Epilogue

Another Grail War had concluded, and this time, a wish really had been granted. It was a small wish, easily accomplished by the entity contained in that conceptual cup—burning out the lives of a million worms was a simple matter, and the collateral human suffering had been unsatisfyingly minimal. The war's overseer and the watchers from the Association each had their own impressions of what had happened, but whatever they thought, neither side was about to open a dialogue to share data. So the Grail slept in Fuyuki, and life returned to normal.

"Daddy!" cried little Tohsaka Rin. She and her mother had spent a pleasant vacation with family, but now, as she leapt into her father's arms, she felt so thankful to see him again that she almost felt like weeping. She did not weep, however—not then, nor at her "uncle's" funeral, nor even when they brought her to see Sakura in the hospital. Rin was dimly aware of the serious adult expressions and conversations passing over her head during the weeks that followed. But when she held her neighbor's hand and made her laugh with stories from school, the world felt like it was coming right again.

In the end, it was Rin's idea that she and Sakura could be cousins. Kariya had been their "uncle," anyway, so even if this meant that she would have to spend more time with Sakura's loser of a brother, it was better that the families embrace their shared past. In any event, Sakura no longer had anyone to train her, so Tokiomi stepped up to the task.

"Now, girls, remember that you're rivals!" said Tokiomi, coming into his workshop one afternoon to find his young students huddled together in conversation over an assignment that he had given them. He need not have worried, though. As they grew older, the "cousins" brought a spirit of competition (perhaps friendlier than mage society would have liked) to everything, from magical training to schoolwork to athletic pursuits. It even extended to their attempts to befriend a classmate of theirs who lived downtown, a boy whose looks outweighed his lack of brains, but Tokiomi certainly didn't get to hear about that competition.

London.

Life at the Clock Tower continued undisturbed, much as it had for centuries. Waver had been dreading his first day back in Professor Archibald's lecture hall, but nothing had really changed, and he eventually stopped imagining that some rogue experiment or deadly classroom demonstration awaited him around every corner. He threw himself into his studies, and it is sufficient to say that after years of writing and drudgery, his efforts were amply rewarded.

Kayneth, for his part, did not have any particular desire to seek revenge on his thieving student. "His low birth is punishment enough, and it would be a debasement to sully my hands with his blood now that the competition is through," he thought, though perhaps this was just an excuse—the other areas of his life were rather distracting. First there were the inquiries into his department's spending last quarter, and he had to draw on his connections to get that covered up. And then there was the whole problem of those connections, as it was getting ever more difficult to convince Sola-Ui's father to help him, the longer the engagement to his daughter dragged on without a finalized contract.

But why should anyone care? The faculty gossips probably had it right, when the banns were finally published: "Those two deserve each other."

A university.

Kirei looked up from his books and out the window above his carrel. Staring out at the grey light of a Central European afternoon, he recalled a bright summer day not that long ago, when he had been released from his apprenticeship. His master had been so proud, and Kirei, despite himself, had carefully kept the symbol of his graduation, and of his brief encounter with the pollution of magecraft, locked away with the rest of his dangerous tools.

Well, that was all over, and he was on to his next pursuit. He had another five years to go before he would graduate as a doctor utriusque juris, ready to serve the Church in suits both civil and holy. And after that, who knew? His father couldn't... stay in that job... forever, could he?

Fuyuki, again.

Kiritsugu sat on the bed in his hotel room, staring into space. He and Maiya had finished dismantling and packing his guns, and he thought vaguely what a lot of trouble it had been for things he hadn't even had a chance to use. Maiya came over and sat behind him, draping her arms over his shoulders.

"Maiya," Kiritsugu said, his voice hollow. "Do you like children?"

She pulled her arms back and shifted to his side, looking at him. "Not particularly. What brought this up?"

Kiritsugu didn't answer. After a few minutes of silence, Maiya got up.

"I see. I guess this is goodbye," she said, causing Kiritsugu to look up at her, but she did not meet his gaze and instead set about collecting her luggage. She paused briefly at the door, but soon enough had left the room, departing for regions and hit jobs unknown.

About a month later, Kiritsugu finally gained admittance to his wife's lands. His ticket was the scabbard of Excalibur, which he bore to the chapel to await the next Grail War. Somehow the child already knew of her mother's death, and Kiritsugu sometimes felt chills when he looked into her eyes. But it was a peaceful decade, there in the eternal snows...

THE END