Hands tied behind his back, Shirō Emiya stared up at the shaggy man who had taken him captive, sizing him up and his chances of escape.
Taking frequent swigs from the small flask in his hand, the pirate teetered and hiccuped, spitting a wad and whipping the mucus from a subsequent snort all over his arm. He looked stupid, acted stupid, but wasn't. Behind those thick, filth dreadlocks was the gleam of eyes dark as charcoal. Eyes that were watching him for even the slightest of movement.
If he wanted to escape, it would have to be when the man fell deep into a drunken sleep. Then, he would have to be careful. Very careful. For, the planks that made the deck of the ship around the mast he sat against, were purposefully rotted. One misstep, one creak, and he was dead.
But, if he didn't think of something, then he was good as dead anyway.
He overhead them talking about selling him to slavers, or just throwing him to the sea and let the waves take him. That, or the sharks.
Thus, he had two options: do nothing and die, or do something and die trying.
His decision was obvious.
So, when night fell and the pirate was fast asleep, snoring away, did he act.
Breaking free of his restraints thanks to the spell Tohsaka had taught him, Shirō shouted Trace on!, bringing to mind the sharpest blade he knew and could replicate, then quickly went severing the iron ball and chain that kept him shackled. Hearing the pirate rose from his slumber, he took the ball and chain and threw it at him, shot-put style.
As it plowed into him with a sickening crunch, collapsing his chest cavity, Shirō then secured his pistol and, before all hell broke loose, raced to the lowest deck, shoving aside bewildered pirates and ignoring their cries of realization.
"The prisoner is escaping!"
"He's heading for the slave deck!"
"Stop him!"
Reaching it, he blasted through the door and amidst the startled cries of the slaves, called out Tohsaka's name in the darkness and heard a grunt in reply.
Finding her slumped over on her face in an awkward fashion because of the pole that kept her arms stretched out behind her back, he cut the links that held them and slid it free.
"Took you long enough!" she said, rotating her shoulders, wincing when they popped. "Ah, that's better." Rubbing her raw wrists she snapped her fingers, a tiny flame flickered above their heads. It caught the wooden beams and caught fire. "Now, let's get out of here."
"Tohsaka! Wait!"
She stopped and turned. "Huh?"
He gestured to the other frightened captives around them. "What about…"
"Do whatever you want. I'm leaving."
Shirō, then, disapproving of Tohsaka's cold detachment to the saving of any life but her own, started freeing the slaves one by one until the lower deck was empty and he was surrounded by the heat of searing-orange and scolding-yellow flames. Covering his mouth as he followed after those he freed to the upper decks, he had to stop Tohsaka from destroying the whole ship before any of them had a chance to get to safety. To do so, he had to stumble over the bodies of the dead Tohsaka left in her wake. As he reached the top deck, seeing Tohsaka scorching the ship's captain alive, thought back to just how they'd gotten themselves into this situation in the first place.
And, just how twisted Tohsaka had become because of it.
Prologue end.