(A/N) There was... a delay lol.
No, seriously. I could barely touch my laptop in July. It's my intention to get stuff rolling out within the next couple of days, though, so hopefully I can make up for lost time.
But yeah, this story isn't dead. It was never supposed to go this long without getting an update, but alas. It shouldn't be as offensive of a wait-time for chapter 18 lol.
Aaanyway. Before we get on with our lives, I have 3 pretty important announcements.
1. I made a shiny new Discord server (for all my content) that should be up and running by the time this chapter is published. It's probably a much better platform than fanfiction dot net's forum, but that's not hard to do. You can get the direct link to the discord on my (equally-new) Pa treon page, which you can find on my profile. Don't worry though, the link is a public post lol. No need to cough up any money.
To assuage any concerns though, neither my Ko-Fi nor my Pa treon will have any actual impact on my writing. It's free, and it will continue to be free. I'm using them mostly as commission platforms for one-shots and illustrations.
Now with this said, my discord server probably will have an impact on my stories. I'll be having direct 1:1 convos with all of you there, so I'll definitely have a better grasp on the followings for each of my fics.
2. A good number of my stories are now Illustrated on Spacebattles. His Body is Made of Swords in no exception. You can find it there under the same name.
3. I'll be going over previous chapters of the story and smoothing up some of the rough edges. I won't be doing them all in one go, but chaps 1 and 2 are already done.
That's all!
I'd like to give my sincerest thanks and a big shoutout to ajpa for beta-reading this chapter! You're da best fam.
X
As someone who came here year after year, months at a time, there were a number of reasons why I thought that the Clock Tower was a piss-poor excuse for a learning institution. One of those reasons was –of course– the equally-piss-poor excuse for human beings who ran the place, but that really should have gone without saying.
What was bothering me the most at the moment was the continued widespread and erroneous belief that modern technology wasn't worth a damn. Even though I already knew that most magi didn't like modern technology, it still rankled me to have to work in this archaic environment.
I really didn't care if a magus could make a mystic code to duplicate a handwritten document a few dozen times. Of course, the "not caring" part went both ways in that they "didn't care" if the mystic code used twice as much power or if having a physical, ink-on-paper document was a prerequisite for the damn thing to work in the first place.
If it were just a matter of signing something, sure, whatever, but if I needed to write up a fifteen-thousand-word report like I just did this morning? Not a chance. Typing it up electronically was much faster.
And so, that was why I found myself in a completely different department –the Department of Modern Magecraft Theory– which just so happened to be the only department decent and reasonable enough to have a printer room.
Unfortunately, much like every other piece of technology made in the late nineties, the printer itself was slow as all get-out. If needing to wait on thirty-some-odd pages wasn't bad enough, I wasn't even the first one in line.
I stood blank-faced next to the only other person in this otherwise empty room. I couldn't make out her face all that well due to the hood atop her head, but it was clear that she was a young girl. I'd go as far as to say younger than me, but I wasn't really the best equipped to be making those kinds of assumptions.
Regardless, running into other kids at the Clock Tower didn't happen too often– or ever, in my case. I mostly stuck to Policies, which, technically, was purely administrative and didn't really offer many courses besides those regarding leadership.
On the flip side of things, since I was in one of the more "academically inclined" faculty buildings right now, it would make sense for a few child prodigies to pass through every now and again.
Oh? The girl was fidgeting.
She looked nervous about something. Was she bad with company? These types of kid geniuses usually had all of their eggs in one basket, so being socially awkward wasn't unusual.
"That's a lot of paper. Long assignment, huh?"
My question visibly caught her off guard, but that was fine. Small talk like this must have been better than silence, right? Of course, that could have been a completely false statement. I was no child psychiatrist.
Besides, pretending that the other didn't exist for ten minutes and counting was even getting to me.
It was still brainless chatter, but it was a different kind of mind-numbing from what I usually got from the old coots that Barthomeloi always made me deal with.
The girl shuffled on her feet.
"Uhm…" she tried to find her words. "It's not like that. I'm Lord El-Melloi's assistant, so…"
Hm? She was like me then. How surprising.
My pity for her doubled immediately.
I'd heard about Lord El-Melloi in passing; mostly good things, surprisingly enough.
…Or actually, it might have been more accurate to say that I had heard his name cursed out by a few jackasses I knew, which was more or less the same thing. Net positives and all that.
Regardless of how wonderful he was in comparison to my own warden, however, the job description still entailed working here. I could only handle the Clock Tower since I wasn't really a kid; this girl probably didn't have the same luxury.
"Is that so?" I played up the interest in my voice. "Working for a Lord is a tall order."
She shook her head, the movement wasn't pronounced enough to displace her hood.
"No, Lord El-Melloi is a very kind person. I…"
She trailed off once she realized that her papers were done printing.
"Ah. I'll, erm…"
I nodded.
"No worries. I can tell that you're in a rush."
She bowed her head in a very non-British fashion and stepped forward to grab her fresh stack of paper.
"Yes, sorry."
That was as much of a goodbye that was given. Abrupt and insignificant parting words for an abrupt and insignificant conversation. The girl twirled around to face the door, and for an instant, the top of her hood fluttered back.
I only saw it for an instant. I must have been seeing things because I could've sworn that–
X
I woke up on a rock-hard surface. My memory of whatever it was that I dreamt about left me quickly.
My back was killing me.
In my half-lucid state, I could feel someone shaking me. My blurry vision slowly cleared, and the cold, smooth floor of my shed met my gaze.
I passed out here again, then.
"Just a second, Sakura," I grumbled. "My head feels like it was split in half with a hatchet."
"Sakura went to school half an hour ago. She gave up on trying to wake you, you slothful, indolent–"
"Oh. It's you, Sella. Good morning."
"Good morning to you as well, Young Master. Will you get up now, or do you prefer to keep to the ground?"
It's okay, Sella. I know you care.
"Methinks the cool surface is refreshing. It's pleasant."
She wasn't having it.
"Get up."
Fine.
I lifted an arm and squeezed the air.
"Mind lending me a hand?"
She sighed loudly but helped me to my feet anyway despite knowing that nothing was stopping me from getting onto my feet on my own.
"The guest bedroom is fully furnished," she told me. "It's ready for Lady Barthomeloi when she arrives later today."
I shivered. The days passed me by pretty quickly, huh? How unfortunate.
"If I needed a reason to go to school before, I certainly don't need one now," I groaned. If nothing else, school would keep me away from her for another few hours at the very least.
We left the shed.
"…"
"…"
"Is something the matter?" Sella asked, noticing my sudden silence.
I was sweating.
"The bed will be comfortable enough, won't it? She won't be able to fish for things to complain about?"
If Sella was one to laugh, I imagined that she would be laughing at me right now. I could tell by the poorly-veiled smirk on her face.
"Of course not. Gather your things and get out of the house. I put some extra octopus sausages in your lunchbox since you missed breakfast."
Couldn't she have just given me the leftovers? Did she really make a separate children's meal just to spite me?
I let the matter rest and went to get ready for the new day. I might have already missed the first period, but that wasn't a huge deal, right?
It was only once that I had reached the front gate that I realized that Sella's earlier "Of course not" was pretty vague in whether it was an answer to my first or second question.
Damn.
X
"What's with you, Emiya? You look antsy enough to jump out the window."
Shinji sparked a conversation the very second that the period was over. His words snapped me out of my trance.
I tilted my head.
"Hm? Do I?"
My answering of his question with another question was not appreciated by the wavy-haired boy.
"Don't play games with me," begged Shinji in a tone that he probably thought sounded like an order. He crossed his arms under his chest. "You keep glancing at the clock as though every passing minute physically pains you."
I didn't even notice, to be completely honest.
"I'm expecting a difficult houseguest today, is all. I'm just counting down the hours until I'm inevitably stripped of all my free will and dignity."
Shinji squinted. "Hah? 'Stripped of your free will and dignity'? What, are the cops coming to throw you in the slammer or something?"
If only.
Before I could come up with any clever ways to end the topic of conversation, the principal walked into our classroom. Everyone looked his way.
"U-uhm… Ahem." The man cleared his throat but made no move to fully pass through the doorway. He looked nervous. "Is Emiya here today?"
And suddenly, all eyes were on me.
…Wait, why wouldn't I be here? I never skipped school. A little late some days, and sent home early on others, but I always showed up, at the very least.
"Here," I announced.
The principal's eyes lit up. I could only compare the look to a man having found an oasis in the aridest of deserts. Besides that, though, I couldn't help but feel that something was off with him.
"Good! Good. A foreigner came to my office asking to pick you up, but she refused to show any sort of identification. Would you be able to–"
The principal was pushed aside mid-sentence by a well-manicured hand.
"Move. Your recount of transpired events is unnecessary," a voice commanded. I doubted that many students caught it though. It was said in English, after all.
…No. Go away, please. Didn't you know that I was trying to put off talking to you for as long as possible? You breaching my sanctuary is not conducive to my mental health.
Whispers started springing to life all around me.
"Who's that lady?"
"Emiya knows her?"
Unfortunately.
"I bet that's his sugar momma."
Hold on. What?
"I'd buy that. I always had the feeling that he was that sort of guy."
"What a man-whore."
"No wonder he doesn't have a girlfriend. He's into older women."
"She's pretty hot. I don't blame him."
I planted my face into my desk.
How in the hell– is that really the story they're going with? At least pretend to look for some context before you come up with those sorts of outlandish rumours, you assholes!
"You think she's from America?"
"Nah, she's British. The accent is a dead giveaway."
Shinji nudged me, and I was momentarily taken away from the murmurings of my classmates.
"Hey… who's that?" he asked.
"My 'difficult houseguest'," I answered flatly.
I pushed myself out of my seat and walked past the woman waiting for me at the door. She thankfully followed suit without making any more of a commotion than she already had.
"How much do you think she pays him?"
I pretended not to hear that parting remark.
X
"…and when I arrived at your pigsty of an airport, I expected the head of the household to come to greet me himself. Who came instead? The homunculi. Have you no shame? Making me, the heiress of the Barthomeloi, fetch you at some third-rate learning institution? Do you enjoy wasting my time? Would you rather I…"
With my forehead still leaning against the glass of the car window, I tuned in to Barthomeloi's rant just to make sure that she hadn't moved on to anything worth listening to. She was still laying it on thick, however, so I tuned right back out.
It didn't even bother me at this point, to be honest. If anything, I felt bad for the other carpoolers caught in the crossfire.
Sakura was forced to take the middle seat between us in the back. Her face was buried into her palms as she tried her best to ignore the Clock Tower magus talking over her head.
Sella and Leysritt, who were seated in the driver's and passenger's seats respectfully, had to do their best to not let Barthomeloi's remarks push any of their buttons.
…Or at least Sella did. I doubted that Leyritt was paying attention at all.
I had enough of this.
"What should I make for dinner?" I asked the peanut gallery.
Barhtomeloi didn't appreciate being cut off mid-thought. She huffed. "Does it matter?"
"Natto," suggested Leysritt flatly.
Sella lost her grip on the wheel for a moment, but it was barely noticeable
I nodded, though neither in the front could see me. Leysritt had been craving it for a while now, so I did have some in the fridge. Since no one else was speaking up, her suggestion was the front-runner. "Natto it is, then."
"Natto?" Barthomeloi frowned. "And what is that, exactly? Some sort of local dish?"
I thought about the question and paused. I did my best to hide my smirk.
Sakura, who wore a worried expression, looked like she was about to say something; I spoke before she could.
"Beans," I answered.
Barthomeloi hummed.
"Beans? Just beans? Hardly sounds like a main course to me, but I'll trust you to prepare satisfactory accompaniments."
"Of course," I agreed easily.
"Ah, excuse me," Sakura interjected in a heavily accented but clear voice. Her English had certainly come a long way over the years. "We'll need to stop by the supermarket on the way back, then. We should get some different vegetables from the ones we have at home."
I looked to Barthomeloi and waited for her to rip us a new one for suggesting a detour. No such thing came.
"Sounds good to me. Sella, could you–"
"Drop you off at the grocery store? Of course. It's not too far from the house, so it shouldn't take you all that long to walk home afterward, Young Master."
Wait. Hold that thought–
Before I could get a word in, Sella pulled into a parking lot. The infuriating woman looked over her shoulder and gave me a tiny smile.
"We'll be expecting you shortly."
I made a face and waited for anyone to express some form of outrage on my behalf. The best I got was an apologetic smile from Sakura. Was that supposed to make me feel better, Sakura? Did giving me the visual equivalent of a "Sorry, teehee" ease your conscience, Sakura?
I huffed and popped the door open.
"That's fine. I get it."
Before I left, however, I glanced back to Barthomeloi.
…Until now, she hadn't brought up the purpose of her visit in the slightest.
I was thankful for that, actually. Both my reason for wanting to stay here and her reason for wanting me back at the Clock Tower were matters that I didn't want the others to worry about just yet. Whether she realized that or not, I didn't really know, but then again, I didn't really care either.
As I threw my legs out of the car, Sakura tapped me on the shoulder with a wide-eyed look.
"Shirou!"
Hm?
"Get some okra. It's on sale, I think."
Yeah, yeah.
X
I had a package of pork loin in one hand, and a package of sausages in the other. My eyes were closed as I tried to picture our household's meals for the next couple of days.
Tonkatsu was a nice treat to have every once in a while, but then again, Barthomeloi probably wouldn't trust any dish that she didn't immediately recognize after tonight. Telling her that it was just pork cutlet wouldn't be enough.
Hm? I was only here for a few vegetables and some pickles, you say? I guess technically I was only supposed to get one or two things for tonight, but there was no point in doing another grocery run tomorrow if I was already here, right?
I nodded to myself.
"I'll play it safe. Sausage next time, but I'll test the waters later on this week to see if Barthomeloi wouldn't be against the idea of having tonkatsu."
Did she hold grudges? Sure she did, but this wasn't that big of a deal, right?
I threw both packages into my basket and made my way to the cashier. Before I made it that far, though, I planted my feet and stared at an unexpected sight.
…Is that Rin?
It was. She was standing totally still in the produce aisle. Even though there were plenty of fruits right in front of her, I doubted she was actually looking at them. The girl looked catatonic.
I sneaked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped.
"Whoa– oh. Emiya. What are you doing here?"
"Need help with something?" I asked, ignoring her own question.
"No," she lied. "What makes you say that?"
The flat look that I gave her must have clued her in to the fact that I wasn't buying it. She sighed.
"I'm hosting a pretty important guest later today. I don't have any idea what I'm doing, though."
What the hell was this girl talking about?
"Doing?" I repeated slowly. "What's there to 'do'? You just have to pretend to not be a nag until they leave."
An "important guest" she said. How important could they possibly be? This was Fuyuki after all. She was probably making a bigger issue of the matter than it actually was because she wasn't used to having guests in the first place. It was probably just Mitsuzuri or something.
She punched me in the kidney.
"What the f–"
"Idiot! It sounds pretty swell when you put it like that, doesn't it? 'Pretend to not be a nag' my ass! What am I going to make for dinner, huh? I'm freaking out here!"
It's nice to know that you're still capable of expressing yourself properly when you want to.
I waved my hand dismissively.
"It's okay, Rin. I'll probably have a bunch of leftovers tonight, so you can definitely have some. I'll bring it some time in the evening."
"Wha–"
I walked away and waved to her over my shoulder. I didn't waste too much time, did I?
"Hold on a second, Emiya! Don't you dare come to my house today, you understand? I'm– hey! Are you ignoring me? I'm being serious! Don't!"
Ah. How cute. I get it, Rin: you're a grown, independent woman now. It's okay, though. I'm sure that Mitsuzuri wouldn't mind an extra dish or two.
Oh. Did she like natto?
…We would find out, I suppose.
"Get back here, Emiya! …Emiyaaaaa!"
X
All things considered, the occurrences leading up to our evening meal were pretty tame. I came home to the sight of everyone getting along pretty well. Even Illya, who I knew was pissed about Barthomeloi coming to bother us at home, had done an impressive job of keeping her frustrations to herself.
With things as they were, I could only be thankful that Taiga wouldn't be joining us for dinner tonight. As I brought the plates out from the kitchen, I began to imagine how much more chaotic things could have been if I had needed to explain Barthomeloi's presence to her. That, if nothing else, could be postponed for now.
It went without saying that I liked to avoid unnecessary conflict whenever possible.
I watched as Barthomeloi's expression shifted from intrigue to utter disgust once the natto was close enough to attack her nostrils.
I noticed everyone else glancing at her worriedly.
Sakura, who was seated next to her, was biting her lip. Illya, across from her, was keeping awfully quiet. Or actually, was she cursing me out in her head? She didn't like natto all that much either, come to think of it. Sella had a frown as always, but it seemed more absent than usual. Leysritt–
…
I noticed everyone else minus Leysritt glancing at her worriedly. Leysritt had already started eating.
I sat at the end of the table as if nothing was wrong.
"Let's dig in!" I exclaimed with a cheery smile. My chopsticks were already in hand.
To my hidden surprise, Barthomeloi's initial almost-gag was the most that I was able to get out of her. She followed my lead and began eating without complaint.
Wait, seriously? Either she actually liked it, or I had seriously underestimated the Barthomeloi trademark poker face. It was kind of impressive either way.
We ate our meal in relative silence with small-talk thrown in every now and again. Even Barthomeloi herself joined in if only to inform us what our itineraries would be for the following days. I was content to let someone else tell her that I had every intention of going to school tomorrow and that her plans would be disregarded in favour of that decision.
While our pleasant evening continued, I waited for grief that never came. Once the time for Sakura and I to grab the empty dishes rolled around, I was convinced that I was in the clear.
"Emiya."
Perhaps I spoke too soon.
"Yes?" I answered the Clock Tower magus innocently.
"Speak with me outside for a moment."
Eh?
I was hesitant to follow, but I didn't make a fuss. The others watched us strangely as we left the room.
For a moment I thought that she was going to kill me over the choice of meal in private, but I discarded that theory pretty quickly. It wasn't like she could actually get away with that… right?
We stopped in front of the garden. Though the sun was all but gone, the vestigial rays of light bouncing off the plants and flowers made for a pretty sight regardless.
I was given a sideward glance.
"You know why I called out here, don't you?"
"Sorry about the beans," I began before she could get a word in.
Barthomeloi narrowed her eyes.
"What's that about the beans?"
"What– I mean– no, I'm not too sure."
Was she messing with me? She had to be messing with me.
The brunette gritted her teeth. "Quit being obtuse. Your 'commitment' or whatever it is that you want to call it. Tell me what it is so that it can be dealt with."
The me of a time long past would have been offended by someone telling me that they were going to get all up in my business like that, but the me of right now had grown used to infuriating people who didn't seem capable of minding their own. I lived with four such individuals and was forced to spend mind-numbing amounts of time around the woman standing next to me.
I thought about it for a moment.
I did trust Barthomeloi despite our differences. Full of hot air though she may be, that didn't mean that she didn't have some amount of tact and social awareness. The fact that she brought me out here to talk about this instead of interrogating me at the dinner table supported my theory that she really was being mindful of the potential confidentiality of the information.
As it applied to everyone other than her, of course.
Did I trust her implicitly? Maybe not, but the fault lay with her responsibilities as the next head of her family rather than her character. She practically ran Policies on her own now, so some secrets she would not be able to keep regardless of her own feelings on the matter.
So the question was whether or not the early start to the Grail War was significant enough for her to report back to the Clock Tower.
On one hand, the Heaven's Feel was a true magic. On the other hand, it took place in Japan.
…
"The Fuyuki Holy Grail War," I started. "Have you heard of it?"
She kept her eyes on the garden. "Who do you take me for? The fourth happened a decade ago, I believe."
"Yeah, well, the next one's in a few months."
Barthomeloi whipped her head my way with a start. "That's not possible. It should only happen–"
"–Every sixty years," I finished for her. "I know. My old man was a participant, but you knew that much."
I saw the get-to-the-point look on her face, so I tried my best to do just that.
"The ritual wasn't seen through to the end, so the magical energy retrieved from the seven servants was never fully used. It should have only taken the grail about this long to gather enough mana for another war. Before he died, that is what he told me."
A few fibs here and there, but the gist of things were the same.
Barthomeloi tilted her head towards the door leading back into the dining area.
"Do they know?"
"No, and I would like to keep it that way for as long as possible."
She sighed.
"I understand."
Wait, really?
…That's all she had to say?
I raised my hand. "Just a moment. What is it that you intend to–"
I stopped talking. Barthomeloi had completely ignored me and slid back into the house.
My hand fell. Surely her sudden dismissal could only spell good things for me.
I followed after her with a defeated slump in my shoulders. Rather than join Leyritt, Barthomeloi and Illya at the table, I took a quick left into the kitchen to help Sella and Sakura with the–
"Oh, that reminds me."
All eyes were on me. I grabbed the food storage container out of Sakura's hand.
"We don't need all this, right?"
X
I knocked on the door of the European mansion. I shifted my weight to one side while I waited in an idle effort to counter the pull of the bag of leftovers I had with me.
I couldn't hear anything inside of the house for a good while, but eventually, the familiar sound of Rin's angry elephant stomps graced my ears.
The door swung open. I was faced with an absolutely livid one-hundred-and-fifty-something centimetre-tall teenage girl.
"You… jackass!" she squealed out. It sounded like she had put a lid on a scream. "I told you not to come!"
I nodded.
"Yeah, sorry. I brought natto, by the way. Who's here?"
I tried to walk into the house, but she stepped in front of me in an evident attempt to block my path. I lifted a brow, and her snarl melted into a worried frown.
Suspicious.
"You can't come in right now," she said.
"Oh? May I ask why?"
"No!"
"That's not very nice."
"You're not very nice! Go away!"
"It's still warm though."
I jingled the reusable plastic bag in front of me.
"I don't want your natto. It's just going to stink up my house"
I had enough of this. Rin nearly squawked when I used an arm to push past her.
"Wait, Emiya–"
She really did sound panicked now. Was she that embarrassed about having a friend over for once? Come on, Rin. Live a little.
My thoughts came to a halt.
"Is something the matter, Miss Tohsaka?"
The voice came from a man who had just stepped into the front hall. He was an imposing figure with long, straight black hair. A chewed-up cigar hung from his lips, though it didn't appear to be lit.
I had my suspicions as to his identity, but they were all but confirmed when another figure stepped out behind him.
A familiar figure cloaked by a grey hood.
Huh. So it wasn't Mitsuzuri then.
"…"
"…"
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Come to think of it, this could be a problem.
