Unlimited Saber Works
Disclaimer: I do not own FSN or any of the characters within.
Enjoy.
Shirou strode back to Fuyuki, his hand groping hesitantly by his side- the same side where Saber, in her plain blouse and British blue skirt, followed him. Despite his lack of combat activities, he found his steps slow, laboured, as if he were heading through a thick marsh. As if his body wanted to be back at Shinto. Back at lunch, sitting down and criticising food from the cafe as Saber quietly gulped it down; back at the underwater world, where she enjoyed the kaleidoscope of sea fish swimming above and around her; back at the giant toy shop, where she'd clutched her stuffed lion lovingly in her hands and refused to let it go.
Shirou couldn't have hoped for a better day. Heck, he couldn't have hoped for a better week. But he couldn't help thinking that he'd missed something, that Saber wasn't quite as alright as he wanted her to be.
He couldn't understand it.
He'd hoped that Saber would say something.
Saber turned. Her smile lifted the clouds from Shirou's mind, covered his thoughts with her blond hair and ocean blue eyes. And yet- there it was again. That uneasiness about Saber's smile that he couldn't quite place, and Shirou knew the reason for it. The same reason they'd argued the night before. Shirou didn't know when it'd begun- probably when he first found out about Saber's voracious appetite- but he'd been smitten.
The ideal that he'd inherited from his adopted father, the unwaveringly just warrior that stood fast before the impregnable Hercules, the kind and caring woman who'd protected him before the cruel manipulation of Caster... Shirou knew a hero when he saw one, and it was only a matter of time before he'd fallen in love with the Once and Future King of Britain. He didn't want to lose her- certainly not to a battlefield of blood and gore and death, not to a country where she'd been doomed by her own efforts to save it. She had a chance, right now, at a new life, and as much as Shirou loved her, he couldn't bear to see her let it go.
But he couldn't bear to ruin her good mood, so he asked something else instead.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" The words were wooden, tumbling clumsily out of his mouth, and he hated it.
"I did." Saber smiled and stared out into the sunset. "This new world... it's amazing. I wish I could spend more time in it."
"We could always come back next time." The underhandedness of his words galled Shirou, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel guilty about it.
"Shirou, we can't go through this again." Saber turned to him with a stern face. "I haven't changed my mind about getting the grail."
"But-" Shirou sputtered, trying to find the right words. How could she be so stupid, not to realize the opportunity granted to her? "You have a new life ahead of you, Saber! You can live on, free of your kingly duties, free to do whatever you want with your life! Why would you throw it away just like this?"
"Master!" Saber shouted back. "I have a duty to my country. From the very moment I drew the sword from the stone, my life has belonged to Great Britain..." She put a hand on the railing. "To me, nothing else is more important than the grail, not even you. If you can't understand me, then respect my choice, Master."
Shirou wanted to facepalm. He'd seen that answer coming a mile away, even spent an entire date mulling over it. Now it'd come up right in his face, and he couldn't do a thing about it. But it was his ideal to save her from her inevitable fate as a dead king, and he couldn't find it himself to let her go- not like this. But how could he bear to do that to his lover?
He cast a tentative glance at Saber. His burning orange eyes met her steely calm, and Shirou knew that was nothing left to say.
"...Let's go, Saber," Shirou managed at last. "We've got a long day tomorrow."
"I'm glad you understand, Master."
At least Saber didn't mind him putting his hand on her.
"And just where do you think you're going, mongrel?"
Shirou's head snapped back. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.
Rich blonde hair. Crimson eyes, so red that they bored into his soul. Everything about this person, from his regal bearing and his opulent fur jacket to that... that condescending smirk on his polished face, screamed KING at the young Emiya.
Gilgamesh. King of Heroes. An ancient Sumerian king so legendary that he single-handedly built the walls of Uruk to protect his people from outside threats. Owner and collector of all great treasures. Chief among them, **-
The moment he tried to read that thing, it was as if an icepick had slammed into his head. He couldn't think, couldn't image the abomination that lay just beyond his ken-not when his Structural Analysis sparked to a grinding halt.
This man had a sword- a sword so powerful even Shirou couldn't read it. Shirou could hear the alarm bells go off.
Shirou grit his teeth. This man was dangerous. He had to protect Saber!
"Trace, on!"
The now-familiar grip of a holy sword materialised in his hand, and he could feel the matured experience of a warrior-king flowing from them- a king whose sword went untarnished into battle, whose body blades could not wound, as she defended the entirety of Great Britain from the bloodthirsty Saxons before him. He ignored said king's protests and stepped before her, his sword raised to face Gilgamesh's assault-
-only for it to be broken.
One minute the sword was in his hands, and the very next, the air above Gilgamesh warped, and a sword that was never meant to be... came to be. A sword like the one in Saber's hands, only more plain and more... Weighty?
His Structural Analysis glanced over the blade. The sword in the tree, the ancestor of the sword in the stone. Wielded by Sigurd, the Norse hero who slayed the great dragon Fafnir. Sigurd was strong, invulnerable and wise, even if he was tempted to greed by Regin and murdered by his wife Brynnhildr-
Focus, Shirou!
Before Shirou could focus, the great two-hander shot at him with all of its might, slammed into the traced form of Caliburn, and cleaved it into pieces. Out poured the holy energy within the sacred blade, and down went Shirou.
And then the heat and the pain, the excruciating, searing pain that shot through his body until he could hear the crashing buildings and crackling inferno washing away the millions of helpless people around him-
"I did not give you permission to look upon my form, mongrel. Only one person is deserving of Saber, and that is me."
Saber.
He had to save Saber!
Shirou got up, but his back protested violently and sent him sprawling. He could only watch as Gilgamesh looked at the love of his life and said those offending words.
"So, Saber." The smugness in Gilgamesh's voice made his skin crawl. "After ten years of my patient waiting, here you are. Have you found the answer to my question?"
Saber stepped instinctively before her master's broken form. "It seems these ten years have done your sanity little good, King of Heroes," she seethed, "if you think I'll marry you. I am a King, and your offer insults me!"
"Well, well!" Gilgamesh guffawed. "That is the Saber I've been missing." His eyes narrowed. "I'll see how resistant you are when I've smacked you about a little, woman."
Saber charged forward with Excalibur. Just before she could split him in half, however, a series of other swords materialised before him and deflected her blows from his pristine jacket. He raised an eyebrow as Excalibur chipped off a piece of the last blade, but that was it.
"Resist all you want, woman, but your attacks falter before the king."
Saber swung her great blade around, only to be met by a giant scythe to the face. The blow sent her skidding back to Shirou's body.
Noble Phantasms, Shirou realised. Each of those swords that deflected Saber's blow was a hero's weapon in his own right. And he had so many of them he could kill the entire world once over with them! Could Saber face such an enemy?
Shirou's eyes were forced shut by a blast of wind. The very next moment, Excalibur's holy light burst forth and met them in all its shining glory. But it wasn't enough, Shirou knew. Nothing the world could muster would be enough against **. The cruel spiral sword rested in the King of Heroes's hand. Shirou didn't dare look at it. Just one glance sent his head pounding in a painful reverie.
Excalibur burst forth, the embodiment of all that warriors held dear-hope, nobility, perserverance, distilled in a furious beam of light. And Ea rose to meet it, the twisting coils of its alien body whipping up a primordial wind that suffered none to surpass it.
"NO!" Shirou cried. But the two forces had already met, the destiny already written.
For a brief moment, holy light struggled against the ancient wind and fought to surpass it. But Saber was losing. Shirou could feel it. The King of Knights was shaking on her very feet just to keep her barrage up, even while Gilgamesh hardly broke a sweat. Saber's ultimate weapon sputtered for a moment, and found itself utterly consumed by Ea's ravaging wind. The destructive gale swept across the bridge and sent the King of Knights flying.
"SABER!"
Saber landed in one bloody heap.
Shirou stared at her, tried to make sense of the blood trickling from her forehead and spilling from her exposed waist. It just couldn't click. Saber couldn't be so terribly injured, could she? But there she lay, blood seeping from every orifice in her body, even if her glassy eyes stared back at him and she mouthed for him to run.
Then save her.
"You can give me the wrong answer as many times as you want, Saber." The King of Heroes smirked, lowering Ea in his hands. "But the world of men will forever be my garden, and after I dip you in the sweet... mud... of the holy grail..." he smacked his lips. "You will forever be my wife."
Never in his life had Shirou found a single man so irksome- Gilgamesh brought even Shinji's arrogance to astronomical heights.
He dared assume that Saber would be his pleasure toy, his concubine for all eternity?
Unforgivable!
Save her.
Save her. save her savehersavehersavehersavehersaveher...
Shirou stood up.
His back exploded in agony, his innards felt like they'd been rearranged. Even his head pounded like he'd been used for a game of Whack-a-mole. Had Shirou been any other person, he'd be thrown across the floor, wallowing in his own pain and drowning in his pool of blood. But Shirou stood, and Shirou stayed standing. The young boy who'd walked through a giant inferno had grown up, and not even a fatal injury could stop him from moving now.
"Oh?" Gilgamesh's lips curled up. "It seems the mongrel is still here." The air behind them shimmered,coalsced into soft gold ripples: out poked several noble phantasms, each more ponderous than the last.
HoutengaGeki, the lance of the invincible Lu Bu.
Durandal, Roland's peerless sword.
Naegling, Beowulf's last weapon.
Shirou could hear his mind fracturing as his Structural Grasp fought to contain their essence- and very nearly lost. Those were just three weapons among Gilgamesh's infinite arsenal, and he'd already had problems containing their existence, let alone countering them, and they barely scratched the surface of Gilgamesh's arsenal. Just how was he supposed to fight this Juggernaut?
Emiya Shirou is not a fighter.
Therefore, Shirou, you cannot fight him.
But if you cannot fight him, imagine something that can.
Block his swords? Shirou had less than a fortnight's worth of swordsmanship training with Saber. He'd be dead meat to go up against that hail of legendary swords.
Nuke him, then?
Caliburn, the strongest sword in his arsenal,couldn't make it past Gilgamesh's Ea- not even Excalibur could do that. But it was a holy sword, among the most powerful swords allowed to mortal men.
No, Emiya Shirou could not win this fight with just a sword. There was only one thing he could win with, and it was something that Emiya found himself intimately familiar with.
In an alternate universe, Archer's words made history. For the first time ever, a third rate Magus accomplished the greatest act of projection that ever came to pass. Avalon, the everlasting Utopia, invoked itself before Ea's wrath and inflicted upon the proud King of Heroes his first bitter defeat.
But unbeknownst to Archer or Rin, Emiya Shirou wasn't quite the Sword Incarnate he was supposed to be. It was not Avalon that he traced, not Unlimited Bladeworks that rested in his mind.
At least, not the original Unlimited Bladeworks.
-Flashback-
"When I was young, I wanted to be a hero of justice."
A simple declaration, spoken in the soft voice of his dying father, in the plain Zen garden behind their traditional Japanese house. Even then, it carried the promise of a beautiful dream- a dream that had carried Shirou out of the great Fuyuki Fire. At his tender age, Shirou knew only that the dream was important- important to all those who didn't survive that fire, and important to he, who did.
So he said something that would forever change the course of fate and alter the face of magic once and for all. He decided that, just like Dad, he wanted to save everyone. "But as I grew older, the dream slipped out of my reach." Kiritsugu patted his head gently. "I realized that I couldn't save everyone."
"Why?" Shirou wondered, head tilted in confusion. "Why can't you save everyone?"
"It's not easy to explain," Kiritsugu mused. The kid had been through a monstrous firestorm, but he hadn't seen the very real horror that people could inflict upon each other. "You see, when you save someone, you are giving up the life of someone else."
Vague words, but they left out the grimy details of his violent past. The kid had seen enough trauma, he decided, and he didn't need to see more. The kid nodded in understanding, but his reply still shocked Kiritsugu.
"Then I'll become a hero," the naive kid said in his ever-upbeat tone. "I'll save everyone. Leave your childhood dream to me, old man."
An equally insignificant statement, if not for the sudden change that rippled unseen through the garden as he said it. Kiritsugu smiled at the young kid, taken by the seriousness within his eyes, and his faltering heart finally entered its eternal slumber. But it wasn't just the retired assassin who had heard Emiya Shirou's words.
Unbeknownst to the dying assassin and his adopted son, Avalon discovered Shirou's wish. The faerie scabbard crept into action. Slowly, quietly, Shirou's element began to change.
-Present-
"I love you, Saber!"
The words made Shirou so emotional he thought he'd swallowed a dragon. But he carried on, and he held the dirty gaze of the King of Heroes as he did it.
"And that is why I will never hand you over to that man."
He stood upon the bridge, unwavering, as the King of Heroes stared daggers at him. The air behind ripple with his barely concealed wrath, revealing one legendary sword after another. But Shirou did not stop. Shirou wanted this King of Heroes to know that Shirou would never back down, not against him.
"Begone, King of Heroes!" He raised an accusing finger. " You are not wanted here!"
The king of heroes chuckled- a forced laugh, beneath which his anger fought to erupt. "Big words for a dog like you, Faker. I wanted to gain Saber's hand before I rid the world of this sham, but I'll deal with you first!" His Gate changed directions, the legendary blades behind him poking themselves out of his rippling golden Gates.
Shirou's mind raced. The Gate of Babylon could throw a near infinite number of powerful swords at him. How could he survive a fight against that thing? He could try tracing all of the weapons inthe Gates of Babylon, but there was no way he could project all of them. He'd be cut down before he finished projecting even one of them.
But there was more to his Structural Grasp than projecting swords- he could understand their history and the skill of their past wielders and replicate them upon this projection. He couldn't block those flying swords, but he dared to bet that someone, some legendary swordsman of the past, could.
But whose sword to project?
Shirou scanned hurriedly across each gate, scrutinizing the traces of the heroes' histories within it. A million swords hung before him, each more powerful than the last. Sheer strength alone couldn't deflect the varied Noble Phantasms from Gilgamesh's Gate; the hero he picked needed speed and mastery too... there!
The swords burst forth, a deadly hail that would skewed the young boy into pieces-except he hadn't.
The very moment Gilgamesh finished, Shirou muttered a line under his breath and looked up defiantly at the tyrant before him.
"I am the wielder of my sword."
The words echoed across Fuyuki bridge, and Shirou straightened, as if a tuning fork had been struck. The world around him felt visibly different-even he felt visibly different as he moved his arms. But there was no time for it, for the King of Heroes had begun his golden assault.
The first sword that shot towards him hummed, shadows burning from its dark blade, ready to claim him in its thirst for blood.
"Trace, on!"
Saber stared at the teenager helplessly as the sword shot toward his head- only to pass harmlessly over his neck while he ducked masterfully below it. As it slipped past him, however, Shirou's hand snapped out, grabbed its hilt, and swung it forward with all his might. His figure shimmered, and Saber gasped.
Shining armour upon a tall, lanky man, whose handsome face was obscured by the knightly helmet whose handsome tassel sung as he cleaved the sword before him. Gram went down, buried beneath an indomitable claymore.
"...Lancelot?"
The image of the proud Arthurian knight flickered out. Shirou gasped heavily and his sword almost escaped his grasp,but his body was already moving with an agility it shouldn't have, the traced Arondight in his hands already aiming for a target he couldn't hit.
A flash of surprise crossed Gilgamesh's face. He grimaced, his blood red eyes screamed murder. "Die, Faker!" he seethed. His command went unheard, however, when the sword in Shirou's hand bore down on the weapon shooting toward him.
Joyeuse bit the dust under Lancelot's gloved hand, followed swiftly by Durandal and Naegling. Saber's eyes popped as Shirou danced between the legendary swords, the blade in his hand neatly deflecting every single blade as it entered his reach. As he knocked down each sword, the image of the skilful knight manifested upon him and vanished immediately after-only to return as Arondight struck another blade. While it was Shirou's projected sword in Shirou's hands deflecting each noble phantasm, the ease with which he blocked each axe and cleaved each spear could only belong to one person-the Knight of the Lake, Lancelot!
As she watched her lover slam the giant Houtengageki into the ground, Saber wondered if Shirou had projected more than just his sword.
With each clash, the Knight's image became clearer, and the sword in his hand moved slightly faster. But it wasn't quite enough. Shirou needed to read Lancelot better if he was to take a step forward against this bladed blizzard- a blizzard that was doubling as the cross King of Heroes opened gate after gate and sent weapon after weapon racing at him, screaming "FAKER!"
"Your steel is my arm, and my light is your heart!"
The sword in his hands grew lighter, faster, the swords flying at him easier to read- he could cut them down now, bit by bit, before they could come close enough to hurt him.
He took a step forward, then another. His weapon swung around him, a bladed aegis that deflected every sword- and then the swords sailed harmlessly over his head and he was face to face with the Golden King, his holy weapon pressed against the primeval Merodach. Even with its ponderous power, the majestic weapon shook under the mind-boggling strength of the intoxicated "Faker", ready to break through at any second.
"Impossible!" Gilgamesh yelled. "To think that I, the great King of Heroes, would be forced back by a Faker like you!"
As he spoke, his eyelids danced and his hand trembled, his body failed to muster the strength to keep the Light of the Lake away from his body.
"Then you haven't really fought a hero before, King of Heroes!" retorted Shirou."You own so many legendary weapons in your possession, but you never earned any of them."
Arondight inched inexorably against Gilgamesh.
"On them there are neither sweat nor tears."
His serious gaze bored into those crimson eyes, conceded nothing before their indignant fury.
"You never brought them to the absolute limit their original owners did. But I-"
Shirou edged forward with an ironclad determination-
"-I symbolise their persistence. I embody their mastery. As their representative, I will defeat you!"
This sword, I've carried through a thousand wars.
Arondight broke through Gilgamesh's weapon. The monstrous blade swiped hungrily at the Golden King, barely missing his waist."Bastard!" He screamed. A single portal flashed to existence before him, and as Arondight leapt for his throat. The gigantic shaft of the Green Dragon Saber shot forth and slammed the demonic weapon into the ground, where it burst into a glittering shower. But Shirou was unfazed, his next sword already loaded and waiting upon his firing hammer.
"Trace, On!"
Judge the concept of creation.
Hypothesize the basic structure.
Duplicate the composition of materials.
Imitate the skill used in it forging.
Sympathize with the experience of its growth.
Reproduce its changes with the passage of time.
Supersede every step of the process!
By these blade, I live and I save.
Light erupted from Shirou's enclosed fist, coalesced into the shape of a sword- a handsome weapon clad in kingly jewels, an ornate gold hilt and a sapphire blue pommel.
Caliburn, Saber mouthed, shocked. The one sword that Shirou had traced, when he had brought it against Berserker and taken seven lives in one fell strike. But it felt different in Shirou's hands, as if it were natural for the Arthurian King's sword to be in his hands-as if it had always been his. It swung forward again and again, each blow sending the King of Heroes cantering back behind his Durandal, cursing as burst after Prana burst whacked at him.
"Bastard!" Gilgamesh cried, as Caliburn knocked Durandal from his hands. "Bastard!" Vajra shot towards Shirou, only to be rend apart by Shirou's explosive strength. "Bastard, Bastard, Bastard, Bastard, BASTARD! To think I'll have to go all out against the likes of you!" The furious monarch drew forth the next weapon- the very weapon that Gilgamesh had used against Saber a while ago.
Shirou felt his headache come on, but he couldn't stop, couldn't look down. He wouldn't be defeated, not now!
The spiral sword painted the sky with its otherworldly red structure, glowing eerily as the alien tree collapsed back within its folds.
"Erase this fraud, Ea!"
The sword spun to life, and a red wind blew forth to rend Shirou in all its nuclear fury-
Tirelessly I seek my dream.
"AVALON!"
-only to stop before the golden orb that now held Shirou's flickering form.
But it wasn't Shirou,was it?
This is my only path.
Many nights ago, Saber had scolded Shirou for his stupidity, berated him for the many moments when his self-preservation-or lack thereof-nearly cost him his life. She'd thought that it was just sexism, that Shirou was looking down on her because he saw her as a woman and not a knight.
It was only now, when Saber saw Shirou's wavering form braving the dangerous wind before him, taking small steps forward even as he bore the brunt of Ea, that Saber understood just why Shirou threw himself into all these dangers. It was only when he charged through the tiny opening of Avalon with Caliburn singing in his hands that Saber realized just how badly Shirou wanted to be a hero, because as he raised his sword and yelled its glorious name-
"CALI-"
-It was no longer just him attacking Gilgamesh. Because that blonde hair bun, that ornate Arthurian cuirass, those gleaming thigh guards on that British blue dress and those flared metal gauntlets that adorned those petite arms-
"-BURN!"
-could only belong to Saber herself.
My whole life was Unlimited Saber Works.