The monotone sound of the pouring rain was something Konan had long become habituated to since the moment she'd lost house and home. It was an endless droning of pitter patters and clinking noises as the droplets impacted against the earth, metal, or the sparse leaves of vegetation.

Now with a roof back over her head, the sound was reduced to the dull echoes of impacted wood on the rafters as she sat listening by the edge of a window. She said window, but it was more of a square opening on the wall that resembled a window. For all the good Shirou could do by making a wood house out of nowhere, it wasn't like the house came equipped with glass or necessities.

Carefully letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, Konan continued to stare out into the rain, watching the ripples that formed from droplets striking at puddles.

The occasional wind would blow, and from how she was directly sitting on the windowsill, a light drizzle of water would wash over her face, but she didn't even blink or really move to wipe it off.

She let out a breath, recalling distant memories that had reshaped her entire life from the one before the war, and the one during. The stark difference between her own ignorance and naivety while surrounded by people who cared for her clashed directly with how guarded and taciturn she'd become when it was all taken away.

Rain washed away sadness.

In the rain, no one can see you cry.

Konan was unwilling to lose anything anymore, and something as baseless as a flimsy promise wasn't going to alleviate her anxiety. This was even more so considering the current state of Rain and the war being fought within it. It was all too easy to say one thing, and then get shinobied in the next.

Practicality had always been at the forefront of Konan's thoughts. To be rational was to survive. To take matters into her own hands was her best sort of reassurance.

From the beginning, Konan was proficient in her family's signature paper technique or bloodline. By infusing her chakra and jutsu with paper, the versatility she could display was beyond what ordinary academy students or trainees could hope to exhibit. From attack, to defense, and to stealth and substitution, her paper arts enabled her a plethora of angles in which to approach a situation. Moreover, paper wasn't something that was conspicuous enough to warrant caution over, allowing ample room for subtle action…such as marking a certain reckless target to keep tabs on.

Now, it wasn't to the point of stalking, but by relying on the chakra imbued in the paper she'd transformed to mimic a part of Shirou's clothing, she could pinpoint his location and vital status through chakra resonance. Her paper arts stemmed from her own technique, tying herself closely with the paper she'd imbued her chakra within.

If Konan closed her eyes and concentrated, she'd be able to feel the heat of Shirou's chakra from the paper she'd attached close to his heart, an organ directly connected to a person's chakra pathways. So long as she could feel that warmth, she'd know that he was fine, and that was enough for her. However, the feeling had abruptly vanished ever since Konan had frozen up in place.

Konan's actions had backfired, her mouth pursing.

Rather than relieving her anxiety, she all but set it aflame.

She couldn't feel her connection with the paper she'd slipped onto Shirou anymore no matter how hard she tried, and that meant-

Her breaths were hoarse, her posture slouching as she continued to crane her head in the direction she'd last felt Shirou at. The impulse to take action contanastly assailed her, and yet she knew that she'd be more of a hindrance on her own. It was likely why Shirou had left her and the others behind in the first place. If Shirou met something that could overwhelm or defeat him, then what good would she be able to do with only basic academy level understanding of chakra and no shinobi training whatsoever?

Her brows knit together, a warble in her lips.

Smack!

Konan jumped from a heavy clap on the back, snapping her slouched body upright instinctively as she rounded on her attacker only to see a grin.

"Yo Konan, you look like you've seen a ghost?" Yahiko drawled, waving a hand as if shooing at the dark cloud over her shoulders. "All doom and gloom."

What?

"Look, you're even making a stupid face, and ugh, not that I'm calling you dumb, but are you not going to dry yourself off? You're soaked."

He was right. A sudden breeze caused her body to shiver. Having sat by the glassless window in a daze for so long, the periodic drizzle had not only struck her, but had also soaked into her clothes, wetting them entirely through. She'd have to dry them by a fire and change into new ones to avoid getting sick.

Glancing down at herself, she wrung the water out of her sleeves and sighed. Honestly, she should be thankful for Yahiko since he'd inadvertently slapped away her hesitation from thinking too much, but her expression had remained the same the entire time. Did he just imply that her resting face was stupid?

Konan's brow twitched, eyes leveling on Yahiko as annoyance momentarily pushed back her prior apprehension, but not for long.

"I don't have time for this," Konan shoved Yahiko away and scrambled to another part of the wooden dwelling, finally spurring herself into action. Despite the danger she knew she was likely running into, despite the uneasiness she'd seen in Shirou's eyes, she was still going.

Grunting, Yahiko rubbed a hand over his stomach where Konan had elbowed him before the grin eased off his face and he snorted. Ever since Shirou had left, the paper girl of their group had been restless, but was as stone-faced as usual. He scratched at the back of his head, features sinking in consternation and hints of doubt.

"Was it wrong to feel concerned?" Yahiko muttered, moving to the window and leaning his elbows on the windowsill that Konan had just been sitting on. What had she been looking at for so long? The face Konan had been making flickered across Yahiko's mind, and he just couldn't understand. Did she need help with something or not? If so, why didn't she just say so? "Girls…"

Glancing in the direction Konan was going, Yahiko took note of where she was heading towards. Well, would you look at that? From how distant Konan was acting towards the new guy, it was ironic that she was the first to socialize with him after Shirou had left somewhere. Oh, was that it? She wasn't the cold collected type, but a tsundere?

Suddenly, Konan felt the urge to turn around and throttle Yahiko, and she probably would have if she was able to read minds, but this wasn't the time. If one ignored Yahiko's personal thoughts and paid attention solely to his deductions, you'd find that Yahiko was frighteningly accurate.

Konan was indeed marching towards a space in the house that Nawaki was using as his room. As a reference, the window Konan had been seated at prior was in the shared living room, so it was normal for anyone to see each other there. Her seeking out Nawaki was really the first real interaction between them without Shirou here to mediate.

If Konan felt bad that she was essentially approaching Nawaki not in good faith, but because she was thinking of using him, well honestly, she didn't feel guilty at all. His general demeanor resembled nothing like a resident of Rain country, and more importantly, he smelled too much like leaves. The scent invoked too many memories of the very same leaf shinobi that had orphaned her and even Yahiko and Nagato. It was no wonder that for as cheerful as Yahiko was, he hadn't been too optimistic about approaching Nawaki now that Shirou was absent.

Regardless, Konan was willing to look past these things. The situation was forcing her hand, insisting that she put aside her personal feelings for a rescue mission she desperately hoped wasn't too late.

After all, Konan may not be able to do much good for Shirou on her own, and she really couldn't keep still while knowing that Shirou was either in serious danger or dead.

She had to do something, and if that meant mounting a rescue, then she was damn well going to do it or die trying. However, she didn't bother telling Yahiko or Nagato about the situation. All of them going together was beyond foolish and just downright stupid when they could barely afford to fend for themselves.

The sole exception was Nawaki.

He was shinobi trained. This much was highly evident, and the sole reason she was seeking him out.

Shinobi were sadistic, at least the ones she'd encountered in Rain, and Konan did not doubt for a moment that Shirou would be killed by them if they were given the chance. She had thought that the danger of running into enemy shinobi was an implicit danger Shirou knew, but to her chagrin, he failed to consider the seriousness of the matter at hand. Likely, he was putting himself before them, and getting way too in over his head.

Konan needed Nawaki both to come with her, and to act as her ride to reach Shirou as soon as possible. She alone could pinpoint Shirou's location with the paper she'd left on him, but there wasn't much she'd be able to do from there.

Out of everyone here, Nawaki was obviously the only one who could really help.

She made the trip to Nawaki's accommodations in record time. Her steps had been swift, and soon enough, she arrived in front of a door, mentally prepared to do what needed to be done and beg if she had to.

Opening the door, Konan stared right into Nawaki's startled face, the force in which the door had swung open and jostled its hinges, jolting him awake. She cared not for his alarm, and was far more concerned about her inner conflict.

She really didn't want to request anything of a potential tree hugger, but…

"I need your help."

She pleaded with him before he could even get a word in, watching as she put on the most pitiful face she could muster with quivering lips and shimmering eyes.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Like she thought.

He was a push over.

The place was leveled. Hanzo's giant lizard had made sure of that. The dilapidated building was almost completely splintered into fragments, a few standing pillars the only remains of what could have only been the foundation of the building. Broken pieces of ceramics, scattered flooring, and warped metal, all were abundant in the scene.

Hanzo glanced at everyone present before leaping off his giant salamander and recalling it back to its summoning realm.

The situation had escalated rapidly from there, leaving Shirou with little time to react other than to just move, and not get flattened by a slab of rock that used to act as a wall. Evading, he jumped out of harm's way and focused. Raising his arms, he wiped the grime off of his face and than tacitly repositioned himself the furthest away from Hanzo, his breaths coming out hoarse from fatigue.

Nonetheless, he couldn't afford to be careless.

Without him even realizing it, Hanzo and the three shinobi had already engaged in a blur of movement and actions that Shirou could only keep track of by squinting. Reinforcing his vision, red veins expanded on his sclera, his perception enhancing to keep pace.

Debris and gravel were kicked up into a storm of dust and smoke that irritated the lining of his eyes, but he had no choice but to bear with it.

The situation wasn't playing out as Shirou had intended.

Based on the headband the three shinobi were wearing, their allegiance to hidden leaf was all but apparent. In all honesty, when Shirou considered the situation again, and once more thought over it, he was essentially surrounded with enemies. Hidden leaf shinobi had been the primary killers that orphaned many children in Rain country. Konan, Nagato, and maybe even Yahiko were included in all that.

Being as Shirou had essentially dropped a Kage-level threat on their laps, he was certain that he must have infuriated them. Once this situation resolved, they'd likely turn on him. As such, the most efficient strategy was to retreat. However, the prerequisite was that he needed both time and an opportunity. Something that wasn't going to happen by how Hanzo was essentially thrashing the three.

"You'd do well to know when you're all outclassed," Hanzo batted the three leaf shinobi aside as if he was dealing with children. Lethal attacks that could shatter stone, lop off limbs, or incinerate even bones were dodged, countered, and in most cases, redirected at an ally.

"Damn it snake face!" the white-haired man gasped out from his position coated in snake venom. He was saved only by a film of oily toad secretions whose odour and colour had his allies skirt around him. "What part of me do you think attracts your snakes to knowingly try to kill me?!"

"Everything," was the pale man's answer.

"Fuck of-"

"Coordinate you bastards, or we'll all die here!" The lone woman of the group just wouldn't have any arguments here. It wasn't like Hanzo had just stopped to listen to them bicker. "I need help!"

The strike had been so sudden, so quick, that even when the woman had seen it in her heightened state of alertness, it was impossible to evade. The sickle hacked towards her head, passing through the flesh of a wall of snakes without impediment. The woman was dimly aware of her teammates calling out to her before the sensation of cold metal pressing against the skin of her neck caused her to shudder. This stunned her, but not for an obvious reason.

The sickle was stuck in place, barred from decapitating her by a series of swords that jointly formed an interlocking meshwork of refined steel. Then, further away from view, the clinking of metal revealed interlocking golden chains binding Hanzo in place and restricting his movements.

For a second, all shinobi glanced in a single direction.

Shirou panted for breath, but he couldn't just stand still and do nothing. There would be no opportunity to flee if the leaf shinobi couldn't put up enough of a resistance. His initial assumption that three involuntary helpers could evenly contend with Hanzo was far too optimistic given what had been playing out before him.

The clinking of metal continued to echo as Hanzo strained against the glowing chains that bound him in place, giving the leaf shinobi a short reprieve to recover if they weren't all so suddenly fixated on him. Regardless, whatever momentary daze had come over them, the heat of battle snapped them out of it, focus returning to their eyes.

Good.

Shirou knew that he couldn't do this alone, and that the three were his only hope here.

Raising his arm up then down, dozens of new swords formed in the air around Hanzo before plunging towards him. Restrained, Shirou made sure to keep a secure hold on the chains lest Hanzo manage to escape.

Hanzo grunted, seemingly unperturbed by his predicament. The tensing of his muscles and the sudden spike of chakra spoke otherwise.

"Useless," was all he said.

The flurry of sharpened steel rammed into Hanzo's body, passed through his ribs, and hurled him from his feet, and yet, none of the three shinobi had eased their taut bodies.

Hanzo burst into a spray of drizzling droplets.

…Water clone.

For the love of- How does he do that?!

Shirou barely raised his guard up in time and hastily projected a pair of kunai to bat away a flurry of shuriken. The sound of screeching metal echoed in his ears as the whistling noise of even more shuriken rounding towards his blind spot forced him into a hasty tumble and roll.

He hissed as his vision suddenly began to swim. With difficulty, he stood back up from his roll, though he couldn't quite stop the swaying that accompanied the motion. He blinked as the metallic scent of iron and blood entered his nostrils, and looked down.

Oh. Konan wasn't going to be happy.

His guts greeted him, throbbing pieces of flesh and pulsing blood emitting steam from the grizzly wound and Rain country's almost subpolar climate. He blinked again, and then attempted to stuff his guts back in. Oddly, he wasn't feeling this quite yet. Must be going into shock or the adrenaline was pumping too much. Bits of perfectly cut flesh fell to the floor, but this was due to a sudden meshwork of miniature swords rising through his cut flesh and suturing the wound closed. Then, he knocked on the patchwork with the back of his fingers, testing for stability until he was satisfied, and promptly pretending as if that hadn't just happened.

How gruesome.

EMIYA's battlefield indifference had certainly bled into him. Shirou knew that he could never have acted this calm before he'd used that class card.

Before Shirou knew it, he was off his feet and blurring through quite a distance, tugged away by the remnants of the clothes he was wearing and a woman whose strength did not denote her petite figure.

Once his vision had settled, and it was evident that he'd come to a stop, he realized that the woman from before was dangling him in front of her with just one arm. He could hear the sounds of battle resuming on the battlefield, and so could the woman that had dragged him.

"You stupid tomato!" The blond-haired woman was panting, features settled into a fierce, almost relieved, glare. "Don't make yourself a target!"

For an ally of convenience, she almost sounded genuinely concerned.

She roughly threw him on the ground, but contrary to appearances, she then immediately inspected him for injuries, sighing in relief when she found none that were life-threatening. And more than once, she stared dubiously at the makeshift patch of metal keeping his spilled organs in place.

"Stay put." She punched the ground lightly, and it cratered. The punch had made bent that which was flat. "I'm warning you."

The woman couldn't stay for long. Her two other comrades would not last when the three of them were just barely surviving.

In a heartbeat, the woman had returned to battle.

Left on his own, Shirou should have been thankful. It was clear that he could use this opportunity to retreat from this all, but he was right to suspect that Hanzo wouldn't just let him go. Even now, it felt as if he was being watched despite the distance that separated him from where Hanzo and the other three leaf shinobi were engaged in combat. Any intention of fleeing would more than likely draw Hanzo onto him in an instant.

Right now, Shirou wasn't dead from his own capabilities, rather, it was because Hanzo seemed to have more interest in keeping him alive for one reason or another.

This wasn't working. Even if he was trying to get involved, he wasn't at a level where he could directly determine the outcome of the battle with his own strength. He didn't even know how or when he'd gotten slashed through the gut prior.

Shooting more weapons in a bid to catch Hanzo off guard had already proved detrimental, and his current proficiency in EMIYA's Tracing wasn't at the level where he could freely create Noble Phantasms without backlash. It was more likely that he'd make a mistake and kill himself from a plethora of swords piercing through him from the inside.

Therefore, what he should focus on was considering what he could do to act as a supplement for the other three so that all of them could survive.

He made up his mind.

Against his better judgement, he made his way back to be immediately berated in the chaos.

"Kid! You shouldn't be here!" the white-haired man used his hair as a shield while maneuvering away from one of Hanzo's strikes. As for the woman, the fury in her eyes promised retribution.

Shirou didn't answer, let alone acknowledge the white-haired man or the woman when all his focus was directed on what he alone could do.

Rain country's landscape was dominated by flat ridges, plains, and the occasional hills. Due to constant rain, vegetation here was sparse, leaving little in terms of coverage aside from large puddles that no ordinary shinobi could really use.

Leaf shinobi in particular were the most disadvantaged by the terrain, having been trained primarily within the cover of fire country's vast forests. They didn't have Stone's rocks, Cloud's vapours, or even Water's mists to hone their techniques. Meanwhile, Hanzo was a fish in water, possessing a home-field advantage.

They were sitting ducks out in the open, but what if he could not only change the terrain, but create enough of a commotion to draw in more leaf shinobi? There had to be more than just these three in the area.

[Use available points to advance skill mastery?]

[Yes/No?]

Do it.

[Wood Release: Basic]

[Processing]

{Wood Release: Advanced}

A flood of information abruptly came pounding into Shirou's brain, twisting and directly taking root within.

The origin of wood stems from a transformation of Earth and Water.

His hands came together and began moving on their own, weaving chakra into specific seals and patterns ending in a snake sign, and severely overextending his current chakra capacity. He heaved, vision swimming such that black spots appeared in and out view.

Gather them together.

He staggered. The toll was too heavy to pay on his own, but even still, it wasn't as if chakra was his only source of energy!

Harness them in equal measure.

His magecraft thrummed and answered in response. Numerous nerves converted into makeshift magic vessels known as magic circuits began to revolve their energy around twenty-seven primary circuits in his soul.

And channel Chakra into a source of budding life.

His magic circuits flared, interface patterns suddenly crawling over his skin. His circuits converted the naturally ambient energy of the atmosphere into useable mana to supplement his energy demand.

Water is free and ever changing, solid, liquid, or gas.

An aura of blue enshrouded him, a mix of chakra and magic energy of his own, and that converted from nature.

The Earth, an immovable rock, firm yet malleable.

A brown tint swelled in the aura of blue.

Both combined-

Seeds carried on his body began to sprout, robust vines piercing deep into the dirt, branching out for leverage.

Form the basis of a Kekkei Genkai.

"Wood Release."

Shirou's head snapped up, veins popping over his skin in the deathly silence of realization while others only now began to comprehend what was happening before them.

Hands then swiftly pressed firmly into the dirt, blowing away the mist of the area and changing everything, dynamic and all.

"Nativity of a Sea of Trees!"

Shirou directly fainted from Chakra exhaustion, his magic circuits sputtering out from his fleeing consciousness.

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