"Waver, I don't think this is going to work," Shirou complained, looking at a small white container that sat at the centre of the table. "For one thing, it's ridiculous."
"Be quiet, Shirou," Rin said scornfully, flicking over the last page of the briefing notes. "Waver, this is completely ridiculous."
"That's Lord El-Melloi the Second to you, Professor Tohsaka." After taking a long drag of a cigarette, he breathed out slowly, the smell of the expanding cloud of smoke seeping into Shirou's nose. The cloying smell of tobacco mixed with the chemical stench of hair dye had Shirou breathing through his mouth to avoid the smell.
Waver Velvet had been one of the more interesting allies he had made since arriving at the Clock Tower nearly ten years ago. When Rin was off learning from the Wizard of the Kaleidoscope, Shirou's days were filled with exploration of the Clock Tower and of London. The casual racism of the other magi didn't deter him from trying to adapt to life in the Clock Tower, but his lack of any real talent in anything other than Projection and Reinforcement… there weren't many people lining up to give him lessons. Waver only approached him to meet the son of the Magus Killer, to find out what kind of example such a ruthless man would have been.
Emiya Shirou seemed almost completely antithetical to the reputation of Emiya Kiritsugu, and that had piqued the young lord's interest enough to continue interacting with the young man. And to frequently be associated with the Average One and apprentice of the Wizard Marshall? And unbeknownst to many magi, coming from the one town in Japan that frequently hosted the Holy Grail War?
Since then, a mutual respect had grown and become a very restrained friendship. Occasionally, Waver would contact Shirou to put out brush fires, and the young man had proven to be an incredibly reliable and valuable resource. And occasionally, a good gaming buddy; when time - and his tyrannical wife - permitted.
"So what is the plan? Because I don't think just going to go in there and hoping they accept me as one of their own - even in a really bad disguise - is going to work. Should I ask whether they've seen any missing research?" Shirou's sarcastic response was more of an attempt to distract himself as he warily eyed the noxious mixture on the table. As much as he disliked the rapid spread of the white hair…
"We've come up with a backstory for you. All you have to do is pick a name that you'll actually respond to… unlike the last time." Waver's soothing baritone tried to calm his concerns, and failed.
Rin just looked annoyed. "Why the green contacts though? He's going to look like me!"
"And you're going to look like me," Shirou fired back amusedly. Seeing the faint blush on her face made Shirou wonder about the thoughts dancing in her head. More pleasant memories of fleeting touches in the dark, quick caresses and passionate moans swam through his imagination. What would it look like if he kissed her looking like her mirror image? What would it look like kissing a female version of himself?
He shook his head to clear those lurid thoughts as Waver's warning tone brought him back to the present.
"Children." Another drag, another plume of smoke. Rin huffed and looked at the clock.
"I'll see both of you later, it's nearly time for my lessons," Rin said, face stretching into a glower. "I hope, for our sake, that there's more to this plan." She stalked out of the senior professor's chambers, fidgeting with her wedding ring.
Shirou almost smiled before bitterly picking up the briefing notes, reading the first page over and over. "Do we know anything at all, Waver?"
"Nothing, they've been very successful at keeping everything about them secret. Your mission is strictly non-confrontational. Get intel, and get out. No mess, no fuss." The ash on the end of Waver's cigarette glowed. "I chose you both for this because you're not particularly famous, even without the minor cosmetic changes. And because of your experience in the Grail War."
Shirou's stomach twisted and he looked back at the door nervously. "…Grail War… Waver-"
"Relax, my offices are secure… Nobody's hearing this. But that's the reason we're sending you in. If I just wanted someone who could smash and grab, there are numerous Enforcers that owe me a favor or two. But people from families that are closely connected with the Third Magic have disappeared. And that's just the positive cases - other times, their workshops have been ransacked, and their research stolen while only their cooling corpses have been left behind. We don't know what they're after, their operational security is alarmingly good. Based on the targets they've selected, however: people with connections to the Holy Grail War ritual…?"
Cold fury mixed with horror battled within him to see which one of them would be expressed, but Waver interrupted the battle waging within him.
"Anyway, the dye is ready; let's get this part over with so we can get to the more crucial aspects of the briefing." Shirou took that as his cue to flip through the rest of the limited intel. He wasn't impressed.
"Why am I being dyed now? Rin said she won't have to get hers done until a few days before we leave."
Waver's smile was cold. "Because I said so." He heard amusement in Waver's voice and the cigarette being pushed into the ashtray, as he turned the briefing over, his eyes coming to rest on the name of this rogue group threatening everything he and Rin had worked for.
The controlled rage finally won out. His teeth clenched together, and his hand closed into tight fists. He put that feeling to the back of his mind, memorizing it, saving it, knowing he'd need it to fuel him later.
A moment later, as the thick syrup trickled slowly down his head and tickled his scalp, he suppressed the urge to shiver.
He had a bad feeling about this, and the knot in his stomach wouldn't go away.
o - o - o - o - o
It was a windy night, and the streets of Glastonbury were deserted. It was only a pilgrimage he'd made twice before, but the route was etched into his memory. Because it was in this place that famously held the remains of his lost love.
Artoria.
The first time was right after they arrived in England, to join the Clock Tower. He had seen the brochure at Heathrow, whilst waiting for his luggage. Rin had seen him staring at the small pamphlet and had readily agreed. It had been like a honeymoon, cruising through the English countryside in a car, going from town to town. It was one of the few times in their relationship that he'd been truly carefree, unburdened by the stresses and crises of magi and their plots.
That was a lifetime ago.
Jumping over the final hedge, he climbed the grassy hill slowly, his boots crumpling the grass until he reached the top. Moving almost automatically, he walked along the to find himself standing at her grave once more.
It was a simple memorial, the cement body-sized frame around a small sward of grass. The sign impaled in the ground read simply, "SITE OF KING ARTHUR'S TOMB" just before another blurb, easily ignored. Standing at the foot of the frame, Shirou was at a loss. All the things he had wanted to say, all these prepared speeches and now he was here, they turned to ash in his mouth.
Why was he here? What was he supposed to say to her?
He felt ridiculous, standing exposed by the alleged burial site of one of his dearest friends. Where had this urge come from, this nonsensical worship of the dead? Was she even here?
Closing his eyes, he searched inside himself, feeling the mystical scabbard that had saved his life so many times before, searching for any sort of connection it might have had to its true owner. Sadly, it continued, as it had upon Saber's return to the ether from which she came, sending off a minimal amount of mana. Whether it was because she wasn't there, or because she wasn't alive, he didn't know.
His eyes opened and he stared up at the heavens, seeing the pinpricks of light in the distance, and wondered where she could be, if he had made the right choice all those years ago. Sighing in resignation, and with some resolve, he knelt at the makeshift grave and bowed his head, looking very much like a knight of old before his king.
"I know it's been a while… and I'm sorry. I hope you'll forgive me. Rin's busy with her lessons and packing to go, otherwise I'm sure she'd be here too…" He faltered then, grasping at things to say.
"I guess I'm here because we think someone's starting a Holy Grail War again. Everything we've worked for, and everything we've lost along the way." His mind flashed back to the days sitting at his adopted sister's bedside, her homunculus body slowly and painfully failing before the end. His close friendship with Sakura, now sporadic and withdrawn, as if she too was experiencing horrors beyond comprehension. And Artoria herself, her hopes dashed by the false promise of a Holy Grail, resigned to the responsibility and the crushing guilt for all her mistakes - every last starved child, every last broken home. Including her own.
"I feel as if… as if I'm becoming Archer. As if I'm turning into him, and I can't stop it. No matter what I do, no matter how I try to change things and be better than he was... As if it's my… destiny? I hate that word."
"I wake up in the morning and see my hair getting whiter, when I come back from trying to help people I seem more tanned and it never goes away."
"I'm here for guidance, inspiration, advice.. anything. I'm lost. Even when I'm trying to be better than him, I wonder if I'm doing the right things, I wonder if I'm doing enough. I wonder if I'm truly succeeding where he failed. All I have is Rin, now. Every other bond I have has been broken - Sakura, Illya and Taiga. Will my dream cause Rin to get hurt, to die? To turn her back on me? Have I made the right decisions, on my way to where I am today?"
"And in the end, I wonder what you would think. I wonder if you'd approve. I wonder you'd be proud of me." All his doubts, all his fears spilled out of him one after the other.
"I wonder what you'd say to me. If you'd call me an idiot too - Rin's done that more than enough. Would you have some words of wisdom? And at this point I don't really care what you'd say... I'd give a lot just to hear it, whatever it would be."
He cursed, sensing a presence approaching to his left. One he should have noticed a lot earlier than he had. Shirou turned his head to see an officious looking man jogging over to him, now not more than 50 yards away. Seeing no escape, he resigned himself to the confrontation.
"Excuse me, sir! This area is closed… and has been for some time!" Frowning, Shirou stood somewhat awkwardly from his kneel. He felt his circuits fill with power, a hammer striking an anvil.
"Pardon me, I've still got jet lag," Shirou rasped, his throat dry. "I was just leaving." The mild compulsion Shirou had added to his voice didn't seem to have much of an effect at de-escalating the situation.
"We've been closed for hours! I've half a mind to have you arrested for criminal trespass!" The man's nasal voice grated on Shirou's nerves. Redoubling his efforts, he tried the mild hypnosis again.
"I came a long way to see King Arthur's tomb. Surely you can't begrudge a traveler that? I'm not hurting anything."
Sputtering, the man seemed to come to a decision. "Just get out of here, you bloody idiot," he said scornfully, turning hesitantly and walking back towards a nearby house, presumably belonging to the caretaker. Shirou sighed, and with a last forlorn glance at the grave, began walking back the way he came, reaching the crest of the hill.
"I am an idiot," he said quietly, running his fingers through his hair. But even as he said this, the weight on his soul seemed slightly lighter than from when the day had started. He was ready for the mission. Leaping over the bushes, he returned to the footpath. It was about 11 at night.
Just as he was thinking about how he was supposed to be getting back to London, a familiar-looking car behind him turned on its headlights and started its engine. As it rolled gently towards him, he saw the amused amber eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair of its driver. He smiled at the disguise, feeling as he were looking into a mirror.
"What, were you going to walk back all the way back to London?" Rin said, her tone light, teasing him. Walking around the front, he stepped inside and sank into the comfortable passenger seat as the car began to drive away. He fastened the seat belt with a soft click.
"I thought you had lessons to plan for your substitute? Young minds to corrupt and all that?" He searched her eyes. She looked fondly at him, melancholy mixed with mirth.
"As if I'd let you go running off by yourself. Someone has to keep an eye on you." He smiled bitterly, his eyes downcast. Her tone dropped, her voice full of concern and sympathy. "Do you still miss her that much?" Shirou's downcast gaze and silence seemed to be more than enough of an answer for her.
He felt her hand on his knee, her thumb stroking him gently. After a couple moments, he picked up her hand, brought it to his lips and held it tightly for a long time. As they drove down the motorways, across the plains, his heart yearned to stay in this moment. Times like these, when they were alone and could show each other comfort and love were wonderful and he cherished them with all his heart, but they were few and far between. Appearances had to maintained among magi, after all.
And ultimately, as much as he loved Rin, there was something missing. He wondered if he had found it, however briefly, on that grassy hill beneath the stars.
Silence hovered between them during the long drive to London. Tomorrow loomed over them.
o - o - o - o - o
Six weeks after accepting this mission for Waver, Shirou was strapped into an uncomfortable seat on a rickety helicopter flying over an infinity of snow and ice, the summits not distinguishable enough to tell them apart. The red Canada Goose parka was going to stand out like a sore thumb among the white backdrop, but a stealthy entrance was not the aim of this expedition.
He checked his watch, a black plastic monstrosity with enough features to allegedly keep him entertained for some time. He had been in this damned airborne can for three hours now, and he was most definitely uncomfortable, his back aching in protest at being at an awkward angle for so long. His duffel bag sat on the bench beside him, filled with clothes, a couple books - generic things innocuous and unremarkable, nothing that would set off any alarm bells should it be searched.
Schooling himself, he closed his eyes and breathed in, even as the aircraft was buffeted by frigid gales. The snow was almost ice, pelting the sides of the helicopter. He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes, watching as the condensation in his breath faded into nothing. He felt the swords that made up his body just below the skin, ready to be called into action at an instant.
Facing him on the opposite bench, amber eyes sought his. I'm with you, they seemed to say. He nodded at the woman to whom they belonged just slightly enough for her to notice. She went back to looking completely uninterested, her pride not allowing her to even express any discomfort.
The helicopter banked to the right and passed yet another range of snowy mountains. To anyone else, this place would have been beautiful, he thought idly, the untouched mountains a pristine landscape to luxurious cruise, or a breathtaking backdrop to a mountaineering expedition. Now though, he only wished for the nice warm beach of a romantic Tuscan getaway that had been concocted as their cover story.
On the edge of the horizon, a glow ebbed into the night sky, the only sign of civilization among the windswept alpine tundra. The dull glow in the night told him it was smaller than he had expected, the facility dominated by a whitish semi-circular building that looked as if it had been built into the very mountain it rested upon.
As it grew larger, he could see a few other buildings enclosed by a generic chain-link fence, belying the mystical goings-on inside.
"Coming up on the compound," he heard the pilot call from the cockpit. As the makeshift helipad slid underneath the chopper, a few figures emerged from the buildings and began to approach the landing site. Some of them were armed, he noted with disgust, American assault rifles of some brand or another. The helicopter descended, and he saw one man with light hair and a strong jawline exit the main building towards the landing site. As he felt the impact of touchdown, he realized that he'd made it. There was no going back, no escape. Whatever awaited him in there, he had to face it now.
Alone.
He felt Rin's stare at his side and he corrected himself. Not alone, he thought. It was a small comfort.
The helicopter door opened, and the frigid temperatures hit him head on.
"You must be Ritsuka Fujimaru and Gudako Mitsuzuri," a strong, confident voice said to him, a hand extended to help him down. Shirou smiled faintly to himself, wondering again how a mistake in his old guardian's name became the cornerstone of his new identity. One of the guards took his bag for him, and he was assisted out of the helicopter by the man to whom the voice belonged. It became a handshake, firm and confident, and as Shirou looked at the man, he noticed it was the one who had come from the main building. Two more guards had helped Rin and her bag out, and the light-haired man shook her hand as well.
"I'm Marisbury Animusphere, I'm in charge here. Welcome to the Chaldea Security Organization." His blood went as cold as the air around him as he realized who he stood next to, whose hand he shook a moment ago. The man who, from all appearances, wanted to begin the Grail Wars again. The enemy. "Let's get you both settled in. We're just reaching a critical juncture in our project, and you've arrived at quite the fortuitous time."
As he walked beside Rin into the main building, led by Animusphere, feeling the slight warmth of the mythical scabbard within him and Rin's presence at his side, he could have sworn he heard a most unwelcome voice from his past. One that offered nothing but pain and suffering.
"Rejoice, boy. Your wish will finally come true."
Of course, anything you recognize is the property of TYPE-MOON and Delightworks. The only thing I own is an old phone with many, many waifu jpegs.
This may become the prologue to something a bit longer if I can retain the same level of motivation, morale, and quality. To that end, many thanks to those on The Study who looked over my little story and gave me some pointers.
This was inspired by the works of Third Fang's From Fake Dreams, Neoalfa's Path of the King and Promises of a Wandering Hero, Woona the Cat's The Last Master, and Link The Hero of Light's Stay Night: Grand Order, Parcasious' Fate-In time and the fact that they're painfully slow to update. Hurry up and write so I can go back to just reading stuff instead of trying to make my own.
Constructive criticism is appreciated, but I'm not totally up to date on all the lore, so if you're nitpicky like that... there's not a lot I can do for you.