Sorry for leaving Fate/Stay Knight unfinished, but in a sorrowful accident, the data that I had on writing that got deleted. Everything, story data, background info, etc. all up in digital smoke. *sob*
That said, until I can get back that data, I'll work on this which I still have data on.
I'm trying a different style of writing this time, trying to reflect Nasu's wonderful prose. Please voice your thoughts on it.
Fate/Alliance
Prologue: Fated Time
Once again, I am at the altar. There is no difference in this one, the one before, or the one yet to come. Yet… this time… I feel so sad…
Ah. Of course. I know why.
I know why I've won but feel so sad. I'm leaving everything behind. I've already abandoned everything else, why should those I care about affect me.
Because you're leaving them…
Of course I'm leaving them. I'm leaving them because I care…
You're only deluding yourself…
No I'm not!
You can't face them, so you're running from them…
NO!!! I have to fix everything!
False pretenses with pretty words…
Nothing more…
Nothing less…
Shut up!
Shut up!
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
Shut up! Because if you don't…
If you don't…
…
…
I'm going to have to accept it as real…
I'm going now… I can't afford to waste anymore time…
Ah… Those who I love shout for me. They call out my name desperately, but it is futile. They beg me to change my decision…
I have to hurry before I change my own mind. I can't turn around and look at them. If I see them again… I'll abandon myself to be with them…
So I have to be firm. For once in my life, I can't listen to others. I won't obey them. I will wish, with all my heart, for my own selfish desires.
That said…
"Holy Grail… take me back to that fated time… eleven years ago."
I heard a collective gasp behind me. The gasp turned into a wind, it flowed into the Holy Grail and into me. I close my eyes… and await for my judgment. No… my judgment had already came and passed. It was already decided the moment I chose my path. Perhaps this is just me trying to find a lighter sentence… and therefore, is a selfish wish…
…
The winds howled. It roared. And in the winds, my screams were drowned out. I could feel my body being torn to shreds. This was to be expected. The human body cannot handle crossing the thresholds of the universe, especially without any protection. My skin is scraped off. My muscles cut and sewn together endlessly. My bones broken and charred until they invert in themselves.
But this pain is nothing.
This pain pales in comparison to what I've been through. No… I pale in comparison to what others have been through. Living a sheltered life, how can I say that I understand others? They've gone through much worse than I have.
This is the only thought retaining my sanity.
In all this pain, that one thought shone through the pain. I have to save ------------ life. The one that ended eleven years ago. And in doing so… maybe… just maybe… I can save my own…
Chapter 1: Fated Meeting
Peering through the swirls of colors around me, I see my destination. Ten or ten thousand years and I still would never believe that this place would change. My hometown. I was born here. I lived here. I fought here. I died here.
I moved quickly and head to the far hill. It takes around three hours of running to reach my house from the temple on the side of the mountain. Three hours if I was a normal human.
I am not a normal human however. I ceased to be a human long ago. And so the crossing takes a matter of minutes as I leapt from tree to tree, rooftops to rooftops. I take care not to stray too near to my former home. There is too much of a risk if I go too near. The boundary is well made. I don't know how well made, or whether it will detect me or not. Not that it really mattered. My destination was not here. On a hill, just slightly further up, there are several houses. One of which is secluded far from neighbors.
Makiri, an old and proud lineage of magi live there. No, I suppose that they've called themselves the Matou to fit in more with the Japanese area. Well, I could care less about their history. I'm only interested in one person and one person only… even if she's not --------.
"!"
My voice lets out a strangled gasp as I land in their yard. The air is thick with mana. Even if this house has a good ley line, which it doesn't really, or even if the mana is just being absorbed, as per their skill, the air should not be this saturated. No… I can't even say that the air is saturated. More like… the air around here… it's polluted.
My eyes narrow as I quickly made my way to the door. Picking the lock is simple enough for me, but I don't have the patience, or the respect, to do so now. Therefore, the simplest answer is to simply blow down the door.
Without even bothering to take my shoes off, I rush through the house. I quickly pinpoint my destination: around thirty feet straight down, entrance behind the bookcase in the far right study.
What came out of the passageway was a torrent of stagnant and malignant air. I resist the urge to vomit. If outside it was air polluted with mana, then in here, it was mana tainted with air. My lungs burn as I try to bring in more oxygen. All I do is inhale the toxic mana. My body can process the mana well enough, so I'm relatively safe. I can't believe for an instant that any human would be able to stand this condition, be they magi or not.
Bracing myself, I hurry down the stony steps. They descend into a dark abyss, from which flowed, not only the toxic air, but a scent of decay and death. The air here is sweet… sickeningly sweet. This is the scent of flesh dying and decomposing. Of course, this is to be expected. After all, I'm in the middle of a tomb.
At the bottom floor, an area that I dared not approach, there was a lone figure, a lone girl, lying in the middle of a pool of darkness. She wore nothing, and even in the dim light, she radiated purity and innocence.
My eyes shifted their gaze slightly and I saw that she was not alone. The mass surrounding her, the writhing darkness, were countless thousands of worms. Squirming over her, the worms tugged at her skin, burrowed into her flesh, and devoured her nerves. All the while she was screaming. All the while an old man cackles.
Damn that grail. It seems that it exists only to bring misery and sadness. If it can't do that directly, then it'll do so indirectly. It would seem that I am too late once again.
No. There may be time yet. I have not been noticed yet. I can still act where I can.
I ready three blades in my right hand and three blades in my left hand. I grip them with the sides of my fingers. The blades are thin. They are too thin to be used to slash and their center is near the tip, offsetting their usefulness in clashing blades. Instead, these are meant to be thrown. The Black Keys.
Ordinarily, I would not be one to use these blades. The Black Keys are weapons used solely by members of the Church and I'm not one of them. Their specialty is pinning one's shadow to the ground. No matter how hard one struggles, their shadow will refuse to leave them, and so both are stuck by the blade.
I let all six blades fly deftly from my hands and they form a ring around the girl.
"What?!" the old man cries out.
With a snap of my fingers, the blades ignited and the surrounding worms were burned to ashes. I do not have the Sacred Cremation Rites that a certain Executioner uses, but I can improvise.
Interlude
The old man looked towards the area where the blades flew from.
There, standing tall in the darkness, was a figure draped in a red cloak. He glared at the old man. The old man glared back.
"How dare you interrupt the initiation ritual?!" the old man spat out.
The old man, Makiri Zouken, no, Matou Zouken, knew he should tread cautiously. Two hundred years worth of experience meant that not much can surprise him. Not many can even pose a danger to him.
However, the figure that stands atop the stairs was another matter completely. There was something uncanny about this man. While his magical prowess seems almost nonexistent, which was how he was able to slip by without disturbing the boundary field, every danger bell in his mind sounded off. This man was not someone to trifle with.
Getting over his initial shock, Matou Zouken started grinning inwardly. While the ritual was interrupted, it was by no means a failure… he could always start again. Besides, the arrival of a new piece might make this game a little more fun. Zouken could feel the cogs in his mind turning already. There was no doubt that this person was strong. He could sense it. There is an aura, a desperate grasping for something in the air. This person could be manipulated relatively easy; he could always use another strong piece.
"Sorry, but I can't stand to see a girl hurt in front of me," the red clad person stated with a cocky grin. He still made no move to go anywhere near the remaining worms.
Zouken frowned slightly. If only he would come a little closer, the worms would drain him dry. Then, Zouken would be free to deal with him as per his whim. His smile crept back full force. The answer was simple. If he won't come down here willingly, then force a situation where he has to; and the perfect piece was just lying there too. First though, he will try to get some more information.
"I do not know if you were properly raised as a magus or not," Zouken started slowly, his eyes searching the figure for any change that would give information, "But magi families pass down their Magic Crests, which will induce pain. She," Zouken tilts his head slightly at the girl, "Is to be the new successor. Therefore, she must inherit this crest and pain."
"And violating her humanity is all part of the plan, yes?" came a mocking reply.
Zouken quickly closes his eyes to hold off his surprise. This person knew a lot. Then he must be -------.
"Let's cut the charades Zouken," the figure said quickly. "I'm here for one thing and one thing only: to stop you from hurting Sakura."
Zouken could almost jump in glee. He could have known from the moment the person revealed himself, but his statement just now confirmed everything. 'Sakura.' The way he said her name was tender, affectionately even. This girl obviously means a lot to him. Which makes him easier to manipulate, just like a certain other fool.
"And what would you have me do?" Zouken replied humbly.
"For one thing, not put the Crest Worm in –"
"Ah, I'm sorry but that cannot be done," Zouken said with a grim smile. He saw how his eyes widened almost comically. "After all, the Crest Worm is already in her." He won't question how this stranger knows about the Crest Worm. This was his biggest bargaining chip on the table. He should be able to sway him easily enough if he already knows what the Crest Worm can do.
"Wha----t?" he said slowly. His brain can't keep up. Sakura. Crest Worm. Sakura. Crest Worm. Got to keep Crest Worm from Sakura. Got to keep Sakura from Crest Worm. Plan failed. Crest Worm. Got to keep…. Crest Worm. Sakura from Sakura. Plan Worm. Sakura. Crest. Failed. Failed Sakura. Failed. Failed! Failed! Failed!! FAiLED!! FaIlED!! fAIldEd!! FAiLeD!!! FAILED! FAILED! FAILED!!!
"You should already know what this means," Zouken states evilly. There's no longer any need to try and pretend to be nice. This person knows about the Crest Worm, so he'll know what it means regarding Sakura. "Her life is in my hands now."
Zouken smirked as he looked up at the figure. He was mumbling, "Failure," over and over. If he can be broken this easily, then his mind must not be that strong. Zouken sighed… He had hoped that this person would have resisted slightly more. That would have made the game a bit more challenging and would have been more fun to crush whatever spirit he still had. Why did he have to ask about the Crest Worm first?! It would have been much for fun to reveal that at the end and shatter his mind completely. Whoever this person was, the girl must mean quite a bit to him.
"Damn, I didn't think that I would be this late," he muttered as his eyes hardened and strengthened their resolve. "Then you'll keep any from the Makiri line from harming her."
"Wha---t?" This time, Zouken was the one stating slowly. For a second, it seemed like he had a meltdown. Zouken was seriously considering taking his body since it looked like his brain had imploded from the revelation. Yet here he was still demanding as if he wasn't all that fazed. Zouken's eyes narrowed. No, he was clearly shaken up when he heard. He's just accepting it and moving on with what he can. Fine, two can play at that. Normally, the negotiations should precede the trump cards, so that both sides can see what the other has to offer, but nonetheless, as he held her life in his hand, his victory is assured.
"And what have I to gain from that?"
A cruel smile in the darkness. Zouken was taken aback. Even knowing that her life was on the line, this person still has something he believes can trump the Crest Worm?! Impossible!
"You've nothing to gain, and everything to keep," a cold and merciless laughter. "I've heard that the Makiri have kept safe invaluable tomes. I've heard that hundreds of them are in this very house. It would be quite a shame if say, oh I don't know, an accidental fire was to wipe them out."
"You wouldn't?!" Zouken gasped out. Pretenses aside, Zouken knows what's a bluff and what's not, and this man is clearly being very, very, gravely serious.
To magi, ones self is of little importance compared to the family line. Each generation is to add on to the family line, increasing knowledge, Magic Circuits, etc. The family Magic Crest is the epitome of this ideal. Each successor slowly adds to their Magic Crest before passing it on to the next generation. In this way, they not only preserve their legacy of their era, but ensure that the family lives through eternity.
That said, to lose or ruin the hard work of countless generations is the ultimate sin to a magus. In a sense, not only do they lose their family, they also lose their identity.
For Zouken, while he knows that the knowledge the Makiri has accumulated for hundreds of years are safeguarded so well that not even he can easily destroy them if he wants to, he knows, or rather, he feels that the being in front of him can and will destroy every archive in this house.
Zouken is many things: clever, cunning, sly, sadistic; but he is no fool. Even with the girl as the bargaining chip, he knows that he will crumble first if faced with losing the girl or the tomes. He is a true magus after all. The line comes before ones self.
But he would not fall as a coward. He knows too that this man has just played his own trump card. Both sides will now have to negotiate to avoid having to use their respective trump cards. Still, Zouken knows that he is trapped in a corner. He cannot afford to lose his family's knowledge, but he also cannot afford to sacrifice his experiment just yet. Hopefully, he can bluff this person long enough to avoid those scenarios.
"I'll offer you a deal," the figure stated with all seriousness. "Keeping her safe would be in both our interests. I just want to keep her safer than simply being alive. Neither of us would want say, her heart, to get crushed, now would we?"
Zouken had to swallow hard the bile that was creeping up his throat. His skin was clammy with cold sweat. His weak and fragile heart was threatening to break out of his ribcage. They both knew the insinuation.
This person knows.
This person knows!
This person knows?!
"And, what else?" Zouken asks carefully. He has to gather what this person really knows. This could be all a bluff, but he has to know all the terms and weigh them out carefully. With his own advantage gone, he can only negotiate the old fashion way.
The person narrowed his eyes. "That's all. Keep her safe, especially from those whose bloodline is Makiri." Zouken was amazed that he could see the pupils turning into slits. "Especially you," he spat. "Do that and you get to keep your family's line and life."
"Hmm," Zouken muttered as he thought deeply. "If you really wanted to destroy me and the family line, you would have done so already. Instead, you are bargaining all that for just one girl's life. What would you do if I killed her now?"
He laughed. Simply and purely, he laughed. Zouken was amazed. Despite holding the girl hostage, this person simply isn't fazed at all. Was he wrong about the feelings harbored for the girl?
"You won't do it," he answered simply. "You won't kill her. She's too important to you right now to kill. Aside from that, you would never risk your family's line to that point. No, even more importantly, you would never risk your life, your own goal, to that extent. Face it, you have no voice in the matter."
Zouken narrowed his eyes. He's cornered and he knows it. He can't back out of it. He can't charge ahead. There is nowhere for him to maneuver. From the very beginning when the figure first trespassed into this area, this end was already decided.
"Very well," Zouken uttered with a heavy breath. If he stands to gain nothing and only lose, then he must keep his losses minimal.
"Not so fast," the figure said suddenly, causing Zouken to snap open his eyes. "I want a contract, magically binding to the terms."
Zouken's mind reeled and the cogs start moving at top speed. "Very well," he said in a slightly triumphant voice. "Come down here so that we can make a contract."
Interlude Out
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts so badly.
It hurts so much.
Why?
Why does it hurt?!
Two thoughts flashed through her head. I am Sakura. A-I-U-E-O-Ka-Ki…
She was going insane. There's no way a human can withstand this kind of pain and still be sane. Therefore, she must be insane. But then why can she still think so rationally. She knows who she is and she haven't forgotten her hiragana yet.
Her mind reels. Images flashed by as she tried to see them. She woke up this morning, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair. She met Nii-san at breakfast and uttered her usual apology. He looked at her with scorn and pity.
She didn't go to school today. Her grandfather told her to stay home. It was okay. Really. Another day of training she supposed. She had long given up on hoping someone would come. She hated training and she hated her grandfather. Still, she'd live this long because of them so she can't go against them.
She wore only a simple white dress as she descended the stairs. She stopped when she could see the sickening mass of worms. She hated them too. They were painful. They felt like hot knives driving into her flesh. They burrowed deep in her, eating everything in their way; her flesh, her nerves, her bones, her emotions, her primal instincts, her dreams, her hopes, her fantasies. All they left was her consciousness. How she wished that they would eat that first. At the very least, she won't have to feel the pain until her consciousness slips away.
They had violated her so many times. She now trembles at the mere thought of them. She wished with all her heart that today she wouldn't have to deal with them.
No such luck.
She was suddenly pushed from behind. Without warning, she felt something tug at the dress she wore. Someone had grabbed the dress and the thin fabric easily ripped. She couldn't control the scream that erupted from her throat as she fell.
Thud.
With a dull thud that was cushioned by the worms, she was swallowed by the darkness. The worms were even livelier today. They tore at her deeper than ever. She screamed as she was a violated inside and out. She screamed as her body rejected the invasion. She screamed until she was hoarse. She kept screaming. She kept screaming until her mind could take no more, and unconsciousness greeted her.
Through the darkness, where all her senses were dulled, she heard voices. Even in the darkness, she could always hear her grandfather. Talking. Always talking to her in that cold, mocking, condescending tone.
Just shut up!
She would want to shout at him. But she can't. Her mouth won't obey her. Her body won't obey her. All she could do is plead for him to stop. Not that he ever does.
She had once believed that someone will come save her. That there were still people who loved her and cared for her well-being. She doesn't believe in that anymore. She accepts her position now, and understands that no one will come for her. So she should just throw away that useless wish…
But she can't. She knows that it's useless. She knows that it'll never come true. She knows that it'll be crushed and leave her in despair. But she can't let it go. It's the only thing keeping her sane. It's only the wish that someone cares that keeps her going.
"------keep --------------- from harming her."
In the far vestiges of her mind, she hears vague words of her wish.
"I just want to keep her safe------."
She doesn't know this person. This person was a complete stranger to her. Yet this person was granting her deepest wish. She can't feel the worms anymore. She can't feel the pain anymore. All that's left is the darkness.
Hurry.
Hurry.
Hurry.
She has to hurry and open her eyes. She wants to see the person that saved her. She needs to see the person that saved her. So that's why she has to hurry.
Hurry.
Hurry.
Hurry….
Before that person disappears from you forever.
She strains her eyes to open. She struggles. She struggles against the muscles that refuse to move. As if they'd forgotten their movements, she has to painstakingly force them to move.
Slowly, as minutes might as well have been hours, her vision starts to clear. First, light is comprehended. Then, colors are filled in. Finally, outlines, starting out blurry, become crisp and give shape to objects.
She gasps audibly. In front of her, not more than three meters away is her grandfather. He is standing there with a sickeningly cruel smile and his arm extended.
Gripping to her grandfather's hand is a figure draped in red. This was not her hero. This was not the noble and heroic soul that was supposed to come and save her.
She had long since fantasized about her rescues. Each one was slightly different, but she all saw the same. Someone so strong he was unholy stands atop the stairs gazing on something unworthy as her. He would jump down and fight against the darkness that was holding her back. Defeating the worms. Defeating her grandfather. He would pick her up and hold her safely and they would escape from this place forever.
She didn't care if her rescue was gallant or not. She didn't care if her hero was nothing like she imagined. She only wanted a hero to keep her safe; to show that someone still cared about her.
-Heroes don't make deals with villains.
Her heart freezes. He's shaking hands with her grandfather! He looks nothing like a hero!
His hand gripped so tightly that his knuckles were a ghostly white. He fell to one knee as his face grimaced. His breath came as shallow pants. His grey eyes had a pained expression as his gaze dropped from the elderly magus to the floor before they shut.
The worms that were scurrying around his black boots now tried to climb onto his legs. He made no move to brush them off. No, he can't even focus on them now. She can tell when his eyes opened in little slits like he's squinting. He can't even see.
In essence, he is no hero. He is a pitiful creature, more so than even her. Such a person cannot be her savior, she thought, and in the dark recesses of her mind…
She enjoys that he is getting hurt.
But the dark thought passes as she sees him grip tighter yet. She sees his right sleeve. It is tattered. No. Tattered marks are like cuts or holes. His sleeve looks as if the very materials are decaying. She can guess well enough. Her grandfather's touch can decay nearly everything that exists.
While she cannot see his hand so well, she can imagine it.
First skin.
Then fats.
Then flesh.
Then blood vessels.
Then nerves.
Finally bones.
Everything is systematically melted down to a sludge and then absorbed.
Despite everything, he holds on tightly. He ignores the pain he's feeling. He ignores the worms digging at him. He ignores his own limbs that are about to be melted off. He ignores everything, and focuses on what he has to do.
Stop!
She wants to shout out to him.
You don't have to do this!
Why…?
She bites her lip when the thought surfaced.
"Because you look so much more pitiable than I do," she whispers.
But he keeps holding on. He keeps his hand, or what remains of it, tight as if it was his own life on the line.
Time seemed to have crept to a complete halt. No one moved. No one even breathed for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, a thin red line encircled her grandfather's wrist. As it snapped firmly in place onto his skin, a gust of wind blew the red figure to the far wall where he impacted with a sickening crunch.
He crumpled to the ground where he lay unmoving.
"Ha-hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!"
A merciless laughter. Her grandfather's voice echoes in the dark dungeon. It resounds and propagates, threatening to crush her under the pressure.
She averts her eyes to the fallen figure. He is lying facedown on the stony floor. She can't tell if he's breathing or not. A writhing mass is slowly edging towards him.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up!
Get up!
Get up!
He has to get up quickly, or he'll be engulfed by the worms.
"Get up," she whispers so quietly she wasn't even sure of herself.
"Get up.
"Get up.
"Get up.
"Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up! Get up! Get up! Get up! Get up! Get up! Get up!"
Her breathing grows erratic and she isn't even aware that she's shouting at him anymore. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing…except the fact… that he needs to…
"GET UP!!!"
The worms were mere millimeters from the fallen figure. They writhed and jostled to try and get a better position for their next meal. They will drain him dry. They will devour everything. One worm wriggles forward to lead in the meal. It lunges… and it is over in an instant.
A bloody fist comes down and the worm is now a dirty smear on the stone floor. The worms back up fearfully. They can taste the hostility in the air that is emanating from the figure.
She sighs in relief.
His arms slowly push his body up. His legs fold and unfold until he is standing. He doesn't stop until he is upright. In the dark gloom of the Matou's training grounds stands a figure draped in red.
Her eyes widen. This person in front of her, he is a being transcending that of a human. Of everything here that pointed to his defeat, he withstood and is still standing. He could have, no should have given up at so many points but he didn't. Nothing in this dank dungeon touched him in the least. To her, he seemed…
No, that was just what she wanted to see. His true actions are just glorified in that grotesque image that she imagines in her head. His true form she can see right in front of her. He is bent forward, his head bowed, and his eyes closed. His face is contorted in pain and he struggles to control his breathing. Blood drips freely from his now probably useless arm and his legs are quivering just to remain in that position.
Despite all that, he gives off an aura that he's still willing to fight. Despite looking so frail, he looks so strong.
And this frail person slowly walks towards her. His legs push him painfully forward as his arms useless sway slightly from the momentum. Every slight movement, voluntary or not, must cause so much pain. Yet he keeps nearing her. Slowly but constantly, he edges to where she sat.
"KEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEKEEKEKEKEKEEKE!!!"
Her hands flew to her ears and she cowered as a natural reaction to hearing her grandfather's cackle.
As the laughing echoes, the worms seem to be rejuvenated from the sound. They swarm and move around noisily. They shift and surround the figure and herself. They are still wary though, and are hesitant to approach for fear of death. Still, that is only a matter of time. Soon, both of them will be consumed.
A warmth suddenly envelops her. In this dark and cold place, she feels the tender warmth of a person. How… nostalgic… She remembers warmth like this from so long ago… so far away.
She looks up to see the grim face of her savior. His face was full of pain, but he was always staring straight ahead; nothing could deter him. It was a face that has seen and suffered much hardship. Like a refined sword that has been beaten and battered until it has broken and was reforged. She could tell that this person has killed and been killed repeatedly, just to reach this point.
Tearing his gaze away from the cackling man, he looks gently down at her. He was at least twice her height and she could already tell that he can barely even see her. She hears a rustle, and the next moment, his face was right in front of her. The figure knelt so he would be face to face with her, and he gazed deeply into her eyes.
There was no sign of entry, but she could feel him entering her core. He wasn't putting a spell on her, but she felt spellbound. This was neither Suggestion nor Hypnosis. He just wanted to see her, pure and simple. He wants to confirm that she really was right here in front of him.
His left hand touches her chin and tilts her head up slightly so that he can get a better view. It slides to her cheek where he gently caresses her.
She resists.
She resists the urge to place her hand over his and never let go. She resists the urge to wish for the warmth in his hand to never leave. She resists wishing that he will never leave her because…
It is fake…
He will disappear.
He knows it. She knows it. Heaven and Earth knows it.
He is fake…
He cannot stay. He is not real. He cannot be real.
Your feelings are…
NO! She bit down hard on her tongue. She won't admit it. She'll never admit it. That one statement will never be real for her. She'll never admit that what she's feeling right now is false; because if she does… then she'll be denying the only person who cares for her.
Her eyes clench shut. She is afraid. She is terrified that if she opens her eyes, he won't be there. All that will be around her will be broken hopes. So she doesn't want to believe. Even if he is not real, even if he is a fake, right here, right now in her own little world, there is just the two of them.
"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
A horrible screech comes from the writhing mass. The worms are ready to move in for the final meal. They no longer fear. It has been pushed to the far reaches of their minds now that they are hungry enough. Death by him or death by starvation. Even if one dies, if its brethren can eat, then all is not lost.
She clenches her eyes even tighter and await for the cold ending.
It never comes.
Instead she felt a warmth enveloping her even more completely. She looks down to see a red clothed arm curl around her tiny abdomen. He pulls her in as if to give her a one arm hug. Her head rests gently on his chest. Even through the cold black armor, she could feel his warmth; she could feel his rhythmic breathing; she could feel his heartbeat.
A sudden force of gravity acted on her without notice. His powerful legs kicked against the ground and they are both launched into the air. He lands safely on the stone steps, far away from the accursed worms.
He stands up straight and sends a glare that could induce death towards her grandfather and his worms. She shudders. She's never seen a glare that harsh. Even her grandfather would probably falter against that kind of pressure.
He picks her up and holds her with his arm resting under the back of her knees and his chest against her back. She felt a sudden rush of wind as he quickly took off. Despite knowing that she was quite safe, she couldn't help but reach up and encircle her arms around his neck.
Wind lashes around them. She doesn't even know if he's breathing anymore. His breathing is drowned out by the wind and her face is numbed by the wind so she can't even feel his heartbeat.
But she's never been this exhilarated before. It should be scary, but it's not. She feels free; almost as if she's flying. If she closes her eyes, she can just imagine it.
She closed her eyes… and she knew no more.
…
…
Loud chattering. She can't understand them. Four close walls. She feels a bit claustrophobic. The air here is fresh; though not necessarily clean, the people moving about keeps the air from stagnating. She looks around her to take in the wonder.
Four wooden walls, three of which are firmly connected to the floor and ceiling while the fourth was a large door. Mirrors adorn the walls and a small bench and rail were also there.
She frowns as she tries to remember how she ended up here. Everything that happened after escaping was a blank. She only remembers waking up in this room half-dressed. She was undressing herself, but she doesn't remember doing it. She doesn't even remember entering into this place.
Still, her confusion is offset by her joy as she felt the fabric slide across her skin. She looks into the mirror and gives a small twirl to see how she looks. Her hair flutters slightly as the dress flared out.
White and simple, the dress makes her look like a fairy she thinks to herself. Added to that, her hair and eye color adds to her unearthliness. She stops and takes a long hard look in the mirror. For so long now, she's cursed her hair and eyes. They were so different from others; kids would tease her for it. More importantly, they were a reminder that she was a cast off – an inferior being.
A knock on the door quickly snaps her out of her trance.
"Are you done yet?" Came the deep voice.
She shyly opens the door for him to see. She looks up at him with upturned eyes full of uncertainty, awaiting for his approval.
"Simple and nice, I like it. It looks good on you," he said with a smile.
Her face flushed. She could feel it and she was sure that he could easily tell. In desperation, she quickly turned around and took several deep breaths to try and calm herself down. Her heart was already racing when he made just one compliment. She hopes that she doesn't pass out from all the blood rush.
When she turned around, he was holding some white high heeled sandals. He motioned for her to sit on one of the benches and she obediently complied. She could have put them on herself, the sandals having straps and she just learned how to do so recently, but he knelt and smoothly slid them on to her feet.
They were cute and they matched her dress. Instantly knowing that she liked them, he smiled and walked over to the cash register. She blushed even deeper if possible and focused her gaze to her feet. By the time he came back, she was still engrossed in her newly acquired sandals, periodically clicking together the toes.
"So, are you ready to go?" he asks.
She nodded and hopped off the bench. She walked closely by his side but always slightly behind him. She wants to come closer, but her face heated up at the mere thought. She doesn't know what would happen to her if she accidentally bumped into him, so she'd rather not take the risk.
He was walking and standing tall. It was almost as if the events in the basement never happened. She would occasionally look up at him at a sideway glance and would watch his face. The moment that she felt he was about to look down at her, she turned her gaze away quickly so he wouldn't notice.
Of course, that didn't keep everyone else from noticing. She knew that people were watching. She knew that they were whispering. She couldn't hear them, but she knew. How odd they must look. A strangely dressed man is walking with a strange little girl. Is he a cosplayer? Is he a lolicon? What's he wearing? Is she his daughter?
She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears and ignore them, but she knew that he would notice and be troubled. After all, most of the comments were directed at him, and he didn't seem to care. His presence seems to permeate every nook and cranny of his surroundings, she can feel it. She was quite sure that not even a gnat would be able to dart in and escape his notice.
So he probably knew about what they were saying. He probably could hear every word they were whispering with superior accuracy, but he didn't bother with them. He was probably used to it. He's probably heard jeers and dejection hounding him at every corner, so this is nothing.
She suddenly jumped back. Something cold had touched her cheek.
She saw him holding a can that he just got from a vending machine. He handed it to her, all the while holding a smirk. She took it, and looked away pouting. She felt slightly annoyed with him but… he wasn't a bad annoyance.
She quickly opened the drink and took a sip. It was sweet, very sweet. It was also sour and tangy. The carbonated fizz stung at her tongue as she took several more gulps. Normally, she wasn't allowed anywhere near sweets. They were too unhealthy. A magus' body is just as important as his mind.
She quickly finished her drink and made a mental note of learning the brand to get some later. It would be hard trying to sneak it past her grandfather, but she'd try anyways.
Wait.
Why is she thinking that she would have to go back?
A small smile formed on her face. She was free now. She didn't have to worry about her grandfather anymore. She could live a normal life like she'd always wanted. No more chains binding her. No more worms or darkness. At last, she was free. All thanks to this mystery right beside her.
"Well aren't you looking happy?" a gruff voice called out from her right.
Her head instantly darted up to see his smirk. She wonders if smirking and grimacing were the only things he's capable of. So far, she's never seen him truly smile. Sure he'd grin from time to time when he's teasing her in the short time that they've been together, but he hasn't smiled a smile that would reach his eyes.
The next few hours passed as a blur. They went all around the city. They explored Verde, the biggest shopping district in the area. There were so many stores, so many people, so many smells, so many voices. There were food stores, and there were drink stands. There were clothing stores, and furniture stores, and so many different and superfluous products that show the vanity of humans. She loved every bit of the place.
All too soon, it was time to go. She knew that there was so much more to see and explore, but she wouldn't get too greedy. She'd heard of various rumors about the Shinto area; like the largest stuffed animal shop this side of Fuyuki City or an abandoned, and supposedly haunted, park. She wanted to at least see them, but she didn't think that he would care too much for them.
Sure he would probably say yes, maybe even feign interest in such things, but she knew that it would only aggravate him further. She could see it slowly creeping into his eyes. Annoyance. His eyes would contract, narrow, and turn into slits. Each time, she saw someone not so discreetly whispering. Even if he pretends not to notice, even if he can shoulder their petty words, the constant grinding and pressure will slowly wear away at his patience.
So it would be good to end this excursion on a happy note. She was already satisfied enough. Stuffed animals and a park were hardly something to get upset over and bother someone else.
They walked away from the Shinto area and crossed the bridge. Cold. A breeze swirls around the lonesome couple. There is no one else on the bridge. There is only the two of them, walking closely at hand, but seemingly so distant. She shivers.
Was it from the chilly wind?
Or was it from their cold relationship?
She was grateful. Of that she was sure she was sincere. Deep in her heart, engraved in her soul, she will always feel indebted to this figure who showed her hope in that dark dungeon.
But she can't help that feels as if he's purposefully distancing himself from her. Other than their few words of exchange… no, so far, only he'd spoken. Ever since they escaped from the worms, she hadn't spoken once. So maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe it was hers because she never tried.
"-"
She opens her mouth but quickly shuts it. She doesn't even know what to say to him. Ask him about himself? Too personal. Ask him the meaning of life? Too deep. Ask him about the weather? Too shallow. Too many thoughts and questions flowed in her mind. She quickly shook her head to clear them away.
Before she realized it, they had already crossed the bridge and were standing on the other side. A gentle frown graced her face. She was always trying to keep her emotion in check. Still, a chance missed is regrettable.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asks suddenly.
She sharply looks up to see his concerned face staring down at her. When their eyes met, she felt her face heating up again and quickly turns her head aside in an attempt to hide it. She can feel his eyes piercing her from behind. Still, she keeps her position, because she knows that he will read her mind once she looks at him again.
"KYURURUUUUUU!!!!!!"
A guttural cry emanates from her. She scarcely wonders if her face had discovered a new shade of red.
"Hahahaha," she heard a soft chuckle and her breathing narrows. "How about we go and have some lunch?"
Her response was a nod and, still adamantly refusing to look at him, her feet unconsciously walked with him to the riverside park.
Warm and soft. That was the light. That was the grass and blanket. That was him. In the middle of a park overlooking the river, there is a serene scene of a young awaiting girl and a selfless man. They are translucent; they are there, but no one takes notice of them.
On the plaid textured blanket, there was a golden wicker basket. On a variety of plates and dishes are foods of every sort. While they are most definitely not the only ones in the park enjoying a simple lunch, there is something… unique about their presence. They are… in truth, the idealized image of a picnic.
They look strange, yes. A lonely violet haired girl with a strangely clad white haired man, how can they not be a strange sight to behold? And yet, they give off the air of the epitome of a peaceful couple. He is there for her, and she is there for him. A simple existence of co-dependence.
She slowly munches on a sandwich. It was turkey on rye with a bit of lettuce for substance. Normally, she doesn't eat lettuce, but she didn't feel it was right to take out the lettuce when he's already prepared the picnic. The turkey was a little dry, but the mayonnaise made up for it. None of that actually matters though, since she's more focused on something else rather than taste at the moment.
"You know, if you don't like the lettuce you could always take it out," he says casually as he watches out onto the river. His eyes never left the river to look at her, but she knows that he can sense her thoughts.
"I thought it would be rude," she says slowly, but she starts to remove the remaining pieces of lettuce anyways. At the very least, she vowed to herself that she will try to talk to him, no matter how desperate she may come off as.
"Nah," he grins. "I'm not much on proper etiquette myself. Well, I know how to not make a fool of myself at a dinner party, but I'm pretty laidback on my own."
"Really?" she questions offhandedly, still trying to pick out the last of the leaves. She didn't really believe him. He seems so… together. None of his actions were unnecessary, and everything was done methodically, even his breathing.
"Hahahahaha, yeah. Besides, lettuce doesn't really have a taste. You either like it or you don't, so eat to enjoy."
"Hmmm…." She goes back to eating her sandwich, now without the lettuce. Inside her heart, she was racing from the casual talking with him. He didn't seem that purposefully cold towards her. Inside her mind, her thoughts were all calm and collected for thinking. With only a few words, he's managed to make her think deeply.
'You either like it or you don't, so --- to enjoy, huh?'
He really was a mystery. He speaks so assuredly of himself, it was almost as if he's experienced the same pain. Yet his voice holds something that she doesn't have. 'If only,' she thinks. If only she has what he has, then maybe….
Eventually, their meal ends and he packs away the blanket and basket. She stares off into the river for the few minutes that he went away. Even when he's come back, they both stare into the river in silence. Not a word has been uttered since then. They both stay as still as a portrait, as if the slightest twitch would cause this perfect picture to break.
Finally, the silence was broken.
"Shall we continue?" he asks nonchalantly.
She nods slowly, and walks away with him. Their positions are resumed, and she quietly tags along behind him as they head deeper into the residential district.
They pass numerous houses without notice. As they neared the Matou residence, she picks up her pace until she's nearly overtaking him. She holds this speed until after she was sure she was safely distanced from the house. By that time, they were at the main intersection of Miyamachou.
The intersection connects to a variety of shops and also connects to the school, the northern and southern sectors, and to the bridge. It is a good gathering place and many people have come out on such a bright and sunny day. Some have taken shelter from the heat of the day inside the shops while others are still walking about, taking in the sights and sounds and commuting to where they need.
The pair takes a turn and walks into the shopping district. While the selection of goods is inferior to that in Verde, the shops here have more of a homely feeling. For that reason, there are only a few shops that specialize in equipment or furniture. Instead, food stores dominate the area.
One such shop is Koushuuensaikan, Taizan. This shop is notorious for its mouth-melting spicy Chinese food. She's heard rumors of high school students daring each other to eat there, or even sometimes as initiations for clubs and clichés. None have ever succeeded, or so the story goes.
But not every shop was so scary. They came to a stand, Edomaeya, which was popular among the students. Taiyaki is sold here at 80 yen per piece. Affordable, delicious, and in close proximity of the school, it was no wonder that students come here after a tiring day of learning.
Just as she was thinking that, he comes back with a small brown bag full of piping hot taiyaki. Its sweet smell wafts ever closer to her as he nears. Staring so intently at the bag will definitely give her away, but she can't help it. Shamefully, she has a sweet tooth. Dear Kami, she hoped that she was not blatantly drooling right in front of him.
"Here, enjoy it," he says as he holds the bag open in front of her.
She hesitates.
Noticing this, he reaches in the fishes out a piece for himself. He blows on it slightly and takes a small bite. His face was of utter serenity while he eats. Scarcely, she wonders if all heroes take ordinary actions to the extreme or if it was just her imagination.
Still, the bag was openly offered in front of her and refusing the sweet, delicious, tempting taiyaki was just disrespectful, to him and the taiyaki. So there was nothing to do but reach in and grab one; which she promptly did.
Repeating his actions, she tenderly takes a bite into the pastry. It was good; very good. Whoever made this knew what they were doing. A soft and slightly flaky, slightly crunchy dough shell covers a sweet red bean paste center. It was not so sweet that it would unbalance the taste, but it was not so bland as to give a hollow aftertaste. In all, it was as good as taiyaki was going to get.
They resumed their walking, edging closer to the temple. They fell back into the lull of silence once again. It was not as if they didn't like to speak to each other. Rather, it was that they had nothing to talk about. Topics don't easily flow to them. Neither could really talk about their past, nor could they talk about their futures. Their present they feared; one wrong move, one wrong word, could cause this dreamlike world of just the two of them to collapse.
So they walked in silence, and it suited them just fine.
They didn't need words. Small simple cues were enough to tell what the other was thinking. Whenever she was nearly finishing her taiyaki, he would smile and hold the opened bag nearer to her. Whenever his fist clenches or his eyes narrowed, she plucks up her courage and walks nearer to him to the point of almost leaning on him. In this silence, it gave them time to think and focus.
Still nibbling on her new taiyaki, her brow furrows as she concentrates on anomaly right in front of her. She was quite sure that she saw him shake hands with her grandfather, no matter how much she would like to deny that fact. She was sure that his hand was reduced to no more than a bloody mass. But his hand looks the same as normal right now.
Effects caused by Mana do not fade that quickly and the symptoms take even longer to heal. Her grandfather's decaying touch continues to take effect even after contact has been terminated; the effects spread to other areas and even to outside objects. Even spirits whose bodies are made of Mana would have a hard time purging themselves of the decay.
Stealing a concealed look towards his right hand, she sees that the sleeves are still tattered. Perhaps it was because of the dim light of the basement, but the sleeve didn't look that bad now. His hand was perfectly fine though, and that she knew was impossible.
No matter how great he may be, there was absolutely no way that he would have walked away from that basement unscathed, especially since she saw him in so much pain just a few hours earlier. Plus, he had willingly let her grandfather's Mana enter him, meaning the effects should have been much stronger.
She recognized a magical contract when she sees one. All parties involved open their Mana Circuits at the same time and allow each others' Mana to be coursed through said Mana Circuits. Written in their very cores are the terms of a contract. Like a geis, breaking the terms will invoke penalties already written in the contract. Most often, the highest infringement on a contract merits death.
By sharing Mana, the decomposition should have a much greater effect. No, his hand should have been nothing more than a puddle of organic ooze. Nothing should have been left. No flesh. No bones. Perhaps maybe some amino acids and saccharides, but most probably even those are dissolved.
Yet his hand is fine. There is nothing wrong with it that she can see. It moves fine and he doesn't seem to be in pain when it moves. Skeletal composition is perfect. Muscle tension is perfect. Everything about his hand, down to the tan, is perfect. No broken bones. No torn tissues. Not even a blemish or a bruise. A serious anomaly.
Well, even if she thinks about it, it was not as if he would just answer her outright. Perhaps he knows some superior healing arts. Perhaps he's not affected by the decay and that was from an earlier wound. Perhaps that was just her wishing that he had gotten hurt…
Her eyes widen and quickly clamp shut. How could she?! How could she think that way about the person who saved her?
In the midst of her thoughts, she forgot that she should be paying attention to where she's going. Had she noticed sooner, she would have questioned whether or not he actually had a destination in mind when he took her out of that house.
Currently, two figures are bathed in the reddish glow of the sunset. Though still quite early, the sun has already begun to set behind the temple. From their viewpoints, it was a beautiful scene. The setting sun casting black shadows over the mountains, eerie, but all the same, majestic.
He stands in silence, watching. Always watching. He doesn't attempt to make a move. His eyes are stock still, locked on something that can no longer be found in this world. Gentle breezes cause his red cloak to flutter slightly, but other than that, there is no movement in the red hero.
She sits in silence, watching without seeing. A thousand and one thoughts races through her head, but not one registers in her mind. She doesn't even attempt to concentrate. In the deep recesses of her mind, this moment is for an eternity and she is far away.
They spend the rest of the day in this way, content in their own little worlds, aware or unaware of each other. Each in a dream; neither wanting to wake up.
All dreams come to an end however. A transient event that comes once and never occurs again, that is a dream. So too must these two part.
"It seems that we will have to part here," he says solemnly in nearly a whisper.
Perhaps she already knew of this end because she stayed silent throughout the entire walk back. A day with so much fun is destined to never again occur because it was never meant to have occurred in the first place. Such a life is still beyond her grip.
But that does not mean that she can give up so easily.
"Why?" she questions without looking at him.
They are in front of the Matou house again. She knew that she was deluding herself earlier with notions of escaping the Matou forever. Was it wrong? Was it so wrong that she wished with all her being that he would take her to a better place?
No. He is the one at fault here.
"Why did you bring me back here?"
He gave you hope. He saved you. He took you away from this accursed prison.
He doesn't look at her. He simply picks up her unresisting body and carries her to her room and places her on the bed.
"Why aren't you saving me?" she ask bitterly.
His gaze is still away from her.
"Answer me!" she screams at him.
So why's he leaving you back here?
"I'm not strong enough," he mutters slowly, still avoiding her.
"Don't give me that," she grits out. Her knuckles turn white from gripping on the sheets so hard. "Just who do you think you are? You save me, you give me hope, and then you break me by bringing me back."
He stays silent at her words. They were harsh, but true.
"You're just as despicable, no even more despicable than them."
She changes. Her voice changes from weak but angered to coy though bitter. Her unnatural violet eyes turn to an even more unnatural red that leers at him while her hair starts to bleach at the tip. With the corners of her mouth turned upwards, her grimace changes into an uncharacteristic smirk.
"Of course that is understandable, so I won't hold it against you. Weak humans will only say that which is convenient for them," she says coolly.
She waits for him to answer back. He doesn't.
"What?" she asks with a small frown. "You're not even going to try and justify yourself?"
He continues to look away in silence.
"Geez," she sighs. "It's no fun if you don't talk back. It almost makes me feel bad taking my anger out on you."
By now, her hair is almost fully white and dark red patterns are slowly engraving themselves onto her skin.
"Hmph, if you want to leave this girl behind, then you should do it soon. She'll forget about this soon enough. It's harder on her if you stick around any longer like that."
Spontaneously, she felt strong arms wrapping themselves around her. As the flutter of the red cloak died down, she realizes that he was hugging her.
"H-hey now! Even if you hug me out of nowhere, it's not going to change anything," she stutters while a light blush crept on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
She gasps. Over and over again, he whispers that phrase into her ear.
Something wet and hot trickles down the back of her neck as his grip on her tightens.
'Damn him,' she thinks as she tries to find something else mean to say to him. She could insult him, call him out on his crying, or even admit that he was right to be crying. Any of those would have made him feel worse and her better… but she doesn't do any of them.
Instead, her hands encircle him and pull him closer. Periodically, she would rub his back, though she wasn't sure if he could feel it through his armor. Whispering nonsense into his ear, eventually his breathing grew steady and he straightens up.
"I'm sorry you had to see such an embarrassing display," he says while looking at her.
"No worries," she said offhandedly, though her expression wavers between confusion and joy. "I got some good blackmail material on a stranger, so it's good enough for me," she states with a contented nod.
He frowns slightly, but it is quickly replaced with a wry smile.
"Are you really going to leave her like this? Something like this might damage her far more than anything that Matou's have done."
His gaze shifted slightly, but he quickly averts it back to face her. She smiles at his determination to look at her.
"I can't take her. I simply don't have the power."
She sighs and her white hair starts receding, giving way to the violet strands.
"She doesn't totally hate you, but you're a weird savior. You save the princess, only to leave her at the hands of the devil. What kind of hero are you?"
Her eyes closes and blearily looking through them are violet irises.
"Tch, I'm the worst kind of hero… an anti-hero," he says wryly with a snort.
As her mind succumbs to the reaches of unconsciousness, she feels something warm and tender touching her cheek.
Maybe it's a dream, but she hears tender words that become etched in her heart.
-Let us meet again, eleven years from now…
And with that, she falls into the darkness.
Eleven years later
In the dark basement of the Matou household, a circle of runes written in blood starts to glow. After eleven long years, the girl with violet eyes will meet him again.
Tiger Dojo
Tiger stylized screen doors open to a dojo.
Taiga: Hi, konnichiwa minna-san.
Illya: Haaaaiii! First student present, Sensei!
Taiga: Good job! Finally, after so long, we're back in the dojo.
Illya: Yep! We're back in the dojo again!
Taiga: Ah, but you know, I hear that we can't really give advice here anymore.
Illya: That's right. There aren't any choices here that the reader can really make. This is more like a Kinetic Novel.
Taiga: Eh?! Doesn't that mean that we're pretty much basically useless here?
Illya: More or less.
Taiga: EHHHHHHHH?!?!?!?! Then why are we even here if we can't do anything?!
Illya: Quiet down, Tiger. There's a good reason why we're here.
Taiga: R-really?
Illya: Yep. This story is slated for becoming dark and confusing, so we're here to lighten things up and clarify stuff.
Taiga: OOH!!! Like comic relief!
Illya: Yep! Not only that, I hear that we'll have bigger parts in this story than in the original.
Taiga: B-BIGGER PARTS?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!
Illya: That's the plan. We'll be sub-main characters instead of minor characters - KYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
Taiga: SUB-MAIN CHARACTERS!!! That's... wait, does such a category even exist?
Illya: Who cares? We'll have bigger roles. I also heard that Shirou's more indulgent in us this time.
Taiga: Bigger roles! Finally, we'll get our own CGs! Hey, maybe there'll be one with you and Shirou! Hahahahahahaha!
Illya: ...
Taiga: Eh? Hey, Illya, why the frozen stony look?
Illya: ...Are you an idiot?
Taiga: Eh?
Illya: THINK ABOUT WHERE WE ARE!!!!
Taiga: The Tiger Dojo?
Illya: No, you idiot. We're in a written format. In simpler terms, we're not getting CGs.
Taiga: W-WHAT?!
Illya: You heard me. We're not getting CGs.
Taiga: Ooooh.... This fanfiction has left me in despair!!!!
Illya: Hey, quit ripping off copyrighted stuff. I'm not happy about this either you know.
Taiga: Hmm.... But you're sure about the bigger parts?
Illya: Yep, I'm sure of it! I overheard talking about how Illya and Taiga are needed, especially in the back story.
Taiga: That sounds really important and impressive. Yosh!
Illya: ...?
Taiga: Even if we don't get CGs, we still getting bigger roles! Let's do our best, Student Number One!
Illya: OSU!!! Let's do our best now!
Taiga: But first...
Illya: First?
Taiga: MEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WHACK!!!!
Illya: KYYYYAAAAA!!!! Why'd you hit my head?!
Taiga: That's for calling me a tiger.
Tiger stylized screen doors close to a dojo.
Illya: Even though I said the readers don't really have choices, they have one very important choice.
Taiga: What's that?
Illya: They can choose to review or not!
Taiga: Ooh! A critical choice indeed. Make that choice, it's up to you to help out this story. Which choice will you take? To review or not to review.
Illya: We want you! Only you can prevent writer's block!
And I'll stop here with the lame puns. So what do you think so far?