This and the last chapter were originally one big chapter, but editing 65 pages of story is a bitch so I had to break it into two parts for my own sanity. I may have missed some typos nonetheless.

As always, these chapters are subject to change since I'm basically writing without a plan in mind.

Guys, I'll be honest. This story is just following the structure of Monster Musume without much alteration. TBH, this might be the last chapter because while I genuinely enjoy writing this fic, I feel like a fraudulent writer who's just plastering his own thought and words over a perfectly good story. I've got a million other fic ideas to write when school gives me a reprieve, so I might turn my attention to them instead. But then again, who knows the future? Maybe I'll write another chapter if I'm bored. At the end of the day, this story was my first and was a test to see if I could actually write creatively, and now it has served it's purpose.

Anyways, I like this chapter a hell of a lot more than the last, so enjoy.

Chapter 5

A few days had gone by, and Papi didn't seem uncomfortable in her new environment in the slightest. More than that, she seemed even happier than she was before. A smile was practically plastered on her face at all times. Although her and Miia bickered, Papi almost seemed to enjoy that as well, likely thinking of it as friendly banter. Miia was genuinely annoyed, but the harpy didn't seem to notice. No surprise there.

While Miia was lamenting the loss of her alone time with him, Archer was positive his suggestion made up for it. He and Miia begun sleeping together once Papi moved in, with them having sex every night. Miia was a lamia after all, so she had an extremely high sex drive. He was lucky to be experienced otherwise he would have never kept up.

Getting up in the morning was harder now since Miia always coiled her tail around him in her sleep. The usual position he found himself in upon opening his eyes was that of her body pillow. Her susceptibility to the cold made her seek out heat instinctually, and he was always the closest source. Since Archer woke up much earlier than Miia, he had grown very skilled at shimmying his way out of her hold.

This morning, however, was a bit different, as he woke up to Papi sleeping on the other unclaimed side of him. Now, he was aware that Papi felt some sort of attraction towards him, but he felt nothing in return.

For one, he had Miia, and despite what Rin might say, he was not a playboy, least of all a cheater. Secondly, Papi had both a body and intelligence that was too child-like, and he was sure that her mind wasn't mature enough to properly recognize her feelings about him. No, he felt that, if she were to 'mate,' it would be completely instinctual and not out of any consenting, knowledgeable decision making.

Thus, Archer was positive that Papi was merely following her instincts when she curled up next to him in bed. He didn't mind much since nothing else happened, and it was fortunate since it allowed him to escape easier. Papi replaced him as the body pillow.

He smirked to himself, thinking about Miia's reaction when she woke up.

What was Archer doing while those two were sleeping? Well, running to the store for groceries. Despite having them paid for by the program, he still had to buy them himself. Not that he minded of course, since he didn't trust anyone else to pick out his ingredients.

As cars whizzed by on the road next to him, he strolled down the side walk, leisurely taking his time to get back home. The peace and quiet that he lost when his two guests moved in was regained on occasions like this.

Breathing in deeply and meditatively, he took in the sounds that surrounded him. While the hustle and bustle of a city wasn't exactly soothing to most, it was to him. The sounds of civilization, the sound of mundane lives going about their business was a sign of peace. No disasters, no war zones, no grail war, no destruction, no mission. It was just a city that he lived in as an unsuspecting cook.

Granted, he still made sure to go on late night patrols every once and a while, but now that he was sleeping with Miia, such a thing became exponentially more difficult to pull off.

Middle school children passed by him on their walk to school, whispering upon seeing his face. He vaguely heard remarks about how cool he looked. Not unexpected he supposed, given his unique skin and hair color, which surprisingly neither Miia or Papi had commented on. Even Smith, who had joked about his exoticism, never seriously questioned how a human could look like him thankfully.

Trot. Trot. Trot. He heard the gallop of a horse hooves against pavement. His brows furrowed. A horse on the streets of Japan? How unlikely.

The sound originated from around the corner, so he stopped and waited for it to come into view.

However, as the horse rounded the corner, it wasn't on the street. No, it was on the sidewalk, turning and ramming straight into his chest. He possessed spectacular balance, so he wasn't knocked over. But still, a creature of that size hitting him, who wasn't not bracing for impact, he barely managed to catch his footing and prevent himself from plummeting into the cement.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw brilliant blond hair in the form of a ponytail swing over a human-like shoulder.

Human like?

He directed his full attention at the figure in front of him and … oh. Not a horse.

A centaur. A real centaur.

Archer had never met one before, and he was experiencing the same shock as when he first met Miia and Papi.

A year ago, this was a creature that had the potential to flatten him if he wasn't careful. However, his shock this time wasn't as great as the first. Spending time in this world had built up his tolerance to seeing mythical creatures casually roam the streets.

He focused in on the face staring down at him. The centaur had golden blonde hair that reminded him a bit of Artoria, bright blue eyes, animalistic ears and a proud smile adorning her lips.

"It appears I have met someone. 'Tis certain to be fate."

Putting one hand across her chest and gesturing the other one wide, she posed with grandiosity and proudly stated, "My name is Centorea Shianus! A member of the highly esteemed centaur race! Thou are the fated man who shall become my master!"

Master?

She called him Master (waga aruji) but his mind thought of Master (english pronunciation like in HGW).

Master. That word rang in his head. The similarities between this girl and Artoria were just apparent enough for a memory to jog loose from the clutches of time. He remembered when he first summoned Artoria within the shed. She stared down at him, her brilliant hair, green eyes and strong aura causing to lose his breath.

He didn't get choked up or flinch however. The similarities stopped at vague resemblance. This girl had blue eyes and not green. Her tone was prideful and exaggerated, rather than commanding and powerful. And if Artoria had that large of a bust, there was no way her armor would have fit.

Ok seriously. Miia had a large chest, but this girl was ridiculous! Archer felt like he had to tear his eyes away from them or else he'd keep staring out of pure astonishment.

Refocusing himself, he only then took the time to answer her words.

"Huh? Master? Why did I just suddenly receive that position?"

"Why of course, it is deemed by japanese magic charms."

"Magic charms?" Archer had seen many charms over his lifetime, yet he couldn't fathom how running into someone constituted as one. What were the activation requirements?

"If one runs into an intersection and bumps into someone, they are your fated one. 'Tis a Japanese fortune-telling magic charm, is it not?"

Okay, now Archer was confused. He knew very little of the occult fortune telling trends that appeared as fads amongst younger generations. They were mere superstitions that rarely if ever panned out to be a true result of the moonlit world. He knew of lucky charms and o-mikuji, where you get your fortune told by a slip of paper at Shinto shrines, but bumping into someone at an intersection?

"Where did you hear that?" he inquired, now genuinely curious.

"'Tis displayed in this country's folklore. The picture books I read contained multiple instances, meaning that it must be a common occurrence, no?"

'Is she talking about manga?' If she were, Archer would be of no help. He wasn't even sure whether he had read a single page of manga. Perhaps when he was a kid. Chances are that Taiga gave him some at one point in time. Not that he remembered though. Fiction and escapism lose their appeal when one practices real magecraft.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but bumping into someone is hardly a special event."

"W-what?" she staggered back, stuttering in shock from the revelation. "Then, I must be missing something."

She clenched her fist and grimaced to herself. "Perhaps I should have brought toast with me after all …"

"How exactly would that make a difference?!"

Not good. He was getting worked up again for no reason. This world had a tendency to do that to him. Not wanting to fray the end of his sanity, he dropped the subject entirely.

"From the way you talk, it sounds like you fully intended on finding your 'fated one' this morning."

"That's right! I have yet to be assigned to a homestay, thus I decided to speed up the process by finding one myself. That person will be my master."

"Then seriously, don't place your trust in mere superstition. You're liable to get taken advantage of."

A smile formed on her face. "Thy words contain truth, but they also display the type of kindness that I desire in a master."

"Not happening. I have two representatives at home already. Just wait for the program to assign you someone."

Centorea's ears drooped as her enthusiasm drained from his refusal. "I see. Japanese charms must not work as well as I thought."

"Once again, it's not a Japanese charm."

After this, they went their separate ways. At least, for the time being. Later that day he called Smith.

"Oh yeah, Centorea? You met her? She's been given special permission to go out alone."

"I see. So this master of her's …"

"Will likely be her host family, but if she chooses someone first, that makes my job easier. If they're not a registered host, it'll be like what I did with you."

"How I pity whoever she chooses."

The next day.

With Papi having become restless, Archer decided an outing was necessary. Therefore, that sunny weekend day, they left the house and made their way to the park which they met Papi at.

The park had far more people that day, with it being a weekend. Many families could be seen enjoying the afternoon in the sun. Blankets were spread out underneath many of the trees as people enjoyed packed lunches. Children huddled around the fountain refilling their water guns to shoot at one another.

In an area of the park which was primarily forestation, Archer let Papi fly around to her heart's content while he and Miia enjoyed each other's company on the park bench nearby.

After an hour or so, Papi tired herself out and came back to them, asking for ice cream.

"Here," he said, handing Miia the exchange programs card. "Use this to pay."

"Okay," she nodded and stood up. "Do you want anything, Darling?"

"No," he answered bluntly. He wasn't a big fan of ice cream.

Miia slithered off to chase after an excited Papi who already ran ahead. With the absence of anyone to talk to, he silently tipped his head back and looked at the sky, his mind devoid of any complicated thoughts. After so many centuries of doing the same on the hill of swords, he appreciated the actual blue sky.

The sound of galloping broke him from his reverie, and he titled his head back down to see a familiar face.

"Ah," a sound of recognition came from Centorea's mouth as she stared at the man sitting on the park bench to her left. The same one from yesterday, whom she had attempted to make her master. In hindsight, it had been a rushed and foolhardy decision that she was glad fell through. After all, she knew almost nothing about the exotic looking man other than he was already a host for the program and not a believer in japanese charms.

"It would seem we were destined to meet again," she said with a knightly dignity. Centorea had noticed that most people she met gave her a confused and surprised expression when she conducted herself like this. A difference in culture she supposed, though it came natural to her, so she had no intentions on stopping. However, this man showed no outward reaction to her conduct at all. It was comforting to say the least.

"It would seem," he gave a quick look around her, checking for a host who was there. "I assume you have yet to find this 'fated' master of your's."

"Indeed. After thy refusal, I gave much thought to thy advice. Finding a master 'tis not something one should rush."

"Though you really should just wait for the program to assign you to a host. At least that way, whoever you're stuck with has been vetted."

'As much as one can expect from the exchange program,' Archer decidedly left out. His trust in Smith's organization was non-existent at this point. The only good quality he found was their money.

"As profound as your wisdom is," she straightened her back, "it is a Centaur tradition to choose one's master for themselves. To choose the one to profess loyalty to."

"How knightly of you," he joked with a wry smile.

"Thank you," she took his words seriously. And as a compliment no less. Archer found that fact mildly amusing, causing his smile to grow a bit wider. He always did like the self serious types.

"I imagine you get odd reactions from people due to your conduct."

She blinked in surprise. "Yes, how did you-"

"An educated guess. Most act like you do only at cosplay conventions, so to see someone earnestly act like a knight would be off putting for most. Not in a bad way, but it would certainly be unexpected."

She nodded her head, a little glad someone acknowledged her troubles. "'Tis as you say. The cultural differences between my species and humans can be quite jarring, I suppose."

She then approached him with her hand raised. "Apologies, but I never caught thy name. As I said yesterday, I am Centorea Shianus."

He quickly stood up and clasped her hand within his own.

"Emiya Shirou."

There were a few things Centorea instantly noticed. For one, he was quite a tall man, at least by Japanese standards. She hadn't paid it any mind yesterday, but seeing the difference between him sitting and standing accentuated his height. Secondly, his grip was strong. Far stronger than the agents working for the exchange program. He was the first human she'd met that didn't feel like their hand would break from her superhumanly stronger grasp. And thirdly, as his hand pulled away from their handshake, she noticed his calluses.

She smiled brightly.

"A fellow swordsman," she stated with a knowing tone.

"Hoh?" he raised an eyebrow. "So you're good enough to recognize the signs."

"Of course," she proudly laid a hand on her chest a stated, "I pride myself on being able to wield any weapon a knight might use."

"I see. The sword on your hip isn't for show then?"

Of course it was. It was fake. Made of metal yes, but hardly sharpened. The program wouldn't let her causally violate the Firearm and Sword Possession Control Law. Also, the sword had been copied into unlimited blade works the second he laid eyes on it the day before, so he knew it was fake.

"Indeed. Even with my blade dulled, I still can fight."

Though it was fake, she seemed content wielding it. She was the type who felt naked without a sword strapped to her hip at all times, regardless of whether it was sharp or not.

After this, they entered into idle conversation, discussing various topics. Centorea hadn't been in Japan for long, but in that time she had found that there was a wall of sorts that blocked people from speaking comfortably with her. Maybe it was her species, maybe her attitude, maybe it was merely that the agents of the exchange program weren't overly talkative. However, every conversation had an underlying awkwardness to it, as if she and the other party never knew how to talk to each other.

The man named Emiya Shirou was the first to talk to her in a completely comfortable fashion, and he seemed to have no trouble relating to any topic which she brought up, especially about weapons or training.

"Your specialty is jousting?"

"Not mine, but my family's. The Shianus household has produced a long line of jousting champions, with my Mother being the best of them all."

"You speak as if it's not your specialty."

"'Tis not.' My skills are more equalized. I haven't a particular weapon or style which I specialize in," she informed in a wistful tone.

"A jack of all trades then."

"... I suppose."

"Then you are prepared to face unexpected situations in battle. Having a multitude of options and skills is far more valuable than the mastery of one. At least in my experience."

Her mother would sorely disagree. However, Centorea was of the same opinion as Archer. After her mother's constant harping, having the result of her hard work acknowledged and validated by a stranger made her feel more elated than it should. A bright smile began forming on her face while her cheeks grew rosey.

"So how does Centaurian jousting armor work?" he suddenly asked her.

"Ah," she was once again pleased that he was interested in the topics she was knowledgeable in. "Well, armor for our torso is similar to humans …"

She leaped right into explaining.

A tension she hadn't realized existed slowly drained from her body as the conversation went on. Subsequently, her smile grew wider as they continued talking as well.

After a while, an idea popped into her mind. She nodded as she resolved herself to ask.

"Say, Shirou-dono, would you mind having a spar with me?"

Archer was a little surprised at the offer. How long had it been since he had sparred with someone. Fighting was never his favorite thing, but there was a need to keep himself in shape, and a quick home workout could only accomplish so much. He was feeling stiff lately as well, so maybe a spar would shake off the rust.

"With what swords? You only have one."

"O-oh, I didn't mean now," she stuttered a bit, not expecting him to accept so easily. From his calluses to the way he walked and held himself, she was sure he was a swordsman of considerable skill, so she got a little too excited and took a chance at asking him without clarifying. "Can we meet back up tomorrow in the morning?"

"I have work. But I'm free in the evening."

And like that, they had a date planned.

Soon after, Miia and Papi came back. Though he would later ask "what took you?" and Miia would answer that "the line was incredibly long," that conversation was put on hold by her fiery possessive temper.

"Darling …" Her tone was like a cold burn, dangerous but not explosive … yet. "Who is this?"

Centorea took the initiative to introduce herself. "Thou must be the two representatives living with him. I am Centorea Shianus."

Her introduction was unperturbed by the death glare she was receiving from Miia. Either she was oblivious to it or she just didn't care. Archer sighed at this.

"I met her yesterday when I went out for groceries," he told her. "We've been talking while I was waiting for you to come back."

"I see," Miia murmured her answer, scrutinizing Centorea's figure. The intensity of her glare made Centorea a bit uncomfortable.

"Is there something-" she began to ask.

"What are your intentions with my Darling?"

Archer internal facepalmed. Yeah, he should have guessed she'd ask that. He was still at loss for what to do about her possessiveness.

To make matters worse, Centorea answered earnestly.

"I had intended to make him my master."

Why him? His silent plea that she wouldn't answer like that was ignored by fate. He braced himself for he knew what came next.

"But such notions did not-" Centorea went on to explain next, but Miia had stopped listening by the time she heard 'master.' She instead whirled around, lassoing her tail around Archer's neck and yanked him closer to her fuming face.

"Darling! What's this about being her master?!"

"Hold on, Miia. I haven't agreed to-" but she cut him off with a minute long rant.

'Wait half a second and listen to my explanation!' he wanted to yell, but held his tongue. Off to the side, Papi had approached Centorea with gleaming eyes.

"Hey, Centorea-san, can I ride you?"

"W-wha …" Centorea sputtered. She was rather taken aback by the high intrusive request that was asked so casually. "I am not a horse! Thou is not my master! Cease thy rude activity at once!"

"Awwwwwww" Papi whined.

It took a while for them to get back home.

The next day,

(Author note: You can tell I'm real creative with these transitions)

Leaving work that day, Archer texted Miia that he would be home late, having already scheduled plans with Centorea. Did he specify his plans to her? No. If Miia knew, she'd have a trip fit, which would have been unnecessarily troublesome. He would spare himself from having to listen to her question his 'relationship' with Centorea once more.

Thinking back, he was surprised at how readily he agreed to Centorea's request. Though it wasn't such a shocker when he truly considered it. After six months of inactivity, with the occasional late night patrol, he had grown restless. He was a warrior at the end of the day, and no matter how little he enjoyed fighting or how little pride he had for his skills, it was not a desire of his to see his skills grow rusty. Now, after many centuries off fighting, there's absolutely no way that would happen … for his mind at least. But his body was human again and he needed to keep it in tip top shape lest he find himself in combat once more, so sparring, even if it didn't push him to his limit, was more than adequate.

A few miles away from his house was a wide open field that not many people used. It was on Centorea's suggestion that they hold their spar there. It took Archer a while to traverse the distance from his place of employment on foot, and upon his arrival he witnessed Centorea sitting in the middle of the field. Her eyes were closed in a meditative state, her posture and aura giving off a serene vibe.

His approach caused her ears to twitch and not a second later for her eyes to shoot open. Her gaze first took in his figure, and then landed on the two traced bokken which he carried in his hand. The look of curiosity she held was not missed by him.

"I brought mine this time. Plus a spare."

"How generous of thee. Those swords are made of wood. Will it pose a problem for me to wield my own blade?"

"No. The bokken are inlined with steel. And even if they are chipped it's not a big deal."

'Besides, they've been reinforced for good measure.' he thought.

"Bokken? I see. I had heard of them, but had yet to see one until now." she muttered to herself before turning back to him. "So, then, doth thou desire to exchange pleasantries first, or would thee have us spar forthwith?"

Archer smirked a bit. "Pleasantries can be saved for later."

Centorea nodded her head in agreement and stood up. She towered over him by at least seventeen centimeters, making him have to tilt his head more and more as she approached.

As she drew her blade, the counter guardian made a calm analysis of his opponent. He had never faced a centaur before. She was also much taller and stronger than him without reinforcement. But he didn't feel that those factors would pose much of a problem given his fighting style. In fact, he was very much convinced of his own victory before the battle even started. He thought this not out of arrogance but out of realism. His experience could hardly be matched by any mortal who was not a legendary figure. Still, he was curious as to how good she was, especially since he hadn't a clue how swordsmanship body mechanics would work for a centaur.

They lined up across from each other, their swords held pointed at one another.

"Have at thee," Centorea finally said, kicking off the spar.

Centorea arrived a half an hour before Archer did. They had agreed on a time, but he had informed her that she should give him around an hour of leeway just in case. That was fine. She was prepared to wait.

Centorea was excited for this match.

In the past, she was greatly disappointed to find out that knights had disappeared from the human world centuries ago. The evolution of technology and social class forced them into obsolescence. However, according to Japanese folklore (manga) the country and culture still held swords in high regard and that's why she chose the land of the rising sun as the location for her homestay ... only to find out that real swords were banned from open carry. To make matters worse, not many knew how to wield a sword even just for sporting purposes. She found that the squad of demi-humans employed by the exchange program were talented warriors, but only with modern firearms.

But then she met Emiya Shirou. Within his presence, her senses became all confused. He felt dangerous yet defenseless at the same time. Such an anomaly made the warrior within her very uneasy.

But Centorea came to find that she was rather fond of the man. Amicable, well-mannered, likeably blunt, and best of all, knowledgeable about her talents, interests and hobbies.

Centorea was never the best at making friends. Her strict upbringing by her mother caused her to be slightly uptight, even when compared to the other Centaur. Still, she had a few friends at home, yet none in the human world.

Her first friend. Potentially. Not only that, a sparring partner, and a talented one at that if his hands and gate were anything to go by. So, she was excited, though she refused to let it show on her face.

After around a half hour of kneeling and meditating in the grass, she heard footsteps approaching her. Opening her eyes, she saw his figure with two wooden swords in his hand.

He obviously sensed her gaze because next he said, "I brought mine this time. Plus a spare."

"How generous of thee," she responded, grateful he had considered her. "However, would it pose a problem for me to wield my own blade?"

"No. The bokken are inlined with steel. And even if they are chipped it's not a big deal."

She was quite happy to hear that. Her current blade, no matter how dull, had been strapped to her hip for sometime now, and felt natural in her grip. She didn't want to abandon it for the fight.

Still, she was almost tempted to accept the spare, given that she had wanted to try wielding an eastern blade for some time.

"Bokken? I see. I had heard of them, but had yet to see one until now," unable to contain her excitement any longer, she asked, "So, then, doth thou desire to exchange pleasantries first, or would thee have us spar forthwith?"

However, she reconsidered immediately, realising she hadn't learned from her past mistakes.

'Ahh! Perhaps we should have engaged in conversation first. I am attempting to befriend this man, not just fight him.'

However, her self conscious worries were for not.

"Pleasantries can be saved for later," he answered with an amused smirk.

Ah, yes. He really was someone she could get along with. Unable to contain her rapture, a bright yet still dignified smile formed on her lips as she stood from the ground.

Centorea drew her sword and pointed it directly her opponent, sizing him up. Now, she was fully aware that humans were physically weaker than centaurs. So, she would have to hold back. A bit disappointing, but she cared little. If her physique gifted her such an advantage, then her opponent would simply have to adjust. A talented swordsman, if one clashed with her enough times, would quickly improve.

At the end of the day, Centorea was a knight and wanted to win, but just this once she would hold back, for her desire for fun was greater.

Steeling herself, her body tensed and she prepared to spring into action.

"Have at thee."

Wasting no time, she stepped forward, going on the offensive, and swung her sword. When it connected with his own with a sharp thwack of metal against wood, she was not surprised her first swing had been blocked. It had been a probing shot to feel out her opponent's defenses. Unperturbed, and with practiced easy, her body flowed into a second strike.

Clack! Clack!

As they continuously traded blows, she noticed a few things. For one, her opponent was more than capable of keeping up with her as she had expected, which was pleasing. Secondly, his defense was tight. Any openings she had spotted or attempted to create were immediately cut off before she could exploit them.

However, it was strange. His movements were fluid and practiced but she couldn't help but feel like it wasn't his preferred style.

She pulled her sword back and thrusted the tip forward. He countered beautifully, gently gliding the tip to the side off his body, utilizing minimum effort while conserving strength. She couldn't help but be impressed as most would place more strength in pushing her blade away from their bodies. His feat was made all the more impressive since she had a height advantage, thrusting downwards instead of straight forward. Her blade grazed a few inches off his right cheek.

This move left her guard open. Capitalizing on her overextension, he released his right hand's grip and used only his left to swing his blade towards her body, thereby extending his reach.

With the sword coming for her chest, she put strength into her powerful legs and pushed herself back as swiftly as possible while maneuvering her sword to bat his away. She escaped narily by an inch, as she had not been expecting his non-dominant hand to accelerate his sword to such a degree.

Stepping back, as there was a lull in their fight, Centorea began pondering and realized a discrepancy between what was and what should have been. She should have realised it with how proficient his guard was on each side.

'He hath trained favoring neither the left nor right hand. A dual wielder most probably. I had thought his current style was ill suited to him.'

She hadn't had any basis for the last thought. Rather, it was intuition which led her to that conclusion.

'Dual wielder. Perhaps I should ask him to use his preferred method.'

"Shirou-dono."

"What's wrong?"

"I was only wondering why you do not use your other sword."

His surprise only lasted a second before a smile replaced it. "So you noticed I'm a dual wielder. And here I thought I was dexterous with a two handed sword."

"Make no mistake about it, you are talented. But to hold yourself back for me is quite unnecessary."

"Then in return, you stop holding back as well. I know you're limiting your strength."

She flinched, though not from being caught. It was common sense that centaur had greater strength than humans. No, what surprised her was his request and the arrogance it suggested.

"Thy request is brave, but foolish. This is a test of our skill, not strength."

Archer picked up the other sword from the ground and proceeded to cross both blades in front of his chest.

"Foolish? Hardly. You will need your strength to keep up."

Her brows furrowed at his words. She would need to keep up with him? Even though she wanted to befriend him, the knick to her pride could not go answered. Though she was fully aware this was an attempt to provoke her.

"Very well. If thou insists on experiencing my best efforts, then I shan't deny you."

The look in her eye changed from enjoyment to full concentration. Never had she expected to display the full extent of her prowess, but such was the unpredictability of life.

As her shoulders squared and her breathing cooled, her body was transformed from a mere swordsman to a full fledged knight.

Seeing this, unbeknownst to her, Archer inwardly smiled at how easily his provocations got to her. Really, the self serious types were far too easy to manipulate.

He hadn't the slightest idea how much stronger a centaur was than a human. He could have researched it, but statistical numbers were far less reliable than his own perception of reality. So he would experience it himself and see just how far she could push him while he wasn't reinforced.

Centorea exploded towards him and immediately struck at the first opening she saw. Her superhuman strength brought the blade towards his figure with much force. If her blow landed, he would not be seriously injured given where she had aimed her strike, but it would demonstrate that her restraint was necessary.

However, instead of that happening, her blade was subtly guided off to the side with far more grace than his swordsmanship had shown before. Simultaneously, his shoved his other bokken directly at her face.

His deflect and counter attack were so seamless it felt automatic to Centorea. Caught way off guard, she pushed her head out of the way and quickly brought her blade in for a second strike.

However, the opening she aimed for was blocked merely a flash after she committed to aiming for it. His wooden swords occluded her path of attack so fast it felt like he could read her mind.

Thwack! Thwack!

She experienced the same thing over and over, her attacks being cut off before they even started. The frustration she felt continued to grow, but so did her determination.

She brought down her sword upon his head with as much strength and explosiveness as she could muster, and her blade met nothing accept air as he sidestepped her. A smart move on his part, given that his human arms couldn't have taken that blow if it had properly landed. But it didn't.

Shit!

She was primed for a counter attack.

Once again, she used her powerful physique to push herself out of the reach of his blade, hoping to reset herself. Her body accelerated at such a speed that the dirt underneath her hooves was displaced, sending soil and bits of grass into Archer's legs.

'I'm impressed at her agility,' he thought while giving chase.

Yes, he did not give her a chance to recover. While in the midst of retreat, she was left on her backfoot, off balance and unable to generate much power. His left sword came crashing into her own, occupying its ability to block, while his other sword aimed for her abdomen.

Gritting her teeth, she sucked in and twisted her body as nimbly as possible, barely avoiding his second strike. To break his offensive, she put more power into her arms to overpower the single blade blocking her own, which Archer held with only one hand.

Sure enough, it didn't take much for the block to cave. In fact, it was too easy, as he intentionally let up on the pressure and guided her sword away from his torso.

Like when the one's opponent let's go of the rope in tug-of-war, the sudden absence of resistance caused her to stumble forward, and in that moment, even though she attempted to recover, his bokken slipped past guard and pressed against her neck.

She froze.

"Yield," he told her in a collected voice.

Centorea stared at him wide-eyed, still trying to process her defeat. It was so swift. So casual. As if he had performed such a feat more times than he could count. The ability to face an opponent far stronger than you isn't a skill set which humans, or any species, should be able to develop.

With the knowledge of dead apostles and servants absent from her brain, she began imagining a scenario where he sparred with sword-wielding gorillas.

She gulped. This man was impressive. Far more impressive than she thought. No, not even that. He was far more impressive than anyone of the current era should be. She now realised that, during their fight, his face never changed. He never showed a single sign of exertion, and even now, his breathing was hardly ragged.

She never pushed him to his full extent. She, someone with inhuman strength, born and bred as a perfect knight, couldn't even make him try his fullest.

'Who is Emiya Shirou?'

"It's my defeat."

He lowered his blade way from her neck and stepped back. He could clearly see the bewilderment and frustration on her face. It was a look that he had seen a million and one times on the faces of his opponents.

She gritted her teeth while brushing the accumulated dirt and grass off of her clothes, in deep contemplation about their match.

His fighting style; she had never seen anything like it. In fact, she was glad she even caught onto the trick behind it. To intentionally create openings to guide an opponent's strikes was … ridiculously high level, and almost impossible to perfect.

"'Twould seem I have made a fool of myself. I was far too overconfident."

She stared off into the distance, clearly trying to come to grips. Archer thought that maybe he should have gone easier on her so as to not break her spirit. Nothing of value would be accomplished such an outcome came to pass.

But his worries were for not, as a moment later she turned back to him with a noble posture and demeanor.

"Shirou-dono, I'm ashamed to say that I am lacking as a-"

"Hold on," He sought to correct her. "Do not sell yourself short. You are not lacking in the slightest."

He meant it. Her skills were far more developed than he had expected. It felt like he was fighting a genuine high level knight, which he was. He had no doubt that Artoria would approve of her current level.

Of course she couldn't live up to heroic spirits. They were the one-in-a-billion individuals who surpassed human limitation to become legends that survived the test of time. To compare her to such a level would be unfair.

"Besides," he continued, "we are here not to decide who is the better swordsman. This spar was to hone our skills."

"I … yes you are correct. I apologize. It's just … I never would have expected to meet a human who outclasses me to such an extent. It is quite the blow to my confidence as a knight."

"Don't whine. It's unbefitting. All you need to do is get better."

"Of course," she said with a smile. He was correct. If she felt inadequate, then all she needed to do was improve.

His delivery was blunt, but even still his words were far kinder than any of her mother's reprimands. Emiya Shirou was truly a kind man whom she could get along with. And now the value of befriending him was suddenly far higher as his skills could be essential in helping her improve.

"Shirou-dono. I hope it's not too much of a bother but could we …"

She couldn't finish her sentence, suddenly feeling like she was overstepping her bounds. He agreed to spar with her today, but not in the future. After all, he had a job and two homestay guests he had to take care of.

Archer guessed what she was trying to say however.

"I don't mind being your sparring partner in the future."

She blinked, wondering if she heard correctly. Realizing she had, her lips formed into a grin.

"Then if you have time, I request for another duel."

"Of course. It's only been 10 minutes at the most. I said I'd be here for an hour after all."

After that, they fought four more times before Centorea collapsed onto the ground exhausted. Although she lost all four times, never before had she felt more satisfied after training. During the duels, she noticed herself suddenly growing more accustomed to his level of combat. Each time, she was able to push him a little bit harder.

Best of all: it was fun. His swordplay was far different from the one taught by her people. The experience of battling a highly skilled opponent whose style was completely unique and unknown was not something she had encountered before, and she loved it.

"I don't think I have the time for another match," he suddenly said.

"That is fine," she responded, too exhausted to request such a thing. "I thank thee, Shirou-dono, for today."

"No problem."

They sat in silence for a moment before she asked a question.

"Where did thou learn swordsmanship? I am unknowledgeable about the style you use."

"A woman I knew when I was younger taught me. After she created my foundation, I taught myself through experiencing real battle."

"Real battle?" That peaked her interest. "Then I assume thou has numerous scars given how dangerous thy swordplay is."

"Ho? You noticed?"

"Naturally," she nodded her head. "Any respectable swordsman would have noticed."

"I suppose so," he half heartedly agreed. "Yes, I have scars. No, I won't strip and show them to you."

At his words, her face turned beat red.

"That is not what I wished to ask! I was merely curious!"

Suddenly, the image of him stipping for her entered her mind, causing her blush to deepen.

'Oh no! I did not mean to imagine that!'

Suddenly finding herself conscious of the fact that he was quite attractive and muscular, she found it very hard to look away from his body.

Archer, noticing her stare and blushing face, raised an eyebrow in confusion.

'What is this girl getting flustered about? All I said was that I had scars and wouldn't … ah, so that's what it was.'

He deduced her train of thought.

'At least this one seems overly modest. Miia would not only have encouraged me to strip, but would have then stripped herself.'

"Centorea."

"W-what is it?! I was not thinking anything perverse!"

"I never said you were …"

"A-ahh" her blush grew more intense from embarrassment.

With the remaining few minutes before Archer had to go home, he and Centorea continued talking and getting to know each other more. He didn't think much of it, however, Centorea, as the conversation went on, grew restless with her thoughts.

With everything she knew about him, he was a perfect master for her; stoic, likeable, strong, and attractive. Her Mother had requested her to find merely a handsome man to act as a teaser, but Emiya Shirou matched all of the qualifications she desired in a master. In a partner.

Even if he had a lover, it wouldn't matter. To pledge loyalty to someone such as him would be an honor. If only he hadn't turned down her offer, she lamented. That was the origin of her restlessness. Realising that the perfect master for her was so close yet just out of reach left her feeling bitter.

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Archer dug into his pocket - it pissed Centorea off to know that the phone survived their training session while in there - and swiped right to answer.

Putting the phone to his ear, he would immediately wish he hadn't.

"DARLING! HELP!"

A desperate piercing cry pierced through his eardrum. Wincing at the volume of her voice, he ignored the ringing in his ear for more pressing issues.

"Miia, what's wrong?!"

"I-I" her speech faltered while she attempted to calm herself down enough to speak. "Since you were going to be home late, I tried cooking! And then things started burning for no reason, and … and then I tried putting it out with water but it only got bigger instead …"

Her words were nearly incoherent, blurred by her sobs and sniffles.

"Where are you and Papi now?" he asked calmly.

"We're outside. Darling, I'm sor-"

"Doesn't matter. I'll be home as soon as possible. Just keep it together. In the meantime, call the fire department if you haven't already. Got it?"

"… *Sniffle* okay."

He quickly hung up and turned back to Centorea, who was staring at him with a questioning gaze.

"Did something happen?"

"I need to get home quickly. Miia set my house on fire."

"What?!"

"Anyways, since you don't have a phone, I'll contact you later through my coordinator. For now, I need to leave quickly."

Picking up the swords on the ground so she wouldn't witness them fading away later, he took off sprinting in the direction of his house.

His hope was that the fire was contained in the kitchen and had not spread too far as of yet. From the sound of it, the fire department had yet to be called. By the time of their arrival, the fire would have been raging for several minutes, so he didn't get his hopes up about the damages.

Given the distance between his current location and the house, he could make it there in around fifteen to seventeen minutes if he leapt across rooftops. He already had a route planned in his head.

Archer would never get a chance to use said route.

"Wait!"

The approaching galloping informed him that Centorea was chasing him down. Skidding to a halt, he turned around and allowed her to catch up.

"Is there a reason you stopped me?!"

"I will be blunt. You needn't run home for I shall take you there."

He blinked, startled at the offer. "You want me to ride you?"

With a blush forming on her face which he vowed to question later, she nodded her head in response to his inquiry.

Archer's mind rapidly weighed his options. While he could match and probably exceed her top speed while reinforced, to do so for long continuous sprints would be impossible. Reinforcement was far more effective at temporarily increasing power and agility, not long term running ability.

Calculating a what if scenario where he could run home at top speed through the streets rather than take the rooftops, Archer figured he could get home in seven minutes flat. If Centorea could come close to that while maintaining her pace the entire time, then riding her was the quickest option.

"I accept." With practiced ease, he loaded himself onto her back and nonchalantly wrapped a hand around her midsection, unaware of how this affected Centorea.

She shouldn't be enjoying this, she told herself with a flushed face.

Without any further delay, they took off out of the open field back onto paved road. Without a saddle, the ride was largely uncomfortable, though he couldn't care less at the moment.

No Archer was preoccupied two thoughts. One, questioning how bad the damage was going to be, and two, how weird it felt to ride not a domesticated animal but another person. A busty blond girl at that. There was this underlying feeling of wrongness to it that he couldn't describe. It didn't help that the people walking on the streets gave them a bewildered look as if they were streaking down the road. He wasn't one to care about what others thought of him, but reading the mood was a skill he eventually picked up, thus the stares added to his discomfort. He wasn't complaining though as, pragmatically, riding her was the quickest available method to get home.

He would think about it later and groan about how strange his life currently was.

He would also ignore the sensation of Centorea's over-sized tits bouncing against his arm every time she galloped. There was a slight temptation to point it out just to mess with her, but now was most certainly not the time.

Seeing as she didn't know where her destination was, Archer directed her along the correct path, pleasantly surprised at how fast they were going. By his estimation, their current velocity was around 60km/h, a little under what a domesticated horse can accomplish.

While his own top speed during reinforcement was faster, in any race of substantial length, she would win by far.

Eventually, the sight of his house came into view. The window near the kitchen was blowing out copious amounts of smoke, and from the looks of it, a few other windows were as well. The roof of the house had caught fire and it was only a matter of time before the entire thing was lit ablaze.

A tired sigh escaped his mouth at the sight. And he was just starting to like that house.

As he and Centorea approached, he turned his attention towards the front law, where Miia and Papi sat. The lamia was sobbing in self-loathing while the harpy did her best to soothe the other to no avail.

The sound of hooves clacking against pavement caught their attention. They both swiveled their bodies to see Centorea approaching with him mounted atop her. Miia, too distraught to be off put or jealous by such a sight, slithered over to hug him as his feat hit the ground.

He noticed her clothes consisted only of her favorite apron and nothing more. Seeing this, it took some willpower not to facepalm as he could almost imagine the stereotypical fantasy she had created in her head that caused her to dress like that.

"I'm home Miia."

"Welcome home, Darling! Do you want dinner? A bath? Or maybe you want … me?"

"I'll have you for dinner in the bath, Miia!"

"Kyaa! Darling!"

Yeah, it probably went something like that. Pulling him from his thoughts was Miia's explanation marred by her sniffles and hyperventilation.

"Darling … *sniffle * … it's all my fault … *sniffle* …"

Her current pitiful condition caught him off guard, as he hadn't known Miia was an ugly crier. Perhaps she wasn't under most circumstances, but it's not everyday one burns down their homestay.

"Miia, it would seem this is a valuable lesson about what a grease fire is and why you shouldn't put water on it."

With her head buried in his chest, her answer was in the form of a slow head nod, the motion of doing so ruffling his shirt. Not wanting her to feel more guilty than she already did, he stroked her head and hair in a gentle and caring manner.

"You okay, Papi," he asked the harpy. To which she frantically nodded.

"Papi did what she was supposed to do and got out as soon as possible!" she said with a salute and a proud smile. "Ah ... but she couldn't call the fire department because Papi doesn't have fingers."

"That's fine. Miia did that, right?"

There was no answer from Papi or Miia.

"Right?" he re-asked, hoping in vain that the result was different.

"Um … Darling … I forgot…"

Resigned to his terrible luck while holding in many of the nasty things he wanted to say, he pulled out his phone.

"Centorea," he turned to her, "this is going to end up being a long day. I wouldn't recommend to you stick aro-"

"Nay! I will stay with you until this crisis of yours is averted, master!"

Her adamancy about staying caught him off guard for a moment, but his surprise didn't last long.

"Well then thank you."

As he called the fire department and Smith to inform her of the situation, he was so focused that he hadn't noticed what Centorea had called him.

Master.

He would only find out later how much he fucked up.

By the time the fire department arrived, the house was toast. Half of it had been completely engulfed in flames, and the other half had turned black from an excess of smoke. Archer owned very little, but among those few possessions was a very expensive set of kitchenware. If anything, he mourned losing it the most.

While fire had reached the upstairs, most of Miia's and Papi's possessions survived, making that the best news to emerge from the whole debacle.

At some point, Smith and the exchange program had shown up, and assisted him in dealing with the authorities. Once the fire was put out, Archer and the girls were loaded into a van and taken to temporary lodging that the program kept on hand in case of emergencies.

"Centorea, are you coming with us?" Miia asked as they were being loaded on. At this point, she had finally noticed the Centaur's presence and had questioned Archer thoroughly.

"Yea, I vowed to see this through at his side."

"But don't you have your own place to stay at?"

"It's fine, isn't it Miia?" Smith waved off the lamia's concerns. To Archer, it felt like Smith was pushing towards a goal by doing this.

Eventually, they arrived at their destination and went inside. The temporary lodging was an inconspicuous house a bit smaller than his own. Judging from the appliances, it was newer. In fact, it appeared to have been recently built as the customization and furniture were bare minimum. Even his own place was stylized to a greater extent.

After everyone got settled in, Archer and Smith congregated in the living room for a meeting. They sat opposite from each other, both wearing tired expressions.

"It's always something with you, isn't it Darling-kun?"

"Hmm," he grunted in agreement. "And to think I prefer peace and quiet. There truly is no rest for the unfortunate."

"Careful. That self-deprecation of yours might actually earn you some pity."

"Pity from you? I don't think so."

"As if I dont have enough paper work. This incident will swamp me."

"You have my condolences."

"Now who's bullshitting their pity?"

They quietly stared at each other for a moment before letting out exhausted sighs.

"At any rate, since the homestay guest caused the fire, the program will cover any insurance or repair costs needed. Though I doubt that house is salvageable."

"Well then I'm in luck. To compensate me for my troubles, I think it would be in the program's best interest to invest in a much larger property."

Smith rubbed her temples. "Well, that was the plan anyway," and then under her breath she muttered, "it would be nice if the house had enough room for more homestays."

This mutter did not slip past his perception.

"What was that? More homestays? I hardly think that's fair to someone who's already suffered due to the representatives which the program is expressly responsible for."

Archer, if he weren't trying to milk the program for all it's worth, would never claim he suffered at Miia's hand. However, seeing the opportunity, he took it free of guilt or shame.

"My home is not an inn."

"Yes, but you've already stolen the hearts of three demi-human girls. What happens in the future when you steal more?"

"I doubt that will happen." He then paused and frowned in confusion. "Wait, what do you mean by three?"

"Miia, Papi, and Centorea," she listed on nonchalantly.

"Centorea? Hardly. I turned down her offer to be her ma ...ster …"

Archer then remembered what she had called in earlier. In fact, what she had been calling him since he road her back home. He hadn't even noticed she had switched from Shirou-dono to master. Understandable, since his mind was occupied with the fire and taking care of his two homestays.

Smith then continued. "Really? I thought you accepted."

"Huh? No."

"Don't tell me you rode her back without her consent?"

"No, I got consent. In fact, she offered," A feeling of dread, like a cold hand wrapping around his stomach, emerged within him. He worriedly asked, "Is that relevant because …"

"It's as you imagine. The centaurs have a strict rule, 'Only let the master you have pledged your life you ride on your back.' It's almost like marriage to those girls."

Oh.

Oh.

He slowly clasped his hands together in deep thought. When Centorea had offered, he hadn't thought much of the act of riding her. Only once he had did he realise how strange and invasive doing so was. That wrong feeling he had experienced while riding her was not only his sense of reason but his instincts screaming at him that he was committing to future troubles.

So, to Centorea, they were married? Or at the very least engaged. No wonder she didn't want to leave him. When offering him to ride her, she was essentially proposing.

This … was an issue. He had Miia, and frankly, he wasn't attracted to Centorea in the slightest. She had the potential to be a close friend, but never a lover. Despite a pretty face and large breasts, having the lower body on a barn animal was a turn off. Hypocritical since he was attracted to someone who was half reptile? Maybe.

He would have to deal with this immediately. To establish boundaries in their relationship before she attempted to take it any further. Though to be honest, he wasn't worried, as she was already aware of Miia. If what she wanted was a master to serve and not necessarily a husband, that was perfectly fine. He was not thrilled to be her master mind you, but considering that she would likely refuse any other homestay and end up in his care due to some sequence of events, he might as well bite the bullet. Besides, he had the distinct feeling Smith was going to make him her homestay regardless of his wishes.

If this had happened before, he would've been far more adamant, but since Papi entered the picture, accepting one more homestay did not bother him as much.

But he had a few stipulations.

"Let me guess, you want me to be her homestay."

"Got it in one, Darling-kun."

"Then pay me."

"What?" Smith frowned. "We'll pay for the girl's expenses but we don't pay our homestay hosts."

"Ah, but that's for hosts that applied of their own free will. I didn't."

"A-ah, well …"

"And most hosts do not have more than one representative living with them."

"That's true …"

"And you imply that I'll have to take care of more in the future. That's ridiculous. I can't do that in a mid-sized suburban house. And frankly, even though you pay for expenses for the girls, I still have to cook, clean and manage the household which takes time and effort, even more so if you keep adding demi-humans to my home."

Smith had fallen silent in deep thought.

"In exchange for allowing as many demi-humans as the program wants to live under my care, I demand payment."

"So, as many as we want?"

"Yes, it can act as a boarding house or safe haven, or even a place for them to learn before they are assigned to their real homestay. I don't much care as long as I am properly compensated for my services."

His idea held merit. Normally, when Demi-humans came to the program, they were kept at a branch facility designed to house them, but it's hardly the most comfortable place to stay. And it hampers their ability to interact with human society. If any demi-humans had trouble finding homestays, then Archer could take them in.

"It's not a bad idea."

"I know. We'll discuss the specifics at a later date. For now, it's getting pretty late."

"I'll be back in a couple days after I run your idea by my superiors."

"Understood."

"In the meantime, you will officially become Centorea's host."

When their conversation ended, Smith encountered Centorea, who had been listening in. She waved the centaur into the room as she herself left.

"Master, 'twould seem that I am now a member of your household."

"It would seem," he responded calmly. "I wasn't aware that riding held that much significance."

"My apologies. At the time, my offer held the pure intent to aid thee, but I cannot say that I feel dissatisfaction. Nay, I feel as though I yearn for it."

She approached him and grabbed his hand. "Thou art my master. Of that, I am sure. The more I know about you, the more certain I become."

"Really? You don't know that much about me …"

She then placed his hand on her chest, putting it directed contact with her large breast. "Feel my chest here … can thou not feel the beating of my heart! I feel that fate is tying us together! Every quality I desire in a master, thou possesses."

Archer collected his thoughts for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

"Before I agree to being your master, I have to let you know that I already have a lover."

"That is fine. We centaurs pride ourselves on who we choose as masters. You, who can defeat me in combat and are exceptionally kind and non judgemental, embody many of the knightly qualities my race strives to achieve. I know I can feel proud to call thee my master."

She then drew closer. "If thou art worried about how little I know about thee, than I can discover it over time. I know mine instincts are not wrong. That is why I, Centorea Shianus, swear my fealty to thou as your servant and knight. Master … will you accept these words?"

At this point, she had pressed herself against him, her face dangerously close to his own. Her breathing was heavy with excitement and her eyes were filled with longing.

Yeah, Archer agreed with Smith's assessment. He really had stolen this girl's heart. He was still wondering if all demi-humans were this easy, or if it was just him who encountered the easy ones.

Though still uncomfortable with being her master, at this point he had little choice but to accept.

"Yes, I accept your pledge and fealty, and hereby swear to be your master." The proper words to respond came easy, since he had interacted with true medieval knights in the past.

Centorea smile became euphoric, as if she really had just gotten married.

"Japanese charms sure are strong. To think I actually met my fated master …"

"I'm telling you those charms aren't …"

"DARLING!" Miia barged, yelling at the top of her lungs. "You seduced Centorea as well?!"

Papi, to her right, joined in with a yell of her own. "Goshujin, I'm hungry! Make something!"

Both him and Centorea winced at the volume. After the long day, he had expect them to have far less energy, but instead they seemed as rambunctious as always. Looking at them, the towels wrapped around their heads made it clear they had just exited the bath. No doubt Miia had wrapped Papi's, as he didn't know how the harpy could accomplish such a thing without hands.

He sighed. "I'll see what the place has for ingredients."

Extra serving would be necessary, he thought, since the four of them hadn't eaten dinner due to his kitchen catching fire.

"Master, are they always so demanding of you?"

"It's fine," he said in an acquiescent tone. "I'm used to it."

"That's unacceptable!"

She immediately started reprimanding the two other demi-human girls. However, it quickly turned into a shit show since all three were short of temper due to hunger.

He didn't want to be involved.

"I'll be in the kitchen."

They didn't notice him leave the room.

"Listen up! Now that I'm here things will be different! First, we must regard our master with the highest esteem and care!"

"Eh? But I'm always thinking about darling."

"Papi, too!"

"Maybe you should help out with the housework then."

End