Author's note: If I kept my style consistent, this whole chapter should be in italics. But I thought it wasn't worth making the whole chapter harder to read.
***Story Start***
I woke up floating down the river Thames, and felt the slosh of the polluted water around my soaked body. Sensing feebleness in my limbs, I refrained from vaulting out of the water and chose instead to swim for the shore. As I made my way to the north bank, I did a quick recount of my available prana to try and account for this new sense of exhaustion that didn't quite seem to add up from my past energy expenditures. I started out in the war with a thousand units of od. The cost of conventional projections totalled to about a hundred units thus far. On top of that I've had to trace the Rod of Asclepius twice to save Ervin, and that took two hundred units each time. All together, I've lost five hundred od, which should leave me with another five hundred. My body shouldn't be feeling any notable strains just yet, so the reason for this elusive weakness had to come from elsewhere.
I recalled what happened the night before as I pulled myself ashore. There was a battle with Rider, and I've slain him with the accused Juuchi Yosamu, one of the most feared swords from sixteenth century Japan, brainchild of the legendary mad smith Muramasa. What struck me as odd was that the effect of his command seal lacked a clear direction. Normally, an order from a command seal must be simple and direct, but Ervin's command seal compelled me to close in, compelled me to target Rider, and compelled me to make a broken phantasm out of Juuchi Yosamu.
Making a broken phantasm out of that bloodthirsty blade may have ensured victory, but it was not something I would have done under any other circumstance. The cursed weapon forever longs to cut everything around it, and by pushing that urge over its limit I've inflicted a great deal of needless hurt on myself. Thanks to its violent discharge, I must have been blown clear off the tower into the river, and washed downstream.
But that meant Ervin has been on his own for the rest of last night.
It is possible for most servants to sense when their masters are in danger, and for me this was no exception. As I did not register any perception of Ervin being threatened, I at first took my time in making my way back to town, thinking that I had a whole day before it would get dark and dangerous for my master again. But when I realized that I didn't perceive ANY connection to Ervin at all, the much harsher reality sank in.
My master did not survive till dawn. The war was over for us, and I have failed him.
I did my best to keep my mind sharp, so as to at least distil the facts. Usually, a master-less servant would disappear from his or her space and time in a matter of moments; the only reason I was still anchored to this plane was that I was summoned as an Archer-class servant, who by default possessed the class trait of 'independent action.' This meant that I could persist independently in this space and time for several more days, until I steadily run out of energy to sustain my existence.
Which was just as well - for the borrowed time I ran on was meant by the Root as a chance to finish up my alternate objectives. Being a counter guardian rather than a pure heroic spirit, the only times when I may manifest as a Grail War servant is when the outcome of the war might threaten the survival of the world. But of course the Root, in Her generosity, never sheds light beforehand on just where the threat might loom. As such, it was up to the guardians to do the investigation as well as fighting on their own. The usual hitsuzen was that if a guardian wins the war, all of his or her objectives would be met naturally; but that simple guideline is denied to me now, and I must work with what little I had.
The lingering shadow of the human I once was longed for the impossible prospect of using my final days in this world for a vacation. For even after an eternity on duty, I could not forget some of the things in the world that I wanted to revisit. Through still duty-bound to the Root, without an immediate master to devote my focus to I suddenly found myself in nostalgia.
But of course I cannot escape from duty again. It was to be my punishment, after all.
That being said, there was at least one place from the past around here that Akasha would excuse me for visiting, if only I could recall its whereabouts from my long-outdated mental maps. It was a secret lodging somewhere in the East End, a safe house built by the Association's local branch for visiting magi. I've stayed there once myself back in my time, when I came here with Toshaka Rin on a conference. However, there was also a tactical reason for my visitation. It was a general heuristic that mages with close ties to the association liked to stay in safe houses during wars, for they were often warded against possible breaching by spiritual entities. If that house I knew of remained standing in this time, and should it be still in service, it might be advantageous to investigate. It just might contain a key player in this Grail War, or perhaps some leads.
Finding the place wasn't easy, as the passing century has mauled the outer rings of the city beyond recognition. Devoid of grass, proper sidewalks, or even intact road signs, what broken-windowed buildings still stood were just different shades of grey. Even though I had a perfect mental picture of the neighbourhood back then, the hope of finding any matching landmarks here and now seemed slim. Still, I groped about in these districts in the chilly morning, nominally trying to continue my mission, but in effect giving myself time and space to think about a number of things.
The relationship between master and servant was often a tenuous one. There was more than a good chance that the servant would not mix well with the master, which could lead to abuse against the servant or betrayal against the master. Servants were much more likely to work with the master when doing so suited whatever agendas that they've had. More often than not, the agenda involved winning the Grail and getting a wish of their own. But for myself, I've never operated on such incentives. I would always serve my master to the last, never questioning orders unless they'd harm a mass of innocents. Maybe that's why I've never won a Grail for any master. Because I had no private agenda, I lacked the initiative of the more self-serving spirits. There were no miracles that I wanted to wish for, for I was content with what I've enjoyed in life. Neither were there any regrets that I wanted to wish away, because not owning up would wrong those I've hurt even more. Such a disposition may seem fitting for a counter guardian at a glance, but the deeper truth was that I did not possess the consciousness of a real hero. A hero would possess some kind of eternal motive or ideal, which would grant his or her spirit the power to achieve greater deeds. My lacking in this respect does a lot to account for the difference in performance between me and some of the more successful servants that I've encountered, be they gallant or villainous. But regardless of that, my way of doing things was important to me, and I wouldn't change it even if the Root demanded more results.
Speaking of results, I actually managed to stumble upon the neighbourhood I was looking for. As expected, the place was run-down, but because the bushes and fences surrounding the mansion itself has been all but ripped clean, it actually made the unmistakable shape of the structure easier to see from a distance. It was a three-storey house, and its front face was six windows across on each floor. Seeing how the glass have been shattered at places, I guessed that the safe house have become abandoned after all. Still, I had my reasons to go inside and have a look, not the least because its emptiness might be an illusion. The first test was to see whether I could dematerialize through the front door. As a spirit could only pass through physical obstacles that weren't dense with mana, trying to pass through the front door was a direct test to see whether any warding was still in place. If the door passes my test, I'd have to be alert.
I slipped through the thick oaken door with ease, and I remained dematerialized as I explored about. The kitchen still looked the same, plus the thick coating of dust, webs, and the lack of intact furniture. I smiled to myself as I recalled the one time I've had to cook here. Toshaka had a bone with pick with the local cuisine, and so on that evening I was under absolute order to raid the local grocery and feed our party of four right here in the lodge. Never one to shy from kitchen duty, I accomplished my mission with all the effectiveness of a chef-class servant, only to find out after doing the dishes that the malicious sisters were far from done with me.
I couldn't suppress a good-humoured grimace as I made my way upstairs, subconsciously materializing again just from the sheer vividness of these flashbacks. Reminding myself that I was technically doing business here at the moment, I shook off those many thoughts for while and methodically checked each room. Every place was the same, complete with spider webs, dust, scattered graffiti, and the occasional hammer-wound on the wall, the latter no doubt the works of crude looters. For good measure I scoured every corner with a strict tactical eye, but still found nothing of significance. Having now made sure that the perimeter was for better or worse secure, I made my way to the spacious room at the end of the west wing on the top floor.
The mega-sized bed was long gone, and the curtains have been pilfered for fabric. The dust has grown so thick that it all caked together on the floor in one sprawl, and not even the breeze that seeped in from the smashed window could lift any dusty swirls off the ground. I scanned the room's beaten outlines, and traced a broom and a dustpan in my hands. Those were tools that were originally of this room from back in the day. Owing to the fact that my tracing ability automatically recalls what the item has seen, as I began to the clean the room the familiar memories I wanted to revisit resurfaced with all its details.
***Scene Break***
"Ma-de! Ma-de!" I asked Sakura to slow down as she dragged me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. My hands were still soapy and I haven't had a chance to take off my apron, but she was all but oblivious to my complaints.
"Anata..." She mumbled in a slurred voice, another needless confirmation that she was drunk. Toshaka has goaded her sister to help themselves to the whiskey in the cellar, and they've no doubt been 'sampling' upstairs. I knew I would not be exempt from their festivities, and my strategy of giving the sisters an ample head start in the drag seemed to have backfired. In these times, I could expect Rider to be reading her books off to the side, turning a blind eye as her master pulls me around by the ears. Oh well, at least Toshaka was a moderate drinker, and I could count on her help to prevent any debauchery from going out of hand.
"HAYAKU-KOI-MEOW!" Accompanied by the clamour of a tall glass slamming against the table, Toshaka's call for us to hurry upstairs echoed all the way down from the third floor.
Never mind what I've said earlier. Root help me now.
I opened the door to find no less than ten bottles on the floor. Two bottles were already empty and a third was well on its way. Against all odds, Toshaka still maintained her own brand of dignified posture, although her eyelids drooped notably and she was making more than the occasional cat sound.
"Toshaka! Are you sure this is okay? You've just raided their cellar."
"Daijoubu-kuru-meow." Her paw-waving assurance, now not only catty but mixed with gibberish, was anything but assuring. "We were charged for beverages meow, in our lodging fee meow..."
Of course, ever the pinching miser. That explains her unusual bout of over-drinking. She was just trying to get our money's worth for renting this safe house. Come to think of it, perhaps one reason she put me to the kitchen was to make good on the flat utility fee. As I came to the realization that she would be off the deep end for the evening, I was forced to sit down on the floor and join in. Rider meanwhile was calm and collected, completely shutting out the rest of us as she read a book on the bed. There was no doubt now that all ten bottles had to consumed, and I could use a fourth helper.
"Rider." I called to her, inviting her over to join us. But she simply turned around at me with a mischievous grin. By the time I realized that she didn't have her reading glasses, I was already frozen stiff below the waist. Before I could protest, the cup was held against my lips.
"Eto...dozo." I took the cup with a genuine grin and drank my first. Sakura's drunken prank may have gone a bit too far, but seeing her outgoing and frivolous side was a rare gift, and I was glad that we were making memorable moments out of our vacation. Despite not being able to move my lower body, I drank a second cup and began to unwound. Even before I put down the empty glass, she poured me another and I drank promptly. As long as she was happy, I didn't mind.
"Sakura-kuru-meow." Toshaka raised a tipsy lecturing finger. "Slow down meow. You're going to poison Emiya-kuru-meow."
"Ehhh? Nee-chan is jealous." Sakura turned to her sister, her voice suddenly dark. The sisters traded shots often enough, but now under the influence of substance things were liable to explode in a hurry. When Sakura proceeded to migrate onto my petrified lap under her sister's smirking eyes and grin, which no doubt harboured a scalding and corrosive remark, I was prepared to witness the worst.
"Trying hard to replace Saber-kuru-meow?"
My temperature dropped. I suddenly felt like a sober mind wearing a head that was overcome with sudden nausea. Toshaka's words could have been addressed to either me or Sakura, with multiple meanings in either case. I didn't blame Toshaka for opening those wounds; she was drunk and didn't mean what she said. The one who should really take the blame was the one who caused those regrettable things while fully sober. I gulped down another cup before realizing that I shouldn't add fuel to her caustic remark by reacting to it, but I felt a bit overwhelmed, and failed to readjust my expression. For a second I was so out of it that I poured wine into my own glass. I was about to smooth over my faux pas by handing my glass to Sakura, but then I saw that she was in no mood to play along.
She was definitely upset. Suffocating energies oozed out of her skin, and flushed away her body's pigmentation. From behind her white hair, cold red eyes stared at the foolish sister who has spoken on a forbidden subject.
"Urusai...onee-chan." Sakura's voice was cold enough to form frost on the window. The floor beneath Toshaka melted into a black shadow, and she fell down to the room below. Her angry meows were shut out as the black circle reformed into the floor. Rider has meanwhile dematerialized and fled the scene, leaving me alone in the room with Sakura, who now turned to face me.
"You miss her." She wasn't asking a question. The truth was obvious.
"I do." Maybe it wouldn't sit well with Sakura, but this wasn't something I could lie about. She fell silent for a moment, and the air in the room stood still. I averted her gaze at first, but when we realized that we forgot to breathe and exhaled at the same time, our eyes met.
"I miss her too." She whispered, and buried my face in her chest.
***Scene Break***
Drowsiness set in sometime during my flashback, and I fell asleep on the floor. Sleeping was a decent mechanism for a servant to maintain his or her corporeality. Assuming the servant does no fighting during the day, he or she can replenish most of that day's passive prana expenditures with a night of sleep. But the heightened senses of most servants make them light sleepers, and they will rouse at the slightest disturbance. These things could be as mundane as footsteps, or as exotic as another servant's ominous presence. In my case though, it was the sound of a passing vehicle below the house.
I opened my eyes at the dull humming of the passing wheels three floors below. Clear starry skies were unknown to the dimly monochrome nights of this age, so the thrice-refracted street lights limping through the broken window formed the only feeble beam in this ruined room. I wasted no time as I dematerialized through the walls and floors out into the street. It was night time, and there shouldn't be anyone who dares even wander in these gang-infested districts, much less invite sport-sniping by being the only car in sight. If this scenario happened back in Fuyuki, I would have chosen to sleep through it even as a servant. But in the here and now, with the Grail War happening in a city where every moving thing on the street past nightfall had to do with either crime, magecraft, or both, I thought there was a good reason to make absolutely sure that passed car didn't contain anything I would be interested in.
Even though the car was gone by the time I made it out of the house, I thought it suspicious that not even the sounds of its engines hung in the distant air. If a car was so fast that it could so quickly escape the hearing range of my reinforced ears in the dead of night, it would have revved up a really loud noise as it passed by the safe house. As I did not hear engine-revving sounds of that magnitude, I could only conclude that the car couldn't have gone far.
If it didn't drive far but stopped making engine sounds, it meant that the car has stopped somewhere nearby. Lightening my body, I vaulted into the air and took a bird's eye view of the vicinity, hoping to catch the car before it turns off its lights. I had no such luck, but I wasn't quite out of options yet. There were only about two dozen cars parked in my field-of-view, and the one with the warmest temperature had to be the car I was after. Reinforcing my eyes to see slightly into the infrared was at the limit of my vision-reinforcement capacities and required as much prana as tracing a sword, but in this case it was both sufficient and well worth the cost. Scanning the area once more with my reinforced vision, I saw a minivan behind an abandoned snack bar that was tinted slightly red from within, giving away the heat signatures of its passengers.
I dematerialized and drifted forward quietly. Strangely enough its engine hatch looked completely dark, which made me suspect a modified cooling system. Since vans aren't made to race, the modification hinted that the vehicle had an industrial purpose, whatever it might be. I was perched on the roof right above it now, looking through the minivan's side windows. The driver's seat was empty, and both clouds of red were in the back, behind the obscuring tinted glass. I couldn't see what was inside, but their rough shapes suggested that they were getting intimate. Here, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that my scouting mission was strictly professional, I still thought it rather inappropriate to sit and stare. I stayed dematerialized on the roof and observed the movements inside the van periodically, keeping a distasteful balance between turning my back to the opponent and being a peeping pervert. For a while I was glad that my reinforced vision still could not clearly see the exact picture inside. For better or worse, strong though servants may be, we were far from being omnipotent.
Such a mentality caused me to become rather startled when the middle side window facing me began to roll down. But within seconds I gravely regretted not being more guarded than I was. Residue mana in the air around where I hovered condensed and popped in explosive sparks. Those sparks themselves were harmless enough; but since immaterial servants cannot occupy the same space as a piece of mana-dense material, the brief condensing of mana was enough to force me into corporeality. That was when a masterfully-timed kill-shot zoomed through the open window. The sniper round slammed against my breastplate and managed to cause a tiny rip, leaving no doubt that had it hit somewhere else by luck I could very well have been killed. Habitually I traced Kanshou and Byakuya as I widened my distance with the enemy. Judging from how hard the shot has hit my near-impervious chest armour, I deduced that even I might not be fast enough to parry their incoming bullets at closer ranges. In fact rather than trying to do so at all, I simply launched my swords at the minivan. The properties of my favoured weapons were such that when they both flew out, they would make a quick arc in the air, circle around to the back of my target, and converge upon it in a decent-sized explosion. As my blades flew in the air, I dematerialized again to dodge incoming shots, and changed my position so that I would be on a blind spot of their gun-port. As I did so and made the next shot go wide, my own weapons found their mark.
When I discovered to my surprise that my blades have only managed to score a tiny crossed gash on the van's hull, I had no remaining doubts that the combined strength of the opposing duo could very well stand up to that of my own. Just based on the exchange that has unfolded so far, I could almost be sure of the nature of my opponents. They were dangerous combatants who clearly had access to magecraft, right within the setting of a Grail War. This almost certainly labelled them as master and servant. The master had to be an alchemist, which would explain how the air around me could become infused and transmuted to force me out of hiding. The resilient hull of the van was mostly likely also the result of transmutation, further meriting the soundness of my guess. As for the servant, it wasn't immediately obvious which class he belonged to, but he seemed to be a fan of guns, and was quite deadly with one. Assuming that the gunner servant was the main damage dealer of the duo, I decided that they had two weak zones - beyond their maximum range, or within their minimum. Choosing to enter into the latter to make the kill, I closed in on the roof of their own van. If the hull was so tough, they wouldn't be able to shoot through at me; while I on the other hand was confident about doing the reverse at my leisure by tracing a more powerful projection.
As I hovered above the vehicle and prepared to jam Hrunting right through the top, one of the two people inside made his move. The obviously modified left side door slid open almost weightlessly, and the figure of a young man fell out of the car on his back. Even before he hit the ground he raised his hands upwards, an assault rifle held in each, and fired full auto. I phased out to dodge the ferocity of his burst fire, and closed in on him in one swift motion. I saw his face then - fairly young, clean-shaven, with bright eyes and moderately short blonde hair. He was gauging me as well, with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, though I had no way of knowing how much he read in that passing moment before I vanished and closed in. Regardless, as he hit the ground with a thud, I reappeared in his face and made a move to run him through with Hrunting.
"Ritterkreuz." The servant uttered under his breath. As I brought Hrunting down, it hit an invisible barrier, and there was a discordant ring of metal hitting metal. Although it absorbed much of my attack's momentum, I felt his invisible shield crack and give way. I was about to follow through on another downward plunge, when I heard a gun's cocking sound from behind me. Realizing the fatal danger I was in, I did an about face and projected Rho Aias against the sniper round fired behind my back. The shot was fired so quickly from the time of loading that only five of my shield's seven petals unfolded before the round hit home. Clearly I have erred in assuming the servant to be the only marksman, but I stopped myself from further analysis as I realized that my back was now towards the said servant. The shield has just unfolded between me and the master in the van, and there was no way to re-project another one behind me in time. Thinking fast, I had no choice but to divert maximum energy to physically reinforce my exposed backside, especially my skull. Even as I did so I felt several excruciating and disorienting impacts from rifle rounds at the back of my head, and I could swear that I felt something crack. Blocking out the distracting injuries, I lunged forward into the van before the master had a chance to fire again, for I could not maintain Rho Aias under this condition. The whole idea behind my gambit at this point was that, as I've been tricked into jumping in between two marksmen, instead of turning round and round to defend against both sides I was better off leaving one side relatively open and focus my attack on the other.
At least the master didn't prove to be a challenge up close, or else I might have returned to the Root early right there and then. I seized her by the neck and placed her between her servant and myself. As everyone on the scene finally froze, I patched up the grievous wounds on the back of my head by reinforcing the oozing blood quickly into some hard substance to plug up the holes. Compared to the Rod of Asclepius, this prana-saving first-aid substitute was much less elegant. Had I been a real mortal, the spilled blood inside my cranium would start to cause trouble within a month. But since I was a servant, even if I couldn't slowly regenerate that injury, another month was surely beyond my allotted time here anyhow. But as I steadied myself after my hacksaw-style bandaging, I saw that the other servant did not drop his gun.
First of all, that reminded me of another fact. Did he not fire on full auto as he jumped out of the van? How did he still have ammunition to shoot me in the head afterwards? It occurred to me then that the tricky servant must have deliberately left ONE of his guns on semi. This was a hint that their entire chain of manoeuvres, starting from when they first rolled the window down, was planned right from the start and executed with impressive coordination. Had I still been a legit contestant in this Grail War, I would have doubtlessly snapped the girl's neck without hesitation, so as to eliminate a most potent rival. But now things weren't quite that simple. I had to piece together the nature behind this Grail War, and find out why I've been summoned here. I needed to gather clues that'll reveal my real objective here as a counter guardian, and the duo before me might have some of those clues.
"Drop the gun." I ordered the servant. All the while, the master stayed still and put up no resistance, but her lightly panting breaths became increasingly agitated. I kept my eyes fixed on the enemy who was still free. Seeing that he showed no intention of putting down his weapon, I tightened my arm against his master, who let out a gagging cough.
In all impossibility, he actually raised his gun directly at us. Did he not care that he was actually going to hit his master rather than me? I couldn't help but let out a silent sneer of disappointment on the girl's behalf. For all their seemingly tight bond and their seamless coordination, the servant did not really seem to care for his master's safety. After gauging his face in our brief exchange, my instincts questioned whether he really was one of those servants who would actually finish off his own master just to tie up a loose end. But seeing how he was such a cold-headed thinker, I didn't put that above him.
What puzzled me more though was the lack of reaction on the part of the female master. Seeing her own servant pointing his gun at her without regards for her safety should have prompted her to use a command seal right on the spot. A simple order such as 'don't betray me' or 'guard me with your life' would have done the job fine. But why did she totally not move?
The next thing came so fast even for someone of my speed; the sound of bouncing bullets and the shocking feeling of fresh trauma at the back of my head seemed to occur almost simultaneously. I had to give up my hard-fought opportunity to kill the young woman there and then, because I had to dematerialize to stem the massive bleeding inside my skull. As I drifted away in haste, I quickly digested what has just taken place. That servant has shot at the car window behind me, and bounced off the bullets so that they would all hit the back of my head. That was a doubtlessly a special ability in action; for even if the master transmuted the window into something akin to transparent Kevlar, the bullets' bounce trajectory should have been too random for even a servant to control. I already had a few haunches on the nature of his abilities, but I had to stop and worry about more pertinent things.
Thankfully I was too fast for the master to transmute me back into corporeality, though she at least gave it some token effort. After a short distance the alchemist girl could no longer track my presence, and I was for the moment safe. That was a relative description however, because the next time I materialize, my shot-up body would put me near death. I realized that I had no choice but to burn yet another Rod of Asclepius, and I weighed the heavy accompanying implications. Being down to a mere three hundred prana meant that I had perhaps three or four fights left in me. I would have to choose my battles wisely and make the most out of each one, but since it has already come down to this, so be it.
I readied the image of Asclepius in my mind as I shifted out of the immaterial. The pain of mind-numbing trauma was nothing new to me, so rather than focusing on it I turned my mind to the projection. Sensing my injuries as it appeared in my hands, the snake-coiled rod dissolved on the spot, refilling me with renewed health. Rather than dwelling on the cost of the recovery, I dissolved again into the night to plan my next move.
The focus would still be on the twin gunners. Not only do they hold the rare feat of defeating me in direct combat, they've also displayed a number of points I could exploit. As such, I couldn't just leave them alone.