t even exist for them. All they could probably see in their mind’s eyes was each other, sword in hand and just waiting for an opening to sneak in the decisive blow.

Kojiro apparently deemed the Tigress way too strong to fight with conventional means because he took a desperate leap backwards, his feet sliding on the wet ground before he skidded to a halt. He tried to hide it, but in such a tense atmosphere one could easily sense his haggard breathing. Deciding to go all-out, Kojiro tried leveling his sword with his shoulders and probably executing that utterly impossible move once again. But the Tigress easily saw through his movements, probably having expected something like this for a long time. She covered the significant distance between them before I could even blink. Kojiro found himself forced to drop his stance and defend himself, lest he wanted a ventilation shaft added to his head.

For a moment there I thought that Lady Luck had decided to smile upon the man. The wooden sword finally reached its limits, snapping in half after it connected with the katana. But instead of panicking, the Tigress flashed a sharp-teethed smirk. She moved in her opponent’s blind spot in the blink of an eye, pushing her back to Kojiro’s.

And then, even to a complete amateur like me who’s most intricate knowledge of sword fighting consisted of knowing that Japanese swords were called katanas, it was obvious that the victor would be the one to turn around first. Both of them swirled like a dervish, keeping their back pressed to each other and trying to be fast enough to get in an advantages position for their weapons to strike. But Kojiro had the disadvantage of wielding a katana taller than the average man while the Tigress’s weapon was now nothing but a wooden stake with a fancy handle.

The outcome was painfully clear and everyone present knew it. Soon enough, with the signature sound of flesh getting pierced and bones being snapped or pushed out of the way, the wooden stake found itself embed deeply into Kojiro. The one thing saving the man being that it was his left hand getting pierced and not his heart. He was apparently skilled enough to have moved it into the stake’s path before it had been too late. His own sword was pressed against the Tigress’s slender throat, droplets of blood stemming out of the tiny cut and running down the glistening blade.

“A draw,” declared Taiga with no small amount of surprise in her voice, echoing my own thoughts.

“You had nothing but a bokkuto,” replied Kojiro with an even voice but one could tell how ashamed he was even while he still kept that stoic expression on his face. “But could I even hope for more against the Tigress herself?”

“Good!” declared Taiga loud enough to have probably woken up some of her dead comrades. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve another guest to take care of. One who was polite enough not to cut my door into chopsticks and butcher my men when he entered.”

Behind her Kojiro shrugged and muttered something sounding like ‘They wouldn’t let me talk with you’ but my main concern back then was the steely gaze that the Tigress had pierced me with.

***

“And that’s how I reached the conclusion that the only possible culprit save for a random serial killer must be one of your people,” concluded Kojiro, finally finishing the rather lengthy tale of his own investigation.

All I could do was stare and nod profusely. After all, it took some time getting used to sharing a table with the Tigress herself and another sword-wielding contract killer to boot. Only the rather slurping sound of a certain someone drinking tea could have been heard in the Japanese style room, as our hostess was currently drowning herself in the famous Easter refreshment with the gracefulness of a very polite gorilla. The two hulking men standing guard at the door didn’t take it very kindly to have us as guests. Or rather, they were more concerned about Kojiro, judging by their frightened glares and the way they were playing nervously with the handles of their own katanas.

“So, after listening to both you dames’ fancy tales,” said Taiga and slammed down her cup on the table. “I can only conclude that the culprit must have been one of the Black Angels!”

The above statement only cemented my opinion of the woman. A demon of a fighter she sure was, but there was probably nothing more than air and spider webs in that hard head of hers. Hell, forget about the spiders- there was surely nothing edible inside there for them to survive. And since we all knew there was no gang with such a weird name, there was only one other implication about that moniker. And I didn’t find it hard to dismiss any supernatural culprits. That just wasn’t how it was in the real world. Aside from the apparent existence of Frankenstein’s monster that is- the Einzbern’s butler was proof enough as it was.

“Could you please… elaborate, Taiga-dono,” finally said Kojiro, obviously way too polite to tell his real opinion on the matter to his rather gracious host. She had welcomed him in her home and made a pretty Japanese girl tend to his wounded hand after all. If I was the hypothetical crime lord that had gotten his own home attacked and had so many of his people sliced and diced in more pieces than a nuclear physicist could count, I would’ve suspended him into a vat full of sharks or something. And the vat would’ve been full with acid. Don’t ask how the sharks could survive inside.

“Well, the descriptions are quite similar, aren’t they?” replied our hostess and once again took a rather loud sip off her tea. “You said the culprit was dressed in a black cloak and wearing a skull-shaped mask, right? My men have reported several times of seeing strange shadows, darker than the night itself, prowling around our territory. And then someone always disappeared, only to be found all cut up some time later. And the few survivors who were still sane enough to talk could only scream of the skull with empty eyes that seemed to peer straight into their souls. Or something like that, they were rather crazy when they reported.”

How someone so nonchalant could have a leadership position in an organization like the Yakuza is still a mystery to me to this very day.

“Nonetheless,” countered Kojiro, a bit more harshly this time. “The one I fought was surely human. Insanely fast and strong, yes, but still human nonetheless. No Shinigami I’ve heard of could bleed. This one did and that certainly means it’s killable like any other man. Meaning, it is a man,” repeated the blue-haired lad rather redundantly, as if making sure our hostess could warp her mind around the concept.

“A man with a robotic arm that can stretch to double its length and tear your heart out like it’s nothing,” echoed Taiga Kojiro’s earlier words and sent him a winning smirk. “But no one has said you can’t be right, Sasaki-kun. Until proof can be delivered, there is no one that can say which of the two is the right answer and so, both truths can be true at the same time. If, say, I was holding a marble in my hand and I tell you it’s red and you claim it’s white, the marble would currently exist in both colors until one of us is proven clearly wrong. In that hypothetical situation, proof would be me opening my hand. And if we can unmask one of the Black Angels…”

Well, that was rather… elaborate.

“And what do you think, Lancer-kun?” suddenly asked me Taiga and shifted her piercing gaze towards me. “You’ve been rather quiet as of late. Are our paranormal mysteries too convoluted for you to understand, hm?”

My mind struggled the come up with some elaborate answer, the hound desperate to save face before the tiger. The cogs inside my head were moving as fast as possible but sadly, not ink but only copious amounts of alcohol had greased them as of late. So, my last solution was to try and steal from a colleague, hoping that his angry ghost wouldn’t haunt me from beyond the grave for plagiarism.

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

“Knox’s second, Lancer-kun?” asked Taiga in reply, obviously seeing through my erudite façade.

“Excuse me?” was all I could mutter.

“All supernatural or preternatural agencies are ruled out as a matter of course,” replied Kojiro but seemed all too keen of reminding Taiga that we were dealing with real life and not some fancy-shmancy badly-written detective story.

But even after all those complicated discussions and abundant amount of wise quotes, the hound left the tiger’s den as close to revealing the mystery as he had been when he had entered…

***

The rapidly melting remains of the ice cubes that floated in the glass full of whiskey were a rather apt metaphor for my current situation. Just like cubes, I had more than a couple of leads. Good, seemingly solid ones- that had the most annoying habit of melting into nothingness every time I tried to actually use them. The trail had gone colder than most of the graveyard’s residents- so this hound had been forced to retrace his steps to his dingy doghouse and try to make something of the whole clusterfuck of conspiracies that surrounded him.

After several hours, even the whiskey wasn’t enough to fight off the impending headache. I had left the almost full cup, a temptress like no other, just standing on the desk. I promised to myself that I’ll drink it only when that light bulb of ideas finally decided to light up in my head. But all my head could actually feel was a constant throbbing that reminded me of one rather nasty bar fight when I had ended up taking several steel pipes to the head. It seemed that I was going to be relatively sober for quite a few nights to come, judging by the current situation.

It was like a puzzle straight out of them cheesy TV shows. You answer one question, you get two more. It was like there was no answer at all and the little goddess had just decided to nail herself to the wall herself but not before taking out her own heart and probably burying it in the backyard. Or everyone in this damned city was working against me, all of them accomplices in the same crime. Which, frankly, I wouldn’t have put behind the residents of my beloved hometown. Aye, there was no place like home. Only here they could knife you in broad daylight and the onlookers will just try to salvage whatever you had on you after the killer goes off on his merry way.

The Einzberns didn’t seem to have any reasons to have killed her now that they practically owned the Matous. Sakura’s idiotic jerk of a cousin was too much of a pussy to actually kill her and even if he had, there was no way in hell he could whip up something so elaborate. And if little innocent lady Einzbern was to be believed, the Tohsakas were out as well, given that they operated solely using Kiritsugu’s people. And had Emiya been behind it all along, just to spark a war between Tokiomi’s heir and the Matous, he would have never let someone as dangerous as Sasaki Kojiro to investigate the unknown assassin. And even if Kiritsugu had decided that his heir apparent falling in love with the enemy’s daughter wasn’t a good idea, he was too much of a mastermind to kill her in any way that can even remotely be traced back to him.

All those conclusions had let both me and Kojiro to believe the Yakuza had been the culprits. But the samurai had admitted himself that even if he was to take Taiga’s words with a grain of salt, the real culprit was apparently strong enough to beat him in a straight fight. He would have never let him get away scot free with the butchering of so many fellow Yakuza. I found it hard to believe that anyone could actually measure up, much less surpass someone like Kojiro or the Tigress in a battle. But the samurai had claimed that the assassin had managed to deflect even his strongest realty-defying move, a feat Kojiro claimed to have been achieved only once before and the person in question was long death. The look he had shot at me had been a strange one indeed but I had just dismissed it as an unspoken question on whether I’ve heard of someone good enough to do that.

The one lead I had left was flimsy at best and utter bullshit if I looked at it objectively. However you tried to word it, a supernatural bunch of wierdos with skull masks and black robes didn’t particularly sound convincing in court or anywhere else for that matter. And though the assassin may have used such a ridiculous disguise even his ‘robotic’ arm didn’t mean he was some fairy-tale villain. Prosthetics were more than advanced these days and I was fairly sure that Touko had probably tried making one that could be used as a weapon already- the lass was crazy as that.

After making a mental note of paying her a visit the day after to ask her about who else could’ve built one advanced enough, I finally succumbed to temptation and emptied the waiting glass of whiskey. It was far too warm for my tastes, the ice having melted probably an hour ago. I decided to finally get back to my own apartment, having neglected that particular borough for several nights already. Sleeping had become somewhat of a luxury as of late and I had the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this whole clusterfuck would become a bit clearer after a good night’s sleep.

Sleep didn’t come easy for me that night. The barrage of raindrops pouring down from the skies assaulted the window with the fervor of a conquering army. As if to spite the raging storm outside the air inside was stifling and as dry as a drunkard’s throat straight outta night shift. I wasn’t helping matters much either. The all-too familiar sense of paranoia from years before was back and I had chosen to sleep on the worn-out couch on purpose, to keep myself awake enough to notice if someone barged inside and tried to off me while I slept. Having a revolver as heavy as a small hand cannon hidden under my pillow didn’t make it any more comfortable either.

All in all, I was stuck in that strange state between being half-asleep, half-awake, very tired and a hundred and ten percent drunk out of my mind. It was on nights like those that I thought that Ma must have given birth to a mutant. No ordinary human liver should’ve been able to dissolve that much whiskey. But on that particular night the super-human capacities of my internal organs weren’t exactly the main topic loitering around in my semi-working brain. Or whatever the hell I had in my head that hurt me so much.

No, unconsciously, because of my signature canine instincts, my detective senses tingling, because of fate itself or just ‘cause I should’ve finally went to have a doc see me, I was waiting for someone. I was waiting and yet I didn’t know for whom. But whether it was the creep who would cut off a woman’s arm and poison her or the one who preferred to have the heart torn out- it didn’t matter to me. Not one bloody bit.

Inwardly, I knew those were just my delusional ramblings or maybe just my desperate hopes to have a chance to assert myself as the alpha male once again, after failing to save both of them. But after all, things didn’t work that way in real life, right? That wasn’t just some crappy novel where the killer would pop up just when the nearly passed-out detective was expecting him, right?

Well, the Universe either really liked to prove me wrong or that bitch just didn’t have a bloody ounce of originality.

I didn’t even hear the door opening and for some reason the creaky floorboards had apparently decided to betray me that night. Or maybe I really was asleep enough to miss out any noise the bastard could’ve made. Aye, thinking back, it was nothing short of a miracle that I noticed him at all. It wasn’t like in the movies- the fine hairs on the back of your neck conveniently standing up at just the right moment and notifying you like Mother Nature’s bastard-radar. Nah, maybe the lad had just breathed too loudly when he drew near or maybe Lady Luck had finally decided to pay back some debts by waking me up moments before I was about to get operated on in domestic conditions.

Either way, I woke up to find a devil straight out of hell looming over me. Or that’s how my brain, even more useless than ever, considering that even compared to my body it was a couple of paces behind in the process of waking up, thought of him at that moment. He really was like a hole in the darkness. His black robes seemed to flutter in the still air far more convincingly than the usual counterfeit ghost disguise. His white face was the color of bleached bones- which wasn’t that surprising when I took in mind that a bloody fucking skull was staring at me, as if it was the only material part of the intruder’s body. But before I could bark at him the rightful question of what the bloody hell was going on, I felt the pain.

A pain like no other.

I could feel his fingers drilling deep into my chest, clawing at the beating heart protected under my ribcage. But by the pace he was going I was having second thoughts of said pile of bones actually stopping him. I doubted any neighbor would call the police either, even after hearing the howls of a wounded hound that had been probably heard all the way up in the Heights. Someone screaming in pain while being killed wasn’t actually a new addition to this city of sins’s soundtrack and I doubted any copper would’ve shown up on time anyway. Thankfully, my instincts finally kicked in when the pain jolted my whole body awake and my right hand finally remembered that it was loosely clutching a revolver under the pillow.

Alas, the bullet hit only the dirty ceiling of my apartment as the damn bastard was somehow quick enough to dodge even after I pointed the damn thing straight into his skull-like face. The shadow jumped back to the other end of the room and ended his semi-flight in a crouch. The moonlight coming through the window shone a ray of light upon him, clearly reflecting off the screw-like claws attached to each of his fingers. Droplets of blood dribbled off his right hand and onto that old carpet Bazett had bought so many years ago. I don’t know why, but even in that crazy situation I thought she would’ve scolded me for letting someone stain it.

Stains colored the deepest crimson, like a blossoming rose.

Another pair of glints that appeared in the assassin’s hands brought me back into reality. The bastard drew back his hand, ready to send the dagger flying straight between my eyes. It was a desperate shot and I frankly didn’t think I could get him without aiming, given that I was still lying on the couch and clutching the wound with my free hand. But I certainly didn’t expect him to outright dodge it once again and actually manage to nick my shoulder with the dagger. I shot again before he could throw the second one but the result was much the same. Darting to the other side of the room in a zigzag, the assassin fled away from the bullet’s path and managed to drive the thrown dagger right into my other shoulder.

Frankly, I was scared by how light the git was on his feet. And I inwardly knew that the only reason both of his throws had missed partially was because I was keeping him distracted enough with my shooting. So, knowing full well that the only thing that had kept me alive so far had been my barrage of bullets, I shot once again. As expected, he dodged it perfectly, in the same zigzag pattern that projected his next move to every washed-out dick of a private detective out there who was worth his salt.

The wannabe assassin ground to a halt when he suddenly found himself facing the barrel of my trusty gun up close once more. I squeezed the trigger with glee, much too high on adrenaline to even think about saving him for questioning. The bastard was going to pay for everything- for the little goddess, for assaulting me in the dead of the night, for starting the whole clusterfuck in the first place by offing Tokiomi.

But the sound of gunfire didn’t echo off the room’s walls this time. Only the silence could have been heard, if that even made any sense to anyone even remotely sane. The shadow tilted his skull-like face, like a child wondering if Mommy was going to spank him if he tortured the neighbors’ cat. And then, realizing that I must had run out of bullets, he casually pulled out yet another knife out of his robes and strolled towards me with a pace he seemed to consider worthy to be called an ‘ominous walk’.

The resounding boom of the gunshot filled the room loud and clear this time. The bullet got him dead-center in the chest and, as if my Magnum wanted to make up for the first four misses, sent the bastard flying back and crashing into the table.

To be honest, I just remained where I was, half-lying on the bed and clutching my wound. The grizzled hound wouldn’t have been surprised even if the creep had jumped right back onto his legs and proceeded to rearrange said hound’s body into a rare thinly-sliced delicacy. But no, the wannabe assassin was still lying on the remains of my table and the only thing he did was add more blood stains to Bazett’s carpet as the life flowed out of him one drop after the other. Still, he was very much alive, that much I could tell from the way his trembling hands tried to stop the bleeding and from the faint gurgles coming from his direction.

I imagined I walked up to him very much the same way a sleepwalker would. I practically fell on my knees next to his body, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off and the real pain from the wound rearing back its ugly head. I don’t know how I didn’t crush his skull right then and there, considering the force with which I grabbed his skull-shaped mask.

“You?!”

Ryuunosuke Uryuu let out a low hoarse excuse for a laugh as he choked onto his own blood.

“You almost sound disappointed, chief. What, were you expecting some bigger fish?”

Even as I watched the light gradually leave his eyes and even tho I could hear his breathing getting slower and slower, I couldn’t answer him. The hound couldn’t answer that fangless viper for the life of his. It made no sense! Uryuu was a known serial killer, a fucked-up murderer like no other! But it made no sense! Or maybe I was really just disappointed, exactly like he had said. It would’ve been in his style, more or less. The victims had been murdered elaborately enough but the difference this time was that the re-emerging psycho had chosen to fuck around with everyone by setting a mob war with the choice of said victims. And here I was, getting angry just because my whole investigation had been rendered completely useless. Well, there was still the consolation that even Kojiro had been deluded as well-

And then it hit me.

“You are part of this alright. But you can’t be working alone,” I said and almost gouged out his eyes when I dangled his own limp hand in front of his face. “Your only prosthetics are your fingers- the original killer had one at least up to his elbow.”

I didn’t even bother to tell him to speak. The man was dying either way and if he wanted to bury the secret alongside him in the grave, there was nothing I could do to him to make him talk. The unspoken question was just left hanging in the still air.

“I told him you wouldn’t buy it if you survive,” muttered Ryuu and managed to curl his pale lips into a mocking smile. “But now that I think about it, maybe he just knew you would survive. Maybe he wanted a fall guy. He didn’t like me very much either- all of the others just hanged around ‘cause of that damn drug of his.”

A series of bloody coughs erupted out of his mouth, the small rant apparently too much for his punctured lungs to bear.

“Who is he, pup? Who’s the one behind all this?!”

I doubted he could even see me by that point, judging by the way his glazed-over eyes hovered somewhere above my head and to the right. But still, he answered.

“Lancer, my man, I told you about this superdrug, didn’t I? It really is… something else. You take it… you feel like in heaven. Faster, stronger, able to see clearer than ever… or at least that’s what those junkies said. But you take it too much, it makes you… not right in the head. You start seeing things and believing in them. Angels, devils, bloody fucking… Grim Reapers. And in the end, you die. You overdose and bang! You are clinically dead- or at least it seems so. It just makes it look like you’re dead, for some time. And then he just digs them out immediately after the funeral, gives them this stupid getup and fills their heads not only with his fancy-shmancy… medicine but with the total utter bullshit of being… an angel yourself. An Angel of Death. The Grim Reaper incarnate, sent to this sinful Earth to root out all the sinners and deal righteous justice!”

Another hoarse laugh escaped his lips. I was too amazed to say anything, both from his story and by the sheer fact that he was still able to talk at all after losing so much blood.

“Robin told me to investigate, see why so much of our boys went crazy just like that. And I found him, traced it all back to the bastard… but when he told me about his plan… Lancer, my man, dawg, you… y’know me, right? For the things I did, there’s a very special place in Hell prepared for when I show up. I thought, ‘hey, might as well drag down some bastards with me as well’. That was the only way I knew how to repent, man. By carving them up. Only this time, I’d carve up the bad guys. That was his plan. Start picking off the mafia and the Yakuza, try to turn them onto each other and if that didn’t work, kill ‘em all off. Make this whole city better by cutting the cancer growths off. Angels of Death, dealing righteous justice!”

His voice was nothing but a whisper now and his lips were barely moving. Finally, moving almost agonizingly slowly, he buried his free hand beneath his robes and took out something. A small figurine which he put into my open palm. And with a few final words, much too ordinary for anyone to claim them to be important but worth more than all the gold in the world to me, Ryuunosuke Uryuu left behind the world of the living.

“Some priest he was! Basta-”

And only the lone onyx figure of a hooded angel, clutched into my shaking fist, was there to keep me company in my vigil over the body of an enemy I could’ve almost considered a friend.

[Bloble]

Ahem.

First, "KOTOMINE KIREIIIII!!!!"

Second, Taiga > Kojiro.

Third, that super drug is the stuff TA takes?

[Sherrinford]

In Noriaki Sugiyama voice:

"KOOTOOOMINEEEE... KIREEEEEIIII!!!"

Third, that super drug is the stuff TA takes?

"Assassin" originally means "smoker of hashish", so it would make sense. Even in the original "myth" they were drug addicts.

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Isn't this a Sherlock Holmes quote?



Reader's Pick: the Uryuu/Lancer fight scene and the consequent Uryuu's death. Really touching.

*clap clap*