Good afternoon, my wonderful readers! Welcome back to posting on my normal day.

The smell of good coffee filled the house, which was weird, because she didn't remember making coffee. She followed the smell to the coffee pot, and found that it was indeed full and ready to serve. She blinked at it. It was hard for her to wake up without it, and someone had thoughtfully gotten one started for whenever she came down. Archer must have really found something truly kind and compassionate within him if-

Oh. No. Shirou probably started the coffee pot, huh? Her face soured. She'd have to be grateful to that idiot now, wouldn't she? A ridiculous notion. (There was something incredibly irritating about the fact that she actually was grateful.)

A few minutes later, she was cradling a steaming mug as contentedly as she ever had, sitting with perfect posture in a polished wooden chair at her dining table. The place was still a mess, but it was peaceful in a way that she'd badly needed. No one screaming, no one begging for help, no battles to be fought or moral dilemmas to grapple with. Just her, her coffee, and enough sugar to kill an elephant. Wherever Shirou had passed back out, she hoped he'd be unconscious for a good long while.

In front of her, she'd set up something of a workstation; notebooks and pencils arrayed in a chaotic spread in front of her, along with a textbook of magical theory she'd dug out of her (extensive) library, several volumes of collected essays, and basically any book she could think of that might have useful information or ideas on the kind of summoning sickness Shirou seemed to be dealing with. An old pair of reading glasses was perched on her nose; she didn't know how long she'd be working on this, and she didn't want to add eye strain to her list of ailments.

Shirou was a problem. Well, that was true in a lot of ways, but for now, his magical capacity was what needed solving. If they were allies, he needed to start pulling his own weight. Literally. She didn't relish the idea of having to drag him home in a busted up heap again; her muscles still ached and burned every time she moved. Solving this problem would come back to bite her in the ass when the time came to end their partnership and be enemies again, but all things considered, she'd rather survive long enough for that to be an issue.

On a blank sheet, she started scribbling down facts. Shirou was a Master without a Crest. (She was still wrapping her head around that one; the idiot's idiot father must have loved him too much.) He could do strengthening magic, and that was pretty much it, and that only with intense focus and effort. (She wrote the words "magic switch?" with an arrow pointing to this item.) Shirou's servant was an order of magnitude more powerful than he could handle. (How he'd managed to accidentally get ahold of such a familiar was also a mystery, but one that was slightly less pressing.)

She slid the textbook closer and opened it with a clunk. It had been written sometime in the late 1700s or so, and the typeset was dense and unforgiving, but it was also one of the best sources of information on energy flow that she'd come across in her studies. She paged through it, taking notes on a second sheet of paper, piecing things together from disparate sources. There wasn't exactly a chapter called "Help! My Servant Needs More Mana Than I Can Give!" that she could get all her answers from, nor was there a Holy Grail War For Dummies that she could run down to the library and grab.

Her initial takeaway was confirmation that prolonged exposure to the kind of drain Assassin was causing would absolutely kill Shirou. It would not be a pretty death, either. Chapter 15 detailed the physical effects of having one's life force siphoned without a buffer, though the information was presented more in the context of a botched spell or malicious curse; it would eat away at his muscle mass, begin to solidify the blood in his veins, and render his bones brittle and crumbly. If a heart attack or a stroke or grievous bodily injury to his weakened flesh didn't kill him, he would certainly die when the chemical bonds in his very molecules began to dissolve.

Right. Frankly, she should have just taken the death thing on faith and not gotten those horrible images in her head. Shirou was a fucking idiot, but she didn't want him to fall apart like that. That was too cruel, and she was already having enough nightmares.

She added the words Question 1: can we supplement with external energy?, then underlined it. If the answer to that one was yes, that would solve a lot of problems all by itself. Question 2: are Assassin's energetic needs different from an average Servant's? Essentially, would a normal Magus be able to handle Assassin, who seemed a contradiction in so many ways, or would they find themselves in the same predicament? Then, below that, Question 3: would he trust me with Assassin if we can't find a solution?

She looked at that last one for longer than she'd like to admit before she grimaced and scribbled it out.

Question 3: Can Shirou's capacity be artificially increased? This was what she intended to focus most on. External energy could be used to help, but it would be difficult to make work on its own. She had a few ideas, but she'd need to get a closer look at his body and his magic circuits to figure that one out. This study session was more about refreshing her baseline knowledge and brainstorming than it was solving the problem all at once.

There were a couple things that looked promising. If her hunch was right and Shirou's switch was either broken or missing, then installing one would absolutely increase the energy flow. Right now, it would be like Assassin was forcing water through a half-closed valve, and the pressure needed to do that was introducing a whole lot of waste. Water spraying everywhere but where it needed to go - or in this case, mana Assassin needed spilling uselessly into the ether. It wouldn't solve the problem, but it would go a long way to lessening it. That was a good place to start.

Lists built on lists built on lists. There would need to be a decent infusion of external energy, plus some kind of internal catalyst… The sound of graphite scritching on paper was almost soothing. This was all theoretical, not preventing an actual human being from literally dissolving, so as long as she kept her mind from-

Ah, fuck, now she was thinking about it again. With a grimace, she reached for her mug, only to find it empty. Inconvenient, but getting another cup would keep her busy for a minute. She pushed away from the table, then paused, a sinking feeling lodging itself in her chest. He's been quiet a long time. Sure, he was probably just still asleep, but after the night she'd just had…

"Shirou?" she called. Sound didn't carry very well here; there was too much to muffle it, so it wasn't surprising when she didn't get a response. Slowly, methodically, but with a rising panic and anger, she checked every room in her home.

Shirou was not here.

Okay. Let's not freak out just yet. Her bounded field was still intact, and none of her alarms had gone off, so there hadn't been an intruder or an attack. No sign of a struggle, anyway, and she didn't think Assassin would have let Shirou be carried off without a fight. So not an enemy.

Or… No. Shirou was trusting and idealistic to a fault. Someone he knew would be able to coax him out of a safe place, easily, by relying on that. A phone call is all it would take, and that wouldn't have triggered her defenses. "Damn it, Emiya," she growled, then descended the stairs to the basement with as much grace as a herd of elephants. "Archer!" she yelled as she reached the bottom and turned the corner.

Archer was sitting cross legged in the circle where she'd left him, looking up at her placidly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Emiya's gone," she said instead. "We've gotta go find him."

Archer… didn't look surprised. "Do we?"

"Yes, we-" She paused. "Wait a minute. Did you know?" A vein ticked in her forehead. "Tell me you didn't know."

Archer shrugged, smirking. "I didn't know for sure, but I stopped sensing Assassin up there about two hours ago."

"And you didn't tell me?" she hissed.

Archer blinked up at her innocently, and she wanted to deck him. "I'm in timeout, Rin. I don't know what you want from me."

A strangled sound of frustration and anger escaped her, and she broke the circle, grabbing him by the front of his red coat, hauling him up, and shaking him a little. "I want you to do your damn job without undermining me! What happened to following my orders?"

Archer looked supremely unimpressed. "You didn't give me any orders about making sure that idiot didn't leave the house." She looked him dead in the eye, and he looked right back. He was right, and that was what pissed her off the most.

"We have to go find him," she growled through clenched teeth. They were allies. She'd given her word. If he didn't understand the situation he was in, then she should have known that and taken that into consideration. If he died out there-

Her Servant sighed, making a big show of brushing some non-existent dust off his jacket. "Guess it can't be helped. You know I still can't fight, right?" He lifted his shirt to show her the gash; it was closed, and there was a ring of scar tissue around the edges, but it looked like it was ready to break open at the first opportunity.

"Your eyes didn't get cut out, did they?" She gave him a pointed glare. "Help me find him, and that one is an order."

"I suppose you've given me no choice," he said with a wry bow. "Let's go find your pet moron."

Moments later, she threw open her front door, ready to sprint out and begin her search - and instead froze. "Wh-" Her muscles had locked up in a way that was not in any way magical.

For a moment, her brain short circuited. She couldn't be seeing what she was seeing, and so her vision refused to resolve into a coherent image.

Of all the people in Fuyuki City that she was least prepared to see, Sakura Matou was at the very top of the list. She stood just outside the gate, just outside Rin's bounded field. Her violet eyes were wide as dinner plates, her hair was more unkempt than Rin had ever seen it, and one fist was pressed defensively to her chest as if she were trying to keep something away… or keep something in. Her mouth was slightly open as she stared. She looked just as shocked as Rin did as the color drained from her face.

A few long moments passed. Rin stared at Sakura. Sakura stared at Rin.

A shadow passed over Sakura's face, her expression slackening. Her head sagged, her gaze sinking down to her feet. She was hidden under a curtain of hair, and all Rin could see was one shaking hand.

Rin forced herself to regain composure, and tilted her head back. Subtle confidence and lack of surprise. "What are you doing here, Sakura?" She didn't speak with hostility, but her words were cool. "You know you aren't supposed to come back h-"

Sakura's trembling head jerked in a way that was almost unnatural, and she looked back up. Written across her face was anger deeper than Rin had ever seen her wear — an anger that Rin hadn't even known the girl was capable of. Her eyes were dry, but rimmed in red, and her lips were chapped and cracked. Her whole body was shaking. Her voice was barely enough to carry. "Where is he?"

Rin took an unconscious step back.

That was a mistake.

Set into motion the way a bull is enraged by a matador's cape, Sakura had crossed the distance to grab fistfuls of Rin's jacket, yanking her close. There was a cornered-animal look in her eye. She's not just angry. She's afraid. "What did you do to him?"

Rin's thoughts moved very quickly. There was no time to feel fear. Sakura was unhinged. That was clear. Something had happened. He. There were two people Rin could imagine that meant — Shinji and Shirou. She hadn't seen Shinji since the other day, so that meant Sakura probably meant Shirou.

Sakura had seen the scene at Shirou's house. The damage.

And she thought Rin had done it.

That she'd hurt Sakura's only real friend.

That realization hit like a hammer blow, but she kept her face carefully neutral. "Shirou?" she said, as calmly as if she were discussing today's forecast. "I haven't done anything to him."

Relief passed over Sakura's face, but she seemed to actively reject it. The brief slackness morphed into fear, then twisted back into anger. Her shaking grew worse. "I don't believe you," she whispered hoarsely. "What did you do to him?" She repeated.

Rin gently put her hands on Sakura's hands and tried to pull them away. Sakura's grip broke like her fingers were made of sand. She didn't follow when Rin stepped back. "I don't know what you think-"

The anger softened into a sadness so deep that Rin ached with it. "You can't lie to me, nee-san." (The once familiar word like broken glass in Rin's ears.) A pained smile and red eyes. "Even after all this time. I know how the world works. It just wants to take. And take and take and…" She stopped with a ragged breath. The smile was gone. "You're part of the world too. I don't want to fight, nee-san. Please show me he's okay. I need… I need him to be okay."

"Sakura…" Rin was at a loss for words. Rin was never at a loss for words. "He's okay. I can't bring you to him right now, but-"

"I know what you are," Sakura whispered. "We're the same, nee-san. You and me and Senpai."

Rin froze. Time seemed to stop.

Sakura took a step closer, and Rin reacted. With a reflexive shove, her hand spread wide, magic pulsed through the still air. Invisible bonds swirled and coalesced around Sakura's body, yanking the younger girl back and up into the air. Her arms locked at her side, she bucked and twisted in ways that looked painful. The restraints would not give; Sakura would break herself before she freed herself.

Now Rin's outstretched hand was the one that shook, but her voice was calm. "What do you mean, 'we're the same?'" She knew. Of course she did. She should have known right from the beginning, but she had never even thought to suspect her. There could only be one Tohsaka Master, but of course, Sakura was most emphatically not a Tohsaka. Not for a long time.

Looks like Rin had been an idiot, too.

Sakura screamed something primal and wordless, and there was another pulse of magic. This one was…her mind struggled to assign it adjectives. Slimy. Rotten. Shimmering and otherworldly, like gasoline on water. The unnatural magic cut like a hot knife through her bonds, and she dropped to the ground, landing heavily on her feet. It would have been a simple spell, but Sakura's breath came in gasps. That must be the Matou family magic; it wasn't compatible with her, but it was all she had.

With a chill, Rin realized that all the grass in a three foot radius around Sakura was withered and dead.

Rin slowly raised a hand, and power gathered again. "Sakura. I need you to tell me what you mean." She didn't want this. She so desperately didn't want this. But if Sakura was involved, if she was an enemy…

She'd always told herself she'd make any sacrifice for this when the time came.

Instead of responding, instead of fighting back, Sakura collapsed to her knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her hair hid her face once again. When she spoke, her voice was as empty as her eyes had been. "I can't beat you in a fight. I know that."

Now Rin's voice did shake. "Then why did you come?" The power gathered at the tip of her fingers, ready to be released with lethal force. "Why did you attack me?" A worthless plea, but one she couldn't keep off her lips.

"I'm afraid, nee-san," Sakura said, still motionless. "But if you can… if you can tell me he's okay. If you can show me he's okay." Her voice broke, and her shoulders bucked. "Then you can do whatever you want to me. It's what I deserve." Her face rose, peeking through the veil of hair. Rin had never seen eyes so utterly devoid of anything resembling life. "But if you can't…. i-if you can't…" There was no emotion in the words, and that was the most frightening thing of all.

Rin's hand glowed with the power that boiled and churned and fought to be unleashed. "Sakura. Listen to me. Shirou is okay. He's… he's not here right now, but I promise he is alive."

"Then where is he?" she whispered. "Why won't you show him to me?"

"Because I don't know where he is!" Rin snapped, and Sakura flinched. Rin forced herself not to care. To ignore the molten confusion churning inside her. She had to be iron. She had to be stronger than iron. "He ran off! I was leaving the house to find him!" Where the hell is Archer?

"How am I supposed to trust you?" Sakura still hadn't tried to rise. Rin wasn't sure she was physically capable at the moment. "He could already be d-dead. You're a Master, too. You want to kill him. You want to kill me. We're… we're enemies. You're his enemy, too."

Rin grabbed her wrist with her other hand, trying to steady her aim. "We are enemies. But that also means you and Emiya are enemies, too," she said coldly enough to freeze molten steel. "If you want to help him, shouldn't you get out of his way and die?" She wanted to take the words back the instant she said them, but that wasn't how life worked. She'd said them. She would stand by them.

Sakura simply knelt there, knuckles on the grass, head bowed. She didn't speak again.

Rin stood there, Gandr shot aimed and ready to fire, and prepared to execute her sister. This was the Holy Grail War.

No matter what the cost was in the end. This was what she was born to do.

This was the cost of her life's aspiration.

A gentle breeze pulled at her coat, swirling red fabric around her like a cloud of blood in the water. Long purple strands of hair fluttered distantly in the air. Her magic sparked and hissed.

One word. That's all she needed to say.

One word and it would be over.

One word, and the last living family she possessed would be dead, and she would be one step closer to having everything she'd worked so hard to attain.

Say it.

Say it.

"Oh, hey, Sakura!" the worst possible voice said brightly, and Rin didn't want to admit to herself how close she came to blowing Shirou's head off in sheer panicked reflex. "What're you doing here?"

The sound of her name cut through the bloody haze that had overtaken her mind like a bucket of ice water. Her first response was disorientation. The last few minutes were blurry, out of focus. She remembered where she was and why she'd come, but once she and Rin had locked eyes, it was like she hadn't been driving her own body anymore. Her blood thudded painfully in her ears, and she wanted to retch.

"What're you doing here?"

Her breath stopped in her chest. All feeling, all emotion, seemed to have abandoned her, leaving her with nothing but cold sensation. Her head turned slowly, painfully, a rusted hinge squealing with disuse.

Senpai stood just inside the gate, his arms full with brown paper grocery bags stuffed with food. She didn't understand. He was badly bruised. One eye was slightly swollen, and there were scabby scrapes covering one cheek. The thing she'd feared so badly since the day before was true; a Command Seal was carved into the back of his hand, and he wasn't even trying to hide it. His clothes were filthy, torn, inside-out, covered in dirt and what looked like dried blood. And yet…

And yet, he was smiling. No, not smiling. He was beaming. He looked…

He looked like himself.

Then his smile faltered. His brows knit together. His eyes went from her to Rin and back again.

So that was it. He knew that she was bad. It was all over his face. The judgement. She'd ripped the life from living things to free herself from Rin's spell, because that's what the Matous did, and it was obvious. The hurt in his eyes would come soon, she knew, and that was everything she had ever wanted to avoid.

Her vision wavered, and she desperately squeezed her eyes closed to hold back the rush of tears as everything came flooding in and it was too much. Shame and loathing and regret and it was too much. She heard the sound of rustling paper, then footsteps approached, and she cringed away from them, because he would stand with Rin, they would be united against her, and this was wrong and she shouldn't have done anything and she was stupid stupid stupid-

Warm, callused hands closed on hers, pulling them gently away from the ugly furrows she hadn't even realized she was trying to dig into her scalp. "Sakura…?" Tender and concerned. Warm.

His presence was solid. Real. Even without looking at him, he was bedrock.

"Shirou, where the fuck have you-" Rin started to protest angrily, but something made her pause. Maybe he'd given her a look. Maybe he'd shaken his head. Maybe she'd just understood something.

Senpai hadn't gone to Rin.

He'd come to her.

She didn't deserve that.

Her fingers closed around his hands, and she squeezed. He didn't speak. He just held her hands while she shook.

She didn't deserve a friend like him, but she was a selfish girl, and she wasn't strong enough to push him away.

Her front door was very heavy, and Illya was very small. The shadows had grown long, creeping fingers reaching for her, as the forest whispered familiarly at her back. It was peaceful, after twelve hours that had been anything but. She pushed and strained, and the heavy wood-and-metal door creaked reluctantly. When enough of a gap had been created, she slipped inside, letting it naturally drift closed behind her with a rumbling clunk.

This morning had been a disaster. It wasn't that the aftermath of the fight with Archer had hurt particularly badly that had been so upsetting. Pain was an old friend, and it had been since her growth had been stunted by the innumerable Command Seals that covered every inch of her like rusted iron chains. This morning had been a different pain, though, and there was something existentially terrifying about that. When was the last time she'd been hurt by someone else? Berserker had carried her home, and she'd locked herself in her bedroom to cry.

As the morning had worn on, though, what had most lingered was the confusion. Shirou Emiya could have killed her. She'd made assumptions and left herself exposed. And yet…

And yet, he hadn't. He'd run. He'd run until he was badly hurt, and in all that time, never gave his Servant the command to come for her. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand.

She needed to understand.

So she'd sought him out, dispersing familiars throughout the city, hoping that one would catch a glimpse of him. It was a hope against hope. He was hurt, and he'd be in hiding. Of course he wouldn't be out on the town. And yet… he had been. The looks he'd given her were incomprehensible. The words were strange and foreign. She hated him so much she burned with it, but she found herself wanting to like him.

Him. The person who had taken everything from her. The stranger her father had decided was more worthy of his love than her. She could never like such a person.

And yet.

And yet, he'd offered her a home cooked meal, even after she'd tried so hard to kill him. It was stupid. He was stupid. The whole idea was stupid. What would she want with such a thing? She could eat whatever she wanted to.

And after they'd spoken, Illya felt something that she couldn't wrap her mind around, not even to herself. It lasted as she dazedly stepped into a cab, and it lasted as she crossed the bounded field that marked her family's property, and still it remained.

She looked out over the familiar entrance hall. Polished and clean and orderly. Rich reds and golds and browns. A grand, ostentatious stairway that positioned its owners as above those who came in the front door. Gleaming tile and regal paintings. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. This was what she wanted. She didn't need other people. She had her maids, and she had Berserker, and she had herself. Even if anyone else was worthy to call themselves her friend, she didn't want such things. She was an Einzbern. She was heir to the most powerful, most important family in the whole world. She had everything she could ever want.

"I'm home," she called, and her only answer was the hollow echo of her own voice.

I say this every chapter, but thank you again to everyone who leaves comments on my chapters! Y'all are the real heroes here.

Next chapter: Kill or Be Killed