Blood dripped down the swordsman's blade, but none of it ever seemed to touch his hands.

What were this man's ideals? I didn't know. Or rather, I didn't understand them.

There was a duality to the swordsman. An eldritch, boiling sea of black hatred, churning and frothing and raging. It ate away at anything it touched, the seafloor beneath crumbling away, growing deeper with every eon that passed.

And there was the sky overhead, brighter than the sun could ever be, cloudless, that should have suffused his world with golden light. His hope and love and gratitude.

Never did they meet.

He killed without remorse. He killed brutally when necessary. He killed in private and he killed in public. Did he hate the men he killed? Did he feel anger toward them?

I don't think he did.

I watched a man, bruised and bloody, his left hand clinging onto his wrist only by scraps of skin, scrambling for life, sobbing. The swordsman walked inexorably forward, executioner's greatsword in hand.

"Please," the crying man said. "I'll do better."

The swordsman didn't respond as he planted his boot on the man's chest and removed the head from its shoulders. Not even a moment's pause for the dead. He left a trail of bloody footprints behind him as he faded into the night.

This was not an isolated incident. There is nothing about this murder that stood out to him. It only stands out in how little it stands out. It was one nondescript drop in a sea of blood.

The killing hung somewhere between the sea and the sky, suspended in nothing.

And yet, for all that hatred, for all that turmoil, he never saw the death he brought in his quest as evil. Not really. He didn't consider himself a hero, either. He was barely a man; he was nothing more than a tool of something bigger. I couldn't understand him. I couldn't fathom the choices a person would have to make to come to the conclusion that the only way to make the world a better place is to do such monstrous things. The easy answer would have been to say he killed to quiet the black sea within him, but... it wasn't. I would have been lying to myself if I thought it was. (Because that's what it was, right? Evil?) It sickened me. It turned my stomach. I hated him, and I wanted to cry for him.

There was a moment that crystallized the swordsman into what he would become. A moment from which his path was irrevocably set. He couldn't remember where he was, nor why he was attacked. Cycles of hatred. Cycles of revenge. Cycles of blood. The shadows rose up in revolt, silent killers cloaked in the very thing he'd relied upon for so long. He fought, but he was not enough. He could remember the feeling of the knives entering his flesh. He could remember his blood spilling onto the stone. He could remember the poison coursing through his veins. The assassin, assassinated. He was not saved. After all that he had given, after all he taken taken away, the swordsman was cut down and left to die. His wounds were not healed. No great beam of light emerged from the sky to uplift him, to resurrect him. The killers had been thorough. And yet, he awoke, with injuries that should have killed him a dozen times over.

It was something he'd known for a long, long time, but only now was it made undeniable and therefore real: he was not allowed to die.

This was the moment when everything changed. The moment that he resolved to once and for all leave his true name and his face behind — to become more than mortal and less than human. If there had ever been a picture of a miracle on this Earth, it was a man with a slashed throat and chimera's venom dancing in his veins, burning with pain forevermore, walking tall in the noontime sun.

I couldn't understand. If he did only evil in the name of his God, then why was he forced to stay?

Assassin's voice came from behind her, breaking the silence she was working so hard to keep. "And how has Archer's recovery progressed?"

Rin jammed her arms into her jacket, worming her way into the sleeves like… like whatever the opposite of a snake shedding its skin was. "He's not at a hundred percent, but it's going faster than we expected. Last night was productive. He can fight."

"He may have to. We do not know what awaits us at the temple."

"I'm aware of that," she grumbled, buttoning up her front. "We don't have a choice. We need to know if there is a Master there or not."

"I do not disagree."

Shirou looked over from where he was chatting quietly with Sakura; she was laughing at some undoubtedly stupid thing he'd just said. "Oh, Tohsaka? Why are you getting dressed to go out too?"

He just keeps surprising me. She looked at him incredulously. "I'm coming with you? Is that really a question you need to ask?"

Sakura's smile faded, but Shirou's attention was on her at the moment. "We're going to my house because you're kicking us out."

"Yes," she said patiently, her forehead twitching. No one should be allowed to be this stupid.

"So…" She could almost hear the little hamster spinning on its wheel in his brain. Squeaking obnoxiously.

Rin pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the headache that had never actually left. "Assassin, can you explain to your Master why I would possibly be going back to his house with him, if we're not staying here?"

Assassin did not answer. She realized belatedly that she could no longer sense his presence.

"Useless piece of shit ghost," she growled through clenched teeth.

"Um," Sakura said hesitantly, wringing her hands. She was the only person Rin had ever met who literally did that. "Tohsaka-senpai… Are you planning to stay over?"

Rin gestured exasperatedly at the suitcase full of clothes and supplies at her feet. "Really? You too?"

Sakura shrank away, and Shirou stepped forward. She wasn't sure if he was being protective, or if he just hadn't noticed that Sakura was doing the cringing thing. They were equally likely, in her opinion. "Everything we talked about still goes."

"Who do you think you're talking to?" She glared offended daggers at him, then stomped pointedly on the floor. "Archer!" she yelled. "We're leaving! Get up here!"

Archer, somewhere below her, replied by knocking on the ceiling, showing an absolute disregard for the sanctity of her property. Bastard.

Shirou shook his head. "I want to trust you, Tohsaka, but you and me need to agree to be allies." Sakura suddenly became very interested in tying her shoes, but Rin was pretty sure that she had just untied them herself so that she could look busy.

"We already-" She stopped, blinking at him. "Assassin didn't tell you that we already had this conversation?"

Shirou blinked. "No, Tohsaka—"

Laughter bubbled in her chest, and she crossed her arms. "Wow. Wow. Great rapport you two have got, huh? Lots of trust there."

"We spoke."

Rin almost jumped out of her skin, and the fact that Sakura made a strangled "eek" sort of sound didn't make her feel any more dignified. "Stop doing that!"

"Thank you, Assassin," Shirou said pointedly. "What I meant was that there's three of us right now, and we need to trust each other, and I don't want anyone trying to kill anyone else. We're not a bunch of cats someone threw in a bag."

Rin was too tired with this whole argument to put up a fight, so she nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Everything on the table."

"Alright," Shirou said.

"Cards on the table," Rin said. "I think you're an idiot."

Shirou sighed. "Okay, Tohsaka." The fact that he didn't fight back actually made her feel a little guilty, and that just made her more mad.

Fuming, she turned away. "Archer! Where the hell are you?"

Archer materialized beside her, planting a steady hand on her shoulder. "I'm ready to go." He jerked a thumb backward at Sakura and Shirou. "Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb are ready to go. Seems like you're the one holding us up."

Shirou frowned. Sakura blinked, looking mystified.

"You're carrying it," she growled, scooping it off the ground and shoving it into Archer's chest. He grunted, and she halfway hoped she'd hit his battle wound. "Shirou, I might not be happy about including Little Miss Matou in our plans, but I'm not going back on my word. I'm not that kind of person. I said you and me are allies, so we're allies. I said I wouldn't touch Sakura, so she's safe. Am I speaking German right now?"

Shirou looked at her for a long moment, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know, you don't have to fight it."

She groaned. "Fight what?"

"Being a good person," he said earnestly. "You are a good person, Tohsaka. Even if you don't want to be."

He's cloying. But he was right; she didn't want to be. It went against everything she'd been ever taught about magecraft. She refused to acknowledge it any further. "Now," she said in a way that hopefully brooked no argument, "Does anyone else have a problem they'd like to share?"

No one spoke. Sakura fidgeted, while Shirou just sort of looked vaguely grouchy.

"Good," Rin declared, marching out the door.

Behind her, she heard Sakura whisper to Shirou. "Do you think we'll get attacked?"

Shirou answered her by murmuring the worst possible thing he could have said, no doubt sealing their fate through sheer force of dramatic irony: "I'm sure we'll be fine. No one would possibly attack us in broad daylight."

They were all going to die, huh?

Nothing happened.

No Servants accosted them, no Masters ordered their deaths; there was nothing even so inconvenient as a missed pedestrian crossing. Sakura didn't know how to feel about that, but the fact that there was even a possibility that she might have relished a little trouble was enough to condemn her. Beside her, Senpai looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He thought he was being subtle with his concern, but she knew him too well for him to hide such a thing. It was sweet. She didn't deserve any such concern, but it was sweet.

They'd been walking in silence for the last ten minutes or so, their conversation fading away as Sakura's responses had become more and more monosyllabic, until they'd stopped altogether. Senpai had tried to keep it going at first, but he'd soon realized that it wasn't working, and he'd lapsed into a comfortable, if worried, silence.

Rin walked ahead of them, close enough to make it clear the three of them were all traveling together, but far enough away to put herself on a different level from the two of them. She was the leader, they the dutiful followers. Archer and Assassin were both in their spirit forms, keeping a careful eye out for any danger. Thus far, they hadn't said anything.

Rin was the one who broke the silence, speaking loudly enough to be heard without turning her head. "We're almost there, and I don't want to waste a lot of time before we go scouting."

Senpai opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him there. "Don't worry, Tohsaka-senpai. I won't make trouble." Speaking the words was hard, but it looked like Rin had heard her from the way her shoulders tensed a little. "I'll stay behind."

"I wasn't worried," she tossed off casually, still not turning. "You were staying behind either way, but I'm glad you're being smart about it."

Senpai's face darkened beside her. "Tohsaka, you-"

Sakura placed a gentle hand on his wrist. He stopped short, looking at her with confusion. She shook her head. "It's okay, Senpai. I'm not going to be much help with, um. All that stuff you have to do." She bit her lip hard before she could start rambling. If she talked too long, she'd panic herself, and that wasn't what he needed at all. He needed her to be steady and self-reliant, even if the idea of him going off and getting himself killed in some undoubtedly horrible way filled her with a kind of sinking dread she couldn't put words to. She really needed to not think about that, so she calmly sectioned off the part of her mind that was trying to freak out about it, stuffed it into its own mental room, and locked the door.

She was sure Senpai saw none of that on her face, but apparently what she'd said was enough to make his lips twist into a pretzel, the way they did when she accidentally said something concerning. "I don't like the idea of leaving you alone," he said slowly.

"Too bad," Rin called back haughtily, but Senpai ignored her.

"The whole point of bringing you with us was to keep you safe, and-"

She withdrew her hand, but gave him the sunniest smile she could muster. He paused again, then gave her a tentative smile back. She didn't feel very sunny, but she'd gotten really good at faking it. "I'll be okay. I'll just clean up all the mess and cook you all something for when you come back. You won't even miss me."

Senpai rubbed the back of his neck. "But-"

She continued regardless, careful to keep her voice warm and soothing. "You won't be gone long, and no one is going to look for me there." Look for her… Nii-san and her grandfather would be looking for her, wouldn't they? Except… They'd be angry.

If they were angry, that usually meant that she got hurt, and she didn't think she'd ever done anything in her life that would make them as mad as what she was doing right this second, so it stood to reason that-

You can't even imagine what they'll do, she thought, but that wasn't true.

She very much could imagine.

Her breath caught in her chest, just for a second, but long enough for Senpai to turn back to her. "Sakura?"

She shook her head, and hoped it didn't look as desperate as she felt. "I'm okay," she said in that same placid tone of voice, performatively wrapping her arms around herself. "I just got a little cold, is all." Please believe that. I don't want to talk about-

But before she could even finish the thought, he was shrugging out of his jacket. She blinked, trying to process what he was doing, then froze as he draped it over her shoulders. He stumbled, trying to stop a little too quickly, but he gave her a smile that she thought was a whole lot more genuine than hers had been. That made her feel a little guilty. "S-senpai?"

He shrugged, then turned and kept walking. "You're cold. What kind of guy would I be if I didn't give you my coat?" He didn't turn back to look at her, but she imagined the vaguely embarrassed look on his face. He loved to be a hero, but he always seemed to be a little uncomfortable whenever that was acknowledged.

She stared at his back, wide eyed, frozen like a deer in headlights. He'd never done this before. Granted, that was because she tried not to complain about such things, but… A touch of heat played on her cheeks, and she looked down at the ground as she slowly drew it around her, threading her delicate arms through the sleeves. It was big, and it was baggy, and it was dirty, but… It was warm. His body heat lingered, and for a moment she imagined being enveloped in his arms, before violently shoving that image away. It would be based on a lie, she thought. If he thinks you're good, it's only because you won't tell him who you really are. She shoved her hands defiantly into the jacket's pockets, then jogged a little to catch up. "Thank you," she said quietly.

As she rejoined him, he glanced at her, then blinked; a kind of smile she'd never really seen on him before touched his lips. "I haven't had a chance to wash it, so uh. That probably wasn't the nicest thing I could have-"

"No," she protested, "it's very warm. Thank you."

He looked away again; she didn't think he even noticed the look on his face. He's happy because you lied to him, her thoughts continued. You can't even be honest with the little things. She kept the jacket anyway. She wasn't cold, so there wasn't really any justification for it that didn't come back to how selfish she was, but she didn't want to give it back. It's making him happy, she told herself firmly.

She tried not to feel guilty about the smile that he wore all the way home, and she almost succeeded.

Finally, they stood at Senpai's familiar gate, surrounded by broken sidewalk. The sight didn't fill her with the same panic it had the day before, but rather a kind of weighted melancholy. She'd wanted so badly to avoid this. Her mind retraced the familiar paths and lines of self-loathing, trapped in its comfortable rut, around and around.

"Okay," Rin said, pulling out a pocket watch and checking it. "If we want to get to Ryuudou Temple around noon, then we've got two hours before we need to leave. I don't care what we do until then, as long as we're ready to go when I say."

Senpai sighed with relief, and she smiled at him. The face he made was cute, and it helped ward off the sadness, just a little. "Oh, good," he said. "I don't think I've ever had to wear an outfit that was this ruined before. I need some new clothes."

"And another shower. Hey, wait a minute. You went shopping, right?" Rin asked, deadpan. "Why didn't you just… buy some more?"

"I didn't have a lot of money on me," Senpai protested, in a tone of voice that suggested the real reason was that he just hadn't thought of it. Sakura couldn't keep herself from a quiet giggle, and the look of abject betrayal on his face just made her laugh harder. He couldn't maintain the expression for long and quickly started laughing along with her. It eased the burden that was weighing her down more than she'd expected.

Rin looked at them like they were a couple of maniacs, then snorted. "Well, unless Lancer took a break from trying to kill you to go through and stab all your clothes, you should be good."

"I hope he didn't do that," Senpai said. "I don't think I'm going to be able to work my job for a while."

Sakura, feeling especially brave, leaned toward Rin conspiratorially. "Ms. Fujimura used to buy most of Senpai's clothes, and he's still grouchy about having to spend his own money."

Rin looked at her, wide-eyed. "You're kidding." The corner of her mouth ticked, but not in a way that belied imminent anger.

"Of course she is," Senpai mumbled, embarrassed, and jammed his hands into his pants pockets. Now it was Rin's turn to laugh along with Sakura, and she was surprised how natural it felt. Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle snapping together in a perfect fit.

Is this what our lives could have been instead? She... liked this. She liked Rin, even if her own feelings were more complicated than she herself understood. Having the three of them together like this, joking and playing around and laughing… What if this could become their new normal? When all of this was over, could they all be friends? It was another selfish wish, because that was the only kind she ever had, but she forced herself to hold onto it.

Formless guilt tried to wrap itself around her waist, leaden weights of purposeless self-loathing fastened to her feet, but that laughter, for the moment at least, kept her buoyant.

"Hey, bossman."

Lancer's asshole Master did not respond, but he did quirk his head in Lancer's direction. Permission to speak, as if Lancer needed any such thing.

Whap. Lancer threw the rubber ball against the wall. It hit hard, bounced back onto the floor, and into Lancer's hand. Whap. Whap. "Do you believe in Hell?"

"An interesting question," Kirei murmured, and Lancer could hear the small smile on his lips. He leaned back as much as the stiff pew would allow, resting one of his arms along its top. There was an art to creating something that was just uncomfortable enough to be ever-present, he had explained once, and yet just comfortable enough that the people involved would not flee from the discomfort. Kirei was very proud of the pews. Just another way to show his parishioners his love, or something fucked up and stupid like that. "Do you ask because you feel something for the countless souls you have no doubt consigned there, or because you feel that this partnership is your own personal Hell?"

"Just answer the question," Lancer said, but it was mostly the second one. Everything about this arrangement sucked. A Master he couldn't stand, stolen from one who had seemed to have potential, jerked around, and forced to deal with his shittiest enemy on the battlefield without warning. What about this wasn't specifically designed to torment him personally?

"Do I believe in the great cavern of fire and brimstone where sinners burn in the hands of an angry God?" Kirei shifted again. "Not as such. The common vision of Hell lacks originality, and if our heavenly Father exists, he is nothing if not… creative."

"If?" Lancer asked incredulously. "Aren't you a priest? Isn't being all high and mighty about knowing this your job?"

"What sort of respectable priest does not think for himself?" Kirei retorted, that shitty smile still dancing in the words. "Free will is the gift of mortality, after all. In any event, God is not angry, and His torments are not so mundane as to be limited to the physical. Would He create misery to be so delightful if he did not enjoy it Himself?"

"That's kind of messed up," Lancer said idly. Whap. Whap. Kirei had given it to him as a jab, a ball for a hound, but Lancer had been determined to make him regret that decision.

"That is the world we live in." The pew creaked as Kirei stood. "It is not a kind place, nor is it a comfortable one. Consider: we live in a world of rules, you see. There must be punishments for transgression, or the rules have no meaning."

"What, like killing?" Lancer asked dryly.

Kirei chuckled. "The Ten Commandments exist, yes, but there are others as well. Greater rules than the personal. Is death good enough for one who would threaten the world? What about more than one? There are other worlds than these, after all. Those who threaten the balance will be punished, without exception, or no one would ever learn."

"But not by fire," Lancer said.

"No. Not by fire." Kirei was in full sermon mode, and Lancer hated to admit how well he delivered his lectures. "Any being will grow accustomed to pain, in time. Some will never break under its sting. Every being, however, has weak points. Things that will break them. The angel of the abyss knows this, and can tailor his torments to each individual. Tell me, Lancer. Which do you fear more — an eternity of physical torment, or an eternity of endless, mindless tedium?"

Lancer didn't answer, uncomfortable with how correct the priest's implication was. "Don't you mean the Devil?"

"The difference is meaningless. If an entity named Satan exists, he is much an aspect of Our Father as the Archangel Gabriel, or Abaddon the Destroyer, or Kalqa'il the Guardian. He has many agents of balance, and to assume that He would allow such a fundamentally antithetical enemy to exist is foolishness."

"Is there a point to all of this?" Lancer couldn't really see how any of this related.

"You asked a question, Lancer, and I answered. Yes, I believe in Hell. I should like to understand it, someday." He just sounded so smug about nothing. "I simply do not believe it is limited to the deserving. Does that answer your question?"

Lancer snorted. "No such thing as justice, bossman."

Kirei laughed. "On that, I believe we can agree. Now, speaking of tedium..."

Lancer rolled his eyes. "You got a job for me? Because anything is better than throwing this stupid ball at your church."

"Another thing we can agree upon," Kirei said pointedly. "You recall Berserker and his Master?"

"The big brute and the creepy little girl, yeah," Lancer said. "They're pretty hard to forget." He'd scouted the pair of them out a few days before; his battle with Berserker had been little more than a skirmish, but he'd learned a lot from it. Like how scary powerful the big guy was.

"It is not time to engage them further, but I would like you to keep your eye on them." Kirei's voice was all business, now. "The girl, especially. She is vital to this war in more ways than you know, and we should be aware of her movements. Her patterns and her desires."

Lancer shrugged. "Alright. I can do that. You gonna stay safe, you bastard?" Not that he gave one single shit about Kirei's wellbeing, but it'd be a pain to have to find a third Master.

Kirei smiled. "Nothing in the Holy Grail War is safe, Lancer, but should I feel that I am in imminent danger, rest assured, I will call. Although…" He sighed heavily, and Lancer wanted to hit him even before he said what he said next. "I do not know if I can rely on you, after that shameful display yesterday."

Oh, you son of a bitch. "Listen-" Lancer snarled, but Kirei interrupted smoothly.

"Yes, I am well aware of Rider's… charms. I had merely believed your willpower to be superior to hers." That mournful voice was like gasoline on the fire of Lancer's anger. He was playing a dangerous game. "I regret that I was incorrect. Perhaps you would merely get in the way, if an enemy Servant were to arrive. I've always wondered how I would fare—."

But Lancer was already gone. It was either that or stab him, and it really would be inconvenient to find another Master.

I'm going to be at Momocon this Saturday! If you're there and you see a Rin and Shirou couple cosplay carrying homemade Archer/Saber dolls, the Shirou might be me!

Again again again, thank you so much to everyone who reads and everyone who comments! C: Y'all are the best!

Next chapter: What Sweet Dreams Are Made Of