Three things about this chapter—

First, a massive trigger warning. This chapter delves deep into the darkest parts of Sakura's history. It's all canon. It all happened. And it's all really horrific and terrible. It involves sexual abuse, and though it doesn't go into it in grotesque and explicit detail, it's all heavily implied, and as such, if that's an issue for you, I won't have my feelings hurt if you spare yourself this chapter. Please consider yourself duly warned in this regard.

Second. I would highly recommend you go to YouTube right now and run a search for 'Knowledge Never Sleeps'. The third hit, the four minute version, is the one I'd suggest you listen to. You'll lose nothing for not listening to the song, but you'll gain a lot if you do.

Third, and finally, this is, at present, my magnum opus chapter. One that spent a lot of time in the back of my mind, basically writing itself. It's the one of which I'm most proud, and I consider to be the best chapter I've written thus far.

With all that said, on with the show.

34—Stand Tall

In her bathroom, Sakura wipes the condensation from the mirror and looks herself over. Refreshed, satisfied, nodding, she smiles as she fastens her red hair ribbon in place before slipping first into her undergarments, then into her more casual attire. Brief though it was, the steaming hot bath has proved to be most relaxing and comfortable.

One of the few things about this house she doesn't wholly hate.

I should get back. I don't know how much longer I have before—!

As if in answer to her unspoken concern, two loud knocks at the door startle her from her thoughts, and she snaps around in time to see it swing open. Shinji stands there now, dressed in a buttoned down, long-sleeved white dress shirt, untucked from his casual blue jeans. The leering sparkle in his blue eyes dims, his expectant grin falling into a scowl of disappointment.

"Damn. Finished already…" He sighs, shaking his head. "Whatever. Grandfather is waiting. It's time."

His presence alone is enough to sap the residual warmth from the air, but his words added onto it chill Sakura to her core. Even more so, given she knows the decision she's made, and how furious he'll be.

Hopefully, Grandfather will understand, and intervene…

Quietly, obediently, Sakura follows as he leads her on a different path. One which doesn't take her past her door. It seems it will be a while longer before she'll be comforted by the kind company of her otherworldly guest. But she'll also have someone new to introduce him to.

Even as a woman, Sakura was stunned by the beauty and grace of the Servant she had summoned. The connection forged between them was almost immediate. It's why she felt so ill at ease with Shinji's presence during that time. She knew full well why he'd berated her, goaded her, practically forced her to turn over command of her Servant.

It was a minor miracle she'd been able to delay it this long.

Whatever ambition or concern he had for the war, whatever his aspirations to succeed the Matou house, it all seemed to take a back seat to what shown through clear in his countenance the second his eyes widened in the tall woman's presence.

Sakura knew it.

She'd been the victim of those same desires. And the only way he could indulge himself with her Servant was if he was acting as her Master.

Unconsciously, her feet drag along the wood floor as they approach a door. She knows what's behind it. Just imagining what's down there makes her skin crawl like it's trying to slough away. Disgusting creatures. One of her most horrific memories was when her grandfather forced her into the company of those creatures.

For days at a time, it was all she knew as those sickening worms crawled all over her. Crawled inside her, through every opening they could find. And it wasn't hard to find them, since she'd been stripped to her skin. And if that had not been bad enough, she was so young. Ten years prior, this had happened, which would make her only six.

If Taiasu knew about the atrocity, he'd have flown into a blind rage and executed the perpetrator without a second thought. There may have been some regret after, but certainly not during.

Worse still, the why of it was never explained to her. She could only assume the old man got some sort of perverse pleasure out of it.

Shinji pushes the door open, and from the dimly lit space she catches the scent coming from behind it. Antithetical to what's actually down there. The smell of something sweet, forcing her to breathe in through her mouth to avoid the thoughts and memories it threatens to evoke.

She swallows hard, then draws in a deep breath, firming herself up, finding her resolve.

I have to do this. It will be the last time I have to go into this disgusting place…

They descend the stone staircase, but the sounds of their footsteps don't carry far before being overshadowed by another sound. Like that of something sliding or being dragged across the ground. Of many somethings. If Sakura hadn't been so familiar with what the sound reminded her of, she definitely would have screamed. Maybe fainted. Possibly even retched.

But she is familiar. Painfully well acquainted.

The room, this basement, is like a mausoleum. Ancient, and seeming as if at any moment it might collapse, despite being made from stone. With only a modicum of effort, one could push their hand through the fragile masonry. The walls aren't solid, but from floor to ceiling are filled with holes, like in a morgue, each of which looks like it could house a body.

"Grandfather, I've brought her," Shinji calls out down the stairs as they slowly descend. "Seems she was getting cleaned up. Waste of time, if you ask me."

"Mind yourself, boy."

The voice answering is old. Ancient.

It sends a revolting chill up Sakura's spine. There's little light, so she has to follow the voice to its source with her ears. As they reach the floor, which squirms and writhes as if alive, the living carpet made of countless worms spreads in a sick gesture of welcoming, revealing the actual stone floor of the basement.

Not something benign, like earth worms or grubs. No, these things would feel right at home in the deepest depths of the most depraved of sadistic nightmares. Long as serpents, yet not nearly so kind, and bearing mouths filled with teeth. Still, they part at the unspoken command of the creature with the voice that stirs Sakura's darkest memories.

"The spell can be transferred to this." From the dark, the source of the voice steps out. Since there's so little light, it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust.

Not that she needs them.

Anyone less informed would mistake him simply for a frail old man. An old man, bereft of hair, wearing a traditional black Japanese robe, barely able to stand with the help of the wooden cane held in his right hand. Sunken eyes, and where one might expect to see them white, they can only see a void bereft of light.

Where "his" pupils should be are only tiny pinpoints of white.

In his free hand, he holds a tome. Small and easily held by its spine so it can be flipped open simply and thumbed through like some casual reading material at a doctor's office. Yet from it, Sakura can sense its true purpose.

A Book of the False Attendant. A tome meant to serve as a shackle that can allow her Servant to be passed off to anyone in possession of it.

But only after she's facilitated it.

The person holding the book smiles in a way that causes her insides to churn violently. Though she knows she'll suffer for the deep breath she's about to draw in, she does so anyway to steady herself.

She's right.

It nearly causes her to gag, but somehow she's able to hold her composure. Once she's gotten over the disgusting smell and the nauseating taste in her mouth, she raises her eyes up to meet those of the old man.

"Grandfather. Please forgive my impertinence, but I've reconsidered."

"Oh?" The creature's smile reforms into something amused. "You have, now?"

Beside her, she can feel her brother's visceral response almost instantly as his entire body goes rigid. He's not sure what she means, but any deviation from what they've planned is unacceptable.

"And what brought this about?"

Sakura clenches her hands, as if trying to grip her own resolve. Carefully, she considers her words. Her reasons shouldn't matter. Why should he care? As long as he gets what he wants, a Master for his house, fighting this stupid war, of what concern is it to him? She knows this, and she knows he knows this, so she chooses merely to keep the why to herself.

"I'll take my Servant, and we'll compete in this conflict. That should be enough for you, yes?"

Immediately, she can feel the heat of Shinji's rage burning behind his fractured façade. The worms surrounding them scatter as he stomps his foot.

"What is this now?! We had an agreement!" He raises his hand, then swings. Reflexively, Sakura raises her own, and his closed fist collides with her wrist, knocking her to the ground. Fortunately, the creatures that make up the room's living carpet have scattered far enough that she doesn't find herself swarmed by them.

Unimpeded, Shinji continues berating her. "You miserable, worthless—!"

He moves to continue his assault, but the creature called their grandfather simply raises his cane, stopping his advance.

"It seems you speak correctly, boy. You had an agreement. It's her choice to make." Indifferent, he turns his hollow gaze to Sakura as she stands on her own two feet, and he lets out an empty laugh. One which makes her blood turn to ice. "I don't know what has changed your mind, but it matters little. I'm sure you will make a much better Master for this Servant than the boy here ever could. With this, our chances for success are far greater than I could have hoped."

It could be the smell of this place, the memories it evokes, or his empty words of commendation, but she's forced to hold back another visceral gag.

She's not doing this for him.

She's still not one hundred percent certain why she's doing it at all. Yes, a large reason is to send Taiasu back to his world before he brings the Association down on all of their heads, but there's something more to it. Some unknown, unspoken desire, just beyond the periphery of her mind.

Still rubbing her throbbing wrist, she nods her head once, politely.

"Thank you, Grandfather." Then she turns her gaze to the darkness behind him.

"Rider."

Ethereal light coalesces into the shape of a tall human before flashing and revealing what appears to be just that. A tall, beautiful woman with hair that floats effortlessly to the floor. Neither smiling nor frowning, she wears a cool expression. The living mass on the ground spreads away from her, but not at some unspoken command.

Fear, some instinctual sense of self preservation, motivates them to give this woman a wide berth. Shinji swallows hard, grinding his teeth, as he can feel his desires burgeoning in the woman's presence. Desires which will go unsated, to speak nothing of this sudden change so thoroughly thwarting his ambitions, as she glides past him without granting him a moment's consideration.

"Master." Her voice is smooth and seductive, and it causes Shinji to grind his teeth further, trembling with rage.

He's been denied, and finally he's unable to hold back.

"GRANDFATHER!"

The man has already returned his cane to the floor, and he eyes Shinji with apathy. With what's needed done, Sakura bows once more, then heads for the stairs, eager to be finished with this place. Her heart slams in her chest for her subtle act of defiance, but some elation buzzes in her mind for it having actually worked. Shinji makes to move after her, but the creature shaped like a man ever so subtly shakes his head, catching the boy's eye and causing him to stop.

"We have matters to discuss, boy. If you're not to be the Master of this Servant, we need to decide what will be done with you."

Shinji sheds shades of color from his face as his head ever so slowly turns toward the source of the voice. There's no hint of malice to be heard. Still, something in it fills him with dread. Besides that, he's also not much a fan of this place.

As Sakura and her Servant Rider reach the landing at the top of the stairs, she casts a glance down at her brother, who stands trembling before the creature. Curious to hear what her grandfather is about to say, she hesitates, but only briefly, before passing through the door. As she does, she catches just the start of what sounds like it might be a long conversation.

"By your temperament, am I to understand you still wish—"

Now out of that wretched, rotten basement mausoleum, Sakura pushes the door closed. The second it's latched, she nearly collapses, shaking all over, gasping for air, and forcing out the acrid stench of that place. Rider catches her, holding her from the ground. Her entire body continues to shake, trembling like she's just faced death itself.

Yet somehow she's come off the victor.

"Master, are you—"

"Sakura, Rider."

Rider hesitates, helping Sakura to her feet, and tilting her head. "I'm sorry? I don't—"

"No, Rider…" She turns, looking up at her Servant's concealed eyes. "I'm the one who is sorry… I almost turned you over to him… Just because I didn't want—!"

Suddenly, she realizes her unspoken desire. She never wanted to take part in this battle, but she didn't want someone else to suffer for her unwillingness. She knew full well the fate she was subjecting her Servant to.

But she didn't care. It didn't matter to her.

Only now, she cares, and it matters. But why her feelings have changed so radically, she still can't say for certain. From her eyes stream tears mixed with relief and regret. She's had to suffer at her brothers' hands for far too long, and likely will suffer even more with this minor act of defiance.

But that doesn't mean her Servant should suffer, too.

"R-Rider… I'm so… sorry…!" She grips her dark dress, burying her head into her Servant's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. It's not just her relief and regret pouring from her. Years of abuse at the hands of these people have made her feel unworthy, unwanted, and disposable.

But now, she has a reason. Now, she has a purpose. What the future holds is uncertain, but at least now she actually has one.

And all it took was one subtle act of defiance.

It takes a few minutes before Sakura can fully compose herself. Gently, Rider strokes her purple locks, trying to help her regain her calm. She's still uncertain of exactly what's happening right now. Days before, she'd been summoned into that basement. Subjected to the loathsome, lecherous leering of that boy with the blue hair and eyes.

She'd been relieved it wasn't he who was her Master. Surely he'd have had his way with her. Her relief was momentary. This girl, who now trembles and stains her dark dress with her endless stream of tears, had been arm-twisted by both the boy and her own reluctance into passing her off, and she'd relented.

Yet now, she seems to have changed her mind, and seeing her heart-felt grief, feeling her heart-felt grief and regret, and her firm resolve beneath it, brings a grateful smile to the Servant's face.

"Master, we should—"

"S-Sorry… Call me… Sakura…" she gasps out. She'd meant to say it before, but her overflowing feelings interrupted that. "A-and yes… We… should get going…" She withdraws her head and wipes at her face, her eyes red and puffy, yet showing a smile beaming with relief. Yet seeing her Servant's cool expression, her calm smile, almost sends her into another fit of tears, and she's forced to look away.

"I'll show you to my room, Rider."

She wipes her face again, then heads toward the nearby staircase, and Rider follows along behind her, gliding smoothly along the ground with each long step she takes. Part of her wants to ask what changed Sakura's mind, but for now she's content to let that question idle in her mind. Whatever the reason, this situation is far more desirable, and it's best not to jinx it.

And being out of that disgusting basement filled with all manner of nightmarish creatures, not least of which was that unnerving old man, is certainly a literal breath of fresh air. They approach the door to her room, and just before Sakura can open her mouth to speak, Rider steps in front of her, holding out her hand, stopping her.

"Master… Please wait."

Before Sakura can correct her again, or ask why, Rider's form has already winked out in a shimmering blue light.

What…?

Suddenly, she feels like she's forgotten something. Something important.

No… More than important. But—!

A thud, a grunt, and the sound of chains rattling all reach Sakura's ears in quick succession, widening her eyes with sudden realization and dread.

Oh, no! How could I have been so stupid—!

Given what she's just suffered, anyone could forgive her lapse, but the one to whom she'll need to be offering that apology may not long be around to receive it. She shoves the door, but of course it doesn't open. Frustrated, she groans as she grabs the knob, turns, and shoves it again, stumbling past it.

Against one wall, Taiasu stands. His hands tightened into fists, and his stance stiff and firm. And across the way from him, in front of her closed closet near that small coffee table, Rider is crouched low to the ground, one long spike in each hand, and affixed to each an impossibly long chain terminating in a large metal loop.

The sound of the door flying open draws looks from both Rider and Taiasu.

"Sakura! Get out, she's—!"

"Master, stay back!"

Their words mix, bringing a confused stare from Sakura. Confused, but panicked as they quickly return their stares-turned-glares back to each other.

Wait… I need to—!

Before she can finish that thought, Taiasu's form hums and glows with a light. It's the second time she's seen this. The first was during that ridiculous situation with the TV that morning.

Has it only been a day? It feels like so much longer—no, Sakura, focus!

It's the third time for him. The first, that morning, it had been on reflex. The second, against Berserker, he had to abort or risk collapse.

This time, as his aether coalesces satisfyingly in his hands, the blue aura surrounding him compressing inward and upward through his arms, there's no problem. No dark, encroaching tunnel. No impending sense of dread or loss of consciousness.

Just a satisfying thrum of aether in his hands, waiting to be formed into something devastating.

Well, I didn't expect I'd need to do this, but—!

Uncertain but determined to defend her Master from this unknown threat, Rider stands her ground, preparing to answer Taiasu's charge. As Sakura's widening eyes fall on Taiasu's face, she spies something unsettling.

An unnerving, eager grin.

But he said…!

"Aoki—!"

Deeply, fully throated, he intones, and the blue aura in his hands flares violently, given substance and form outside his body, yet still contained within both his hands which are now held together, aloft over his head.

Then his eyes go completely wide, and he stops. The brilliant blue sphere of solid light in his hands dims, then fades and vanishes. It takes every drop of his effort and will to avoid releasing that power, and turning Sakura, who stands defiantly between them, her arms stretched out at her sides, into a pile of smoldering ash.

She knows what she's doing.

She's seen enough of Taiasu to know he would stand down if she stood in the way. Though reckless, it's the fastest way to end without bloodshed what is clearly a misunderstanding.

If I hadn't been so… I could have told Rider about Taiasu before we even got here… This whole thing is my fault!

Seeing the last of the blue fade from Taiasu's hands and his eager grin fall away as his mouth drops with dismay, Sakura collapses to her knees with relief. It's been a hell of a time, that from the stairs at the bottom of that basement until now.

"Sakura, what—!? I almost blasted you!"

"Master, what are you—!"

Again, filled with indignation and shock, their words mix in her ears as she struggles in catching her breath.

"Taiasu… Stop this!" She snaps her gaze over her shoulder to see Rider on her feet, her hand outstretched toward her. Though her face is mostly concealed, her concern is still clear. If not in her voice, then in what she can see of her face. "Rider, you too!"

"Ah—" Taiasu's hands slowly drop from over his head. Unsurprisingly, given it's been only one day, he's never heard her speak like this. "What…? But she—!"

"It's fine!" She turns her head back, shouting. "She's a friend! Rider, he's a friend too!"

Her words are spoken in quick desperation, but also in truth, and they catch in Taiasu's ears. Though said with little thought behind them, they still catch in his ears, hanging there, echoing, ringing pleasantly, quickly defusing his battle-ready mindset.

F-friend…? She just called me—?

Powerful words, declaring that which he's never been one to devalue or take for granted.

"Master…?" Confused and uncertain, Rider withdraws her hand and stands up fully again. The chained spikes in her hands have since vanished. "I do not—"

She snaps her head back. "And Rider, I told you! You're to call me Sakura!" She breathes out another heavy sigh, pressing her hand into her chest, trying in vain to settle her heart.

"I need… I think I need… to lie down…"

It's an uneasy few minutes shared between the three of them as Sakura settles herself. It takes Taiasu another few minutes as well to recover his composure. Still, her unexpected declaration has him grinning like an idiot. It felt true that they had built some sort of acquaintanceship over what has been the longest, and possibly strangest, day of his life. But hearing her declare it out loud, and so forcefully.

He can't help what it does to his face.

Friend… She called me her friend…!

Rider stands at the ready, prepared to recall her weapons and pin Taiasu permanently to the wall if he makes any sudden movements, but he's too busy reveling and grinning so hard his eyes squint shut to notice or even care.

Finally, Sakura is steady enough to stand and push the door closed, nearly collapsing into it as she does so. Slowly, she turns and looks at Taiasu, gesturing to Rider.

"Taruko-kun, this is Rider." She then gestures to Taiasu. "And this is—"

"Ah—! Sakura, let me!"

Never one to miss this chance, Taiasu shakes the stupid grin from his face and hops to his feet. Still uneasy, Rider stiffens slightly as he approaches and cuts himself low with a deep bow.

"Taiasu Taruko. Pleased to meet you! Sorry about before!" He looks up, grinning again, running his hand over his dark head-fuzz. "I didn't know you were Sakura's friend, or else I wouldn't have… uh…?" Something in his apology rings false, and he turns his head away, folding his arms, frowning, trying to puzzle out what. "I wouldn't have… defended myself? Wait, that doesn't seem right…" Quickly, his small frown is replaced again by another wide grin as he shrugs his shoulders dismissively, turning his gaze back up to Rider again. "Well, anyroad, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."

He can't tell for the mask, but the way her facial muscles move around it, he could swear she's just spent the past few seconds after his introduction staring down at him, blinking her eyes behind it.

"Um… Yes. I, too, apologize for the… er… misunderstanding." Even more uncertain than before, but at the very least less on guard, Rider offers her own, albeit stiff, apology, along with a shallow bow.

It's sufficient, and Taiasu nods, then looks back over at Sakura, who seems to still be catching her breath, flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. As he trots over to sit at her side, Rider's form tenses again. More on reflex than anything else. The aggressive display she 'saw' and felt from him earlier is completely gone now.

"So that's why you took so long changing? You had to get your friend?"

Sakura nods, exhaling a deeply held breath as she turns her head, still on the floor, and looks over at him. "Well, that and… I wanted a bath… It's been a day, Taruko-kun…"

"I'll say it has."

He plops down, stretching and wincing at the pop that comes from his shoulder. Something about what she says feels off to him, but he can't quite place what. And he's not much of a mind to pursue it. Not while he's still riding the high of hearing her call him a friend.

That's it! It's what she called me!

Inconceivably, his grin somehow grows even wider as he flops on his back, realizing what feels off from what she's said most recently.

"Hey, Sakura…"

"Hm?"

Tired, exhausted really, she turns her head, her face somehow holding a smile. Just being in his company makes it hard not to, regardless of the bull of craziness he's brought into the docile china shop that was once her life.

"I just realized… You called me by my first name a few minutes ago." He turns his head so he can see her face, still showing an enormous toothy grin. "And you said we're friends. I really liked that."

"Ah…" She makes a small, confused sound at his honest, heartfelt statement, and her face turns a shade of red. She's not even sure why. Why her face turns red, or why she said those things, and she has to think back over everything that happened.

Well… I guess I did say his name, but it was mostly out of panic… And I did say we were friends. But that's just the truth, isn't it? Is his concept of friendship skewed or something? I didn't think it was such a big thing…

Inwardly, she shrugs, then breathes out another light sigh.

But it seems like a big deal to him, at least.

"Well, we are, right? I mean, things have been… turbulent… but not wholly unenjoyable." She turns her head back, stifling a deep yawn. "But I'm ready for this day to be over. One thing it's definitely been is exhausting."

Behind them, Rider coolly observes their discussion and lighthearted banter, and can feel herself relaxing as well, letting her lower her guard almost fully. Still, she's uncertain what to make of this small person. When she sensed him inside Sakura's room, she immediately assumed him a threat.

But he's not a Servant… We can tell such things easily. I know he's not one, so what is he?

She means to ask, but before she can, everyone startles at the two firm bangs against Sakura's door, knocking away the placid smile from her face.

"Sakura!"

The door's knob turns, and she knows what will happen in the next second. Before it does, Rider is already there, catching the door with her foot before it flies open completely. Between Master and Servant, there exists a strong empathic link. It can communicate thoughts and dreams, and feelings if they're powerful enough.

And not being overshadowed by the Servants' own feelings, such as in the heat of a pitched battle. The moment before the door would have flown open, Sakura's thoughts rang through loud as a foghorn to Rider.

Not the whole story, but enough of it.

If the door flew open, and the angry, blustering fellow on the other side saw Taiasu, it would end poorly for everyone.

I must ask her what he is, but for now…

One other thought was communicated clear as crystal. Right now, Sakura doesn't want to see, hear from, or speak with her brother. Loathed though she is to do so, Rider willingly subjects herself to his presence.

"Yes?"

"Get back, I don't want to talk to you." Shinji shoots his gaze past her, through the narrow opening to spy Sakura laying on the floor. Her head and her gaze turned away from the door to the back of her room. "Get me her. Now."

Rider's placid expression vanishes, replaced with an icy frown. "She does not wish to speak with you. Anything you—"

"Eh? That's how it's going to be?" He folds his arms, staring hard at the floor, scowling. "Fine. It doesn't matter…" Surprisingly, he yields almost too easily. "I know she's listening, and that she can hear everything I'm saying. And it doesn't matter that she's reneged on our agreement." The corners of his mouth slowly creep upward as his hard scowl lifts into a smug smirk, thick with self satisfaction. For her head being turned, Sakura can't see it, but somehow she can still feel it against the back of her neck. "So I'll just say this to you, too. It may not matter that she's reneged, but it still doesn't make me happy, her having done so."

His eyes fall to Sakura's back, and he licks his lips lecherously.

"That said, I'll now say this. She was, is, and always will be nothing more than a simple doll that exists merely for my pleasure. And if she continues to persist in this rebellious course—" Standing on his toes so he's able, he leans in, bringing his lips a breath away from Rider's ear. "—then I may just have to break her again."

It happens in an instant. Before his words have even finished passing through his lips. There's no tell. No momentary build up.

Just a flash of light, and suddenly there's a metal spike at Shinji's throat, with Rider on the other end. He's forced to stand further on his toes to prevent the sharp tip of said spike from entering his flesh, which has quickly become cold and clammy.

From her expression, what of it can be seen, her mouth pressed in a fine line, her brow smooth and relaxed, one would think Rider perfectly calm as well. If not for the very action itself, proving that is most certainly not the case.

Though Shinji's had been, Rider's words are not so subtle.

"You've said your piece, now I'll say mine." She leans in, hissing into his ear, completely ignoring his panic-filled, fully wide eyes. "Know this, child. I serve at her pleasure. And it is at her pleasure alone that you continue to breathe through your mouth and nose, and not through a blood-soaked hole in your neck. But if you ever speak of her in such a way again in my hearing, my hand will not be stayed, and I will gladly bear the weight of her displeasure for the remainder of my time here."

She withdraws the tip of the spike, and Shinji stumbles back into the hall, slamming into the wall behind him, rubbing his throat. Somehow, he's able to recover his composure quickly, showing another sadistic, knowing grin, but before he's able to retort, Rider simply shuts the door in his face.

The spike in her hand vanishes in a blue, ephemeral light. She doesn't turn from the door right away. Within her, beneath her calm composure, her feelings rage like a tempest. She's only seen the boy a few times, and with each time, she finds herself liking him less and less.

Naturally, given there's been less and less to like.

Different from her Master, the girl behind her, with whom she feels a strong, quickly forged sense of kinship. It could be attributed to a proper bond between Master and Servant, but she doubts it. And she has nothing on which to base that notion. More likely, it's just that she's a decent person.

There exists to her no effective analogy with which to compare Sakura with her brother.

Unfortunately, she also knows her master's feelings well. The boy has treated her like trash. Yet for reasons she can't fathom, Sakura still bears affection for him. As if he were an actual brother, and not just some monster pretending to be such. And it was for that reason only she let him walk away with his life this night.

Rider breathes out the most imperceptibly quiet of sighs, working to fix her hard frown into something more proper and neutral before she turns around to 'see' the state Sakura is in. She doesn't actually need to turn to see her, since she can't see through the literal mask she wears, but she does so anyway.

There, still in the middle of the floor, Sakura has somehow managed to right herself, and she sits in a huddled mass, clinging to her legs pulled into her chest. Shuddering from tingling numbness, like an endless storm of needles driving into her from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. Suffering from a thousand invisible cuts from the venomous barbs her brother had spewed forth into her room. Into her ears, her mind, drawing out the residual spines from things he's said and done in times past. Spines which have long since buried themselves deep into the darkest recesses of her mind, forcing them to the fore.

Spines and barbs and venom which tear deeply into her heart.

Expecting the reaction did not make bearing it any easier. Any time she steps out of line, whether she knows it at the time or not, he's quick to put her 'in her place', as he so loves to say. This time, however, there's something peculiar about it. He yielded far too easily. She was so sure he'd scream, holler, probably try to break the door down. For those reasons, she's glad for Rider's presence.

And Taiasu's.

Yet even though they're here with her, those furiously uttered words still tear violently through her mind. She can hear them echoing in her head.

Break me… again…

Before she loses the last of her strength, Sakura stands, her form almost yielding to another violent shudder starting from her chest and ending at the furthest tips of her extremities. Silently, swiftly, Rider moves to her side, supporting her and helping her to her bed, where she slumps over it, then fully collapses into a quivering mess. It takes a full minute for her to situate herself, rolling over, lifting her head to and burying her face full and deep into her pillow. She shudders, feeling tears of every negative feeling that has a name welling in her eyes.

Sorrow, terror, grief, misery. Just to name a few.

Slowly, Rider lowers herself to the mattress, gently stroking Sakura's hair, trying to bring her some measure of calming comfort.

All Taiasu can do is watch, feeling his chest tighten and twist, as she weeps, shaking with each silent, gasping sob.

I don't know anything… But the things he said… He doesn't treat her much like a sister… No… I bet he doesn't actually treat anyone well. If he can't feel genuine affection for his family, he can't possibly feel it for anyone. More and more, he's reminding me of that bastard…

His nonplussed expression takes a hard turn, ripping the corners of his mouth down in a deep, fearsome scowl, his eyes narrowing to paper-thin slits before closing completely. Deep trenches for wrinkles fissure through his furrowed brow. At his sides, his hands close, shaking, tightening around nothing. But he desperately wishes there was something in them, immediately feeling shame for what that thing would be.

If only. He knows full well ending Shinji would accomplish little.

Scornfully, he scoffs to himself, his mind being drawn back again, to the person this temperamental little twit reminds him of.

Asahi… He reminds me so much of Asahi! Putting on airs around everyone, then being like this! And I couldn't do anything then… Not for her… Not for his sister…

Not even realizing how dry his mouth and throat have become, he finds his first attempt at swallowing down hindered. His second goes somewhat better, bringing him a bit of relief as he reaches his hand toward his pack, then inside, withdrawing from it another crystal stone. Small, with soft edges, and fitting comfortably in the palm of his hand. Green, shaped roughly like the golden sigil etched in its center.

A sigil of a small harp.

It's not much… but maybe…

He closes his hand around the stone, and his lids over his eyes once more, as he draws in a deep breath.

It's been a while since I've performed.

Rider snaps around, preparing to summon her chains at the sudden wind and light. When it fades, Taiasu is there, his reds exchanged for their green derivative. Everything else about his outfit is the same. The long (for him) cape, the strange leather pants with the thick, padded flaps about the knees. The gloves, the jacket. Everything.

It's all just shades of green leather now, instead of red.

But on his back, there's something more. Something deadly and intimidating, yet elegant and pronounced at the same time. A rather impractical looking, but still gorgeous long bow. Almost as long as he is tall. Purple with golden edging. One seeing it would get the impression it was an artist's rendition of a dragon given bow form.

He unstraps it, setting it gently on the floor.

Rider relaxes some as the bow comes to rest apart from him. Also, for seeing the calm, focused frown on his face as he trots over to the side of Sakura's bed. Having heard the wind, and being familiar with it, she turns her head to see, and rubs her face and reddened eyes.

"T-Taruko-kun…?"

"Um…" Taiasu stares hard at the floor, quickly feeling unsure of himself. "I… don't know what just happened, but… He said a lot of horrible things. I know that…" Inwardly, deeply, he grumbles at himself, trying to find the words. "What I said… earlier, downstairs… It still stands… Um…" He turns his stare up at the bed, then looks over at Sakura as she wipes again at her face. "Is… is it okay if I…" He reaches up over his head, patting the surface of the bed beside Rider to finish his question.

Sakura blinks a few times, then nods.

"Thanks…" He shows a small smile, then Sakura's eyes widen as he deftly hops the distance from the floor to the bed. For most people, it wouldn't be that impressive, but given the surface of the bed is over the top of his head, that proves untrue here. "So… I don't know, like I said, what's going on. I don't know what he was talking about, or why he was so angry, or why he treats you the way he does…"

He lets his legs dangle over the edge, mostly so he can swing them back and forth, giving himself something to do as he wrestles with his thoughts and words.

"I don't know if you want to talk about it… If you do, I can listen… or I can… do this, too…" He reaches into his side pack, and from it pulls a rather unassuming, plain-looking wooden harp. "I learned about this… some time ago." He sets the small harp on his knee, eyeing it fondly.

Rider slides closer to the wall beside Sakura's bed, so they both can see better. Pressing her back into it, she situates herself, her lengthy legs stopping about her calves before the rest hang over the edge. She stares down at Taiasu, tilting her head, wearing a small frown lightly seasoned with a measure of curiosity. Sakura sits up in her bed, staring at him as well, rubbing at her nose and eyes.

"Learned… what?"

Whatever it is, Sakura is grateful for the distraction, and she inches closer, losing some of herself to her invigorating curiosity.

Taiasu looks over at her from the side, showing her a clearly uncomfortable smile. The second their eyes meet, it vanishes as he feels something from within her. Something within her, yet not a part of her. Something sinister, existing with malicious intent. A malady of some sort. He can't determine precisely the type.

It's not surprising he didn't notice before now. Those from his world skilled with the fist and sword tend to overlook such things, whereas those skilled in bringing aid and succor are natural diagnosticians. Fortunately, he's able to act as the latter now, and with the generations of knowledge coming from the Bard's Soul Crystal thrumming through his mind, he's quickly able to pick up on the subtle ailment.

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, deciding rather than telling her about it, which might give her even more anxiety, he'll simply correct the matter as he's able, along with what he had planned to do originally.

I should be able to weave the Warden's Paean into this pretty seamlessly. If I ever see Jehantel again, I must thank him for teaching it to me.

The thought of it, of never again seeing the man who taught him the art of the string and voice, doesn't persist with him long. This is more important than some needless concern about which he can do nothing.

Because, here, now, there is something he can actually do.

And fortunately, they're still bound by what happened earlier that day in the shed. When Sakura had agreed to work with him. He never thought to tell her about rescinding that. Another simple lapse, but there wasn't a need for her to know that, really. It just makes it simpler for him to do what he's about to.

"Well… It's easier if I just show you…"

He lets his eyes slip closed, drawing in a single, vast breath, mostly to steady his nerves, before he puts his fingers to the strings, letting them dance across each one, filling the room with a sweet, yet somehow sorrowful melody. With each plucked string comes a tender note, along with a brief, subtle flash of light. The release of his aether weaved into the vibrations of the string, and the vibrations of the air, which passs effortlessly into Sakura's ears, into her mind,and her body, striking at whatever physical ailment plagues her.

It's not the only benefit of the performance, though it is the most practical. Sakura's eyes, first wide with surprise at what's happening, slowly relax, gradually slipping closed as each soft note eases gently through her, neutralizing and drawing out one of Shinji's venomous barbs and replacing it with a pleasant, comforting warmth like a salve. As he plucks each string, entering his creative flow, his own eyes gradually slide closed. Yet he still takes care to weave gradually the paean into the song. If he did it all at once, it would have taken only a second, and the spectacle would have been bright, flashy, and disconcerting.

Which is why he does it gradually. Something so sudden might cause her undue concern. And of course, the Servant at her side, who wears an unexpected smile as she runs her fingers tenderly through Sakura's hair, might also respond unkindly to something so sudden and unexpected. Though she doesn't benefit from the most practical effects of the somber melody, Rider still finds herself surprised by her enjoyment of it, listening calmly as she cradles Sakura's head, pressing it softly into her shoulder.

This person surprises me very much. It's quite a beautiful song…

She still doesn't know the full of his story, but enough from her link with Sakura, strengthened both for their closeness, and her actively keeping it open now that Sakura's accepted her, to know he's not from this world. And that he's a thoroughly mixed bag comprising equal parts genuine kindness, harmless fun and nerve-wracking anxiety.

It's for about three minutes that Taiasu plays through the first movement, after which he gradually draws in another deep breath, trying to steady himself for this next part. Trying to keep his face from turning red. To maintain his focus, and recall the words that go along so well with the melody. The wonderful tune which was composed to celebrate the return of the night, and the end of the unnatural and endless day cycle in the Crystarium, back on the First.

If he delays, he'll ruin the piece, so he doesn't have the time to firm his confidence as much as he'd like. Knowing this, he can only let his eyes slide open, along with his mouth, before he adds to the gentle music.

"Stand ta~~~~~~~~~~~~ll, my fri~~~~end…
May a~~~~ll of the dark deep inside you find light, aga~~~~~in…
This ti~~~~~~me, tumbling, turning, we make ame~~~~nds…
E~~ternal winds from the land, a~~sce~~~~nd…
Here to lift us that we won't e~~~~~~nd…!"

The private concert ends with little fanfare or bravado. The final string is plucked. The sound it produces resonates through the small room in harmony with his last sung word, and he quietly returns the harp to his pack. Heavy is the prevailing silence that follows, and he's hesitant to open his eyes, or even draw a breath for fear of the reaction awaiting him.

"Taruko-kun…"

Fortunately, Sakura is less reserved with her response, speaking out with a voice containing not one shred of that which pained her since Shinji left. Taiasu's eyes slip open, and he turns his stare slowly toward her and Rider, still reluctant to see what sort of face she's making. He can already feel his own practically glowing red.

Before, as she stumbled to her bed, guided by Rider's careful stride, Sakura's eyes had been listless, nearly overflowing with sadness and fear. So, for being so surprised at what he now sees in them, enchanted, practically glowing, he nearly falls from the bed.

Learning the art of the voice was a natural progression from learning how to shoot a bow, though he was incredibly surprised to discover that fact. Evidently, the archers of old from his world would pass the time plucking their bowstrings, listening to the sounds they made. It was only a matter of time before they picked up the harp. As they honed their craft, they found that plucking the string and adding their voice to the melody could bolster the spirits of the demoralized, and bring soothing comfort to the souls of those mortally wounded in battle.

Archers had no place on the front line, serving as support from the back, so it was a perfectly natural fit, adding this to their repertoire.

"So I just thought… you know…" Finishing his story of how he learned the trade, Taiasu looks up at Sakura whose eyes are closed as she wears a relaxed smile, fully envisioning his world as he describes it. "If those songs could bring peace to someone not long for this world… maybe it could help bring you some peace, too." He swallows hard, hesitant to ask his next question. "S-so… did it…? I mean… Are you okay, now?"

"Taruko-kun, that was…" She holds her hands at her chest, beaming a radiant, relaxed smile. The problems of her life are no less. Her past still truly transpired. But for the moment, these things are bound and gagged, raging impotently behind the well-formed wall the piece has helped to build.

Safe beyond the peripheries of her mind.

"It was delightful. Wonderful… Thank you…"

Relieved himself, Taiasu heaves out an enormous sigh to go along with his own bright smile.

"That's good. I'm glad it helped…" His bright smile relaxes into something more casual, and he looks up from the bed, back at Sakura again, then over at Rider, who still wears a pleasant, relaxed smile that causes him to go a fresh shade of red.

Th-that's… kind of a surprise… But it looks good on her.

In the study of the old house, the creature, Sakura's Grandfather, the old man known as Matou Zouken, sits in his chair, idly tapping his cane against the floor, musing over the sudden development.

Not just that his adopted granddaughter would have such a sudden and unexpected change of heart, but another as well.

So two there are now for us, hm…? I don't expect much from the boy, but he may surprise me yet. And the card drawn for him was a desirable one. Even if he is as useless as I suspect, he may prove a well-timed diver—!

His thoughts stop as his breath is cut short. From someplace within the house, he feels himself being assaulted by something. Some invisible force tears at every fiber of his being, dragging him apart like an ill-knit, unfinished tapestry. He stumbles from the chair to the floor, clutching at his chest.

Wh-what—! The worm?! But how! No one should even know—!

Another painful surge jolts through his body, and he gapes horrified at his hand, which begins falling to pieces in front of his hollow, soon-to-be lifeless eyes.

N-no—! Not when… Not when I'm so close! Why is this happening?!

He rolls on his back, gasping for air as whatever is causing this continues to tear away at his form. Finished with his hands, it now gradually claws its way up his arms toward his chest, causing them to crumble and rot away, falling to the ground at his sides. Not understanding the why of it, just the what, he can do nothing but lament whatever it is that's happening to him.

There's nothing left for him to think as his eyes slip closed for the last time, his legs crumbling away up to his waist. Then his chest and body to his neck, and finally his head, which collapses into a squirming, grotesque pile, leaving nothing but a writhing, insect-filled mass, a cane, and his traditional, dark Japanese robes.

Without him ever knowing, it was a simple song that served as both his executioner and funeral dirge. Knowing not even the face of the one who had played it. If Shinji had left well enough alone, and not felt compelled to torment Sakura, the old man might have lived to see his wish fulfilled.

But things did not play out that way. The boy did feel the compulsion, yielded to his baser instincts, threatened his sister, the small man's friend, and in his hearing. Without that, Taiasu would never have discovered the worm to which the man bound his soul, nestled snugly within Sakura's chest, next to her very beating heart.

Of course, Taiasu didn't know what it was. All he knew was there was something wrong, and he meant to correct it.

And correct it, he had.