Author's Notes:

Hmm...for some reason, I didn't feel as inspired by this fight scene as I usually am by writing fight scenes. Maybe I just don't get Assassin. Or maybe the randomly shifting staircase just really bugged me. That, and on a closer review of the episode when I looked through this bit again, Saber's swordsmanship really did not seem up to snuff. Also, I know in the manga, Assassin actually bled Saber, and shattered a gauntlet, but I'm following the anime, remember? Besides, I'm not exactly fond of how Saber always seems to get the worst of every first encounter.

Anyways, Please R & R. =3

Rin is asleep. So is Shirou. Time to go. Slowly, silently, I walk outside. Shirou, you are so naïve! The other Masters will just kill you like that!

I assemble my prana, taking but a moment to armour myself , then starting the long dash across town. Part of me is getting the feeling that I am being watched, as I storm up the mountain at a speed blinding to the human eye, sword stretched out in my right arm. I have no idea what I would face, but I expected to meet the Servant somewhere along the way. It was only natural for the Servant to block my path to the Master.

As I reach the long stairway, I slow down, trying to sense the presence of my foe. He is up there, somewhere…I finally catch a glimpse of him, standing beneath the entrance. Coming to a stop, I immediately put my other hand on my blade, ready for battle. Yet his calm expression compels me to keep my blade lowered as yet.

Who are you? Wait…Stupid question. Shirou must be rubbing off on me. It is not like he is going to-

"I am an Assassin Servant. Kojiro Sasaki."

Or not? What sort of Assassin is this? Oh, well, I was slightly familiar with the legend. Still…to give his name so freely? The surprise was probably visible on my face. I back off slightly, lowering my blade. I finally rationalize this action.

You place me in an awkward position. Having given me your name, as a knight, I must return the courtesy. I pause, still unwilling to reveal myself. Last War, that early revelation might have proved to be my undoing. So then, Kojiro, allow me to introduce myself. I am-

"It doesn't matter. An adversary who feels obligated by politeness to give her own name? That would make me the one with bad manners." Okay…If you say so. I try not to sigh my relief, a task made easier by his slow advance upon me, with that lengthy sword. I place both hands on my weapon once more, turning sideways, prepared to meet him in battle.

He keeps talking as he walks, "Names are not relevant. See, for people like us, only our swords need to know an opponent. That's the true role of a Servant." Not only is he a cocky Assassin, but he certainly is a talkative one. Still, I cannot discount the danger. The Assassin class is a dangerous one. After all, the history of all assassins lie in their actions to kill leaders and heroes with a single knife stroke, changing history in that instant, altering the course of time in that moment.

Plainly put, Assassins kill Kings. And I am King. Last war, we were assailed by the True Assassin, the veritable creator of the class himself, and perhaps the one true Assassin. And I say we, as in we three Kings. Yet even the deadly clan of the mountains could not stand before the army of the King of Conquerors, and I was saved from having to duel such a foe by myself. While this might not be Hassan-i-Sabah, he must be a worthy bearer of the title as well. I must be on my guard.

He raises the sword nonchalantly, about a foot in my face, and asks me, "Do you not agree, my honourable Saber Servant?" All except for one thing…I am not yours. I refrain from speaking the insult. Not while my guard is still lowered, No, you are right, I agree with you completely.

I leap back a few steps down, giving myself space. It would be my downfall to let him start a duel so close. I would begin this on my terms. Grunting as I hit the step, I finally feel ready. As for him, it appears he was ready from the beginning, "Very well then. Let's do our jobs, shall we?" He draws the blade back, favouring a high grip, while I was more accustomed to the low stance. Strong as I was, Excalibur was, and always shall be a heavy sword. Keeping it raised up high was a waste of precious energy.

Our feet start moving at the same moment, swords clashing in a rhythmic cadence of steel ringing, boots scuffing up steps and grunts of exertion. Slowly, inexorably, I push him back. As long as I keep my offensive momentum, I would break past the gate, eventually. Repeatedly, I attempt piercing blows to my fullest reach, forcing him to withdraw more and more, then revert to slashing when he tries to recover the ground lost. When I feel he has yielded enough, I unleash more powerful slashes.

A miscalculation, that. The increased power allows him to dodge easily. I have to recover from the third swing, before taking a quick step and locking swords once more. I apply as much of my strength as I dare, but he takes advantage of his higher position, and knocks me down quite a few steps. Spun about, I push off one step with my hand, push off another with my feet, then come at him again with a yell, unwilling to lose the ground I had gained. Yet, he calmly parries and dodges my strikes, while my anger rises. Maybe this was how he assassinated people. Strange. I always thought the Kojiro of legend was not so calm. Then again, I was certainly aware of how wrong legends could be. The closest anyone ever got to finding out the secret of my gender was a hunch that I was beset with impotence…

This is not working. Having conceded this, I back away, sword at the ready, waiting for him to come at me and force me off my ground. But he only takes the opening to talk, for we both knew too well that it was I who had a destination, while he only had to retain possession of the entryway. Very well, if he would take this respite to gloat, then I shall take it to rest. My swordsmanship over the last few minutes has been a lot more vigorous than his, unfortunately. Not out of any overexertion, but because of the blade's heft. It was an exhausting weapon to wield as a simple sword, though it always promised to make up for it in its stored power.

"You're doing quite well. I never thought I would have such trouble with an invisible sword. You might have seen, my sword techniques are rather brutal. A swordsman of average skill would have lost their head on the first stroke. You have managed to resist until now. I'm quite pleased, Saber." I say nothing, keeping my eyes on him. Studying the surroundings, I decide my best chance for victory is to gain the wide step he is upon. There, my striking power should overwhelm him. Brutal his strokes may be, but no blade could break mine. And I am more than capable of keeping it between my neck and his razor edge.

"What's wrong? Is that all you have? Surely that invisible sword of yours isn't just for show." And now he has officially shifted from gloating to mockery. I feel rising bile inside me, but I choke it down…the anger, the disappointment, the confusion, the doubt. I should make a note to myself never to go assaulting another Servant after having a shouting match with my Master. Or at least, to me it felt like a shouting match. I have rarely been so filled with emotion before, and it grows with every minute I spend here. Holding it down is more difficult than usual. No matter, I need but to persevere. And to charge…right…about…now!

Cease your babbling! I shout, midway, a stroke that should have cleaved through a lung, thereby making it cease. He leaps back as I release it, his robes billowing as the wind released by the blow passes him. And at the same moment, he blurts out my blade's exact proportions with a grin. I come to a halt, gasping. If he needed any confirmation, he had it there. Well, at least now I had the wide step. You…without magic or enough sword blows, you have deduced my sword's measurements?

He does not answer that directly, demanding nonchalantly that I reveal my true skills. If only I could do that with no compunctions. Unleashing my Noble Phantasm would destroy the temple. I dare not, unless I am pressed close to defeat. And if he remains as defensive as he is, such would never happen. Are you suggesting I am taking it easy on you?

"Are you not? I know not your intentions, but I feel belittled by the fact you're fighting with you sword still sheathed." I had no response to that. To be honest, I have not thought of it that way. Do I insult my foes by keeping my blade sheathed? That was never the reason why I bear this barrier. Then again, this is the first Servant I have faced more intent on critiquing my combat style than actually fighting me. He continues, now threatening, "Very well. If you are unwilling to unveil your true skills, then I shall show off my secret blade techniques first."

Slowly, he steps down, bringing his blade up to the side. Gritting my teeth, I watch this tall swordsman advance upon me. What now…is he really the one guilty of holding back? "Ready your stance, Saber, else you shall die!" Well…you definitely did not need to warn me twice. I lower my left shoulder, and raise my blade up. Whatever this technique was, mayhaps it would give me the opening to strike a fatal counterblow.

His blade flickers in the moonlight. It is difficult to keep track of the motion of that thin edge. He turns it so that the flat now faces the ground, having the weapon now behind him. It takes a certain will not to be entranced. His eyes are closed, and he is turned away from me, yet I dare not strike. My senses are all screaming at me that it would be some manner of trap.

He yells his technique, yet it is not a Noble Phantasm. I sense no expenditure of mana for it. What is this then? A simple sword trick? How? I am hard pressed to dodge the flashing blades, my intuition doing all the work, for my mind is still enraptured by the name. I breathe easily as I find myself falling away from this…Turning Swallow Strike. Even with all my speed, it still stung. I think a blade glanced off my gauntlet, as I cry out involuntarily.

My mouth is forced shut as I bounce off one of the steps in my sudden drop. Jarred my back on that one…and I think I've aggravated the deep wound Lancer dealt me once more. Unngh…I feel him say something else, but I am lost for the moment, unable to comprehend what had just happened. My mind is simply on getting back on my feet. Not a difficult task…I just somersault in the air after impact, and there-Ow.

I really doubt I avoided all of that attack. But I definitely escaped enough to remain standing. I regain control of my breathing, my blade still raised. I take the time he uses explaining to recover, and to settle my own nerves. Continuing my semblance of outward calm is easy, but inside, I am torn. This man might be a more dangerous swordsman than I. "If you wish to succeed with the Turning Swallow Strike, you would need to complete these two slashes almost simultaneously…"

He lures me into the discussion, for with that manoeuvre, along with nearly severing , he had piqued my attention. But that technique was not just a simple slash. At that precise moment…there were two swords: Multi-dimensional refraction. Without the use of magic, you have created a Noble Phantasm with just sword techniques…

Assassins finishes off with a threat, not denying or confirming. "My footing was bad. The Turning Swallow Strike requires a third blow. If I had a wider step, I could have dealt you that third slash." I do not dare think of the implications. I could have lost the Grail War right here, had we been on flat ground. I was almost certain he could have pierced my breastplate, and then my torso. His next words only add to my worries. This Servant was her simply for a fight. It was his greatest desire. And he sought me as an opponent to provide it to him. As for that leading to my death…if I were not more careful, it could very well do so.

Well then, if that is what he wishes, I will show him my best. This attack, I am certain he could not stop. You are right. You are an opponent I cannot hold back against. There was no other way. Adjusting my grip, I turn sideways, lowering the blade so I have room to complete the motion for this attack. His smile is startling, as if he was truly pleased that I would show him my Noble Phantasm. Did he really imagine he could survive it, knowing nothing about it? I would have thought one faced with death would bear a more serious expression. Assassin's blade goes through the same entrancing motion once more. Yet my eyes have adjusted now, and my thoughts are clear. It is only him that I look at, and at the exact moment the sword stops, I turn, blade slowly rising.

Time to unsheathe it. The winds howl, the earth shakes, and my sword glows, my arms shaking as I struggle to maintain my grasp on it. Oh, I would never drop it…but it is not an easy weapon to take to its limits. I would be lying if I said it did not hurt to use it. My wide stance is enough to take the brunt of this earth-shattering force I was gathering, given my enhanced strength as a Servant. Let us see if you can withstand my attack, Assassin. My skirt billows beneath me as I continue to focus my prana on extinguishing the Wind Barrier, releasing all this excess air. And yet the man continues to stand there calmly, as I stood there quietly, harnessing my power into the blade.

He demands I attack. I turn sideways, the sword almost unsheathed, ready to oblige. But then I sense it. Shirou is here. And…someone else? A Servant. Where? My focus shatters. The billowing winds of magic fade. My blade stays sheathed. And…Assassin withdraws to his gate. "Someone is trying to spy on your sword. If this goes on, it will no longer be a fight between us two." Then, he turns inexplicably to go back inside the temple.

I rush up the steps, confusion reigning in my mind once more, Wait! Assassin, do you not plan to finish our duel?

"Only if you step through this mountain gate, then we shall finish it. That is all I can do, unfortunately. Besides, now you can hide your sword once more. Someone is even here to receive you. It's best if you leave before our spy changes her target."

I could only clench my teeth. He knows I am drained, and only sheer will is keeping me conscious through the painful backlash of mana soaking back into my body by force. Shirou…why are you here? Well, I could worry about that later. At least he saves me from the painful jaunt back to the compound, and the chance of collapsing en route. I could barely comprehend his voice now. My prana dissipates, my sword leaves my hand, my arms drop to my side, and my legs feel like jelly. So…much…mana…My concentration is non-existent now.

Shirou…for this, even I am not tough enough. My body shivers involuntarily as I feel myself falling, praying with my last strength that my Master remains safe on the trip home. Then, blissful oblivion takes me. Yes, blissful. A rare sort of oblivion, that. If I had the energy to, I would cherish it more dearly.