A/N: Sorry about last month's unexpected hiatus, everyone. It's tough out there for a fresh graduate, and I kinda ran low on free time for a bit between family business and job-hunting. Well, I've still been plugging away at this story happily, so I present the next chapter without further delay!
Again, thanks to everyone who reads, reviews, and talks with me out there!
Also, on my profile is a little poll I set up, so if you've got a second, drop by and let me know: which fight are you most looking forward to in this story?
As always, I'm open to suggestions, opinions and just general chatting, so don't be shy about sending me your thoughts.
Team Dynamics: Part I
The day and night were both unbelievably productive for Caster's research. While many mysteries still lay temptingly across her table, she was starting to feel the mental weariness of pushing herself on the subject for so long, not to mention constantly splitting her attention between her work and her scrying of the various Servants. It wouldn't do for her to be caught off guard simply because she was too exhausted to properly prepare a defense. Regardless, her assumptions about Hollows being useful were spot on. While controlling one proved extremely tiresome, their powers and potential for generation and manipulation of negative energy were going to be well worth the effort, she could already tell. She could pick apart the two at her disposal all night long, but she wanted to keep a few intact for when she understood more about their natures and how she could utilize them safely. That meant that she needed more specimens to work with: at least twenty, ideally closer to fifty.
This of course led invariably to the question on the way to capture the violent spirits efficiently. Caster's research and experimentation on the two Hollows in her possession largely focused on this, leading her to create magically altered vials of water. They would do the job nicely, if she did say so herself. All that was left was the spread the liquid around a spot of her choice. Once soaked into a surface, the water would convert into a spiritual trap. These masked spirits would be drawn to the circulating energy and once they stepped into the circle it would convert into a boundary field that forcibly disrupted their ability to materialize, trapping the Hollow and cutting off its ability to use its negative energy, thus leaving it powerless to do more than thrash vainly at the barrier's walls. From there, she could forcibly summon the trapped specimens to her workshop or release them to cause havoc at her leisure.
The only other issue of significance lay in "baiting the hook." It would be a trifle to use her own prana and leave its scent in each trap, but that would be too easy to track for anyone remotely attuned to magecraft and speak of her own involvement. No, she needed something different, something unaffiliated with her or a neutral source from the land. Ideally someone else's prana which would then paint them as a scapegoat for her work if discovered. And it turned out that, yet again, Rider's Master had dropped a solution into her lap unwittingly.
One barely needed any skill at all as a magus to sense the vast amounts of furious energy the swordsman had used during his brief scuffle with Berserker. Amazingly, his power still lingered in places in spite of most having dissipated over the course of the day. Fortunately there was still plenty left for Caster's purposes, especially with how potent it was. There were even places where he had left minute traces at other points around the city wherever he paused for a moment. If properly harnessed and held within the circle for long enough, it would make fine bait without implicating her at all.
Caster loved it when a plan came together from nothing.
That said, she had to hand it to Rider's Master: he kept powerful company. Wherever he was from had no shortage of gifted beings, none of which were simple Servants or familiars of any stripe. The Master's companions held stunning abilities that paralleled the various classes. The boy himself was most definitely a Saber-like being, complete with a destructive energy blast that mimicked a Noble Phantasm. The petite spirit that appeared near the Hollow that emerged near Archer in the afternoon used a series of quick spells and a blade. The swift execution and potency of her magic placed her roughly in the Caster class like herself. Lastly, the white bowman who encountered Archer earlier in the evening was a skilled and swift warrior with both blade and bow.
Though the bespectacled soldier lost in the end, it was apparent that the red knight was hard-pressed from the first move with his superhuman abilities matched and countered expertly. Had that fight continued without the use of Archer's enchanted sword, it might very likely still be going on now, nearly half an hour after their duel had come to its conclusion. The boy's allies were all likely of the same vein and thus able to match Servants on their own, though she wasn't so presumptuous to believe that all of them could easily categorized in the same manner. She'd have to tread carefully if she planned to beat them all.
Returning her thoughts to the focus of those plans for victory, she considered the spirits already under her thrall. Her Hollow minions were being kept dormant via a magic circle at the moment while she considered her options. While she had no problems with letting them run amok in the city, Caster didn't want the orange-haired swordsman or his friends to eliminate them if they did too much damage. As far as marshaling her forces went she had eight vials prepared, each of which could hold a single Hollow indefinitely to be used when she was ready to begin her power play, on top of her weaker but far less unruly familiars. The combination of the blunt instrument and the surgical knife they formed would prove invaluable for her endgame.
As she went over her mental list of potential locations for her new traps for tomorrow night, a mental ping drew her attention. Her door guard was confronting someone, and her mental impressions from the spirit were appropriately wary, but somewhat confused. Caster stepped over to her scrying sphere to get a look for herself.
Seeing that particular red-eyed child at the door sent chills up her spine. 'What in Hades's name is she doing here?'
"Trofa…" she intoned sharply, the air around her writhing briefly from her command before swallowing her, taking her from her lab in a black vortex.
With that short space jump, the dark sorceress appeared just on the inside of the temple's main gate. She closed her eyes and stretched out her senses to her defender's conversation. "It is late, and my mistress has retired for the night. I do not mean to appear rude, but I must ask you, yet again, to leave," the smooth voice of her Servant explained levelly.
"This is important, though. I'm sure she'll come out if you pass along my request," was the reply from a high, sweet voice just shy of pleading. Caster could almost see the puppy dog eyes she must have been trying on the guard.
Said door guard sighed wearily. "You do realize that having your Servant here does not help your case."
Caster didn't even need to look to know that the girl had a mischievous smile on her face. "What? You want a little girl to walk around without protection with all those mean men out there?" Her tone would have had lesser men fumbling over themselves to apologize for the perceived slight.
Her Servant wasn't buying it. "Bringing such a powerful warrior along isn't exactly conducive to proposing an alliance, Ojou-san."
Instantly, Caster's interest was piqued. An alliance with the second strongest fighter (The fire-haired swordsman held the title of "strongest" with distinction) seen in the War so far? She'd have to be insane to pass up the opportunity. She opened one door with a slight flex of her magic and took a quick look around, her eyes hidden from view beneath the lip of her cowl. Sure enough the guardian of the gate, the Servant Assassin, a tall indigo-haired man of Japanese descent clad in the trappings of a swordsman for the Edo period complete with a sleeveless purple and gold kateginu coat over his robes, was barring passage into the temple grounds from a small girl.
It didn't need to be said that Assassin was paying notably more attention to the silent shadow of the astralized Berserker behind Ilya than the diminutive Master herself. Caster silently thanked whatever patrons guarded this world that nothing had so far come of this little confrontation. Assassin wouldn't have lasted six seconds against that monster unless his Master held him back. Caster's attempts to gather her thoughts on the matter were interrupted by the childish Master a few steps down. "Ah, you must be Caster-san. Good evening," the young lady offered a polite curtsy. "My name's Illyasviel von Einzbern. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Caster, still within the protective membranes of her numerous Boundary Fields, smiled deceptively pleasantly. "Good evening. I understand you have a proposal for me?"
The girl nodded happily. "I do! I came here because we both have the same problem. See, there is one foe neither of us can hope to beat on our own. Sure, I have Berserker and you are considered the most cunning of Servant classes with masterful defenses already in place, but compared to the samurai-oniisan out there we're outgunned by leagues. Therefore, I propose an alliance, if only temporary to eliminate the major obstacles."
Caster raised a delicate eyebrow. She already gathered that much on her own and wanted in on the potential benefits, but if you wanted any control in an alliance of this nature, you needed to restrain your interest until you learned how far the other was willing to go for the proposal. "There are other methods of defeating an enemy than simply overpowering them, child."
The "child" comment drew an annoyed tick above Illyasviel's eye, but she pressed on. "I know that, but I doubt even you with all your skills could compensate for the raw power at his disposal. The Boundary Field around this temple is very impressive, but from my testing, he could rip through it without much effort."
The elfin woman studied the girl at her fortress's doorstep dubiously. The boy she likely was referring to was indeed very powerful, but her defenses drew from a nexus of one of the region's fallen mystic leylines and as such their power was magnified several times over should she activate them. Only Servants with high Magic Resistance could power through her wards, and even then it would hinder them slightly and alert her to the intrusion. Then again, her knowledge of the fire-haired boy's power came from watching from a very long distance behind her shields. The Einzbern before her had to encounter it at point blank. "Oh? I don't think you are giving me enough credit."
"Well, maybe. I'd rather not start a fight right now and find out; it'd be rather inconvenient if we lit the whole mountain up and drew too much attention." The small purple-clad girl cleared her throat. "What I'm proposing is an exchange of aid, without compromising our mutual autonomy. If we join forces, you will have Berserker's aid should you need it to defend your fortress, access to my familiars' information, and I'll provide my family's lore that I have here in the city, some of which dates back over seven hundred years."
Caster was quite tempted by those additional perks, though if her research proved as fruitful as it was already looking, Assassin might be enough of a bodyguard once she was done even without them. "And in exchange?"
"I'll need some of your expertise to improve the defenses on my base of operations to keep the stronger enemies at bay, as well as access to your scrying skills should the need arise. More importantly, once samurai-oniisan is removed from the game, I want him alive. I haven't encountered a being like him before, and I'm curious about who and what he is," the girl explained easily. Of course, Ilya was more inclined to lay claim to the teen for more… personal reasons, but there was no need to say anything more.
"Hmm… I see. This is a very important decision. Would you permit me a day to think on it?" Caster was inwardly smiling in glee while her face maintained a veneer of polite pseudo-interest at the request. "As it stands, I am… distracted by the differences this War has over my understanding of prior events."
With another polite curtsy, the Einzbern magus smiled. "Of course. Don't keep me waiting long though, Caster-san. If you agree, I will be at the park just north of Miyama's shopping street in the afternoon. A simple missive via familiar will be enough."
She was quite well spoken for one so young, Caster noted. Of course, her physical appearance meant little. With Berserker as a brute force weapon/distraction, she would be stupid to pass up the alliance, but it would alter her plans slightly. If things went her way though, she could easily win the prize from behind the barriers of Ryuudou Temple, even claiming the Grail itself in due time without needing to move.
"I thank you for the offer. Good night, lady Einzbern." The girl quietly vanished back down the steps, the giant deterrent called Berserker close behind, almost daring them to try and strike his Master's back.
Assassin never took his eyes off the pair but still asked his mistress, "Do you believe the offer genuine?"
"Surprisingly enough, everything she has told us was honest. Of course, you'll note that she never said specifically when or where our alliance is over. The clever girl didn't even hint about where her base of operations was despite clearly wanting my help in protecting it. At the very least, she'll remain useful to me until Rider, her Master, and his allies are neutralized."
"In other words, she is a cunning enemy in spite of her appearance but more valuable for you as an ally right now," Assassin surmised.
Caster nodded and closed the temple door, leaving the fake hero to resume his vigil. This event required a change in plans. With an aggravated sigh, Caster strode back to her sanctuary to prepare the Hollow-holding vials for immediate deployment. "And tonight was looking so pleasantly simple… I hope Master is willing to wait for me a little longer…"
With the return of the Shinto group to the penthouse, Ichigo let out a low growl of frustration. "I swear if this 'War' keeps up this pace, the magi will beat us with sheer boredom. The Hollows are giving us more excitement."
Tatsuki crossed her arms and nodded in solemn agreement. "At least you get that much. I haven't done a damn thing since we got here."
Rukia, who had met up with them on the way back, smacked Ichigo upside the head, although she had to stretch quite a bit to reach him even if he was slightly slouched. "Don't gripe. This is important! I understand your frustration, but not every enemy is going to attack you head on. Besides, weren't you the one who wanted a vacation from all the tough battles, Ichigo?"
"This isn't what I had in mind," the overwhelmingly powerful teen muttered. In truth, Ichigo wanted to boldly challenge each Servant and test himself in battle. Thus far he knew he could overpower the Servants without much trouble, but he wanted to test his skill as a warrior, face down legendary weapons and people and see how he stacked up with his own skills and experiences. At the same time, he didn't want this Holy Grail War to last any longer than absolutely necessary. Why couldn't these bastards all find an isolated spot to duke it out all at once?
Shortly after the group settled back into their bodies or otherwise situated themselves for the night's debriefing, Chad arrived with a dirty, battered, scowling, smelly Uryu Ishida leaning on him with one arm slung over the giant's shoulder. Orihime took one look at the Quincy and he found himself enshrouded in the warm golden glow of her healing shield.
Unbeknownst to the young archer, this also brought relief to the other occupants of the room, as it handily rejected the offensive odor of the four days worth of refuse that clung to his frame, though Uryu still felt that a shower would be apropos, for his peace of mind if nothing else. "Thank you, Inoue-san." Uryu's passive spiritual senses told him that the entire crew was present, though Tatsuki and Rider were in the kitchen and thus out of sight. Kon was attempting to peek at them from around the corner. His groan of disappointment told Uryu that Rider had already saw fit to switch to the sweater and jeans that served as her normal disguise rather than risk the mod soul getting a peek. It was rather impressive how quickly she had adapted to these things, especially if she was a former heroine from the distant past.
Once the two women joined the rest in the living area and Uryu's body and clothes were sufficiently restored, he called their attention. "As I'm sure you've all heard I had a skirmish with a Master and her Servant." Instantly, the atmosphere shifted to full alert. "The Archer class has proven quite formidable. Though I have no solid leads on his past identity, I did get a chance to draw out some of his powers for us to consider." With everyone paying rapt attention, he explained Archer's abilities and fighting style.
Skimming over the play-by-play, Uryu completed his analysis with a grimace. "I have no way of verifying this, but his abilities are eerily similar to those of a Quincy, albeit not as refined and lacking a method of high-speed movement aside from traditional foot speed. If I had to guess, I'd say he might have once been taught by a Quincy, or at least learned the nature of our fighting style and adapted it. He used a sword in a similar manner to the Seele Schnieder as his Noble Phantasm, even firing it as an explosive projectile from his bow. I can't say for sure, but it was like he literally solidified his spiritual pressure into objects that existed on the level of normal sight. They were pulled together from his energy, but manifested as solid and detailed, unlike a Quincy construct."
"That explains the damage, but how'd he catch you? Aside from Ichigo, you're the fastest of us," Rukia asked.
Though clearly uncomfortable acknowledging his defeat, Uryu didn't beat around the bush. "His final sword was designed to disrupt energy. Once he detonated it, any of the Quincy techniques I had active or stored in Ginto, including my attempt to gather the particles to use the Hirenkyaku were dissolved. Thankfully it did not take my powers, merely disrupted them."
Rider, who had moved from standing guard to sitting beside Ichigo, noticed something odd. "Did he name the weapon when he used it?"
"No. Why?"
"It wasn't his Noble Phantasm, then. To draw on their full power, a Heroic Spirit must invoke the name of their weapon."
"Like using a zanpakutou…" Ichigo nodded. It made an odd sort of sense, given how the weapons were so powerful. Perhaps that's why they didn't use them in battle proudly here: doing so revealed their identities. "So in other words, Archer can use that trick without giving us any hints to who he is as long as he has the… prana to, right?"
"Most likely. It's also entirely possible that the ability to summon and use swords in that manner is a Noble Phantasm in itself. Some skills and attributes are so unusual and potent that they transcend into Noble Phantasms themselves."
Most of the Karakura crew postulated that the described weapon Archer used would only seriously hamper Uryu, though it would be able to stop a goodly chunk of their techniques just the same. If that ability was his Noble Phantasm, any weapon he drew might be tailor-made to counter their strengths. Unfortunately, checking the book the priest had given Ichigo didn't help at all; it seemed to only update with information on Servants Ichigo had encountered, regardless of how detailed secondhand data was.
"The Archer's weapons weren't the most dangerous thing about him. He was very intelligent and obviously had decades of fighting experience under his belt. His skill with both sword and bow technically exceeded mine, save in a few spiritual trick shots. I was forced to compensate with my greater speed, and he still matched me with sheer skill," Uryu summarized in conclusion.
Ichigo's frown deepened. "So he's more like Lancer then. Alright, so if I meet this guy, I'll take him out with one shot."
Uryu sighed, having expected this from his confident friend/rival. The Vizard was no doubt stronger than Archer was by a spectacular margin these days, but his confidence was dangerously close to slipping into arrogance. Ichigo had every right to be proud of his strength and his track record for solving problems that had the Soul Society practically tearing out their hair in panic, but the fact that the number of people capable of pushing him or even humbling him could be counted on two hands hadn't exactly kept him from dismissing less powerful foes. "Kurosaki, try not to underestimate them. You are stronger in terms of destructive potential, but if Archer is any indication, our enemies will rely more on skill and experience to negate our strengths."
"That's kinda why I said it: if I have to I'll take him out before he has a chance to move and pull some weird arrow on me."
The Quincy rolled his eyes. "And when have Servants simply fought fair? Archer will not likely allow himself to be caught off guard by another one of us should we cross paths again."
Ichigo released an annoyed huff. He was too experienced to disregard his cautious friend's words, but it still felt that it wasn't enough of a problem to get bent out of shape over. With nothing really to add to the strategy meeting, Ichigo waited quietly with a bored frown. His Servant, however, thought of something to ask the Quincy. "What about the Master?"
It took quite a bit of effort to keep Uryu from smacking himself for forgetting something so important, regardless of how intense the fight had been. "Right. The Master was a young girl, about our age. Black hair, blue eyes and about the same size as Arisawa-san. She also was not afraid to assist her Servant in a fighting retreat before fleeing the battlefield. I get the impression that she is more cautious than you described Berserker's Master."
Rider nodded. "That sounds more typical of magi. Many Servants are close to impossible for a magus to overcome, so retreating out of sight and offering support from safety is a logical tactic."
"Indeed," Uryu assented before the group attempted to find a way to sense the magi and Servants via their spiritual pressure. When it became apparent that their targets had all concealed themselves or were outside of range, they split up to pass some time and think up some strategies before bed.
Eventually, Tatsuki turned to the petite Soul Reaper of the group. "Hey, Rukia, how'd things go with Bazett?" she asked, sounding just a tiny bit anxious.
Taking a sip of her juice box, Rukia sighed. "Well, it's pretty obvious that McRemitz-san has already started to develop spiritual powers. Like Ichigo, she broke a low-level kido, but with even greater ease, like she knew exactly how to break the spell's hold before I even got there, as well as moved with increased speed and strength. I can only guess that she might be a magus judging by her reactions."
Obviously not satisfied yet, Tatsuki pressed on. "So, how much do you think she forgot?"
"There's no way to tell until you talk to her, though based on her resistance she likely only lost a day's worth at most. If you see her again, she'll still remember you and all of us, just without any of her former suspicion," the indigo-eyed girl explained.
Orihime and Tatsuki both looked relieved by that. "Not that I don't understand why you had to do it or anything, it's just that it bugs me; the whole memory replacement thing," the martial artist muttered somewhat guiltily.
The smaller girl offered a reassuring smile. "It's fine. I'm finding it harder to justify, myself. Still, it needs to be done for her safety if nothing else."
Over by the TV, Ichigo was flipping channels, finally settling on a rerun of an earlier baseball game while Rider sat quietly with the last of Ichigo's books, looking like she was only a few pages from the end. "I take it you liked the plays?" he asked, seeing as she had already demolished "Hamlet" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream" within the few days they had been in Fuyuki. She spent most of her free time reading while in the safety of the penthouse.
Rider simply nodded, otherwise ignorant of the world around her. Ichigo fidgeted restlessly, knowing that she didn't appreciate someone interrupting her reading, especially if she already so close to the ending. At the same time, something bothered him now that they were not hunting for trouble: the woman constantly drew an invisible line between herself and his nakama, and even dodged everything about her own personal tastes and interests unless it pertained to her ability to fight for him. Now he was all for privacy, but it was rather awkward to trust his friends with someone like that. During the few times she had let her guard down, he saw glimpses of an intelligent, playful woman, though never for long before she shut herself out again. It just didn't sit well with him that she kept trying to remain distant and focused on her job.
But he sure as hell wasn't about to use a Command Spell over it.
Once she finished, she placed the book on the coffee table and folded her hands on her lap. Ichigo could practically hear the gears turning in the woman's head from the famous tragedy's ending. "What'd you think?"
Rider looked up at him, a rare spark of life in her lavender eyes as she considered her answer. "Well written, but I couldn't really make out an overarching theme in this one. 'Hamlet' was a more straightforward, if a bit contrived in places. I've never really been a fan of tragedies, but I do appreciate the way that the protagonists' deaths managed to end their families' feud."
Most everyone in the room stopped and stared in shock. Normally, with the exception of her explanations about magic and Holy Grail War-related topics, Rider was rather reticent, almost aloof. Only Tatsuki had gotten a good view of her sense of humor and Ichigo was one of the few that could get her to speak more than a few sentences at a time, due to the Master/Servant thing. Hearing her talk so enthusiastically about anything was more than a little jarring.
Ichigo, however, gave a toothy smirk, pleased he finally found someone to hold an intelligent conversation with on the subject. Uryu could do it if he ever deigned to do it, but he never really cared to discuss Shakespeare. "Where do you think they made their first mistake? I always thought it was rather dumb of them to never tell anyone they got married. Even a few people as witnesses would start the rumor mill and slowly spread the news or at least give them a few extra ears and eyes in both families."
"Rumors in that setting likely would have resulted in the wrong person hearing them and forcing the two apart," Rider countered. "The problem started with the recklessness of getting married without trying to see each other in public previously. Even if it was opposed, it would likely have been better to be seen courting openly first."
"Yeah maybe, but the play would have probably taken an additional act where nothing much happened."
The two's discussion evolved to include mentions of Hamlet and Ichigo giving an attentive Rider a summary of Shakespeare's works and lifetime, leaving the rest of the group to stare in abject disbelief at the pair. Even though all of them knew that Ichigo admired William Shakespeare, it was rather surreal to hear Ichigo discuss the matter so seriously while Rider offered her own counter-analysis with a thinly-veiled enthusiasm that seemed almost foreign coming from the normally stoic woman. There were several points where the Karakura crew was watching the discussion with their heads unconsciously moving like watching a ping-pong match.
When Uryu muttered that he still wanted that shower before bed and left the room, it was like a spell had been broken. One by one, the various warriors pulled themselves out of their stupor and settled back into winding down, though they did occasionally check on the pair to see if they were any closer to done. Even when the last of them, Rukia, turned out the living room light, all Ichigo did was reach over and turn on a nearby reading lamp, not missing a beat in his chat.
Ichigo and Rider finally ended up going to bed at around 2:30 in the morning.
'That was more fun than I expected,' Rider mused as she slipped back into her and Tatsuki's shared room and over to her bed. 'My Master is much more intellectual than he usually behaves.' Despite their similarities, the former goddess definitely didn't expect the scowling teen with such a ferocious fighting spirit to be so well-educated and interested in literature. At the same time, she chastised herself for getting caught up in the discussion. As scintillating as it was, she had completely dropped her guard. While it might be seen as paranoia, she couldn't afford to be lax. If there was ever a time to do so, it would be when the War was over, and that was with the huge caveat of her still being around by the time it did end.
She wasn't sure if she should feel nervous or just anxious as she closed her eyes. She had little doubt that she would either meet the man in black for another talk or dream of her Master's life very soon, regardless. It only occurred to her when they had returned to the hotel that she had forgotten to tell Ichigo her true name as she had originally planned amidst the chaos of shopping under the watch of the girls. Afterwards, she never got the chance to talk to Ichigo alone. While she might honestly think it a good idea to confide in her Master soon, the rest of the group, particularly Orihime and Uryu, weren't exactly willing to give her time to speak to him out of earshot.
With Uryu, the lavender-haired beauty could say that the teen was simply leery of any newcomers to the group of friends and distrustful of the unknown. As for Orihime… as the subject of many a man's desire during the early part of her former life, Rider was no stranger to jealousy, though it was odd for her to have another woman trying to stake a claim without saying anything to the target of her affections. The young lady was acting mildly jealous of her, though for the life of her Rider couldn't see why. Orihime came off as more than a little flighty at times and had apparently developed a taste for positively poisonous food combinations, but she was undeniably beautiful and kind, not to mention having a strong, gentle character.
The brunette apparently was worried that Rider was going to develop a deeper relationship with her Master. If that was the case, it probably wouldn't be best to ever reveal the most effective method of transferring prana to a Servant…
Anyway, Rider had a feeling she needed to nip this in the bud before the kind girl did something foolish.
This of course was secondary to the real issue she had: her role in the group. As far as she knew (and the rules of the Holy Grail War were practically written into her being), she as the Servant was to be the sword for her Master. Instead she found herself watching in awe as Ichigo moved and fought on the front lines as if he was the Servant. In a way, it was frustrating, but at the same time she appreciated the fact that her Master was not only able, but willing to fight without an ounce of fear. The fact that Uryu was also capable of similar skill, albeit to a notably lesser degree, made the Servant wonder exactly what the teens had done to obtain such power so early in their mortal lives.
Quite frankly, it was also more than a little humbling, perhaps even disheartening. Ichigo honestly didn't really need her with him at all, even in the face of the strongest Masters and Servants.
As much as she wanted to protect Ichigo and help him in attaining his goals, he and anyone present in the group were sufficient to deal with just about every Hollow and Servant out there. For them, "purifying" the dark souls barely registered on their danger scale, only causing urgency due to the danger the monsters presented to the oblivious masses. For Rider, this left her in the rather frustrating sensation of not really being of much use in fulfilling Ichigo's goals. 'Maybe it's time to start looking into other ways of helping bring this War to an end…'
Rider was just starting to think of ways to do just that when a pulling sensation drew her consciousness downward as if she were falling. It seemed that the man in the coat of darkness wanted to have words with her. Sure enough the air around her gained detail, color and light once more, revealing the man in shadow gripping her wrist with his coat already floating up and around to carve a ring in the red plane that separated them.
As soon as the hole was carved in the panel, the man spoke. "Rider, I can sense that you are willing to trust Ichigo the way he is willing to trust you, but I must say again: tell him your true name soon for the sake of your partnership."
"I will. Is there anything else? I am curious about why you continue to speak to me, though."
"These dreams that you were seeing are Ichigo's life, sent at random to show you his character and hardships. Many of these are too personal for you to see at this time. Some you simply aren't ready for,"the apparition stated, his voice echoing throughout the city powerfully. "I will be your guide for now."
"And what is it you are hiding from me?"
The black-clad warrior tightened his grip slightly, eyes narrowed in indignation. "Without context, you will not be able to grasp the significance behind any of his memories, nor understand exactly what some of the experiences are implying in regards to the measure of power between him and his enemies." Rider remained silent, waiting for the stubborn entity to start his choice of memories. As much as she appreciated having a guide of sorts, it really irked her that the man was restricting her in a way. A moment later, the figure closed his eyes. "Tonight, I will show you some of what Ichigo has sacrificed as a result of taking up his sword."
The city shifted to an image of Ichigo, still bearing his first sword as Rukia drove his soul from his body, letting the soulless thing drop, effectively dead. The spirit was literally dragged by the collar by the smaller Soul Reaper to a park where she tried to enforce the duties of a Soul Reaper on him. Ichigo's response was strangely appropriate for his character: "I saved him because I was here! Got a problem with that?" he had all but roared. Elaborating, he finished with "Duty is no reason to sacrifice yourself! At least, not for me! I'm different," he growled while impaling the spider-like Hollow through the mask to punctuate his statement. Those words resounded almost thunderously in Rider's mind. Duty to an authority never truly drove him at all, unlike her initial reason for accepting Ichigo as her Master.
"At the same time, I'm not the kind of scum who leaves a debt unpaid. I'll help you with this Soul Reaper gig, at least until you're better." More images flashed over the pair of observers, showing Ichigo abandoning his friends and his academics as a human to chase down Hollows.
Despite this, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how many foes he was forced to face, he always returned to his human life, as oblivious as they were to his deeds. Rider watched as Ichigo cleansed the soul of the serpentine Hollow that once had been Orihime's loving brother, allowing Rukia to replace the memories of the event in the auburn-haired girl's mind. The following day, Ichigo had slipped back into class as if nothing happened, despite the stress and the new knowledge of the girl's own pain. Slowly, the intensity of his battles heightened and his human life started to fade away, pushed back by the need to protect those same friends he fought alongside in the present. He had lost touch with most of them within a few months, his new job requiring all of his focus even as he struggled to maintain his studies, eventually having him rush over town, slaying over a dozen in rapid succession.
The more memories that played, the more faded they became, static distortions starting to interfere with her vision and hearing. Rider saw him dash through a blazing white portal that led to another world with only three people alongside him, grim determination pouring from him. Another portal appeared in a distorted mirror of the earlier scene, only two people at his back this time, the swirling darkness before them a gaping maw into an even more dangerous world. Even though she couldn't make out the exact words, she knew, deep in her bones that he was marching to war practically on his own. The second scene had him looking more alone than before, like he was isolating himself from his friends to avoid risking them.
She even saw Tatsuki punch him through a window in rage when he refused to say what was happening with his double life at one point, coldly telling her to not follow him anymore.
In a way, it was tragic. Every part of his life was forced to the side to protect people from things only he and a handful could see, and even fewer could face. He stopped having time to simply be a normal human being! How did this affect his beloved family?
For someone whose final years were a mix of loneliness and madness, it wasn't hard for Rider to see the downward spiral he was teetering precariously above. Rider was deeply appreciative that her Master's friends gained the power necessary to fight alongside her Master and offer support. Gods only know how he might have turned out without them joining him on the field or simply being there and aware of his hardships.
"Ichigo is a man of honor and devotion. N■ ma■ter how muc■ pain he ■ndures, p■ysica■ or sp■ri■ual, he cont■nues t■ step for■ard ■ithout fe■r. He wi■■ fight the ■hole world ■or any one of h■■ n■ka■a, no matter how mu■■ of his pea■efu■ li■e he ■us■ cas■ a■ide." The pale warrior explained, his voice fighting and failing to remain clear through the distortion that marked the end of their walk through her Master's memory for the night. Rider turned and suddenly realized that she was once more within the sideways city. "I■ you ■rul■ wi■h t■ he■p, de■■nd tha■ w■ich he ■oul■ d■e fo■." The man's tone was solemn; his tone carrying great weight despite the tremendous interference as the figure released her wrist.
"Wait! Who are you?" she called out as her consciousness felt the pull away from this world of memory.
The figure in black remained silent as he allowed the red barrier to close completely, cutting them off from each other once more.
As always, the world snapped back into focus, as if she had passed through a black tunnel with the hotel room on the other end. She noted that it was still a couple of hours before daybreak. Suppressing a sigh, she silently slipped out of bed and headed to the sitting room. 'What was that "guide" trying to tell me at the end?' she wondered while stepping out onto the balcony. 'I don't know why, but he appears genuinely concerned for Ichigo's well being.'
She had no way of communicating with the black spirit during the day, and she had no idea if her Master knew of such an entity. Even though it claimed to be Ichigo's "partner," she had never seen it or any other familiar associated with Ichigo since her arrival. Perhaps he was a Guardian Spirit tied to his family line?
Stepping out onto the balcony, Rider opted to watch the sunrise and leaned over the railing. Watching the sky start to brighten and wash away the stars calmed her mind and let her sort through the memories more carefully. Ichigo was constantly throwing himself into battle for his friends and family, that was a given. What bothered her was the way he sacrificed his ability to have a reasonably peaceful life between battles. The enemies grew fiercer, the stakes higher and fights longer. His hometown looked to be a center of evil with all the Hollows she saw. At one point, she could see him completely surrounded by the monsters, Uryu at his back.
Just as the first sliver of the sun's light crept past the horizon, she got an idea. Ichigo needed time to live normally and while she was against him fighting Servants, she couldn't stop him from seeking a challenge. However that didn't mean he needed to do all the looking. Perhaps she could do a little scouting on her own, kill a few Hollows if she found them; just take some of the constant pressure off his shoulders. The young man would likely oppose this while he was awake due to the risk, but while he was asleep or while they were splitting up on patrol…
'Yes, that could work. If I find a Servant, I'll eliminate them myself unless they can provide a challenge worth Ichigo's time…' Rider wordlessly promised to take some of her Master's burden for a little while.
It was a vision of an altogether different kind of Hell than what Shirou had seen in his youth. Rather than the scent of ash drilling into his nose, there was the stench of blood and decay. Rather than the roar of hellfire invading his ears, there was the roar of battle, of steel and flesh rent asunder. Rather than the oppressive heat scarring his skin, there was a constant stinging of rage and human suffering attempting to consume him. Only the tortured screams of the wounded and dying were consistent with the inferno of a decade past.
Shirou couldn't tell where he was. All he could see through the haze of war were the sparks of steel striking steel. Occasional flickers from the impacts gave shape to a figure in combat with another. He had no idea why he felt this way, but he wanted, needed, to know who was fighting and why they fought. Solemnly amidst the screams of the dying, he stepped into the dust cloud.
Every step felt heavy, the weight of the pain and death around him sapping his strength while he looked for the fighter. The only things that remained distinct in this dark haze he traipsed through were the innumerable swords of the fallen. Every step revealed more blades stabbed into the earth of every possible design and size. Some were barely daggers; others taller than himself.
Ahead, light gave the dust a faint glow.
Stepping from the dust cloud, he encountered a monumental sight: a hill, covered in the dead, their swords everywhere, each marking a soldier's grave haphazardly. The stench of blood and death was overwhelming; many of these people must have been lying here for hours. Beyond this… hill of swords, the sun was setting swiftly, though there was still enough light to see a lone figure slumped at the top of the hill. From his position at its base, he couldn't see very well. All that stood out was the sword in its grip, and the exhausted, weary stance it had taken, as if its last strength had been completely depleted. He couldn't even tell if it was male or female. The light of the sun washed away just about every detail.
For some reason, the vision resonated with Shirou. He could feel the figure's pain: a deep sense of betrayal, of disillusionment, of guilt at their failure. Whatever had transpired in this brutal slaughter had completely crushed the lone warrior's spirit. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Shirou almost immediately regretted it when the stale air reminiscent of a charnel house and the dusty remnants of the battle infected his lungs, triggering a violent hacking fit.
Glancing back up, the figure hadn't moved, still indistinct against the sun. Why couldn't he see anything about it? With caution honed by years of training as a magus by his adoptive father he crept up the hill, careful to check his footing. As he got closely, he found himself confused. One time, he looked up and saw a tall man hunched over, and another, he saw a feminine figure as small as Saber or that samurai girl. Always with their head bowed, on one knee with their blade propping them up. Every time his focus shifted, the figure had switched form.
He wanted to call out, but the air's cloying miasma of battle and death choked him whenever he tried. All he could do was ascend and keep his eyes on the figure. The hill was vast, and the sun had finally set by the time he managed to pick his way up to the crest of the battlefield, casting the hill into darkness that completely hid the defeated warrior. Still, he reached out to where the figure was slumped, the world still fading away in the deepening darkness. He placed a hand on the figure's shoulder, only to feel something off. The world had gone almost completely black, but that didn't explain why he felt rubbery flesh instead of cloth where the person's shoulder should have been.
Shirou's eyes widened when he figure faced him. Standing in sharp relief from the world around it, a bone-white skull-like mask stared back at him through empty black eye sockets. Staggering back, he started to make out the figure's body: clawed hands of dark flesh, a hole that ate any light around it, seeming to stand out even in the darkness, almost like miniature black hole.
The creature opened its mouth and released a long, agonized wail that had the teen stumbling back down the hill, landing hard on his back. Shirou rolled onto his stomach to run, but froze at the sight of the appearance of dozens of masked monsters all chewing on the corpses of the dead. Every mask was different. Many looked like distorted animal heads and skulls while others defied description, like something a horror film designer might envision. The monsters all turned to him in unison. Blood and saliva dripped from their maws as they started sailing towards him, swooping towards him like hawks, moaning and howling all the while.
Panicking, Shirou fumbled around him until he felt the cold steel of a sword within reach and felt for the hilt. He tugged it from the ground and swung at the nearest apparition. The moment the blade touched the creature's mask black, inky corruption crept down it with the corrosive effect of acid until Shirou dropped it. Stumbling away, he tried to run, the numerous corpses soaking his legs in blood while the monsters swooped in all around, grasping at him with long claws and snapping their masks' jaws. He dodged left and right, fleeing even as the swords around him began to tear themselves free from the earth and shoot skyward, falling like rain all around him and the monsters, slashing his legs and causing him to fall on his stomach. All he could do was flip over before one monster, the same eyeless demon that had tried to attack him at the school, pinned him by the shoulders and roared in his face before lunging forward.
"Senpai! Senpai, wake up!" a voice cried out in obvious concern.
Shirou's eyes snapped open, and only the split-second vision of Sakura over his head, her deep purple eyes moist from worry managed to keep him from screaming and lashing out. Still, his eyes were already wide and frantic, and his body was slick with cold sweat. His breathing came in ragged gasps, his stomach clenching like it was trying to swap places with his heart. "S-Sakura…" he wheezed.
"Thank goodness…" The purple-haired girl clasped her hands demurely over her heart as she leaned back to let the terror-stricken boy sit up, her expression so filled with worry and empathy that Shirou's heart rate dropped almost guiltily just by seeing it. It really sucked knowing he had put that expression across her face. "You were having a nightmare, Senpai. You were sweating and shaking, even… screaming…"
The boy winced at that, cursing himself for scaring his little sister in all but blood. It took a moment to regain control of his breathing, but his adrenaline finally drained away and his hands slowed their uncontrolled trembling. "Thank you, Sakura… I think I'm better now. It's already fading," Shirou said tiredly with a slight smile.
He was relieved to see the worry fall away. "You're welcome, Senpai. Why don't you wash up some to relax? I'll start breakfast."
Most mornings Shirou would have put up a bit of a fight about who would cook breakfast, but he felt too drained at the moment, and a brief shower would likely do him a world of good. He smiled at her softly; completely oblivious to the effect he had on her. "…Maybe I should. Thank you, Sakura."
Sakura's spirits almost visibly shot through the roof at his words and warm smile, her cheeks turning a very slight pink. She returned his smile and nodded in a way that made her purple hair bounce cutely. "Don't take too long, Senpai or Fujimura-sensei might hunt you down," Sakura said with a playful wave of her finger.
Shirou blanched at that, imagining the overly exuberant teacher/older sister figure/little-kid-in-a-woman's-body barging in on him in the shower with a roar of hunger if she got too impatient. Well okay, she might not quite go quite that far, but she'd find a new way or three to embarrass the hell out of him in front of Sakura or whoever he knew. She was positively diabolical in that regard, like the vast majority of her intellect was devoted to the task. "I'll be quick," he choked out.
Once Sakura was gone, his expression shifted. He didn't want to say anything, heck, he was still a little too shaken to do so anyway, but Sakura wasn't looking too well. It wasn't like she was hurting like when Shinji acted stupid, but she looked slightly paler than yesterday, a little less energetic. 'Perhaps she's catching a cold? Maybe I should try talking her out of attending school today.'
Pushing that aside for a moment, Shirou crept up to the side room door. Peeking in, he noted that while his Servant was still in the futon her eyes were open. "Sorry I woke you up, Saber," he said softly.
The small woman turned her emerald eyes to him. "Are you feeling alright, Shirou?" There was no real emotion in her voice, though Shirou could swear that there was something like concern in her eyes. She was too hard to read for him to be sure, though. Her expression was a porcelain mask that gave away nothing.
"Yeah. Just a nightmare."
"I would have woken you myself, but your friend came in. I'm sorry, Master," she said.
Shirou shook his head slowly, a grateful smile on his face. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Thank you for caring."
"It is my duty. Take care of your health Master. I will be here should you need me." Saber gave him a pointed look at the last statement. She still felt it safer to accompany him to school, but ultimately relented to her Master, especially since he and Rin were allies and Rin had Archer for the short term. But if things changed, she vowed she'd be the first to strike. "Shirou."
"Yes?"
"Be careful. An enemy can appear when you least expect it."
The magus nodded. "I know. I'll leave you some food, so just save your strength."
"Thank you, Shirou. Do not hesitate to call me the moment you are in danger."
Shirou nodded again and smiled before shutting the door. After taking an invigorating shower, he headed over to the kitchen where Sakura was mixing a batter for this morning's shrimp dish. "Need any help?"
Sakura turned to her oblivious crush and started to shoo him out of the room. "No no, I'll take care of it today, Senpai! You go and relax with Fujimura-sensei and let me take care of things here," she said kindly.
"Relax with Fuji-nee? I don't think that's possible," he snarked back.
Sakura giggled even as she managed to edge him out to the dining room. With a bright smile, Taiga Fujimura gestured for him to sit down. Shirou was understandably nervous when the hyperactive woman kept quiet until after Sakura was busy with her cooking. His nervousness only increased when the woman leaned in closer to him. "Sooo, letting your precious little sister cook for you finally?" she teased quietly enough to avoid being overheard.
Shirou bit back a comment about Fuji-nee letting her "little brother" cook for her in the same manner. He settled on saying, "She gave me the Doe Eyes. I can't win against those."
"No mere mortal male can resist when she does it," Fujimura replied with a mock-solemn frown and a nod. "She is most skilled."
'Obviously she didn't learn it from you then, Fuji-nee.' "Indeed she is," he said with a matching frown and nod. "A most fearsome technique in her hands."
"It certainly helps that Sakura's growing up into such a hot babe," Taiga said while maintaining her serious air, quickly glancing to her young ward from the corner of her eye.
Shirou twitched: the only sign of weakness Taiga needed.
"I wondered if you'd ever notice. Our little Sakura is growing up in all the right ways," she pressed quietly, wiping a faux tear from her eye.
Giving the woman a slight glare, Shirou still had to fight a pitched battle to keep a blush from forming on his face. He was losing. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Fuji-nee."
"Aw, there's no need to be shy! It's only natural to find her attractive."
"Fuji-nee…" Shirou hissed quietly.
"You better make a move on her soon, or someone might just steal her away," the mischievous teacher continued.
For the young magus, the worst part was not being able to respond due to Sakura returning to the table with the first dish, a plate of freshly fried shrimp in tempura batter. Seeing his chance to evade the merciless tiger that was his homeroom teacher, Shirou stood up. "Let me help you with that, Sakura," he said, barely hiding his discomfort at Fuji-nee's gaze at the back of his head as he followed the plum-haired girl back into the kitchen.
Apparently his desperation for breathing room from his teacher came through in his voice, as Sakura smiled warmly. "Thank you, Senpai. Could you take the rice?" Sakura suggested while moving the various plates around. Within minutes, the three settled down to eat.
As per the usual, Fuji-nee gobbled down as much food as she could, as fast as she could, heaping compliments on the chef between bites. "Sakura-chan, this is so good! I'd say you're better than Shirou at Japanese dishes now!"
The cook blushed modestly, her paler skin making it stand out even more than usual. "Oh… I don't know…"
"No need to downplay it, Sakura. This is excellent. You should be proud," Shirou praised warmly. In spite of his smile, he felt that something was missing, though not from the food.
He hoped there was some left over for Saber when they were done. She should have a chance to enjoy this, too.
Something was decidedly wrong with Ryuudou Temple, Bazett decided.
In just the last two days (wow, was it only that long?) since she had last been here, the air in the temple had taken on a disturbing pall. Just walking up the steps made her feel sick to her stomach.
The redheaded magus had woken up early this morning despite the events with Rukia Kuchiki earlier. After a shower to wake herself up and a hearty breakfast for energy, Bazett had taken a short time to gather her courage. Yesterday had stretched her spirit to its limit, and it took some doing to regain her composure. On the plus side, thanks to her resisting the memory alteration device's effect she could still get close to the Karakura group as long as she didn't let anything slip, which was actually not much of a problem for her. The issue that kept her from leaving her room for so long was the knowledge that there might be more masked spirits out there, and that they might again take an interest in her.
Before she did anything else, she needed a way to deter the spirits. For her, there were two possible answers: ask the church for a blessing (which of course was tantamount to suicide), and speaking to the priest at Ryuudou Temple for help. While unfamiliar with the effectiveness of Eastern branches of spiritual defense, Bazett's chances were better there than with that heartless bastard of a priest. Once she had left the building, she had spent the entire trip to Ryuudou Temple, both through taxi and on foot, paying special attention to the sensations from her sixth sense. Even compared to yesterday, the feelings she was getting were all clearer and more precise. Thankfully, there wasn't a solid source of the evil energy that the masked spirits had emanated. The worst she felt were a few traces along her route, lingering shadows as it were.
Of course, things looked to be going downhill since she had arrived at the foot of Mount Enzou. Her sixth sense went haywire the moment she had set foot on the steps. The entire temple reeked of malevolence. The unseen miasma seemed to leech off her spirit hungrily, growing more and more noxious to her as she ascended the long stairway to the gates, made worse by another random pulse of prana that shot out of her Magic Circuits halfway up the hill. She had largely gotten used to them, but the constant, uneven drain on her reserves was irritating to deal with. By the time she reached the top, she felt like she was on the verge of vomiting. She wouldn't have needed any training on the subject at all to recognize the pall as unnatural. The worst part was that she didn't feel a thing from the mountain until she set foot on it. That practically screamed "Boundary Field."
It didn't help Bazett's nerves that she felt that she was being watched during her entire ascent, though she couldn't see, hear, or sense anything that would make her that paranoid. With a steadying breath, the Irish magus-hunter squared her shoulders and stepped into the temple complex proper. The sickening feeling grew stronger with every step, surrounding her and making its source impossible to locate. The air felt heavy to her, though not as much so as encountering the masked beasts. Scanning the grounds, she noted that there are very few people here, and most of those are in meditation. The miasma went ignored by them, their mental stillness repelling the aura.
The magus hunter finally found someone who didn't seem overly focused on a task after a few minutes: a woman simply pulling water from the well while plainly ignoring the oppressive aura like it wasn't there. Perhaps she was simply ignorant of it, like Bazett used to be to all spiritual sensation aside from active magic. "Excuse me, miss."
The woman turned, revealing a beautiful face and pale blue hair (strange…), her outfit was a simple one-piece dress the color of an evening sky. Her sea-blue eyes widened as if startled, but she offered a gentle smile. Next to her was a small bucket filled with water freshly drawn from the well. "Oh, can I help you?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know if the priest is in?" Bazett asked. She made sure to give the girl a polite Japanese bow, a custom that still felt somewhat awkward for the Westerner. She ignored the itching in her left hand in favor of the girl's reaction.
For some reason, the woman seemed to visibly relax at her query. She nodded and gestured to accompany her, keeping silent likely in respect of the monks fulfilling their spiritual duties. The woman led Bazett to the central temple, gracefully stepping up to the door and sliding it open, her voice softly calling to the back.
A moment later, a somewhat tall man clad in a priest's kosode top and pants, both a charcoal grey color appeared from the study. His head was shaved completely in the manner of his fellow practitioners and his body was fit and toned with muscle. His eyes were narrow and set into an angular face that constantly smiled warmly, the kind of guy that just looks like a fatherly fellow. Despite his alertness and kind expression, he looked a little under the weather with a pale cast to his skin and having traces of sweat on his brow. Still, he gave the two women a friendly bow, still smiling. He turned and coughed once before speaking. "Hello there, ladies. I'm Yoshihiro Ryuudou, head priest. What can I do for you?"
"Good morning, Ryuudou-sama. Are you alright? I could come back or ask another priest if you're not well," Bazett inquired, not wanting to set a bad precedent.
The priest shook his head calmly. "No, no. Just a light head cold. Nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what brings a young woman up here this early in the morning?"
"Well, I need some help and… well… it's hard to talk about out here," Bazett almost mumbled. Now that she was here and in front of help, it occurred to her that she might sound insane if she told the truth. While she knew that things like repelling evil spirits were supposed to be the Eastern priests' specialty, there was also the chance that he was only going to see her as hallucinating. That said she needed help in this area.
The young woman who had led Bazett to the priest picked up her bucket, bowed out of the conversation politely and retreated out of sight. The moment she was no longer observed, the woman's countenance changed to a more neutral one. Though curious, Caster hadn't sensed the presence of a Servant nearby, nor much more than a vague notion of caution about the redhead, and thus dismissed her save for a note to have one of her unwitting spies watch for signs of aggression or her snooping around.
The priest's smile fell into a sympathetic frown, and he waved her in to his private study. The man had apparently been holed up here previously, as a hot cup of tea rested on the low kotatsu in the center of the room next to the pot and an additional cup with an open book before where he was seated. Yoshihiro politely offered her a cushion to kneel on across from him before slipping his legs under the table's quilts. "Tea?"
"Uh, yes thank you." Bazett quietly allowed the man to pour her cup and settle back in before speaking. "Ryuudou-sama, my name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz. I wanted to ask for a little spiritual help or guidance. I mean it's… well… do you believe in ghosts?" Bazett finally managed to say.
The priest's expression softened in instant understanding. "Yes."
The frank admission startled the woman very slightly but she hid it well. "I don't think I'm haunted or possessed, but there are these… things that came after me the other day. A spirit attacked me."
Yoshihiro lifted an eyebrow. "McRemitz-san, please understand that I'm not an Onmyouji; I don't exactly have the skills to deal with spirits directly. Those traditions died out with my great-grandfather. I fear that in a few more generations, the very knowledge of spirits beyond lip service may die out as well."
Bazett's heart sank, but she bowed to the priest. "I see. I'm sorry to bother you then."
"Now now, McRemitz-san, I may not be able to exorcise spirits or seal demons, but I assure you I can offer some guidance and perhaps a protective token from the old days," Yoshihiro said abruptly. "While he never taught me the old ways, my grandfather passed down some lore from his father that speaks of various spirits. Stories of things like the traditional kitsune and the kappa, and more exotic things like the okuri-inu, the tsukumogami and the noh-men."
Most of the references sailed over Bazett's head, but the Japanese word for "mask" did not. "Noh-men?"
Taking a moment to cough and clear his throat and taking a sip of tea, the man nodded. "Stories are passed down through this temple's priests of monsters of a thousand shapes each hungering for the spirits of humans, alive or dead. The only things they had in common with each other are masks, each carved from bone and unique to the individual. That's why they are called noh-men (noh-masks), after the masked plays." Bazett remained silent, riveted to the priest's words as he stood up a little shakily and pulled a box from the lowermost shelf of his bookcase. "Supposedly, the demons attack priests and any who can see them for the shame their form and hunger for souls brings them. The story goes that anyone with spiritual power can fight against them and that the noh-men were driven into hiding by the various priests. Other cultures also contributed, including the arrival of the Westerners, who also brought their own spiritual defenders with them."
Bazett nodded. She had no doubt that the monster that attacked her and transformed Daisuke was one of these demons. Sipping her tea, she mulled over the last bit; likely the Holy Church's exorcists were the spiritual defenders he mentioned, but what about the shooter of the cross-shaped blue bolt? It looked like a technique they might use, but it wasn't quite the same. Her thoughts paused as the priest opened the box and handed her a small omamori charm, the tiny sealed bag colored white with a pale blue frame. "What's this?"
"One of the remaining protective charms made by the monks during my great-grandfather's days. If you like, you may take it. I can see in your eyes that you desperately want a little protection."
Bazett examined the thing, feeling the weight in her palm. She normally would have simply turned the thing down for its historical value but it felt warm in her hands for some reason, her sixth sense letting her feel the small but bright aura surrounding it. It might actually have some use. "Are you sure? I mean, if it's from back then wouldn't it be better-"
Her voice died when Yoshihiro turned the box around with a wry smile to reveal no less than ten more of the charms. "My great-grandfather apparently knew his arts weren't going to be passed on, so he and his followers made many of these. He asked my grandfather that these be passed to people in need whenever one wanted spiritual protection. Take good care of it."
Bazett looked back at the charm in her palm and tucked into the inside of her suit jacket. "Thank you Ryuudou-sama; this really means more than you can imagine." Already, the warmth of the omamori was starting to drive back the sickly feeling surrounding her. Suddenly the number of times these things were in stores as souvenirs made much more sense considering the real ones actually worked.
The Irish redhead left the temple with notably more vigor than she arrived with. She could still feel the oppressive aura from the grounds, but now she felt detached from it; rather than standing in the middle of a toxic cloud, she was, for lack of a better term, smelling it from a safe distance. It was like she was in a protective bubble, actually.
With no idea of how long the charm's protection would last, Bazett immediately switched gears while flagging down a taxi. 'If I hurry, I might be able to get to that coffee shop before Tatsuki passes it, assuming she's out jogging again.'
The moment Shirou stepped onto campus, his chest clenched involuntary. Something was… calling out or shining like a beacon. It wasn't something he could pick up with any of the five normal senses, but his newfound spiritual attunement felt a kind of pressure emanating from the school building. Well, not necessarily from the building per se, but somewhere near the center of the grounds. It was too hard to pinpoint, though. As if that wasn't enough to derail the normalcy of the day, next to him was the school's most desirable girl, the model student mask of Rin Tohsaka. She had patiently waited for him at the gate, Archer's translucent form staring coolly at him from over her shoulder. While this on its own wouldn't affect his day, the fact that she greeted him with one of her "friendly" smiles was certainly new. "Good morning, Shirou-kun."
"Ah, good morning, Tohsaka," he replied, inclining his head with just the barest flicker of his gaze to Archer, who had the slightest twitch in his brow. Being not-so-invisible must still throw him off his game. Without a further word, the two Masters and one Servant walked into the building. Once they had switched to their indoor shoes, his ally gestured to a quiet spot at the edge of the hall.
"We need to talk. Something's come up. I'll meet you on the roof at lunch. For the sake of our reputations, don't come find me in the halls again. We'll just 'happen' to meet up," she told him. Slightly louder, she added, "And thanks for your help yesterday."
For a second, Shirou didn't realize what she meant considering she was the one to help him with all of his training. Then the situation hit him. He did kind of drag her off in the middle of a crowded hallway yesterday. That little stunt would have sent the rumor mill into a frenzy. Damage control was needed before anyone got any funny ideas, like spying on them. Even if Rin had the right spells to deal with the memories of the people around her, not that he was sure of that, the possibility of someone stumbling upon their double-life was too much of a risk. "Y-yeah, anytime."
The two parted ways there, though Shirou could feel the gaze of many furiously jealous eyes upon him. He gulped. It was going to be a long day…
It turned out the first half of the day passed in a bit of a blur. Classes went smoothly, though he had an understandably tough time staying focused. Shirou's lunch period promised to be more interesting, and he spent a few minutes chatting with Issei about some minor maintenance he wanted done soon for the art clubroom. Afterwards, he went up to the roof for lunch, making sure to grab a can of coffee for Tohsaka, just in case she thought he took too long. A peace offering was never a bad idea when dealing with magi who could kick your ass up and down the street. With a decidedly relaxed, "I'm an average guy" stride, he walked up to the roof exit.
Shirou's first sight on opening the door was startling. Rin was standing at the edge of what looked like a thin ring of pulsing blue light in the center of the roof. She was gazing at the ring thoughtfully, but didn't appear to notice the thing within it. About three feet off the ground was a pulsing, faintly visible orb about the size of his head that resembled water surrounding a tiny mote of light. On top of that, the pressure that had accosted him upon entering the campus returned with a vengeance, emanating from the ball in a constant gale. It was unbelievably strange, and from the looks of things, it was another spiritual phenomenon only he and the Heroic Spirits could perceive. "Tohsaka, what is that?"
She turned to him, her crystal eyes totally serious to the point of giving her gaze a piercing quality. "I don't know, but it wasn't here yesterday and both those points bother me. It's some kind of small, layered Boundary Field, but I can't tell what it does, exactly."
"Has Archer told you about the center of it?"
"Yeah: some weird watery orb. Anything else?"
"Well, I don't know what it means, but it's like there's a constant wind from it, like it's pushing on me. You feel it?"
"…No… Archer, what about you?" Rin looked irked by yet another ability displayed by her partner that she lacked, even if its usefulness wasn't readily apparent.
Quickly channeling minute amounts of prana into his ears, Shirou managed to catch the red knight's response this time. "A little," he admitted. "My defenses are countering it, but I can still barely pick up on it," he said coolly after a moment of thought.
"What do you know so far?" Shirou asked as he approached the ring.
Rin brought her knuckles to her mouth, her elbow resting in her other hand. "The first layer is apparently meant to keep cycling energy, likely from the orb in the center, to prevent it from dissipating. There are at least two more layers, but they're inactive right now. All I can tell is that it's supposed to seal whatever is in the circle once something enters. The tricky part is that it doesn't just trigger for anything: it's designed for a specific target. I can't figure it out right now."
"Can you break it?"
"Not during school. It's too powerful and looks like it's been worked into the concrete somehow. Only way to break it right now would be to practically flip the roof."
Shirou briefly wondered how that would look to some poor civilian wandering in front of the school gate. He chuckled weakly. "Yeeaaah… let's not. We'll need to come back later, right?"
"Right," Rin acknowledged before stepping warily back from the circle. "However, this isn't the reason I called you up this morning."
"It's not?"
"No. Sit down," she invited, her voice still largely toneless as she placed herself on the small bench next to the door. Once Shirou was seated and had handed her the warmed can of coffee, Rin stated without preamble, "I was attacked last night."
While it was a bit of a stupid question to ask if she was okay given that she was here with Archer, he did still snap his eyes to her in worry. "What happened?"
Rin looked skyward for a moment while picking at her lunch. "In hindsight, maybe 'attacked' is the wrong word. Whoever or whatever he was, he wasn't a Servant or a Master, but he knew about the Holy Grail War and could see Archer in the same way you can. He did dress like a Servant though, clad in all-white in a style like a chevalier."
"What did he want?"
"He asked me what I wanted the Grail for. The fact that he knew about it means that he's likely working with a Master as support. When I asked Archer to restrain him…"
Archer turned his head with a scowl in place. "He fought a lot like I did. Different style, but he used similar weapons and tactics with a greater focus on speed at the cost of strength. The worst part was that he managed to get away. I hate the ones that get away."
"So, he was like a false Archer-class? For that matter, why can't he be a second Archer?"
"You know, that's not a bad analogy. Anyway, the Command Mantra reacts to Servants within range, and if the Assassin tried to conceal his presence, it would have still reacted the moment he revealed himself. Neither happened. Also, the fake priest told me that there was to be only one of each of the classes this time around," the more experienced of the two magi replied patiently.
"I remember you saying that. How does he know, anyway?" Shirou asked.
With a sigh, Rin gave him a level, slightly irritated look. "It's part of his job as mediator. The Grail grants him that much knowledge."
"But what if he's wrong or if someone's found a way to cheat?"
"Idiot. The Grail wouldn't allow that to happen. Even if it was possible, and it's NOT, the Command Mantra reacts to any Heroic Spirit, regardless of if they have a Master or not. That guy was not a Servant." Rin's conviction in her belief killed any further argument from her fellow magus.
The redhead doubted this was the end of things on the subject. Even if what she said was true, he and Rin still had no idea what they were dealing with, which actually presented a more dangerous problem. If they found their assailant's true identity, it still might not do a thing to reveal any weaknesses. Shirou had this sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse the longer the Holy Grail War lasted. "Where do we go from here?"
When Rin gave him a slight smile, a cold, grave chill slithered up the amateur magus's spine in portent. She wasn't even being malicious and she still terrified him! "After I have dinner I'll drop by your house and we can start planning a strategy in earnest. As much as I'd like to handle this on my own, it's starting to get ridiculous, so we'll need to start coordinating more actively both on and off the battlefield."
"Okay. My friends will be out of the house around 8:30. Don't worry; it's just Sakura and Fuji-nee. They aren't involved and I'd like to keep it that way."
Rin nodded in understanding. "If that's the case, you'll need to convince them to stay out of your house at least until the War is over."
Though distinctly uncomfortable with that, Shirou knew that it would be far safer for the women who cared for him. The big question of course was how. "Fuji-nee, Sakura, I'm sorry to say that I'm involved in a life or death struggle with revived legendary heroes being used as weapons, and my enemies might kill you if you see any of it or they find out you mean the world to me so I need you both to stay out of the house for a while. Oh, and it's the same kind of battle that burned down Fuyuki ten years ago, so watch out and I'll see you when it's over." Yeah… That sounded sane. Still, he couldn't expect them to be left alone simply because they didn't know about the Holy Grail War if the "gas leaks" were any indication. Add to that the new enemy Tohsaka encountered, and who knows the number of people endangered just by being near them?
"I'll try. It might take time for them to get the hint, but I'll try."
Realistically, Rin knew that was the best she could hope for from the perpetual nice guy that was her partner. He lacked the ruthlessness needed to be a particularly potent magus, but it did make him a less suspicious character to suspect as one. Hell, if she didn't face Saber that fateful night, Rin doubted she'd ever believe the guy capable of being a Master at all. "Fine, just don't let them get caught in this mess, no matter what."
Most of the lunch break after that was pretty quiet, with Archer vigilantly watching the Boundary Field's swirling core for any sign of potential trouble, while his other senses kept tabs on their surroundings. Rin left a few minutes before the bell, while Shirou stayed for a few minutes longer, his thoughts turned once more to the odd magic circle in the middle of the roof. The pressure against him never really vanished, but he had quickly adapted to it, settling for ignoring it while it didn't cause any serious harm.
On his way back to class a few minutes later, he noted that Shinji Matou was waiting outside the door to the classroom, his face set into that easy (everyone else would describe it as disgustingly smug) smile of his. "Yo, Emiya!"
"Hey, Shinji. What's up?"
"Life's pretty good, all told. However, things have been a little… dangerous as of late, wouldn't you agree?"
"You mean the gas leaks and accidents? Yeah, it's getting scary leaving the house in the morning."
With a slight snicker, Shinji opened the door behind him and headed for his desk, Shirou a step behind. "I know what you mean." Just as they were about to split for their own seats, Shinji's face became uncharacteristically serious and solemn. "After school, Emiya, there's something I need to talk to you about. It's important." The way he said it actually startled Shirou, who turned back to his friend and met his dark blue eyes.
Seeing nothing more than a genuine seriousness, he nodded. "Alright. After school." Shinji's half-smile returned and he relaxed into his seat at that. The red-haired magus took his own seat, feeling distinctly uneasy about things going on out there in the shadows but with a solidified resolve to prevent any more suffering. While he honestly tried to remain focused on class for the moment, the constant sensation of being bombarded by an invisible force was rather distracting especially since he was now aware of its source.
In spite of everything he had swimming around his head so far, Shirou knew it would still be a long day yet and the night even longer.