Chapter 175

It wasn't much, but he'd found something that he could possibly do, and so he got to work practicing as much as he could whenever he got the chance. Caster had switched up his training menu, making him focus on tracing, and he was now doing his best to trace a bunch of shinai, with one pile on his left being the originals, and the other, much smaller pile, being the traced copies.

Ever since the experiments last night, he had felt like he had broken through a roadblock, despite the massive fatigue and pain running through his whole body, and the quality of the resulting products that Caster had informed him about. They were inferior, but they were far better than a normal magus could do, and exceeded Caster's expectations by a lot. She was convinced that he had some type of talent in this direction, and quickly set up training that would help him develop this particular quirk.

They had tried tracing a bunch of random objects, and they had mostly turned out the same, except for a few ordinary objects with little to no internal mechanisms. These normal objects included, combs, pins, towels and knives. Afterwards, they experimented with more advanced forms, but since Caster wanted him to have more practical and direct uses for his magecraft for the time being, she gave him swords to trace, planning to eventually have him trace her own catalysts to use if he could, though she highly doubted he would be able to do it within the span of the Grail War. Still, it was better than nothing, and even if he could only drag out a small portion of their strength, it would be good enough against magi and the like.

His reversal during his match with Saber also bothered him. Despite only having seen it in a dream, he was still able to trace her wooden practice sword very effectively, perhaps more effectively even than the shinai's he had in front of his eyes right now. The smooth straight wooden grain with uneven red patterns wrapping around the entire blade was plainly visible in his mind's eye, the crude guard and aged hilt fitting comfortably in his grip, the solid weight of the entire sword balanced in his hands.

With a start, he realized that he had already unconsciously traced out the sword, and it was actually in his hands, incongruously sitting there with the shinai he was supposed to trace resting beside him.

Lifting the piece of wood, he gave it a few experimental swings. The wooden edge felt balanced, even though he'd never used this sword before besides the brief scuffle with Saber during their training. It felt good to use, familiar, and before he knew it he was already standing up, performing practice katas and duplicating the forms he had seen in Sabers memory. Bleeding through, seeing what the owner had seen and experiencing how they had used it, it spurred him to copy the technique and retrace their skill.

Though he had been a third person bystanding throughout the entire dream, he had seen enough to nail down the basics of what Saber had practiced in the day that had lasted in the dream, and it was enough for him to perform something resembling her moves, though it was far from pinpoint accurate.

It felt good to move like that after sitting there and tracing over and over, and after the quick workout he was sweating slightly from his enthusiastic movements that made him stretch his muscles more than was necessary. Putting down the sword and dismissing it, he sat back down, taking a breather as he drew in deep breathes, laying on the tatami mats between the two piles of shinai on flanking him on either side. A pleasant lethargy descended on him, leading to his eyelids drooping low, the cool mats beckoning him to sleep after the long night he had. With little warning, he slipped off into unconsciousness, his mind dozing into the land of dreams.

A red field of flames, infernos raging in the former husks of buildings that once stood on a land in development. In the midst of the destruction, he stood there, a child all alone. There was no sign of anyone else, not his parents, not his friends, even strangers. They were all gone, reduced to ashes and blackened corpses, and he began walking aimlessly in the middle of the fiery graveyard.

He was the only one left, so he had to survive. It was a childish thought, but at the same time it was true as well. He didn't want to burn up, but there was no one who could save him either. Wandering through the winding paths, passing rows of rubble and flickering fires, his feet constantly moving as all thoughts were wiped from his mind. He raised his eyes to the darkened skies, the sign of dark clouds promising rain that would wash away everything, the remnants of both land and people alike. He wouldn't survive to see it though.

The perspective changed, and he realized he was lying on his back without knowing it. The heat licked his body from all sides, and his mouth felt parched, unable to inhale or exhale. It hurt, but all he could do was sigh. The only thing left inside was emptiness, just the body left with the heart gone.

"Sh...rou…"

So close!

He almost lurched away, but Saber lifted her head before he did so.

"Caster has finished making dinner, and since there was no sign of you, I decided to inform you Shirou."

Shirou sat up and smiled, a tinge of red on his face as he realized he had been caught sleeping during his magecraft practice.

"Thanks Saber. I just got a bit tired after not having enough sleep last night, so I accidentally nodded off."

His words pacified Saber's worry, and she nodded, getting up from kneeling in seiza and walked out the door.

"We'll be at the dining hall Shirou. See you there."

With that, she slid shut the shoji door, her footsteps softly padding until the sound tapered off.

Letting loose a large breath, Shirou lifted his head and lolled it up at the ceiling, letting the shinais he traced dissipate back into ether. The last time he had that dream was the day when he was stabbed through the heart, and he wasn't sure if that had been ominous prophecy, or if it had simply been coincidence. The memories of that day would never truly fade, and revisiting it in his dreams had been a common occurrence in his childhood, though lately the frequency had greatly decreased. It was a reminder of what he had lost, and the reason why he lived as well.

Tracing Saber's wooden sword when she was young, he stared down at the polished wood with several dents and nicks. It reflected the ceiling light, an oblong irregular oval of yellow light reflecting on the glossy oak. He looked at it, the room silent save for his breathing.

Then he dismissed the sword, standing up and headed for the dining hall where a warm meal and his Servant and friends were waiting for him, though Souichirou felt more like a mentor figure, making it a bit difficult to call him a friend.

As he left the room, a single pink petal floated to a rest within the room, sinking to the floor unnoticed as he turned off the lights and closed the door behind him.