Second Morning (1)

A light groan left Illya as morning light slowly illuminated her pale complexion, eyes twitching in annoyance as she instinctively pulled the sheets higher over face, burrowing deeper into the futon…

...Futon?

Crimson orbs snapped open and her body tensed, quickly scanning the surroundings for any hints as to what might be her current situation-

-and she promptly relaxed as she felt Berserker's reassuring presence close by, a cursory examination of her surroundings revealing it to be a clean and spacious dojo of some kind, the room dead silent aside from the slightest sounds of rustling fabric, shifting muscle and quiet breaths.

Oh. Right.

She'd basically cried herself to sleep on her weird brother's shoulder, neck and then side before collapsing, evidently he'd moved her to this new location and gotten a bedroll just for her after the fact.

A low groan of displeasure left her throat, hands digging into the side of her head in vexation.

That wasn't how a composed and mature woman acted, that was...was...disgraceful!

"Did you manage to sleep well, Illya?"

"Eep!"

The Homunculus almost jumped out of her skin at Shirou's calm tones, yet another round of annoyance directed at herself for her skittishness commencing before she smoothed out her pajamas, scraped the leftover gunk from her eyes and turned to face the other occupant of the room with something approaching seriousness.

Except she failed miserably, blushing scarlet as her step-sibling was currently in the middle of a workout, smoothly raising his torso up and down in a battle against gravity, legs wrapped over a padded bar and eyes never leaving her own.

Her Onii-chan was...buff.

Yet Illya's admiration quickly turned into a frown as she noticed odd markings over his skin that looked like veins but were far too dark to be so. Almost like he'd been burned with countless lengths of wire over and over again.

...Remove Avalon's healing factor, combined with what she knew would have been a harsh training regimen with her Papa and the Homunculus figured she should just be glad the young man was still alive.

"Erm, yes...I did. Thank you for keeping me company, Onii-chan."

"It was no trouble."

And with that he went back to his workout without so much as another word, leaving Illya to flounder on what to say next.

"Umm...did you sleep well, Onii-chan?"

"I did. My sleep schedule was uninterrupted."

She frowned briefly, doing the math and realizing inbetween her nightmares, his showing her the storage areas of where her bodies were kept and other responsibilities he would have only had around three or so hours to rest. She was a Homunculus and didn't need much sleep, but what about him?

"Umm...if you don't mind me asking, what is your sleep schedule?"

"Dymaxion. Thirty minute naps every six hours."

Illya blinked Once. And then twice.

"Oh."

Seamlessly rising from one machine he went to the next, a suspended bag around half the size of his body, the redheaded boy beginning to swiftly and efficiently punch and kick it with assured movements.

"Do you like to exercise, Onii-chan?"

"Yes. A sound soul rests within a sound mind and body."

Observing his actions for a few more minutes Illya suddenly blurted, "Would...would you mind if I joined you? Exercising, that is?"

Sure, as an artificial Human she would have to try very hard to ever be 'unhealthy' but the albino was desperately trying to find any kind of common ground between them that could lead to a conversation lasting more than three sentences. And she was rather curious about calisthenics, the Einzberns had only ever given her Magecraft practice and theory to work on, never anything related to physical activity or sports. It could be fun!

"I don't mind. You might not be able to keep even with my pace but I could create an altered regimen for you to follow."

Puffing out a cheek at the slight-whether it was intentional or not-the Homunculus archly asked, "Oh? You don't think I could keep pace with you? And why is that bag making a funny noise?"

The strange object had been releasing dull WHUMP noises everytime her Onii-chan had struck it but suddenly began making wet SNAP sounds and jerking backwards as he attacked, piquing her interest even as she threw down the proverbial gauntlet.

"I've been trained beyond what even most enhanced Humans can handle. And this is a gel bag. It stiffens until you strike past a certain threshold, then it gives."

Crossing her arms over her slight chest the albino doubtfully asked, "Oh? And just how hard is that threshold, then?"

A blindingly fast roundhouse kick impacted with the loudest snap yet, Shirou calmly replying, "Human bone," before once more resuming his assault.

Illya promptly decided that her younger brother probably knew what he was talking about.

Releasing an audible sigh she pinched the bridge of her nose. This...was getting her nowhere. The two of them, despite the several moments they had shared -willingly or not-were basically strangers. Trying to interact like old friends or family just...wasn't going to work.

And Illya wasn't too proud to admit that they were probably a pair of freaks even by Magus standards.

"Onii-chan? Why don't we sit down and...and talk? About our pasts, our abilities and what we want after the war? About our family?"

Briefly pausing in his routine Shirou's amber eyes flicked in her direction, tone as even as ever as he replied, "That's a good idea, Illya. Let me make us breakfast and we can go over things then. Do you have any preferences for what you want?"

Eyeing her strange, emotionally stunted brother (and wasn't that a rich observation, coming from her?) Illya felt a small smile crawl over her lips.

"Why don't you surprise me, Onii-chan?"


Her bother had indeed surprised her...but it wasn't just because of the delicious meal.

Actually, 'surprise' was a bit of an understatement. She was in plain, outright shock.

"Onii-chan...you're an Incarnation?"

"I am."

The tiny Homunculus felt the onset of a gargantuan migraine approaching. Was nobody in their family normal?!

An Incarnation...someone who's Origin and Elemental Affinity were so similar to each other that they created an unbreakable bond, physically and spiritually altering the person in question so that they were more or less a sentient expression of whatever they were an Incarnation of.

The most well known and studied example of an Incarnation was the 'Rosebud', a Magus under Sealing Designation at the Clock Tower. Being an Incarnation of 'flowers' Rosebud could spontaneously grow practically any known or extinct flora upon request with no loss in potency, a boon that many alchemists or brewers coveted.

...But there was a tradeoff. Much like a great deal many flowers in the real world Rosebud would typically only be lucid and active for a period of a few days before lapsing into near catatonia for weeks or months, only eating and drinking alongside a few other hygienic necessities as if on autopilot, not responding to most outside stimuli whatsoever.

That was the thing about Incarnations. Unbeatable geniuses in their tiny little fields of speciality, capable of feats bordering Sorcery or True Magic...but largely hopeless in all other endeavors.

It certainly explained why her brother hadn't been able to do practically anything with the bounded fields.

"Onii-chan...what exactly are you as an Incarnation?"

"A Sword."

The completely bland and factual reply left Illya wincing violently.

Sword…

"Papa...what did you make out of poor Onii-chan?"

A sword could be used for many things. You could cut meat and vegetables with it. Use it as a plow. Use it as a clothes hanger. Use it to trim bushes.

But that wasn't what a sword was. It wasn't a farming, culinary or domestic bit of equipment...it was a weapon.

A sword was a tool of murder.

And her Papa had made of him an assassin, turned him into what was almost certainly the second Magus Killer?

Just to save her life?

For the first time since reading her Papa's last words Illya felt that maybe he did deserve some of that regret he carried. Just a little.

"Papa...you went too far."

Sighing quietly to herself she asked, "What exactly can you do as a sword Incarnation, Onii-chan? Do you know?"

Still efficiently cleaning dishes with mechanical precision he replied, "I can create bladed weapons using a specialized version of Gradation Air, which Oto-san called Tracing for simplicities sake. If I judge something to be a 'blade' then I can record and create it with very little loss in quality. Even Noble Phantasms and Mystic Codes are no exception, although the stronger the mystery surrounding an object the less powerful my version will be...except for Avalon, it was a part of my very being for so long that I can recreate it in near perfect condition, albeit at a steep mana cost."

Illya felt her head begin to spin.

"You...you...UGH! You said 'record' these weapons and stuff, what do you mean by that? Do you, just...remember them? It's impossible to retain that much information unless you have perfect memory."

"Oh, my mistake. To be more specific they're recorded in my Reality Marble, Unlimited Blade Works."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Illya's head fell to the table with a dull thump, hands grabbing and pulling on her hair in a vain attempt to do away with the headache that had suddenly arrived full force, noise like an upset kitten escaping her.

"Was...was it something I said?"

Shirou's legitimately curious tone, as if he truly didn't understand why she was having a minor breakdown, had her this close to ordering Berserker to find the nearest Servant and grind them to a pulp, simply as a means of catharsis and release.

"Onii-chan...just, just shut up for a minute."

Slowly regaining her composure Illya released a long, suffering sigh as she met the idle gaze of her step-sibling.

"You're not kidding. You have one of the most powerful and incredible Noble Phantasms at your beck and call...because you have a Reality Marble."

"I do."

"...And you can manifest it."

"For a short time. Mana consumption is a concern, I don't have a terribly large amount to begin with."

Yet another exasperated breath leaving her Illya's crimson gaze suddenly snapped to Shirou's.

"Who else have you told about this?"

"No one. Only you and Oto-san know about it."

Relaxing slightly the Homunculus sagged in her seat-

-and her spine abruptly straightened, an awful thought percolating in her brain.

He...he had just told her everything about his magecraft. Nothing held back and nothing disguised. How far did his devotion to her actually go?

With a shaking voice Illya asked, "Onii-chan? Can you do a handstand for me?"

Without so much as hesitating he complied, pausing only long enough to set aside the plate he was cleaning before raising his body up on his hands.

Feeling a sick roil of her gut threaten to undo breakfast the albino barely managed to whisper, "Can...can you use that kitchen knife to cut open your wrist?"

Shirou's head tilted minutely in confusion as he regained his feet.

"I can, but why do you need me to do so?"

Illya almost sobbed in relief, sagging where she sat.

Papa hadn't twisted her brother so much that he was nothing but a mindless tool that was good at pretending to be Human. He still had a sense of agency and understanding of consequences and wouldn't mindlessly follow her orders.

He had indulged the handstand request because it was a simple and harmless action to perform...not so with the wrist slitting.

"Illya?"

"It's fine, Onii-chan. Thank you for listening to my requests."

Silence fell between them as he returned to cleaning, the Homunculus's mind racing at a breakneck pace.

Her brother...was weird.

But for the first time she felt...hope. Hope for the future.

Berserker was the strongest Servant there was, and her Onii-chan was apparently some kind of crazy super Enforcer, his Magecraft meant for fighting and fighting only.

...She would survive this war and she would try to give Shirou something resembling a normal life after this, her way of making amends for the damage her Papa had done in the hopes of saving her.

"So what should be our first move be, Onii-chan? I have a few ideas, but it sounds like you and Papa have made a lot of preparations for this day."

Nodding to himself Shirou finally put away the last dish, cleaning his hands and neutrally commenting, "We'll go to the overseer of the war, Kirei Kotomine, announce your participation to him..."

There was a sharp clink as a kitchen knife was smoothly slid into its sheath.

"And then I'll kill him."