Ayako screamed as they fell.

The wind whipped at Shirou's face as they rapidly plummeted downward. He tried to judge how much time they had before they hit the ground, but he had no clue how deep the crevice was; it was pitch-black down below. Attempting to angle his body in the air, he to catch the wind and maneuver himself close Ayako, but he couldn't manage to move towards her. He was in complete free-fall.

They were not the only ones falling. Many of the victims, both conscious and unconscious, were plunging into the pit just a short distance away. Those unfortunate enough to be awake were shrieking in horror as they fell to certain doom, while the unconscious simply tumbled bonelessly, unaware of their impending deaths. Unconsciousness would not change their fates, but at least they wouldn't feel any pain.

The thought was not as comforting as he had hoped.

He attempted to summon forth his magical energy, hoping to trace something that could save them, but as soon as he tried, he immediately contorted in agony. The repercussions of summoning a divine construct, even a comparatively weaker one, were still painful. Add in the backlash from Juso Kuraishi's curses and his depleted mana reserves, and Shirou's attempt at circulating his od felt like he was pouring fire through his nerves.

Damn it!

Shirou was out of ideas. He reached out towards Ayako desperately, calling out to her as he did.

"Mitsuzuri!" he yelled, but she didn't seem to hear him over the blistering winds and her screams.

"Mitsuzuri!" Shirou repeated.

She heard him the second time, twisting in the air to look at him, her eyes wide and helpless.

"Try to grab my hand!" he told her, stretching his arm out towards her as far as he could. She extended her own arm, trying to grab his, but neither could find purchase; they were still too far apart. He tried to project something, anything, but the flames coursed through his soul once again, and he could not generate any prana.

What else could he do? He was past his limit. The best he could hope for was to try to maneuver under Ayako and hope that his corpse might let her survive the fall, but could he really count on that to work?

He doubted it.

Nevertheless, he refused to give up. Surrender was not an option. Accepting such an outcome was inconceivable to Shirou. His entire purpose had been for the salvation of others; it was the only thing that he could truly feel passionate about. And now that he had come so close to rescuing Mitsuzuri, he was just supposed to accept that he had done all he could and concede defeat?

Like hell.

Shirou lunged for Ayako and opened his circuits once more. She held his gaze as she struggled to grasp his hand, but she was still too far from him. Her eyes were wide, scared. In sudden realization of her own mortality, Ayako truly wished to be saved.

A woman's face flickered across his vision. Saber, corrupted by the Holy Grail, at the end of her life, who had just recognized him, right before he plunged a dagger into her heart. That same desire to be saved was in her eyes. The vision changed; he saw Rider, then Rin, then Illya.

Finally, Sakura.

"Withstood pain to create weapons, reaching for her salvation."

Power surged through him anew, flooding his burned circuits as he projected multiple copies of Rider's chains, embedding the nails into the cliffsides as the wrapped the chain links around their bodies, slowing their descent to a rough stop. Shirou breathed a sigh of relief once they were still, no longer worried about Ayako's impending death. She was safe.

He peered over to the other victims, still falling through the air, and projected a massive, tightly woven net under them, which he entrenched into the wall using even more copies of Rider's nails, giving it the reinforcement necessary to handle the weight of so many people. A few of them would suffer broken bones as they collided with each other in the net, but they would survive. Everyone would all make it out of this okay.

Shirou smiled, exhausted.

Mission accomplished.

"Emiya," Kirei called down to him.

"I'm alive," he responded loudly. "We'll need you to haul us up, though!"

Shirou projected one more long chain, reaching all the way to the top of the newly formed cliffside, and confirmed that Kirei had gained purchase on it before he wrapped it around himself a couple times, tying it off and dematerializing the other chain that was holding him to the cliff's face as Kotomine hauled him back up to solid ground.

He collapsed onto the ground for a minute, panting heavily. Pushing himself so far past what his body could handle had taken an incredible toll on him, and he needed a moment to rest.

Unfortunately, there was still more work to be done.

"Help me up," he told Kirei, holding his hand upward.

Kirei hauled him to his feet none-too-gently, smirking amusedly as he did. Shirou, once he had regained his bearings, finally noticed that the backup had arrived, spearheaded by Noel. One or two were missing, but they likely were guiding the other prisoners that Kirei and he had freed earlier to safety or searching the rest of the wreckage for other victims or evidence.

Hoisting the civilians back up the cliffside was a tiring affair. Shirou had to project even more chains to link to the net so that the Executors could each take a corner and haul them up safely, without further harming the people inside. Lifting Ayako was far easier by comparison, since he had only needed to project one chain.

Nonetheless, even projecting a simple chain set his nerves on fire.

The rescued victims were given blankets and water bottles, passed around by Kirei's support team, and they were all loaded into large vans that looked suspiciously like prisoner transport vans before being driven down the mountain. Everyone was packed in tightly so as to squeeze in as many people as the vans could reasonably fit. It was far from comfortable, but it was certainly better than their most recent living conditions, so no one complained.

Nobody talked inside the vehicle. Everyone seemed to prefer to reflect on their experiences on their own, but crying, whimpering, heavy breathing and hiccupping still echoed throughout the van. They were all certainly traumatized, trying to come to terms with what had happened to them over the past few days, but everyone knew the worst was over, and that may have been the only thing from full-scale panic from breaking out. Even Ayako was pressed against him snugly, shivering horribly despite being snugly wrapped in a blanket.

Shirou put his arm around her and held her close, ignoring the pain of his blistered and charred skin, hoping he could provide even a little comfort.

"You alright?" he whispered into her ear, trying not to attract the attention of some of the other civilians. Everyone was still mostly quiet, and he preferred if their conversation went unheard.

Shirou felt more than saw Ayako shake her head, her face buried into his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked compassionately. "Did you get injured? Do you need help?"

Mitsuzuri remained silent, unmoving. She seemed fine physically, but it was obvious that something was still troubling her.

"Mitsuzuri, please," he murmured as softly as he could. "I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Ayako swallowed the lump in her throat, her muscles tensing. She slowly craned her neck upwards, bringing her mouth close to his ear.

"You killed him," she whispered, her voice filled with some kind of emotion Shirou couldn't identify. "You stabbed him, and then he was suddenly just, like, blown to bits. It looked like he died, like, twenty times, but all at the same time. It was…it was really scary."

Shirou was silent. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be alright. He wanted to tuck her into bed and say that the man who wanted to hurt her was gone, and nothing bad would ever happen to her again.

It was difficult to make that promise when he was the one she was afraid of.

"It was terrifying," he confided in agreement. "I can't talk about it too much in front of everyone, but I was scared, too. But I would do it a hundred more times if it meant I could keep you safe."

Mitsuzuri was still for a moment, almost completely frozen, before she curled back up onto his chest, trying to soak up all of his body heat. He smiled, stroking her hair lightly. The van had quieted down just a bit more—the victims were slowly calming down.

Shirou and Ayako both fell asleep for the rest of the ride.

Shirou was falling.

Again.

Wind whipped at his face as he fell through the thin, wispy clouds. The sky was indeterminate, continually changing. It was a beautiful, bright blue hue one moment, then rust-red, then midnight blue, bordering on black. Orange, pink, indigo and other colors washed through the air as the sky flickered between different hues, as if time itself was jumping back and forth randomly.

The ground far below was no different. One second, the earth below was almost completely flat, then would shift into rolling hills or uneven, rocky crags the next. Even violent, broken canyons occasionally fluctuated into existence, but the land would take an entirely different form less than a second later.

The wind was sharp, cold and biting. Usually, wind this cold bothered him, especially with a jacket, or even just a scarf. He was wearing neither, unfortunately. The inclemency dug under his skin and cemented itself in his bones, but he could not dwell long on his temperature. He had more pressing issues to resolve.

How to stop falling, for example.

The ground was approaching quickly. He tried to project a dagger that could control the winds, one that he knew he could summon, but nothing came to him. The world around him began to shift faster as he tried, though.

Finally, he had fallen far enough that he could now see that the ground was not barren, but instead was littered with blades of all kinds, embedded deeply into the earth.

Ah. This is my Reality Marble, then.

He thought of his latest stanza—the one he had just found recently. The constant shifting of the earth began to slow, flickering now between only two states: the rolling hills and the rocky crags. As he continued to fall ever closer to eventual impact, the two blended together, becoming something that was not quite either state, but an even mixture of both. Rolling hills settled into place, interspersed occasionally with jagged, uneven crags. Cherry blossom petals appeared one by one, floating along a nonexistent breeze, but never settling upon the ground.

Shirou smiled. The sight was encouraging.

Within the endless field of swords, a single blade, directly below, stood out to him. Blackened and corrupted, it was a powerful sword. Perhaps the most powerful he had ever seen. No blade he had ever witnessed could hope to stand on equal footing to it, excepting perhaps its original, sacrosanct form. It was a sword that had fought with and against him—a blade most familiar to Emiya Shirou.

Perhaps too familiar.

The blade pulled itself out of the earth, turned itself about and pointed its tip skyward. Shirou felt panic well up inside him. He couldn't move out of the way, couldn't perform his magecraft. He understood there was nothing to be done, but the visceral sensation of fear was not so easily overcome. Shirou felt helpless in the face of power once more. All he could do was fall, and accept fate.

The sword ran him through.

Shirou awoke violently, gasping and clutching at his chest as he jerked awake.

He looked around frantically, quickly checking his surroundings. He was still in the truck, surrounded by the other victims that they had managed to save, all packed in tightly.

Victims that he had managed to save.

Shirou sighed, slouching against the back of his seat. The anxiety slowly bled out of him as he relaxed his tensed muscles and shifted slightly in his chair, glancing around tiredly.

Once again, he felt the great irony of his situation wash over him. He knew where trying to save strangers would get him in the end. Archer's suffused memories were proof enough of that. Yet even after he abandoned his dream, even after Archer's memoirs had cemented his beliefs, here he was, successfully saving people—fulfilling the promise he had long since forsaken.

And oh, it felt good.

Everyone here would be able to return to their own homes and families, safe and sound. They were no longer at the mercy of a sociopathic magus planning to ritualistically slaughter them all for his own gain. They had been given a second lease on life, and he had helped grant them that.

Most importantly, though, Ayako was safe.

He looked down at his lap. Mitsuzuri's head had slid down his chest in her sleep, and she was now resting her head on his legs as she curled up beside him, slumbering deeply. Shirou smiled, truly glad he was able to save his friend. It was something he could be proud of, without the lingering doubt of Kiritsugu's promise or Archer's regret embedding itself into his mind.

On second look, Shirou noticed that Ayako wasn't exactly sleeping soundly. She would repeatedly shiver and flinch, and her breath would hitch at random intervals. Whatever she was dreaming about, he doubted it was pleasant.

"Mitsuzuri," he murmured softly into her ear, trying to gently shake her awake. She shifted slightly, but did not wake up, still lost in her dream. Shirou was firmer on the next shake, and she snapped awake, lurching forward involuntarily. He reflexively grabbed her to keep her from falling out of the seat, pulling her back to his chest protectively.

"Where…?" Ayako asked, anxiety staining her words. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her voice choked.

"It's okay, it's okay," he repeated to her softly, still holding her close. "You're safe now. I promise."

Some of the tension slowly left her body as he comforted her, promising that they were fine, and that everything would be okay.

"We'll be home soon enough," he assured her. She hummed an assenting noise, but it still sounded like she didn't completely believe him.

"…Hey…" Mitsuzuri began. "About—"

"Not here," Shirou cut her off quietly, a light edge in his voice. "We can talk about it later."

"When's later?" She whispered curiously.

"After we help everyone else." His tone brooked no argument, though he tried his best to keep his tone gentle.

"…Fine," she acquiesced.

They embraced each other silently, sitting still until the vehicle finally came to a stop. The back of the van was opened, and Noel began to help everyone out of the transport. People climbed out one by one, clutching their blankets for warmth as they stepped out into the chilly, midnight air and were directed towards the Church. Shirou assisted in ensuring that no one trampled each other trying to rush out of the van and everyone exited the vehicle in an orderly fashion, and was consequently the last one out of the van, along with Ayako, who stuck to his side the entire time.

Slipping into the church, Shirou could see the Executors already grouping people up by island residency. He had gleaned from the documents that their instructions were to relocate the victims back to their cities of residence and consort with the police to cover up the incident, or simply brainwash them to believe that they had conducted a raid upon a small yakuza safehouse where they had found the victims and brought them back to the station. Most of the kidnapped were from Honshu, surprisingly, and not Shikoku, as he would have expected.

Probably to keep everyone off his tail for as long as he could.

Atrum had plundered the fewest victims from Kyushu, only totaling three, all from Fuyuki. It was the most sensible starting point, he supposed, being the island's northernmost port city.

Shirou was pulled from his thoughts when Kotomine called the Kyushu group to him.

"Children, we will depart first. We already have a boat chartered, and we will escort you back to the Fuyuki police station. They will then reunite you with your parents," he explained. Ayako looked to him—for confirmation, he assumed—and her eyes widened, able to see the extent of his injuries far more clearly. She was about to say something about it, but Shirou firmly shook his head.

Not here, he mouthed to her. She clearly wanted to protest, but nonetheless held her peace.

"Is the captain waiting for us?" he asked Kotomine, glancing over at the other groups. Shirou disliked not being able to see the other victims off, but he would have to place his trust in the other Executors, he supposed.

"Indeed."

Shirou nodded. "Got it."

Kotomine gestured for the group to come with him and walked out the door. The three other Kyushu residents hesitated, but they followed him shortly after Shirou and Ayako did.

Led back through the city once more, Shirou was shocked at how different the city looked at night. What was once a nice, if slightly worn city quickly became eerie and unnerving. The streets had been abandoned; no one else was outdoors. It seemed that the city had a self-imposed curfew that it abided by strictly, and understandably so: these streets did not feel safe late at night.

Maybe the overflowing negative energy from Galliasta's rituals leaked out into the city.

Ayako moved closer to him, still staring worriedly at his injuries.

They reached the docks a short while later. The captain was standing at the pier, next to his boat, staring off vacantly into the city. Kirei hailed him, and the man's gaze snapped over to them, quickly returning the greeting.

"Alright, kids, get on," the captain told them tiredly. "Longer we stand here, longer it takes to get home."

They all piled onto the boat relatively quickly. Shirou was first onto the boat, so that he could help the civilians onto the deck and ensure that they did not fall into the water. He offered a hand to each of them as they walked unsteadily across the narrow gangplank. The two other victims hesitated to grab his hand as soon as they got a proper look at him, and only after clearing his throat forcefully did they dubiously take his hand and let him help them onto the boat.

Jeez, I must look awful.

Once everyone was on the boat, Kirei began to herd them all down below deck. The two civilians he did not recognize trudged tiredly down the metal steps, swaying lightly with the almost imperceptible movements of the ship. Ayako began to follow, but he quickly grabbed her arm, holding her back. She glanced back at him, surprised, but didn't have a chance to say anything.

"Kotomine," he began gravely. "Could you please give us a moment? I need to talk to Mitsuzuri."

The priest eyed Shirou suspiciously for a second, but got the message once Emiya nodded his head slowly.

"Do not take too long; we are still on a schedule," Kirei reminded him.

"Understood," he assented flatly, and Kotomine sauntered down the stairs as the ship began to pull out of the harbor.

Shirou led Ayako to the stern of the boat, leaning on the railing as he watched the cold, misty waters churn as they splashed against Shikoku's rocky shores. He could feel her gaze on him, uncertain of what to say, but she made no move to join him at the railing.

"Are you okay? You went through a lot tonight," Shirou asked, avoiding looking into her eyes. He heard no response from her, but he hesitated to meet her gaze. He felt guilty for bringing her into such a dangerous situation, even indirectly.

"…I don't know," she admitted hesitantly.

Shirou nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean. It's hard to describe. One day, you're living a normal life, and suddenly death is breathing down your neck the next."

He glanced over at Mitsuzuri. Her eyes were wide open, staring at him unabashed. Shirou could see the cogs turning in her head as she fit the puzzle pieces together.

"What…" she hesitated for a few seconds, before steeling her nerve. "How did you find out about all that…?" she gestured beck towards the mountain they came from, at a loss for words.

"The Moonlit World?"

Ayako nodded slowly. She looked a bit uncertain that they were talking about the same thing. "What happened to you when you found out?"

"I saw two men fighting. I wasn't supposed to see them." He shrugged. "One of them ran me down and stabbed me through the chest."

Ayako gasped, tensing up involuntarily at his words.

"Normal magus policy is to silence anyone who accidentally finds out about them. If they're even suspicious that they've been compromised, they'll slaughter entire families just to protect their secrets," he explained gravely, trying to impress upon her the gravity of the situation she was in.

Her hands were trembling. "That's…."

"Horrifying," he nodded. "I agree. But most magi don't care much for morality."

"No kidding," she breathed, lost in her own memories. After a few seconds, she ran her gaze across him and gestured to his injuries. "Do those hurt?"

Ayako suddenly looked incredibly embarrassed, as if she realized how ridiculous her question was only after it had been voiced.

Shirou glanced down, looking at how his clothes had been charred and grafted onto his skin, how bright blisters ran across his body. It was painful, certainly, but no more painful than when he had turned his nerves into temporary circuits in his past life, and certainly not more painful than Archer's soul trying to rip its way out of his body.

Besides, he was used to this burning sensation.

"It's only skin deep, mostly," he shrugged. "Kotomine will heal me after he takes care of the others. It would have been a lot worse if you hadn't hit his shadow with that arrow, so thank you," he smiled at her.

Mitsuzuri looked completely befuddled. "His shadow?"

"Yeah, his shadow. You hit it with the arrow I gave you." Shirou projected a Black Key, showing her how he transformed it into the projectile she had used. "They immobilize anyone they hit, including if they hit the target's shadow."

She blinked twice, trying to figure out what he was talking about. "How does…?"

He was about to explain further, but she cut him off.

"Wait, you gave me those specific arrows on purpose?" Ayako asked, a mixture of horror, anger and betrayal slowly dawning on her. "Did you know I was gonna run back there and do that? Did you, like, mind-control me into doing that or something? I swear, Emiya, if you did—"

"I didn't do anything to you, I promise," Shirou cut off her rising tirade. "I was worried you might end up coming back, so I gave you something you could use to protect yourself."

"So, what, you got lucky?" She postulated sarcastically, incensed. "What would have happened if your little backup plan didn't work out like you hoped it would, huh? You already got burned all over, would you have just died if I hadn't shown up?!"

Shirou sighed, looking back out at the ocean to collect his thoughts. Mitsuzuri's gaze never left him; he could feel the burning anger directed at him.

"I had one more Noble Phantasm prepared: one that could summon and control water. I planned to summon that if you hadn't shown up, but it would have rendered me unconscious. I was banking on Kotomine to stabilize me so I wouldn't die, but I didn't know that Galliasta had that last spell. None of us had accounted for him to have that up his sleeve."

Ayako swallowed. There were tears in her eyes. Her whole body was trembling.

Is she really that angry at me? We both made it out okay.

"So, you're telling me…that you actually would have died if I wasn't there?" Ayako whispered, her voice choked and shaky.

Shirou smiled at her softly, cupping her hand as gently as he could.

"Yeah, I probably would have. Thank you, Ayako, for saving me."

A choked silence stretched between them. Mitsuzuri tried to speak, so say something to him, but the words seemed to be caught in her throat. After a few seconds, she abandoned all attempts to speak and simply threw herself at Shirou, bawling as she embraced him.

Shirou froze up, not used to such sudden affection, but he returned the hug compassionately, hoping that it would help make her happy. They stayed like that for a while, simply relaxing into each other's arms until Ayako calmed down.

He ignored the pressure on his injuries, as usual.

Mitsuzuri finally separated from him, just staring into his eyes with an emotion that he couldn't quite conceive. She seemed to be a little bit better, though, so he was glad he had helped cheer her up. He wiped the tears from her face, and she released a relieved, cathartic laugh that bubbled up from her throat and escaped almost involuntarily. Shirou knew that the emotions she was feeling were ferociously complex, and he could not begin to understand their depths, but she was laughing, so she was probably feeling better than before.

"I can't believe you," she mumbled, just loud enough for Shirou to barely catch it.

He gave her a slightly confused smile, accepting that he probably wouldn't understand what was going on in her head.

"So, what?" Ayako asked, voice cracking a bit. She tried to sound more casual, but her sniffling and watery eyes betrayed her. "You got magic powers? What's that like?"

Emiya shrugged slowly, being careful not to agitate his burns. "Not as great as you might think," he admitted.

"Why's that?"

At least he could comprehend confusion.

"The motto of thaumaturgy is 'To be a magus is to walk with death,'" Shirou recited, his voice somber. He glanced back up at the moon, reminiscing about the last time he so peacefully stargazed. "My father liked to say that magecraft is a way to hurt yourself and kill others."

Ayako gulped, wide-eyed.

"Oh."

Shirou smiled sardonically, still staring skyward.

"My father never wanted me to learn magic. I think he hoped I'd never have to interact with this side of the world. Probably wanted to spare me the pain," he explained, gesturing at his burned arms.

"…Why'd you do it, then?" she asked after a moment's pause.

Shirou looked back at her, shrugging helplessly. "I wanted to help save people."

He was embraced again, this time without warning. Shirou hugged her back with one arm for a minute before Mitsuzuri remembered that he was burned everywhere and jumped off of him, apologizing frantically. He waved her off.

Ayako giggled, smiling brightly for the first time all day. "Well, you saved me, Emiya. Thank you."

He accepted her gratitude sheepishly, genuinely glad he was able to save her. He felt that they had grown closer than ever before, like the tribulations they had been through had forged a close bond between them.

It was a shame that she would not remember any of it.

Shirou cupped Ayako's cheek. He could see Kotomine sedately approaching them, though Mitsuzuri was focused on him.

"You're welcome, Mitsuzuri. I'm glad I was able to talk to you about all this." He swallowed the guilt choking his words. "I'm sorry."

"Hm? What—" she was interrupted as he gently gripped her jaw and turned her head towards Kirei, standing only a few feet from them.

Their eyes met.

"Sleep, child," Kirei commanded softly.

The light in Ayako's eyes dimmed for a second, before her eyelids fluttered closed and she dropped bonelessly into Shirou's arms. Shirou caught her, holding her still for a minute, staring remorsefully at her slumbering face.

It's better this way. We couldn't afford to let her remember. The Clock Tower would kill her once they found out.

His justifications did not make him feel any better.

Kirei held out his arms, silently offering to carry the girl. Shirou gingerly passed her to the priest, who hefted her up into his arms bridal style and began to take her down below deck, gesturing with his head for Shirou to follow.

Kotomine set her down gently on the bed, next to the other sleeping kidnap victims, before turning to Shirou.

"You understand that Galliasta should not have survived that blow."

Shirou nodded. He had seen what his Noble Phantasm had done to the rogue mage up-close and personally. The man should have been dead before he had even hit the ground.

"I assume you know how he did?" Shirou asked semi-rhetorically.

"No," Kirei admitted. "I presume it had something to do with the large spell he cast after you stabbed him. Perhaps he had been preparing it since before he fell, but we may never know; his final spell destroyed any evidence we could have used."

"What's your best guess, then?"

"I have a few suspicions as to what he cast, but none are particularly likely, and I know very little about any of them. I will need to perform further investigation before we have a suitable hypothesis," Kotomine mused.

Shirou nodded seriously.

"I see."

"Now, step into the restroom, Emiya. Your wounds must be tended to," he commanded.

Shirou slipped into the slightly cramped restroom, mildly uncomfortable at having to stand in such close proximity with the priest, who stepped in behind him.

"Lie down, on your back."

Nonetheless, Shirou followed orders without complaint, slowly lowering himself into the floor. Kotomine knelt beside him, and the priest's hands began to glow with gentle, thrumming green light.

"I advise you brace yourself," Kirei told him with a smile that made Shirou distinctly uneasy. "This will be unpleasant."

He was correct.

Handing off the victims to the police was a relatively simple process. Kotomine had simply called a contact of his within the Fuyuki police department and informed them that he had all of the victims alive and well. Said contact had arrived promptly with a team to transfer the civilians off of the boat and into a police van to take them down to the station. They would be reunited with their families by tomorrow.

Changing clothes on the boat had been painful. Kirei had had to tear off all the burnt cloth attached to him before he could heal Shirou's skin underneath. He was very glad that that particular experience was over, but it was necessary. It would be difficult to explain those injuries to his family or the school faculty.

The walk home was a relatively short one. Shirou navigated the eastern Fuyuki city streets with a familiarity that he did not possess before his employment under Fujimura. The more technologically advanced side of the city was not somewhere he spent a lot of time in during his previous life, so learning this side of the city was almost an entirely new experience. As such, he had taken steps to become very familiar with the layout of his neighborhood, usually through his regular jogs and walks to and from work.

Reaching the small suburb where he lived, Shirou meandered down the sidewalks until he found his address. It was far too late for him to enter the front door—he didn't want to wake the girls up—so he wound around to the back of the property and hopped the fence to his backyard. He landed softly on the grass, planning to sneak in through the back door and get to bed. He was dead tired, and probably would have slept through his alarm if he had school tomorrow.

Good thing it's a weekend.

The sudden, distinct whispering whistle of a blade being swung alerted him to danger. Using the dregs of his reserves, he projected a simple, reinforced steel longsword, just in time to step aside and deflect the downswing of an incredibly large halberd. It sank into the grass like butter, but it was quickly yanked out of the ground by its wielder and slashed at him again.

Shirou dodged one swing and barely deflected another, getting a good look at the halberd in the process. He analyzed its history, watching a white-haired woman train with it in an opulent grey castle while an intense blizzard raged outside the tall window. It only saw combat once, when Emiya Kiritsugu and his wife broke into the castle, fought through many of the servants and then recruited the woman and another homunculus before they worked together to defeat and kill a bearded old man, before they finally ran off with Illya and the pair of homunculi.

Shirou had no time to comprehend any of the weapon's memories, though, as the woman's disciplined sweeps and thrusts were fast and relentless. He kept just out of range of the polearm, clashing with and redirecting it as it swiped at him once, twice, He stepped past a thrust, just barely avoiding becoming speared as he slipped into its range and caught the oversized weapon on his sword's crossguard.

"Sella, wait!" He exclaimed frantically, out of breath. "What the hell's going on? It's me!"

Her crimson eyes narrowed at him, cold as ice. She pulled her weapon free and assumed another threatening stance.

"You aren't Shirou," she ground out. "Who are you?"