First Night (4)

I don't like to sleep.

Granted, as a Homunculus I don't need to sleep much in the first place...but those few hours are a torture like no other. They have been for the past ten years.

Some nights are bearable. Those are the ones where Mama shows me how she dies, of a grinning man's hands closing around her neck and throttling her, already failing body unable to do little more than weakly gasp for air.

A fate she assures me I'll share in just a few days time, when the 5th Holy Grail War concludes and my purpose finally draws to a close.

...Again, those are the easy ones. The ones where I watch my Mama be murdered while all she could do was futilely fight back...when she was already dead and couldn't even be granted the small mercy of a peaceful death.

The bad ones are where Mama is still alive.

Because, on some instinctive level, I know that's not my Mama. Irisviel was always smiling, always doting on me, always trying to protect me from a fate that would only result in my death.

She willingly went to war and her demise, trying to give me a life that I could spend with my Papa.

This Irisviel is none of those things. Cruel, malicious, seductive...and always delighting in the small cruelties and visions she shows me.

Those visions hurt worse than any physical torture could ever aspire to.

Because in those images and stills that Mother shows me...she died in pain and loneliness for nothing. Because all I see is Papa doting over a red-headed boy, peacefully living out his days while I suffer through nothing short of a living Hell.

He left me. He left US.

Those are the words Mama always hisses to me and despite knowing without a shadow of a doubt that Mama would never despise Papa like this I can't help but want to believe her.

Believe that Papa left us to this torturous existence so that he could start anew.

...Because I can accept my lot in life if this was all just a random twist of fate, a stroke of miserable luck that was just an errant toss of the cosmic dice.

What I can't accept is that Papa knows exactly what he's doing, knows what Mama and I have to suffer through...and is still able to smile like that.

The worst nights are rare, but they make up for their infrequency with intensity.

In those dreams Mama is surrounded and covered in black, glistening mud that behaves more like a sentient being than it does an inanimate bit of dirt.

The mud writhes and contorts, appearing one moment like a lover's embrace and the next a violent rapist.

And through it all I can only hear Mama scream, laugh, cry, beg, rant and cheerfully hum, her mood shifting from one unstable tempo to the next within seconds.

And all I can do is curl into a ball, legs curled together as one hand covers my groin, the other my mouth and nose leaving my ears the only available entrance for the mud.

And, no matter how much I try to fight it, to resist it…

I always end up just like Mama, drowning in black mud that freezes and scalds in equal measure, hysterically laughing and sobbing as every evil and excess emotion in the world violates me in every sense of the word, my belly expanding and bloating with evil as I finally burst apart with a crazed laugh-


Illyasviel awoke with a frantic gasp, artificial heart racing uncontrollably as cold sweat coated her body and the simple pajama top and bottom provided by her Papa became soaked, eyes wide and darting as she realized she was in an unfamiliar room, with unfamiliar smells, sounds and no maids around to help her-

"Illya, are you ok?"

Crimson orbs swiveled in wide and unblinking sockets, meeting stoic hazel as their owner crouched by her bedside, manifested swords orbiting his body in wild arcs as the air around him spoke of purpose and lethal intent.

"Illya, talk to me, are you-"

His words swiftly died as thin arms latched around his neck with desperate strength, quiet sobs and shaking breaths filling what had once been silence.

"...Illya."

Hesitantly reaching upwards Shirou lightly touched his step-sister's back, still not certain on how to combat this threat that he had never trained to battle.

Well, when in doubt do as his father did.

"Illya, can you stand?"

No reply, just further trembles and a slow moistening of his shirt. Taking that as a sign of disagreement Shirou gently picked up the albino-as if afraid she would shatter like glass if handled too roughly-and carried her to the veranda where they could look out over the night sky and garden.

During the last months of his life Kiritsugu had often took Shirou out there and talked about subjects that weren't related to training, his sister, Magecraft or the art of murder. It had perplexed the boy but those memories were oddly...reassuring, now that said father was gone. Even if he didn't understand why they were calming and desirable his hope was that the location and scenery would have a similar effect on Illya.

Grabbing a spare blanket he set the girl down on the deck, moving to extricate himself-

-and found that he couldn't, Illya keeping a death grip on his neck.

"Was it a vision from the Grail?"

Finally regaining some semblance of control over herself the Homunculus nodded curtly, extricating her arms from her brother and hugging the blanket tight around her shoulders.

"...Yes. How did you know?"

Shirou shrugged.

"Oto-san often had nightmares like yours. I recognized the symptoms and screams."

Her body stiffened briefly.

"...Screams. Is...is it that bad?"

A wordless nod as Shirou dragged over a small brazier, Illya staring with some distant curiosity as he created an ornate dagger before tapping it against the coals, a fire suddenly springing to life as if it had been stoked for hours rather than seconds.

The Magus part of her brain realized that he must have created some kind of Mystic Code with his odd use of Gradation Air, a strange use of the spell that she opened her mouth to ask about-

-and fell silent as her nose picked up the aroma of some kind of soothing spice, or maybe even a citrus scent.

Answering her unasked question Shirou explained, "Oto-san often felt better after being near this for awhile. Hopefully it'll do the same for you."

Proving his theory to be true Illya felt the horrors of the night slowly slip away as the soothing flicker of flames that weren't cursed cast the garden into a calming ambiance, aromatic smoke stimulating her nerves into a natural state of peace, her newly discovered...step-sibling? Younger brother? Protector?

Well whatever he was didn't really matter to her at the moment, only the fact that he sat next to her and she could rest against his side, her position allowing her to hear a strong, rhythmic heartbeat.

Just like a machine.

"Onii-chan?"

"Yes?"

"...Did you mean it? You're going to make sure I live through the Grail War?"

"I meant every word. Any and all obstacles...I'll remove them."

Finally allowing herself to close her eyes and achieve some semblance of rest Illya murmured, "Good night, Onii-chan..."

Within seconds she was asleep, a far more restful trance than she had previously.

Shirou expressionlessly stared down at the girl pressed into his side, carefully and slowly placing an arm around her thin shoulders.

"If all Servants are like you...I won't be able to do this alone."

Moving his gaze from his step-sibling to the manifested goliath kneeling in front of them Shirou's features didn't shift in the slightest, tone as level as it had been from the start.

"Can I trust you? To keep her safe? We're going to destroy the Grail, that means you'll disappear too. No wish."

Some might have decried him for so blatantly disclosing sensitive information, for revealing a potentially alliance-ending secret right from the beginning...but Shirou was nothing if not pragmatic.

The being before him was an instinctive beast of incredible power, with a discerning eye and fanatical loyalty to his savior. Lying would serve no purpose and almost certainly be revealed at some point in the future...his deceptive talents were geared more towards misleading Humans and Magi, not transcendent heroes of old.

For almost a minute the Servant and Human stared the other down, both not breaking their respective masks in the slightest...and with zero fanfare Berserker nodded, a minute lowering of chin and neck before the giant once more astralized into spirit form.

Gazing down at the albino's peaceful and resting features the machine in Human skin murmured a phrase, a creed that defined him in many, many ways.

"I am the bane of her foes..."