Genesis 3: Faces

It had been over two and a half years since the day where the pestering drama returned. Perhaps it truly wasn't best to mention Saber back then. Perhaps it was too early. However, as most things do, the drama eventually settled down with a bit of force and restraint. And time. Time long enough for Shirou's hair to grow white from too much Tracing – that was sufficient enough. Additionally, Rin's early return to London served the purpose of perhaps expediting the process, and perhaps reducing the awkwardness that remained between them.

Shirou hadn't forgotten that day, though, and he somehow found it hard to miss Rin over the years, as much as he did care for her well-being. He wasn't one to forget these things. He couldn't forget how Rin could bring Saber up like that. Even years after, her words came back to haunt him every so often. How dare she propose something so absurd? How dare she speak of life and death in such a simple manner?

How dare she spark hope within him?

Of all of the things in the world, nothing stopped Shirou in his tracks quicker than the thought of Saber. He was only a child back then, and yet he had already been shown the fruition of humanity. Because of her, he truly knew love. Shirou, a boy driven by his intense moral desire from his conception onwards, and Saber, a valiant, aged soul trapped within the body of a girl – they were destined lovers, as he believed. Perhaps there was something inside of him that still yearned to see her one more time.

"With this, everything has ended, yes?"

"Yeah. This is the end,"

"As your sword, I have defeated all of your enemies and protected you. I am glad that I have been able to fulfill this oath."

Your rich golden hair captivated me as it danced tenderly in the wind. I didn't want this moment to pass.

"Yeah. You did well."

I could have said a million other things than that. But what else was there that I hadn't already said?

"I need to tell you something before I go…"

I knew what you were going to say. You turned and looked at me as if everything would be all right. That look told me that it would be all right that we would never see each other again. And for what? No one's to blame. The war took you away, but hadn't it brought you to me in the first place?

That sunset, that feeling of relief, that beautiful girl before him – it all crumbled in an instant into the bustling streets of Fuyuki.

"Keep moving, jackass!" A short, skinny businessman with thick glasses pushed his way past Shirou, apparently in a rush, along with most people on the streets. The busy nature of the inner city was good for taking Shirou's mind off of more serious matters, it seemed.

There were hundreds of businessmen walking the streets, most akin to the one who had just passed by. Faces flew by in the bustling crowds. A mother ushered her children, perhaps three or four years of age, in the right direction. Across the street, a clumsy schoolgirl tripped on her way running to school. Shirou lazily glanced around at the people flowing through the streets past him as he took his own way home. More businessmen. A familiar face. Another student. A family on their way to eat.

…A familiar face?

That face. That familiar face. It was unmistakable. That gentle nose and chin. Those sharpened brows that seemed furrowed – always furrowed. That stoic expression that seemed to project a soul that saw a thousand wars and remained yet unmoved. Those elegant locks of aurous, honeyed serenity that enveloped the whole. Those braided tresses bound in a tender crown upon the back of it all. Those deep eyes of viridian that held a forest so deep and full that one would never find its end. He could never forget that face.

When Shirou had finally realized it, it was too late. His reflexes had been dulled by the shock, and by the time he turned for a second look, she was gone into the sea of faces.

My heart's playing tricks on me, now…

Running his fingers through his pale hair in frustration, Shirou gave a deep sigh and continued walking. It seemed so real. For a second, he saw the face that had only taunted him in dreams for the past several years.

I've become weak. I've become so desperate that I want her to be there…

Shirou's heartbreak was something that he'd bore long enough for him to be able to shrug these things off. He'd become used to his burden. Shaking his head, he resumed his everyday life.

Idiot.

With his cynicism shattered the glass of a Mitsubishi that was thrown into the adjacent building. Half a dozen shrieks in unison accompanied the car's act of crushing itself against the concrete, and a rain of rubble showered the few unfortunate souls who happened to be beneath it. At that moment, Shirou knew that he imagined nothing. His heart leaped into a race.

Thrusting himself out of the crowd, he took to the streets, scanning the area that was most likely to have contained the source of the car's miraculous flight. Among the fleeing masses, there were several people lying unconscious, sprawled across the sidewalk. It was utter chaos; people were trampling each other to escape whatever caused the sudden outburst, and cars were stopped indefinitely by the overcrowding in the streets. Shirou's ears filled with scattered screaming, assorted horns of varying tone and volume, and sirens approaching from a mile away. In the midst of this chaos, Shirou was yet stunned by something else.

Saber was nowhere to be found.

Turning his gaze away, Shirou exhaled in frustration. It had been such a perfect plan from the start. Shirou would try to settle his mind through the years, coming to terms with the fact that Saber would never return. Suffering was not optional, and it wouldn't be easy. However, eventually, he'd be at peace with the harsh reality that had confronted him – the reality that love is perhaps not eternal, and that it is best to move on.

The plan was ruined.

"Please, mister, help us," a young boy cried, holding his little sister by the hand. "Our mommy, she won't wake up!" Across the street, it was apparent that she was among the victims of whatever had caused this mess. This wasn't the best time for Shirou, but he wasn't about to turn the other cheek. His guilt would be inescapable if he simply left them here. Shifting his gaze about, he searched for anything to resolve his dilemma. As the moments passed, he could only see civilians scattering away from the blast site. He needed something. Anything.

Relief came to him.

A group of passersby took notice to the children's pleas, and they quickly began approaching them. At least there was some altruism in this world.

Had he truly become the materialization of his father's ideals? The assertion that one cannot be everyone's savior, that sacrifices must be made – was he truly living that now?

No, it wasn't that at all. Shirou was distracted by the only thing that could deter him from a life-and-death situation. Love can work miracles, and yet love is capable of the worst disasters. Shirou knew this more than anyone, but he was thinking too abruptly to stop and remember it. He was only concerned about that familiar face he saw – that unmistakable face. He broke off in a run towards his house.

When he had arrived at home, Shirou heard only the sound of the kitchen TV turned up at full volume. The news was on, and Sakura and Fuji-nee had huddled around the screen attentively, watching the breaking news that was unfolding.

"… total of 29 injured and 4 killed found so far in the incident. Emergency medics have been dispatched to the area, and Fuyuki police are searching for more possible victims. Again, we have just received a report that an explosion has occurred on the corner of Main Street and Tokinawa Street in Fuyuki. The cause of the explosion is still unknown."

"Hm? Oh, Senpai, you're back." Sakura averted her gaze towards the panicked, white-haired man in the doorway. She'd gotten past her habit of self-obligatory bowing over the years. It took her a moment to notice something was wrong. "You weren't there, were you?"

Listening to Sakura wasn't something that was on Shirou's agenda at the moment, and her voice did nothing but pester him.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to see something." His gaze seemed locked on the television.

There was live footage of the incident, and while it was still chaotic, the mess seemed to die down a bit. Emergency vehicles flooded the area, and it was starting to get under control. The new reporter repeated the information every several minutes, as is always done, for viewers like Shirou just tuning in. Shirou looked everywhere for that familiar face in the footage. If it was in there, he would have seen it. His eyes were sharp enough.

"The following is a clip from a civilian's video camera. Filming began after the explosion."

The footage was shaky. Annoyingly shaky. It was to be expected of a person in as much panic as the cameraman, but it made it hard to discern the surroundings. There was dust everywhere for about 20 seconds. The view kept changing, and the camera zoomed in at random times. Those same noises were heard. Shirou knew. He was there when it happened. But this – this was a different angle. Scouring the fleeing masses as the cameraman moved to a safer spot, Shirou focused as best he could in his distressed state.

There it was. The familiar face.

"Saber."

The two young women, obviously having not noticed what Shirou did, turned back to look at him strangely, but he was already halfway out the door.

Sakura scurried to the closet, snatching the jacket Rin had left for her.

It's been almost three years, onee-sama.

"Sakura, take care of yourself, alright? Remember everything."

I remember all of it. You taught me well. I never go a day without practicing.

"Senpai didn't come to see you off," I'd say disappointingly.

You'd just look away for a second before turning back to me. Was that your way of avoiding the topic?

"Hey, Sakura."

"Hm?"

"Stay strong,"

It's been almost three years, sister. If only you could see me now. You told me to change, so I did.

For you.

Southwest. Blurred as the figure was, he knew it was Saber. He knew that she was heading southwest, or in that general heading, at the very least. It was most probable that she was heading for Einzbern Forest. The remaining roads leading southwest were quite minor, and they would serve little purpose to anyone. He took off as quickly as he could. There was no time to think about the reason or nature of Saber's return. In this state, he couldn't reason too well, to begin with.

Sprinting halfway across Fuyuki was no small feat, and Shirou was still human. His feet ran across grass, dirt paths, pavement, streets, avenues, roads, and rooftops – anything that would keep him closest to a straight line to his destination. When he had finally reached the forest, he had given up most of his energy. He was exhausted. It had been hours since the incident at Main Street. Shirou began to contemplate the possible futility of his actions.

After a short while, standing in the middle of a clearing in the woods, Shirou's train of thought was halted. He sensed something approach him from behind. In an instant, Kanshou and Bakuya appeared in his hands. He had traced the two long daggers more than enough times for them to come to him in an instant like loyal hawks, ready to do his bidding. Spinning around to face whatever had been behind him, he landed swiftly into a fighting stance, an array of options readily available for him in an instant. The yin and yang daggers glistened in the sunlight that had trickled through the leaves high above. He gazed upon what stood in his way.

The familiar face lay before him.

The fates must have truly had fun playing around with Shirou. For Saber to appear here at this very spot – it was more than improbable. One could almost call it impossible. Those deep green eyes looked him on. He was that young boy once again, captivated in those eyes. That familiar face was all that he noticed.

"Saber…"

"Hm? You are a Master? Or a Servant? I do not sense enough strength for a worthy Servant, and yet, you seem not tasked with the physical lack found in a Master."

It was true that Shirou could not anticipate what Saber would have said. However, this was far from what he could have expected. The voice that addressed Shirou was different – deeper, somehow. Perhaps it was for the best, though, as this strange greeting from Saber made Shirou break out of his yearning thoughts and assess his surroundings. Something was different.

A resplendent suit of white plate mail armor covered Saber's upper body thoroughly, reaching up into a protective collar around the neck. The armor seemed fairly lightweight, clearly built with agility and flexibility in mind, while providing consistent protection. It reached down several inches before the waist before a smooth, elaborate velvet battle-dress of crimson reached around the legs, parted at the middle. In the few inches between the dress and the ground, Shirou could see the continuation of the snowy-white armor in heavy steel boots, pointed at the tips.

And the sword.

It seemed vaguely reminiscent of Excalibur. The hilt was in that same shortened clamshell design, with an elongated ricasso built for ease in half-swording. Each face of the ricasso was emblazoned with a golden crest, and it seemed to curve outwards into two apexes before curving back in to a point at the edge of the blade. Saber held the large sword with ease, clutching it in a pearly white muffler.

"Well? I have afforded you the chance to proclaim yourself. Be you a Master or a Servant?" Saber queried him once again, this time with a more irritable tone.

"Let me ask you something first," Shirou said, starting to calm down a bit and rationalize. "Are you Saber?"

"I am."

Shirou looked away. Maybe she doesn't remember me. This type of behavior seemed very similar to Saber's first stages after summoning. How did she come here? Was she summoned again? For what purpose? And by whom? Relentless questions pummeled Shirou, and he could not derive an answer for any of them. One thing was blatantly clear, however: Saber was different.

"Now, let me ask you, once again. There must be some reason for recognizing me as such. What is it?"

"I could never forget that face." Shirou let a smile appear upon his face, if only for a brief moment.

"You… recognize my face?"

"Of course. The once great 'King Arthur' of England." It was hard to tell what Shirou intended from his tone.

Saber's eyes widened in shock. Raising the sword in both hands, the Servant's voice carried a hint of distress.

"What did you say?"

"I-"

"How dare you speak that name!"

A vertical slash came straight for Shirou's center, and it was too late. He had let his guard down this entire time. All he heard was the slicing of his own flesh, and his vision faded to red before all went black.

Note: I've encountered certain accusations in the past, so I'll clarify: the fact that the Greater Grail was destroyed in Fate/Stay Night is most definitely acknowledged in the making of this story, and obviously, something has occurred in spite of that. Unfortunately, that's all I can say at this point in the plot. I hope you enjoy the remainder of the story as more is revealed. The Nasuverse will most definitely be respected, at least in terms of its historical background. :)