A/N: Take a guess what this is. Go on. If you guessed that it's a new chapter, then you were right! If you guessed something else… Better luck next time.
Shirou walked through the quiet streets warily. Despite the fact that Assassin was giving him regular updates on the location of the enemy Servant, he couldn't help but feel tense. More than that, while Servants could detect each other easily enough, they had no such abilities for discovering the locations of Masters. It was unlikely, but possible, that the enemy Master might be trailing them even now. While their stealth capabilities would have to be incredible to hide from the senses of a Servant, it wasn't entirely impossible. Not in this War.
"Are they still moving away from us?" He asked quietly.
"Yes." Assassin replied, her pose even more combat ready than his. "They are heading north at a steady pace. No notable deviation."
"So they're drawing us somewhere…" He murmured. The only notable landmark north of this point was the park. While it would be nice to think that they were being drawn there for a fair fight, away from the eyes of the uninvolved, it was equally possible that they were walking head first into a trap. "Assassin, there's no way that they could have sensed you before you noticed them, is there?"
"No." Assassin shook her head. "Only an Assassin class can hide their presence from others. We should have located each other simultaneously." Her voice was a little bitter as she spoke, obviously still annoyed at her own negligence.
Well, at least that cuts down the chance that they've prepared a surprise for us, he thought.
Frankly, he was considering telling Assassin to hide her presence and then making a run for it. The Assassin class just wasn't suited for flat out combat. Subterfuge and murder were their favoured methods of battle, not a clash of arms. While he had little doubt that Assassin could handle a Master with no effort, sending her to duel Saber, Lancer, Archer or Berserker wouldn't be the best of ideas.
"Shirou." He turned at the Servant's voice. "Do not worry." She gave an impossibly small smile. "We will win."
Shirou grinned at the Servant's reassurance. What exactly was he worrying about again? Even if the Servant was one of the three knight classes, it didn't mean that victory was impossible. Besides, it wasn't like the war could be won entirely from the shadows. Eventually they'd be forced into combat. Best to get some experience now, while he had as many resources on hand as possible.
They continued walking through the darkening streets, following the trail of the other Servant until Assassin paused, frowning. "They have ceased movement, Shirou. About two hundred meters north of this point."
He nodded. Then it was the park that they'd been heading to. Good. That meant he could be a little flashy.
He stretched out his senses as he approached the wooded area, seeking any tell-tale signs of magecraft. He was a little surprised to find none. The area seemed virtually undisturbed, in fact.
The trees parted, revealing a small clearing, likely used for picnics. Standing there were the rival Master and her Servant. She watched him steadily as he approached, seemingly trying to read him. With her severe suit and piercing gaze, she probably would have made a fairly imposing figure, if she weren't standing next to her Servant.
The blue clothed Servant seemed at ease, leaning on his spear, but his eyes were like a wild animals, fierce and savage. He was a warrior. Shirou could tell just from watching him. Of course, almost all Heroic Spirits were, to one degree or another, but this one's entire presence all but shouted it to the world, like a challenge. He gave a savage grin as he saw them approach.
"Well, well. Looks like an interesting pair here, huh Master?" The Servant, almost certainly Lancer, judging by his weapon, drawled.
The woman ignored the Servant, stepping forward. "I am Bazett Fraga McRemitz, Master of Servant Lancer." She declared, her voice cool and measured. Shirou blinked in surprise. Giving out your full name and the class of your Servant willingly was very nearly unheard of. It could reveal what abilities you were likely to possess and help your enemy defend against your Servant somewhat.
More and more, he was beginning to suspect that this woman really was just incredibly honest. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. The woman was still waiting for his response after all.
"Kotomine Shirou, Master of Servant Assassin." The woman gave him a surprised look at that.
"Kotomine?" She stared at him, as though trying to see something in his face. "Are you related to Kotomine Kirei?"
Shirou blinked again. It seemed that surprises just kept coming tonight. "My father," He replied slowly. "Do you know him?"
"We've worked together," Bazett responded, looking a little uncertain at the revelation. "I didn't know he had a son."
There was a brief silence, and then Bazett shrugged. "It changes nothing. You are still a Master in the Grail War. If you are truly Kotomine Kirei's son, then you know what that means."
"I do." Shirou declared firmly, meeting her gaze. Eventually, she nodded.
Almost instantly, the air grew thick with tension. Lancer had pulled his spear out from the ground, leveling it at them, even as Assassin drew her knives. Excitement began to build up within Shirou, almost childish in its simplicity and intensity. This was the War he'd been preparing for almost his entire life for, the clash between magi and Heroic Spirits. How could he not be excited?
It was Lancer who broke the standoff, launching forward as little more than a blue blur, his lance aimed directly at Shirou, a streak of red in the dim light. It was near unstoppable, a perfect thrust. It never even got close.
Assassin was like a shadow, intercepting the warrior with a flurry of attacks, forcing him to abort his charge and switch to defence, batting away the impossibly fast stabs and slices. Lancer leapt backwards, trying to use the range advantage of his weapon, only for Assassin to match his speed perfectly, her knives never letting up the assault. Their weapons showered sparks off of each other as they collided time and time again, the two Servants movements a blur as they dashed off to the side.
Which left the Masters.
Shirou charged. While Bazett's skills were unknown, he favoured his chances in close combat more than he did at range. His abilities were primarily focused around enhancing himself physically, as opposed to the ranged combat Rin excelled at. Even as he ran, prana built up in his limbs, reinforcing them to a level far beyond normal limits.
Bazett didn't move, merely taking a combative stance as she watched his approach. Behind her, a metal orb floated serenely. His eyes narrowed. While he had no idea what the sphere was, he'd give good odds that it wasn't good. If it was a projectile weapon though, the last thing he wanted to do was hesitate at this range. He sped up, reinforced legs propelling him towards the Fraga in a last furious dash.
His elbow lashed out as he reached her, but Bazett twisted aside, launching a staggeringly fast punch directly at his head. He snapped his other arm up, blocking it. He gritted his teeth as the strike connected. The sheer force of the blow had jarred him, even with his reinforcement.
It looked like the older magus had some enhancements of her own.
Lancer growled in dissatisfaction as the other Servant twisted around the jab of his lance, once again closing the combat range. Her knives flicked out, and he grasped the lance in both hands, using the length of the red pole to block the attacks, before lashing out with its butt. Assassin crouched low under the path of the weapon, exploding forward before he could reverse the strike, knives jabbing violently at him. He blocked them, pushing her back before launching a series of rapid thrusts.
On one level, he was impressed. The girl was a better fight than he'd been expecting from an Assassin, almost keeping up with him. On another, he was getting increasingly aggravated with that very same fact. If the other Servant had been a talented fighter, someone he could match blows with to the fullest, that would've been fine. She wasn't. For a Servant, her skills were lacklustre. It was that her ridiculous speed restricted his style, preventing him from using the reach of the lance to its fullest effect. A deadlock. Her skills couldn't penetrate his defence, but without the full reach of his lance, she could dodge any of his attacks with ease.
Except one, of course.
That was a last resort though. Noble Phantasms were a trump card, not something to be pulled out whenever you ran into an opponent you couldn't beat in five minutes. For all he knew, there was a rival Master watching this battle right now, just waiting to see a Servant use their Phantasm. Someone knowing his identity would be particularly troublesome, given his collection of geas.
No, he decided. Annoying or not, he'd kill this Servant with his own skills. Or she'd die when Bazett killed her Master. Either way.
Shirou launched a series of kicks, driving the other magus back momentarily. He followed up with a rapid jab, only for Bazett to block it, seemingly without discomfort. She lashed out with a flurry of punches, and he back-pedalled, trying to avoid as many as possible. She lunged forward at that, an uppercut aiming towards his gut, but he swept the attack aside, striking a solid blow at her head in response. Her arm shot up, blocking the strike, but a pained grimace crossed her face at the impact. He fought down a smile of satisfaction. At least she wasn't invulnerable.
Even so, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Bazett outmatched him. Skill wise she actually seemed to be a little below his father, her blows not quite as crisp as Kotomine Kirei's precise movements, but that was more than made up for by whatever enchantment empowered her. She was blindingly fast and almost ludicrously strong for a human, as the numerous bruises on his body could attest to. While it was little grating that she was better at physical enhancement than him, he wasn't one to let pride force him down a harder road. If that was her speciality, then he'd try something else.
His leg swept forward at a low angle, the kick aimed at her legs. As expected, she moved back, only for him to take single step forward, slamming his foot down to strengthen the punch he launched at her midsection. Her arms crossed to block it, but he retracted the attack before it came close to landing, throwing himself backwards to gain space, hand reaching into his pocket. It only took Bazett a moment to realise the trick, before she charged right back at him.
A moment was a little too long.
He pulled out one of the seeds he'd taken earlier, hurling it between them and shouting the activation aria as he did so.
"Bloom, flower of Thanatos!"
The seeds had been yet another point of contention between Rin and himself, though he admitted she was a little justified on this one, given that he was essentially copying the Tohsaka clan's most prized ability. And copying it badly, which was probably what made Rin angriest.
When he'd tried, in a fit of curiosity, to directly place prana into a gem, the results had been quite… explosive. Or simply failed outright. So he'd come up with another plan. All living things held prana; Birds, fish, dogs and more importantly, plants. With his unique element, forcing more prana into a living thing than it could normally hold was possible, opening up a whole new range of options. The culmination of this had been the creation of his own, rather lacklustre, Mystic Code.
The seed expanded, the prana within fuelling it's development to an impossible speed. Within seconds, a full bush had grown, the deadly nightroses (name no longer subject to change) lashing around, the magical command imprinted on them driving them to attack anything without the od of their creator. While it would be utterly ineffective against a Servant, a normal human would have to act with caution around the plant.
Bazett ground to a halt, leaping backwards to avoid the frantic whips of the thorn laden vines. Two more seeds shot out of his hand, forming a rough perimeter around the older magus and trapping her within a ring of the frenzied plants.
It barely slowed the magus. She charged forward, protecting her face with upraised fists. Her fists lashed out, their sheer speed and solidity enough to snap and destroy even the toughest parts of the plant. She burst through the bush all but unharmed, save for a single, tiny scratch on her face, barely deep enough to draw blood. Not even enough to draw the attention of a fighter of her calibre.
That was, if the deadly nightroses thorns didn't secrete a horribly potent toxin.
Shirou met Bazett's charge silently, taking on a defensive stance. He faced her flurry of blows head on, dodging what he could and blocking what he couldn't. A fist lashed out towards his head, but he twisted aside, dodging backwards and forcing Bazett to pursue. A sudden kick nearly caught him off guard, his arm only just stopping it before it collided with his ribs. He grimaced at the pain, but reclaimed his footing. It would only take a short time for the effects of the poison to start showing.
Until then, he just had to wait.
Assassin leapt up into the tree, glaring down at the Servant below. So far, neither she nor Lancer had managed to land a single blow on the other, and frustration was beginning to show. Despite the fact that she'd kept her offensive up almost nonstop, Lancer's defence was almost unbreakable, his lance blocking even the fastest salvo of attacks.
And while she wasted time here, Shirou was fighting for his life against that other Master. Her teeth clenched at the thought of Shirou, battered and bleeding, lying at the feet of the other magus. No. No. That wouldn't happen. She wouldn't let it. She kicked off the tree, her knives blurring as she deflected the red lance. Lancer retreated, keeping her at bay with the tip of the thrusting lance but she gained ground steadily, her frantic dodging and parrying allowing her to slowly close the distance.
Lancer suddenly twisted, striking her with the shaft of the spear. Her right hand knife snapped up to block it on instinct, but the force of the blow still staggered her, throwing her to the side. Lancer leapt on that like a beast on wounded prey, continuing with a savage rain of attacks that refused to allow her to regain her footing. A single jab slammed forward, slicing her shoulder and sending a spray of blood across the ground. A second cut her arm and a third very nearly took her throat. Finally, she managed to get her feet under her, throwing herself backwards to escape the seemingly endless combo that Lancer had trapped her in.
The blue warrior's face had twisted into a vicious grin as he advanced, crimson spear cutting through the evening air. She knew why. Servant or not, these wounds would slow her down. More than that, Lancer was adapting, getting used to her speed and agility, learning how to adjust his blows. Essentially, she was fighting a losing battle.
So she'd change the terms of the battle.
The other Servant paused, no doubt sensing her bloodlust increasing. She bared her teeth at him, a twisted parody of a mischievous smile, then spoke.
"The Mist."
The world shattered.
He batted aside her punch, responding with his own jab to her torso. Bazett gave a grunt of pain as his fist sunk into her stomach, but managed to retreat back, reforming her guard. Her movements had been slowing down, losing their crisp edge. More than that, even standing the other magus was unsteady, her body swaying slightly. The left side of her face, where she'd been cut, was a swollen mess.
He went on the offensive, a flurry of punches like the one he'd used against his father just the day before, lighter blows concealing the heavier ones. It was far more effective here, Bazett's crippled reaction speed just not being quite able to keep up with him, despite her still superior speed and strength. She stumbled back and he pressed the attack, driving his knee into her gut. She doubled over slightly from the force of the strike, exposing her head.
Instantly, he stepped back, lining his fist up with her skull and clenching it tight. He lunged forward, fist streaking towards her head as a blur in the dim light. Bazett's hand shot up, but it was too late. Even if she drove the blow aside, he could simply follow it up with another. Except her strike went upwards, past his own blow. Despite himself, his eyes followed the movement and rested upon the destination.
That small metal orb, still innocuously floating above her shoulder, a faint nimbus of electricity fading around it.
"Fragarach!"
A flare of light exploded as she struck the sphere, the metal shifting, taking on the form of strange sword. He barely had time to register the transformation before the blade shot forward, slamming deep into his chest.
For a moment he stood, attack abandoned as he stared at the weapon jutting out of his flesh. That… that shouldn't be there, he thought dully, legs giving out beneath him.
He crumpled to the grass, head smacking against the ground as his vision went black.
Throb.
Flesh, physically no different from that which surrounded it, began to pulse as circuits long left unused began to open. Once again, they had a purpose to fulfil.
A wish was not merely a one time event. It was a desire to shape the world to the wisher's will, to make something that is not so, so. To have one granted is a reformation of reality, a miracle in its own right.
Long ago, a boy had wished to live. A spirit had wished for salvation from its role. Their wishes were one and the same.
And they had not ended.
Bazett staggered back upright, her now burnt hand just another injury on her battered body. The boy had crumpled when hit by Fragarach, but he wasn't dead. Not yet anyway.
Fragarach, Gouging Sword of the War God, the only Noble Phantasm that could be used by humans in this day and age. Known also as The Answerer, it was the ultimate form of counterattack, a weapon that warped causality itself in order to always strike first in response to an enemies strongest attack, slaying them in a single blow. But she'd been forced to use it as nothing more than an normal attack in this case. The boy had only been punching her after all, not using some kind of supreme trump card.
Still, even that was more than enough for a human. Though he had proven incredibly resilient and surprisingly skilled. Those bushes were a nasty trick too. She was a little disappointed in herself though. Truth be told, she'd been hoping she could have knocked him out at the fight's beginning, at which point she could have taken his seals without killing him. Kotomine was, after all, if not a friend, then at least someone she deeply respected. Delivering his son's corpse to him wasn't something she had wanted to do, but circumstance had forced her hand. He'd trained the boy, Shirou, a little too well. She walked towards the prone Master, footsteps still unsteady. At this point, the kindest thing she could do for him was to finish him off-
Her vision went white.
She stepped back, raising her fists defensively in preparation for some new attack. None came, and she realised that only mist had surrounded her. Still, it definitely wasn't natural. It had come too fast, out of nowhere, blanketing the park in white. She could barely see a few feet in front of her, with even Shirou's body being little more than a dark blur.
She could still see him though, and if this mist had been created by his Servant, which it almost certainly had, killing him would bring it to an abrupt end.
She moved towards him, then stopped once more as a sudden pain flared on her face. A thin trickle of liquid began to run down her cheek, and when she brought her hand away from it, the crimson colour told her exactly what it was.
Similar jabs of pain were occurring all across her body as the wounds she suffered in the fight began to bleed afresh, seemingly worsening without any stimulus. Even the parts of her that had avoided injury began to feel uncomfortable, as if something was prickling them.
It's the mist, she realised. Now that she stretched her senses out, an incredibly powerful bounded field had surrounded the area, no doubt the cause of the mist that was attacking her. That just made finishing off the Master in front all the more important. She moved her gaze away from her hand and towards the prone-
He wasn't there.
She whirled, once again adopting a defensive stance. She glanced around, gaze seeking a telltale shadow in the mist. It was getting harder to concentrate, both the poison within and the mist without taking their toll on her body and mind. Despite the clammy fog, sweat was running down her brow and her cheek felt like it was burning. Whatever that toxin was, it was fairly effective. She'd need to end this soon, or she'd be simply worn down.
"Analysis start."
She turned quickly at the voice, seeking its source. Whether by luck or design the mist thinned slightly, revealing a shadowy figure little more than ten metres from her position. She charged.
Shirou's eyes opened. He found that curious. He'd been fairly sure that they weren't going to do so again, what with the sword currently lodged in him. At that, the memories of the past few minutes returned with a jolt and he sprang to his feet, pose wary. A quick glance down confirmed that the sword was gone and-
He stared. Where the blade had pierced him, the flesh was bubbling, turning and twisting like a roiling sea. Prana both foreign and hauntingly familiar flowed through the injury and he realised that it had already been mostly healed. Which would have been fine, if he'd been the one that did it.
He dismissed it from his mind. He could investigate it later, somewhere safer. He looked around, peering through the mist. That was new too, but it seemed to be working in his favour so far, concealing him and deadening the sound of his movements. If Bazett was still nearby, she'd have as hard a time finding him in this as he would her. He stalked off slowly, ever cautious. The mist seemed to thicken and thin at random intervals wherever it pleased, sometimes nearly opaque, other times barely even visible.
He shook his head in frustration. Even if could find her in this, he wasn't sure that he could win. While the hole in his chest had somehow healed, he was still aching from the earlier beating Bazett had given him, which annoyingly enough, hadn't healed. He sighed. If he was going to have a mysterious healing factor, couldn't it at least be all inclusive?
Still, the point remained that he needed an edge. Or several.
His Origin had been described as 'Flesh', but that wasn't quite correct. While his element was no doubt 'Flesh', Origin's were the very orientation of the soul. They rarely fell into such material things as 'Fire'or 'Flesh'. In fact, his Origin was more likely along the lines of 'A talent for working with flesh'. Had he never been introduced to magecraft, it was likely that he would have become a surgeon or gardener or perhaps a butcher. Anything that allowed him to work with and manipulate living tissues.
But he was a magus. And that meant he could do things with flesh that no surgeon ever could. Particularly with his own.
"Analysis start."
He turned his gaze on his arms. They were quite damaged, the defensive battle he'd fought against Bazett having taken its toll. That wasn't a problem though; what he had in mind would heal them. Instead, he felt past the wounds, examining the very form of the limbs themselves, how to change and how to alter. After a brief moment, he was satisfied.
"The body is a tapestry." He recited the aria calmly and his prana surged into his arms. Bones began to crack, reshaping as his will had demanded. Muscles strengthened and thickened, new cells being created at an impossible rate through his prana, becoming whatever he needed them to be, bone or flesh. Luckily, the process was painless, if slightly odd to watch. It was still as interesting an experience as ever though, watching his very flesh ripple and reform before his eyes.
So interesting in fact, that he didn't register Bazett's presence until it was too late.
Her fist sunk deep into his gut and he nearly vomited from the force of the blow. Her leg swept round in a follow-through, catching him in the ribs. The newfound pain as he was blown to the side suggested that he'd just acquired a new collection of broken ribs. He gasped as he hit the ground, pain lancing through his side like daggers under his flesh.
He rolled to the side as Bazett drove her heel into the ground where'd he'd lain just a second before. She advanced mercilessly, fist jabbing at his skull as he forced himself to stand, body screaming in pain. He lashed out, his hand cutting into the flesh of her arm. Or rather, what had been his hand.
Gone were his fingers. In their place, jagged spars sprouted from his hand, lengths of bone sharpened far beyond any natural weapon. Not that his claws resembled anything in the animal kingdom to begin with. They did not hold prey, they could not grasp or use tools, nor would they ever require something as mundane as sharpening. They were unnatural weapons, made to lacerate and cut flesh.
He gave Bazett a vicious grin as she retreated, no doubt trying to account this new turn of events into her strategy.
"Round two?" He asked, flexing his new weapons.
He didn't give her a chance to reply, surging forward, claws slashing furiously.
Assassin twirled, knives flashing through the fog. Lancer brought the haft of his weapon up, blocking the strikes and she retreated, fading back into the mist.
For all those within the field, the mist was a hindrance, obscuring visibility and steadily weakening them. While Shirou had been granted safe passage from the truly harmful effects of the mist, he would still be as lost as any other within the fog. Well, any other apart from her.
The Mist was her Noble Phantasm after all, the representation of the 'mist of death' that had been formed from a hundred years of pollution. She could see through it with ease, and move through the vapours with confidence, her prey's location ever known. Combined with the Assassin class ability of concealing their presence, The Mist made her all but undetectable to other Servant's, even up to the very point of her attack itself. The perfect hunting ground.
She approached the spearman carefully, knives poised. Lancer had taken a ready pose, spear lowered and stance tense. She noted that he'd closed his eyes, apparently realising that they were effectively useless in the mist. He really did catch on fast, not that it'd help him.
She flipped a knife in her hand, launching it towards him. The moment the weapon left her hands, she ran, strafing around to his back. Lancer's spear shot up as the projectile struck, deflecting it into the ground at the exact moment that she leapt at him, blade poised. To his credit, the spearman seemed to realise his mistake, swivelling to block her. But he wasn't quite as fast as he'd been. Even if the Mist wasn't sufficient to truly hurt him, it still hampered his movements, decreasing his agility by a full rank.
Her blade bit into his shoulder and Lancer snarled, lashing out at her with the crimson spear. It was pointless though. She'd already retreated, mist hiding her form. Next time she'd strike his other shoulder, and then his legs, wearing him down piece by piece...
Suddenly, the other Servant froze completely.
"Oh, damn it!" The blue-clothed Servant roared, leaping off as fast as his muscles could carry him. For a moment, Assassin was confused, then the connections fell in place. Lancer was heading towards Shirou.
Instantly, panic filled her mind and she sprung forwards, gaining on the spearman. She wouldn't let him hurt Shirou! She wouldn't! Through the connection in her mind, she'd felt the wounds he'd suffered, and the fact that she'd been unable to help had been tearing at her. But if Lancer reached him first, and had time to line up a killing blow…
Her mind nearly shut down at the thought, and she sped up, not even bothering to conceal her presence.
Yet another spray of blood wet the ground as Bazett's attack was deflected by his claws. The woman was breathing hard now, seemingly barely able to stand, yet still fighting. Shirou grinned, a quick flick of his claws splattering the earth with yet more of the crimson liquid. He was feeling surprisingly calm about this. In fact, he'd even say that he was enjoying himself. A fierce excitement was sweeping through his body as they fought, and he could feel his pulse beating strongly. He just felt… so very alive.
His arm shot out, and Bazett ducked. His other hand swept round, reaching for her face even as she tried to dodge. She'd lost that incredible speed now though, with blood loss, poison and the ever-present mist bringing her ever closer to death. She avoided the worst of the blow, but his nails still carved a shallow furrow into her shoulder.
He launched attack after attack, only growing faster and faster as she weaved through his strikes. She'd all but given up on offence now, merely attempting to preserve her life. It wasn't enough. He was still landing hits, and each and every one merely drove Bazett closer to the edge. It wouldn't be long before her body simply gave out, reinforcement or no reinforcement. He pressed his advantage, claw streaking forwards to rip out her throat. She moved back, arms raised to block the strike, protecting her most vulnerable point-
She slipped.
It was such a simple thing to do. The grass had grown damp from the fog, and her muscles weak from exertion. It was so easy to do. But the look in her eyes told him what he already knew. Game over, Bazett.
A backhand caught her on the chest, just below her breasts, the claw ripping through her clothes and into the flesh beneath, cutting into the very bone of her ribs. The sheer force of the blow picked her up, propelling her across the wet grass. He didn't hesitate, sprinting after her, one claw upraised to end her life.
The haft of a red lance caught him less than a second before the blow landed, blasting him through the air, yet more ribs shattered. He slammed into the trunk of a tree, eyesight blacking out. He gasped for air, a burning pain spreading across his torso.
"Shirou!" He looked up, his vision still hazy. Assassin stood in front of him in a guard stance, blades ready. Her back was to him, but he could hear the concern in her voice. "Are you alright?"
Why do people always ask that? He thought. Isn't it sorta obvious that I'm really not feeling that great right now? He swallowed the words though. The question had been asked with good intentions.
"I'm… ok. Thanks." he responded, dragging himself to his feet, pain shooting through him once again. "You?"
"I'm fine." She said and he nodded. She certainly didn't have any obvious major wounds at least. He turned his attention to the current situation.
Little more than twenty meters from his position, Lancer stood, Bazett held under one arm. The look on his face suggested he knew exactly how damn precarious the situation was for him. Even holding Bazett, he could cross the short distance faster than Shirou could breathe, likely impaling him with a single thrust. He certainly didn't think he could block it, not with his ribs feeling like someone had taken a hammer to them. But that wouldn't happen, not with Assassin primed to move. And if he tried to guard Bazett while fighting, it was obvious that the fight could only go one way. It would only take a single lucky blow, and he'd be out of a Master.
He couldn't even run. Assassin would be on him like a wolf on a wounded dear, and from behind, Bazett would be easy prey. It would take a miracle for him to survive this, let alone win.
For a moment, Lancer's shoulders slumped, as if he'd accepted defeat. Then came the bloodlust.
A wave of it, nearly palpable in its intensity swept out from the spearman, his red eyes fierce and hateful. Shirou remembered something he'd learnt a long time ago. A desperate beast was the most dangerous one of all.
The grip on his lance shifted slightly, making the weapon appear more like a javelin than a spear. "Hey, kid."
Shirou met the gleaming crimson gaze. "Yes?"
"You and Assassin fought well, so I'm going to make an offer." Lancer paused for effect. "Let me take Bazett away and we'll have a rematch later, where we can really pull out all the stops. I'll swear on it."
"And if I refuse?" Shirou asked calmly, face expressionless.
"Then chances are; none of us are going to walk out of here alive." The reply was flat and honest. It wasn't a threat, just a simple statement.
Shirou paused, considering. Lancer wasn't bluffing. For one thing, the warrior simply didn't seem like the type to try and talk his way out of a bad situation. If he said that he could kill his opponents before he died, then he likely could. On the other hand, they were in a enormously favourable situation. Despite his wounds, he was still far more combat capable than Bazett was right now. If need be, he could simply shut down his sense of pain for a while and deal with whatever wounds he got later. And even Lancer had a few injuries on him. If he gave Assassin support with a Command Seal, it was quite possible that they could finish this before Lancer pulled off whatever trick he had in mind.
He opened his mouth to reply, when yet another feeling of dread pulled at his mind. He spun, a movement echoed by the two Servants, as a vast, impossibly vast, amount of mana began to gather, forming a radiance that pierced the mist. A divine light that spoke of absolute power, a strength that surpassed all others.
He felt fear.
The revelation shocked him. He'd never felt fear. Nervousness, concern, tension, yes. But never a true fear for his life. Not Lancer, not Rin, not even Gilgamesh in his rare moments of true anger had ever created such a response. Yet that golden light, visible even through the fog, filled him with primal terror.
I know it… I know that light! He had no memory of it, yet it was so terribly familiar, a harbinger of destruction given form.
Suddenly, the mana compressed, forming a blast of energy hurtling towards them. The bounded field shattered as the energy struck it, the magecraft simply unable to maintain it's form under such pressure. The mist cleared almost immediately, revealing the piercing golden ray in all its terrible glory.
It sped between the two groups, annihilating all that stood in its path. A spray of rocks and rubble was scattered by the waves of force emanating from the blast. Assassin stood in front of him, her blades shielding him from the worst of the debris, but she couldn't block the sheer intensity of the light and for a moment, he covered his eyes.
Almost as suddenly as it had come, the light vanished, leaving a scene of devastation. A deep furrow had been ripped into the ground, the earth simply annihilated by the sheer power of the attack. Loose bits of stone and plant, blown away by simply being near the light, littered the area. His gaze flicked up. Lancer seemed to have taken the chance to escape, no doubt using that great speed of his to take Bazett to a safe area, using the attack as an impromptu distraction.
"Shirou." He turned as Assassin spoke, wincing slightly at the pain even that small movement caused. "The enemy Servant approaches."
His eyes followed the path of the destruction, moving along the straight line to the source of the light. He saw her, and his throat constricted.
She was radiant, even under the dim starlight. Shining armour, either silver or polished steel glowed as she walked towards them. Hair like spun gold. But it was her aura that drew his attention. It was not like Assassin's, which felt like blood, hate and spite. Nor Lancer's, with his animalistic bloodlust and savagery. It was raw, unrefined power given form. Magical energy rolled of her in waves, the air itself seeming to howl around her.
"You have got to be kidding me…" He breathed. He could tell at a glance. She was leagues above Assassin in terms of power. Even Lancer was nothing more than a dim glow next to her. If she attacked, he had no doubt that they'd be killed in seconds. And if she created that light again…
He shivered at the memory.
"Shirou." Assassin had moved in front of him again. "Retreat. I will hold her."
He was shaking his head before she'd even finished speaking. "She'll kill you, Assassin."
"Perhaps," The Servant agreed. "But I will obtain sufficient time for you to retreat to-"
"Not a chance." He interrupted, stepping up beside her. "I'm not abandoning you."
Assassin shot him a shocked look, surprise obvious on her face. She watched him for a second, as if expecting him to retract his words. When he didn't, she smiled a bright smile, the purest he'd ever seen on her face. It was beyond adorable, and he found himself unable to look away. She was beautiful. He wondered how he'd never noticed that before.
"Thank you, Shirou." She said, her smile not losing even a fragment of it's intensity as she spoke.
"It's… not a problem," He replied embarrassedly, looking away. "You can thank me after we deal with our new friend here."
He inclined his head towards the silver armoured Servant and Assassin nodded, still smiling happily. First though, he had to do something about this pain. Healing it would drain him of almost all his remaining prana, and without reinforcement he'd be utterly useless, so that was out. It looked like he was just going to have to go with his original plan.
"Analysis start."
He reached within himself, seeking that cluster of nerves at the top of his spine. Finding it, he grasped it, visualising it as a collection of switches. You simply had to turn the one's you didn't want off. He flicked one, and feeling vanished within his body. He rolled his arm, nodding in satisfaction as he felt nothing from it. Gingerly, he poked his ribs. Nothing.
It didn't fix anything, of course. In fact, it was incredibly dangerous, doing no more than concealing the pain while leaving the injuries untouched. But he didn't have much choice right now.
The Servant had nearly reached them, and he frowned as he noticed another figure next to her. He'd thought her alone. The girl standing next the Servant was like a doll, with fair white skin and silver hair that glistened softly in the light. From what he could tell, her clothes were of a fine make, their fine cut embroidered with gold patterns. In all honesty, she looked like a princess, or a fairy, her steps light and dainty next to her Servant.
She stopped ten metres from them, her Servant by her side. She said nothing, slowly raising her hand into the air.
"Heroine of love and justice, Ilyasviel von Einzbern, has arrived! Masters who would abuse their powers, beware!"
The excited shout shattered the still evening air, and his image of her as some kind of fairy.
"What." He replied dumbly, staring at the girl. Next to him, Assassin seemed to be having a similar reaction, watching at the girl with amazement. Despite the absurdity of the introduction, he recognised the name. Einzbern. One of the founders of the Holy Grail War, and perhaps the faction who sought the great device the most fanatically.
"Huhu," The girl, Ilya, laughed mischievously. "That's my introduction. Isn't it great?"
Shirou looked at the Servant next to her, who looked appropriately mortified, giving him a slightly apologetic nod. He turned his attention back to the girl. "It's… it's certainly distinctive, I'll give you that."
"That's right!" Ilya said, nodding. "An introduction has to be distinctive, so that the villains know who they're dealing with!"
"But if the villains know who they're dealing with, doesn't that mean they can prepare for you?" He asked. He was aware that he was being drawn into her pace, but her very presence seemed to make it impossible to stay within the bounds of normality.
The Servant beside the girl sighed at that. "You see, Ilya? He agrees with me. It's not a good idea to announce yourself every time you meet someo-"
"Boring~" Ilya said cheerily, cutting through the Servant's speech. "Saber, you're too serious about things like this. We went to all the trouble of getting their attention, we might as well go all out."
That told Shirou two things. The first was that the woman in armour was the Servant Saber, generally considered the strongest Servant. The second…
"Wait a second. That," He gestured at the huge crater stretching across the park, "Was to get our attention?"
"Nobody ever ignores us." Ilya said happily. He shot Saber a glance. She looked vaguely embarrassed, but nodded. He felt there was something wrong with the fact that an immensely powerful spirit from another era had more common sense than someone born in the current time, but didn't say anything.
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ilyasviel von-"
"Call me Ilya," The girl interrupted. "Ilyasviel's just too stuffy."
"Right. Well, it's nice to meet you, Ilya." He gave a stiff bow of greeting. While he couldn't feel it, he had little doubt that even that small bow had driven several shards of his ribs into his flesh. That'd be a bitch to heal. "I'm Kotomine Shirou, and this is Assassin." He gestured at the Servant standing next to him, who was still wary. He was glad at least one of the people here still seemed to be taking this seriously. "May I ask what your purpose is?
"Kotomine?" Ilya gave him an interested glance. "Now I really want to talk to you. Oh. I suppose that answers your question as well, doesn't it?"
"That's all?" Shirou said, a little confused. Frankly, Ilya and Saber had them in a perfect position to wipe them out. He was injured, Assassin had used a fair portion of her prana in the battle and they had no real method of escape. And why had his family name inspired yet another reaction in yet another Master? Was his father that well known?
"That's all." Ilya confirmed.
"I see." He closed his eyes in thought. After a moment, he opened them. "In that case, would you mind waiting for a second? I need to get rid of these."
He waved his claws in the air, and Ilya gave them an interested glance before nodding.
"You might want to look away," He said warningly. "It's not exactly a pretty process."
Despite that warning, it seemed like he had the full attention of everyone in the area. He sighed.
"Analysis start."
He looked down at his body, examining the new form he'd given his arms. After a few seconds, he nodded.
"The form returns to the weave." Instantly, his flesh began to heave, the bony claws retracting into his flesh, distorting the surface of his skin with their presence. Unneeded muscles and fats broke down, moving through his arms to gather at a single point. His bones once again to crack and reform, shards breaking off and moving towards the same point as the excess fat and muscle. His fingers reformed, fresh skin forming around them.
A few moments more, and he had a normal set of arms once more. Well, apart from the large, bulbous cyst each had, containing the unneeded biomass of his last transformation.
"I don't suppose either of you have a container?" He asked hopefully. Ilya and Saber shook their heads head, and he sighed mournfully. "Alright, pardon me for a moment."
He stepped behind a bush, crouching down and lowering his arms near to the ground. With a slight effort of will, the cysts opened, releasing a slurry of blood, bone and flesh. Another effort of will, and the now useless flaps of skin fell from his body. He gave the open wounds a brief glance. His analysis was still running, so he could heal a wound of this degree without another aria. He should probably see about patching himself up a little. If Ilya and Saber wanted to kill him, he couldn't stop them even if he had full prana reserves, so there wasn't really any point in not healing himself.
A few seconds later, he stood, body nearly completely restored. His prana reserves were now pretty much nonexistent though. And he still had more broken ribs than he'd like. Still, he was in better shape than he'd been a few minutes ago.
"Alright," he said, walking back towards Assassin. "Thanks for waiting."
"It's fine," Ilya said, dismissing the complaint with a wave. "I got to see something interesting."
"I'll take that as a compliment," he responded airily. "So where do you want to have this chat?"
Ilya shrugged. "Anywhere that's neutral territory will do. We've only just arrived in this city, so I don't really have a favourite place."
Shirou considered. He was tired, thirsty and really felt like sitting down. He didn't particularly mind where they went, but somewhere vaguely familiar would be nice.
Eventually, he came to a conclusion. He turned back to Saber and Ilya.
"Well, I know a place that does great Chinese…"
-End-