Fate: Hammer Time

by TedTheRabbit

Shirou Emiya wanted to become a hero. That was clear to all who truly know him. For a long time though, he lacked the power to actually achieve that goal. No longer. No longer will he lack the power, now that the Hammer of the Odinson has chosen him as new wielder. Prepare for Thunder. ShirouxMultiple, Thor-Shirou.

11. Making Progress

Making Progress

---

"Senpai, could you pass me the salt, please?"

"Sure, here you go." Osaki Koyo handed the saltshaker over to his partner, Yomaura Taya, who was sitting next to him at the dining table in his house.

"Thank you." She smiled in response, before sprinkling a bit over her dish.

"Taya-obaa-san, can I have the salt next?" Sitting across from him at the table, Osaki's youngest daughter, Chiho, eagerly held out her hand towards the red-haired woman, who obediently passed the shaker along.

It was a bit odd, since Chiho actually didn't care much for salt, but Osaki supposed the only reason his youngest now eagerly poured the mineral all over her food was because she wanted to emulate Yomaura.

His redheaded partner was the only female role-model his girls had, so it was to be expected they'd try to take after her. Or at least, that was what he had been told by the psychiatrist when the subject had come up.

He was actually quite happy about that. If you asked him, there was no one who could be a better example for his daughters to follow than Yomaura. She was dedicated, confident, and intelligent. She had a strong moral compass, and a penchant for hard work. She was in any and every way superior to that woman. If his daughters grew up to become like his partner, he could rest easy as a father.

That Chiho picked up a habit of putting just a bit too much salt on her food was a small price to pay for that.

"Grrr!"

It seemed however that Suki did not agree with that sentiment in the slighest.

Being a composed and calm girl, with long black hair and the typical Japanese beauty about her, his eldest daughter always looked and acted the part of the proper schoolgirl. It was her dream to become a Yamato Nadeshiko, and she was doing a pretty good job of it too.

However, her self-control wasn't perfect, and the sight of Chiho mindlessly spoiling the food that Suki had spent so much time and energy on to prepare easily broke through it.

"Imouto! You dunce!" Suki hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing her sister's hand in mid-motion. "Don't do that! I agreed on cooking today because you asked me to, but if you keep spoiling it, that will have been the last time I ever cooked for you!"

Chiho froze, despair entering in her eyes, before she practically threw the saltshaker across the table, as if trying to hide the incriminating evidence.

"Aah, Onee-san. I am so sorry!" She wailed, grabbing her sister's hand in turn and looking up at her with dewy eyes. "I forgot about my promise, and when I saw Taya-obaa-san with the saltshaker, I just wanted some too. I'm really, really sorry, please forgive me!"

It would seem to be an unusually strong reaction for such a minor occurrence, from both girls, but it had to be noted that Suki's threat to stop cooking was a very real one.

For all that the girl wanted to become the perfect Japanese woman, she did not like cooking at all. She considered it a fickle art, one that was too random and chaotic for her to enjoy.

She was great at it, at cooking, with her meticulous way of working, attention to detail, and perfectionism, but despite her talent, she just didn't like doing it.

The only one who could convince her with any surety to cook a meal was Chiho, but the little brunette understood very well that abusing that privilege would only take it away from her, so she didn't ask too often.

And now that she had disobeyed her big sister's orders and made her angry, that privilege was under serious threat.

So Chiho did everything she could to show how contrite she was, and eventually, she convinced her big sister to forgive her, diffusing the situation and making everyone settle down again.

Osaki shook his head in amusement, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he wondered just how he'd gotten such dramatic people as his daughters. He certainly wasn't one for drama, and… that woman…

Well, she might be the cause.

Realising his thoughts had darkened too much, Osaki looked back down at the table, only to find something was wrong.

He wasn't sure what, but he was absolutely certain that something had changed since a minute ago…

That was when he realised that the plate in front of him was not his own. Rather, it was Chiho's plate.

The little minx had swapped their dinner when he had been absorbed in thought!

"Chiho!" He exclaimed aggrieved, watching as his daughter stuffed her mouth so full with his food that her cheeks bulged as if she were a squirrel. "You can't just steal my food after ruining your own."

She completely ignored him however, and Suki too was merciless after witnessing his plight.

"That's what you get for not paying attention." She told him with a cool voice, carefully looking away from him to convey an air of uncaring elegance and beauty. "I believe we have told you often enough not to dream while we are having a meal. Now you must bear the consequences of not listening to us."

Seeing that his own offspring was now betraying him, one stealing his food while the other endorsed, nay, actively supported it, Osaki turned towards his faithful Kouhai, hoping for at least some aid for his poor, viciously attacked self.

It was not to be however. Yomaura didn't say anything, only pulling her plate closer to her as if to protect it from someone. Whether that someone was Chiho or him, he didn't know, but it was clear either way that no help would be coming from that direction either.

"Traitor." He grumbled without any heat. "Punishing the innocent while letting the thief go free. That's not what I taught you, my Kouhai. Have you no mercy for the downtrodden?"

"Not if those 'downtrodden' spent the better part of the meal dreaming about some stuff or the other." His Kohai told him, giving him a cold look. "You should have stopped Chiho-chan yourself if you wanted to keep your dinner. And no, you aren't getting my meal. Suki-chan made this for me, and me alone, because she loves me so much."

Ignoring Suki's embarrassed squeak, both adults looked into each other's eyes. One depressed, the other challenging.

Before long however, they burst out into giggles that soon evolved into peals of laughter. Chiho looked at them for a moment before going back to eating, while Suki shook her head, bringing a hand to her mouth as if in indignant shock, though mostly to hide a smile of her own.

"Alright, alright, I won't say anything." Osaki grinned. "I'll just have to wait until sweet, talented Suki deigns it worthy of her time to cook again."

"That will be tomorrow if you stop behaving so stupidly right now." The aforementioned girl huffed, having regained control of her facial muscles, allowing her to put up an annoyed expression again. "Really, I can't believe you two are respected detectives, Otou-san, Taya-obaa-san. You two are always so childish here at home."

"But that's at home." Yomaura pointed out. "We don't do this at the precinct. We save it all for you and Chiho, our precious little girls."

"Besides." Osaki added, watching in amusement as Yomaura's last comment elicited another embarrassed shout from his eldest daughter, "If we actually started behaving like this at work, our colleagues would either all get heart-attacks from the shock, or they would beat us up and interrogate us about who we are and where we have left the real Osaki and Yomaura."

"Probably." Yomaura nodded, her grin widening again. "Your father is normally so strict that even a laugh would be out of character."

"Outo-san isn't that strict." Suki protested. "He just respects the rules. That's why he is such a good detective."

"Yes! I hope I can be just like him one day!" Chiho agreed wholeheartedly. "I'm gonna be a great detective too!"

"Of course you will be, you will undoubtedly become even better than me." Osaki agreed with his youngest daughter, ruffling her hair a bit as she gave him a proud grin. "If you finish your school properly and work hard enough, that is."

Not that he was worried about the latter. Chiho had had the ambition of following in his footsteps for years now, ever since she could properly understand what it was that he did, and she had shown repeatedly that she had both the drive and the work-ethic to succeed in her goal.

As father, he was immensely proud of her, and as police-officer, he was happy to see such a promising girl was going to be a detective later.

"Really?!" Chiho asked, her mouth falling open slightly in shock. "Even better than you? Is that possible?"

"Hahahaha! Careful now, you're giving me a big head, little one." Osaki laughed, swiftly joined by his partner, who also giggled at his daughter's words. "I am not that good. In fact, with how things are currently going, I am more and more getting the feeling that I am rather below average."

"But you have had a lot of success these past months." Suki protested suddenly, clearly not happy with his self-deprecation. Without waiting for an answer, she rose from her seat to run to her room. A few seconds later, she came back to the table, holding a newspaper.

This particular newspaper was from a few weeks ago. It was the paper that reported on the recent string of victories of the Fuyuki-City Law-Enforcement against the gang-presence in the city. It containing entire articles praising the brave officers of Fuyuki-City, and even more interviews with people expressing their happiness about their increasing safety on the streets.

It was a piece that praised the police, including Osaki and Yomaura, into the sky, and it would have been a real confidence-booster for the couple, if it hadn't been for one tiny thing.

All those victories? All those successes and triumphs? All that work that made the city a safer place to live in?

Those weren't the police's accomplishments, but rather those of an elusive vigilante.

As such, Suki's gesture of showing them the newspaper, well-meant as it was, ultimately only praised the vigilante, not her father and his partner.

Not that they could tell her that, the vigilante was still being kept a secret.

"Suki-chan, why did you keep that newspaper?" Yomaura asked, and Osaki recognised it as the delaying tactic that it was, to win them some more time to think about a proper answer.

"B-Because it wrote such kind things about you." Suki replied, drawing the paper close to her face to hide her blush. "Because people finally stopped complaining and saying that you were being so bad at your jobs."

Suki-chan... That's… That's so sweet of you!" Yomaura cried in delight, rising from her seat to scoop the girl up in a hug. "You are the best daughter ever!"

Suki spluttered in indignation, frantically trying to free herself from the much stronger woman's embrace, though without any success.

"That was very kind of you, Suki." Osaki said warmly, and his words were enough to make her eldest freeze in place. "I am proud of you."

"You don't seem much happier though." Chiho suddenly noted, showing the observation skills that would make her such a great detective later, easily noting how the mood had barely improved. "Is that because the vigilante Rakurai actually did all the work?"

Chiho, being a nice, but somewhat impulsive child, just sprouted the words out without thinking. In one breath, she revealed that she knew of the vigilante, even though there was realistically no way for her to know.

That she had discovered it was actually just pure coincidence, a number of events chaining together in such a way that she had been led to the truth were so many others had been successfully deceived.

It had been on nothing more than a whim that she had started her own little investigation into the recent successes of the police in Fuyuki-City. She hadn't suspected anything was amiss, she'd just wanted to know how her father and his colleagues had been so successful.

She'd wanted to isolate the factors that had made the Fuyuki-City law enforcement improve so much in such a short time and use them herself, to become a better detective. Only, when she'd began investigating, she had gotten a very bad feeling in her gut. One that told her things weren't like they seemed.

And indeed, the longer she had investigated the situation, the more things just didn't add up anymore. Contradictions appeared everywhere, timelines contained obvious faults, statements were full of holes, and so on. Eventually, she could only conclude that whoever had been in charge of making the cover story had been really bad at their job.

Far from being discouraged or scared away by the sheer scope of the secret she had been unearthing, Chiho had thrown herself even deeper into her private investigation.

She had seen however that this was way out of her league. She was not even in high school yet, and no matter how smart she was, there would be things that she didn't understand or could not properly connect.

That particular problem however had an easy solution. She had just asked the help of her brilliant Onee-san, who was in fact in high school, and was super intelligent and always knew everything.

And sure, Suki had been unwilling at first to help, but after Chiho had showed her the evidence that she had already found, Suki had readily joined the investigation. She too was the daughter of a brilliant detective after all, and could not resist a good mystery when it was presented to her.

Unfortunately though, even when they had teamed up, the sisters hadn't been able to find any answers as to what really happened, but only managed to add more questions to the mountain they already had.

Eventually, they'd shamefully resorted to looking through their father's papers when he had taken a few of them home, despite knowing they were violating quite a few house-rules doing that.

The papers themselves didn't contain all that much information, mostly details about costume shops and martials arts that would allow one man to fight a dozen opponents, but it had been enough for Chiho and Suki to draw a conclusion.

There was a real-life superhero taking down the criminals in Fuyuki-City.

It might seem far-fetched, but the girls had concluded that was the only viable theory they had left after removing all the incorrect ones.

Chiho had been all for going to their father at once, to confront him about the issue, but Suki had stopped her short the moment the suggestion had left her mouth. Her elder sister had claimed that it was clearly a secret, and that they weren't supposed to reveal secrets that were related to their father's work. That was dangerous. They had already messed up when looking into his paperwork, there was no reason to make things even worse.

And after some more heckling, Chiho had agreed to keep it quiet, if only because she realised that father would be disappointed with her if she revealed that she meddled too much in things that he didn't want her to meddle in.

The girls had decided together to keep their knowledge just as secret as the police was keeping it, with the last thing they said about it being Suki telling her that the correct term for such a person was 'vigilante', not superhero.

After that, they'd buried the matter and decided to not speak of it again...

...

Not speak of it again?

…

'Oops?'

...

While Chico suddenly very much regretted her unthoughtful words of a minute ago, Osaki's mind was racing like mad.

His daughter knew.

She knew.

Somehow, she had pieced together enough of the puzzle to discover the existence of the vigilante. A puzzle that should be impossible to solve, and that Chiho shouldn't even be aware of to begin with.

This wasn't something she could have pieced together from a few articles. Uncovering the truth about the vigilante would require extensive research and access to all kinds of information. Information Chiho was not privy to, he was sure of that.

And what was up with that name?

Rakurai?

Lightning Strike?

It did fit, he supposed, but again, coming up a name like that, one that described the vigilante's MO so well, required intel that Chiho should have no way of getting.

But then how had she-

"Ah! Ignore her, Otou-san, Taya-obaa-san!" Suki suddenly chirped with such forced happiness that Osaki cringed upon hearing it. "She's watched too many of those anime series and read too many manga. You know how she is when she gets enthusiastic about something, always finding ways to make everything sound cooler than it is. Of course there is no vigilante."

It was a very poor attempt at damage control, and it made Osaki realise that she had been in on this too.

Both of his daughters now had very secret information in their possession, deduced all by themselves.

He would have been proud of their accomplishment, if it hadn't presented him with such an enormous headache.

The problem wasn't necessarily his daughters themselves, but more that if they had figured out the truth, it was entirely possible others would do so as well, and while he knew the girls would stay silent on the matter if properly admonished, he had no control whatsoever over those other people.

He had to find out what his daughters knew and how they had discovered it, and fast.

"That's quite enough, Suki-chan." Yomaura said bluntly, interrupting the girl in her ramblings, clearly thinking along the same lines as Osaki. "So you are in on this too, I gather?"

The high schooler let out a surprised gasp, looking like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"How did you know?" She asked in a small voice.

"Because you normally never ramble that much." Chiho responded dryly, looking from her father to Yomaura with a sheepish expression. "Is there any chance you can blame just me for all of this? I dragged Onee-san into this against her will, so it isn't her fault."

Suki turned her head so fast upon hearing those words that Osaki feared momentarily that she had gotten a whiplash from it, her expression suggesting she vehemently disagreed with Chiho taking all of the blame.

"No, you dunce." She hissed. "I joined of my own free will when you came to me with your suspicions. I am going to take my share of the blame and you are going to sit down and accept that."

"But you always looked so reluctant during our investigations." Chiho protested, looking incredibly miffed at her sister's refusal to go along with her plans. "And you never would have investigated if I hadn't brought it to your attention."

"That was only for show. I liked doing the research and connecting the clues with you." Suki murmured, demurely looking away and losing her momentum for a moment, before lifting her head again, her expression indomitable. "And I would have figured it out myself after a while! I mean, it's not that would have been difficult, with those horrible and obviously rushed cover stories in the news."

"You liked doing the research with me?" Chiho squealed in delight, also temporarily distracted, before she too realised that was not important at the moment. "I mean, no! It was me who brought that to your attention, and it was me who wanted to find out what was behind it. You would never have looked if I hadn't insisted on it."

"Maybe not, but when I joined you, I did my fair share of work. It was me who discovered the recurring clues at every crime-scene after we looked into father's papers after all. You know, that they always strike at night, that they burn the power cables, that the entire gang is knocked unconscious instead of killed." Suki responded heatedly. "Someone as ditsy as you could never figure that out by herself."

"Alright, I'll give you that." Chiho huffed, not reacting to the insult at all. "But I was the one who found out about the same thing happening in other cities now, which really confirmed our suspicions about a third party being involved."

"Yes, but…"

Osaki watched with bemusement as his daughters spilled everything right in front of him, both trying to take all the blame for their mishap.

"Do you think they actually forgot we are standing right here?" Yomaura whispered, looking as bemused as he felt.

"Probably." He responded with a sigh. "Makes it easy to find out how much they know at least."

"I think we should break them up though." Yomaura argued. "We'd probably find out more from directly asking questions at this point. I mean, it's not as if they're hardened criminals."

"True." He acknowledged. "Very well, I'll break them up."

It seemed it was time for him to step up and be the authority-figure of the family.

He suddenly and harshly cleared his throat in order to remind the girls of his presence. It worked like a charm, with Suki and Chiho jumping like frightened deer at the sound.

His daughters then seemed to go through a lot of expressions. They simultaneously went through shock, then surprise, followed by understanding, embarrassment, and finally sheepishness.

"Chiho, Suki, I am very disappointed in you." Osaki started in a tone as stern as he could make it. "Not only have you meddled in things I have forbidden you to meddle in, but you even looked into my paperwork in the process."

The girls let their heads hang in shame, avoiding all eye-contact with him or his partner.

"Well?" He asked harshly, his daughters flinching at the sound. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Suki and Chiho glanced at each other, seemingly communicating, before Suki lifted her head to face him. She took a deep breath, shuffling with her feet all the while, before speaking very fast:

"Well,atfirstweonlysawdiscrepanciesintheofficialstorythatwasbroughtoutconcerningthegreatestpoliceeffortin years, and we wanted to investigate and then we discovered actual secrets and a vigilante and we got carried away and that's how we got here."

She said it all in one breath, finishing her sentence by sucking in a breath. After panting for a few moments, Suki lowered her head again, clearly expecting to be punished.

"I can understand curiosity as a motive, though you carried it too far." Osaki began, speaking slowly as he weighed his options. "You are now in possession of very sensitive and classified information, and you went through the papers of a federal officer to obtain this information, which is a real crime."

Once more the only answer he received was shuffling of feet and heads lowering even further. No doubt they were expecting dire consequences and harsh lectures.

"You will not be punished however."

The heads of both of his daughters shot up to give him a confused look, but before they could speak, he went on.

"There is no use in punishing you for this. Some actions are just so monumentally stupid that there is nothing a parent can do. Since I won't arrest you either, I can only urge you to think about what you have done."

"And to give us a list of things you discovered and how you discovered them." Yomaura, perhaps finding his words to be enough punishment for now, interrupted him.

The girls, eager to comply, immediately listed off everything they had done, and Osaki was relieved to hear that nothing they'd discovered was particularly sensitive, and the leaks they had found could be patched up with little effort. It seemed that the situation hadn't gone very far out of control yet.

After the girls had told them everything they knew, Osaki sent them to bed. He didn't reckon anyone was hungry anymore and he had a lot that he needed to discuss with his Kouhai in private.

"Do you think I have been too soft on them, Yomaura? He asked her several minutes later, washing the last of the dishes left from the meal. "I know they barely did anything wrong if one looks at it objectively, but letting them off without any actual punishment…"

"Senpai." She said firmly. "Don't worry about things like that. Chiho and Suki are very well-behaved, emphatic, and kind girls, who absolutely hate it when you are angry with them. I do not doubt they are already beating themselves up over this in their rooms. Further punishing them will not add anything."

"When you put it like that, I would almost say I have to set them at ease." He said, half-jokingly, but also half-not.

"You do that, Senpai." Yomaura agreed, putting away the last plate in the drawer. "But do that tomorrow. As you said, you can't let them off too easily, and besides, we have a lot of work to do tonight."

Osaki grunted in agreement, before following his partner to his private study, which was where he usually worked when at home.

His private study was actually just a bedroom which he had rebuilt into an office of sorts, with a desk, several closets for his papers, and a laptop or two standing around.

"So Senpai." Yomaura started, taking a seat in the chair across from his desk. "What do you make of this? And what are we going to do about it?"

"What I make of this?" Osaki parroted. "Nothing good. We have kept Rakurai a secret for a reason, and we really can't afford to have that secret get away from us."

"I agree. After riding on the vigilante's successes as we have, we can't have it become known that we only did clean-up." Yomaura nodded. "It would reflect incredibly badly on the police if the public finds out we basically lied to them. People would no longer trust us."

"Indeed. Now, I may have a solution, though it is hardly an elegant one." Osaki said, taking a seat behind the desk. "We must bring the news out ourselves, yet we must also bend the truth a great deal."

"Bend the truth?" Yomaura inquired, cocking her head to the side. "What exactly is 'bending the truth' in this situation?"

"We shall tell the press of Rakurai's existence, as soon as possible, but we will heavily imply that they have only helped the police, instead of doing all the work themselves."

"Downplaying the vigilante's achievements?" She summarised, bringing a hand to her chin in thought. "While exaggerating our own. I see. That would allow us to still claim the glory, while also bringing the news of the vigilante out there in a controlled fashion."

Osaki nodded slowly. He wasn't happy with the deception, but they had very few other options.

"But what about the vigilante themselves?" Yomaura continued, licking her lips nervously. "If he comes out with the truth, won't we look even worse for having lied twice?"

"Don't worry about that." Osaki said confidently. "They have not come forward yet or even made a single statement, despite the police claiming all the credit for their deeds. I don't think that will change if we start giving them some credit now. And besides, if they come out, we'll just arrest them."

"A solid plan then, if very opportunistic." The half-Irish woman nodded. "We'll have to present it to our superiors as soon as possible. There's no reason to assume they'll reject it, so perhaps we can already write some statements for the press?"

"Good idea." Osaki said, before taking on a warning tone. "We'll have to make sure to bring the news very carefully however. With the prevalence of manga and comics these days, many will see Rakurai as a hero instead of a lawbreaker. We have to make sure to explain clearly and concisely why vigilantism is a crime, and we must explain it often, or Rakurai might become a folk-hero."

"Say, Senpai." Yomaura interrupted him, giving him an odd look. "Why do you keep calling the vigilante by the name Chiho-chan gave him? Rakurai?"

"It fits." He shrugged slightly. "It describes his MO, his preferred circumstances of working, and it is cool enough for the public to remember. If we don't give him a name, the public will, and I wish to avoid that."

"Wise." Yomaura grunted, before falling silent as the two began working on the speech. For another forty minutes, the only sound was the scratching of pens on paper, before, at long last, they were satisfied with what they had put together.

"Alright, with that over with, do you want to go over the vigilante's case again?" Yomaura asked, rubbing her eyes a bit.

"No, I don't want to, but I suppose we'll have to." Osaki sighed, already dreading to have another evening wasted on that impossible case. "Let's just get it over with."

"Yes, Senpai."

So they got to work.

They had theorised some weeks back that Rakurai was a teenager, or at most a young adult, mainly because Rakurai's work had some traits of beginning cops. Improperly clearing a room, following the wrong path through a building, and losing composure when confronted with a truly evil person, like Sawachika.

His partner and he had been looking into every person living in Fuyuki-City that matched the description, which, fortunately for them, weren't that many people. The culprit would have to be in very good shape, very healthy, extremely skilled in fighting in general or maybe a martial art of some kind, and smart enough to find the gangs while the police had been unable to.

Unsurprisingly, there were very few teenagers and young adults conforming to that description, and finding them was easy enough.

With all of this fortune, it was perhaps only to be expected that it turned out to be a dead end. Every possible suspect had excellent alibis or factors that excluded them from the list, such as disorders, phobia's, plain stupidity and more.

So they had broadened their search, easing up a bit on the requirements. And doing so again when that didn't yield any results either, and again, and again, and again. Up to the point where Osaki was quite sure that they had investigated every teenager in the city who had something impressive to their name.

It seemed their theory was a bust, and though they'd done their best to find other theories, they had hit a wall, which was made even worse by the fact that Rakurai had gone to ground after taking down the last gang in Fuyuki.

Though it seemed he had reappeared now.

"So he has been seen again in Urayasu?" Yomaura asked, reading a report about criminals being taken down by an unknown person in the aforementioned city. "Heh, can't fault him. It was high time someone took out the trash at that place."

Osaki just nodded in reply, pulling a face when he saw that the vigilante was being just as elusive in Urayasu as he'd been in Fuyuki-City, leaving no evidence behind anywhere.

After another half-an-hour of fruitless discussions, repeatedly going over the same information, and almost falling asleep the entire time, Yomaura threw her pen down in annoyance.

"I'm done with this." She hissed, massaging her wrist. "We aren't getting any further. Let's call it a night, Senpai."

"I agree. It'll be an early morning again tomorrow, and we need to be rested."

"Ugh, don't remind me." His redheaded partner groused, suppressing a large yawn. "I still have to go all the way home before I can crash."

"You could also take the guestroom." Osaki suggested as he swept the paperwork onto a neat pile and placed it in the nearest closet.

"Can I? Oh, I would appreciate it very much." Yomaura grinned widely. "I gladly accept. It is warm enough to not need any sleeping wear anyway, and I can go without brushing my teeth for one night."

"Neither of those is necessary." Osaki replied dismissively. "There are plenty of night-gowns in the drawers in the guest-room and many toothbrushes in the cupboard under the stairs, still in plastic and all. Feel free to grab what you need."

"Thanks, Senpai." His partner grinned, pumping her fist before making her way out of his study.

Osaki shook his head fondly. Normally, she was so prim and proper, eager to please and cautious to not do anything wrong. At home though, she would mellow out a lot, and even more so when she was tired.

Not that he minded. He was very fond of the professional Yomaura, but he had found long ago that he liked the informal Taya as well.

After putting away all the paperwork, he followed her example and went to prepare for the night. Taking care to not walk in on his partner during her changing, he too put on his sleeping wear, brushed his teeth, and bade his partner goodnight at the door of the guestroom.

Before he could leave for his own room however, Yomaura spoke up once more.

"Thanks for letting me stay here. I'll repay you later, and I'll clean the room as well tomorrow."

"You don't have to clean it; you are a guest here." Osaki answered. "And repayment… Help me set the girls at ease tomorrow and we'll be even. Kami knows they'll want your forgiveness as well."

"That goes without saying." She responded with a smile. "We'll take care of our girls in the morning. For now, good night, Koyo."

"Good night, Taya."

She smiled, almost sultry, as she took a step closer to him, coyly pressing her lips to his cheek in a feather-light kiss, before stepping back, casting a glance at the girls' rooms with a very fond smile.

Then she closed the door of her room behind her, leaving him standing outside.

With a quiet laugh, he made for his own room. His mood, which had deteriorated over the course of the evening, was excellent once more. He had caught what Taya said to him, and he couldn't help but be appreciative.

'Our girls', she said.

Not 'your girls', or just their names, or any other impersonal referral, but instead something that indicated she considered the girls as her own.

It was good to know that the women in his life were getting along so well.

'Yes, good to know indeed.' He thought to himself while he settled in his blankets. 'Yomaura really is far better person than she is.'

'Our girls'.

'She' would never have said that.

And with those last thoughts, detective Osaki fell asleep, after an evening that was far more eventful than he could possibly have anticipated.

---

It was with a shake of his head that Joseph Balefor discarded yet another failed experiment, the sixteenth of that day, or was it the seventeenth? He couldn't even remember anymore.

It was extremely fortunate for him that there was no shortage of specimens to work with, considering how many he went through on an average day. He didn't want to be so wasteful of course, but he had no choice. No matter what kind of specimen he used, human, animal, or Homunculus, he just couldn't get them to cooperate with him. They all died far too soon, without giving anything in return.

His research had stalled completely, and he didn't see any way out.

Oh, how he longed for the old days. In the beginning, back when he had just joined his current group, he'd made more progress in a day than he did now in a month. He'd been sailing through the issues, and he'd hoped that he would achieve his objective in five to ten years at most.

It was perhaps important to note at this point that his objective was not to reach Akasha.

Well, okay, ultimately, it was, but he was not pursuing it directly. Unlike many other Magi, he knew it was useless to pursue Akasha with the means the Magus Association currently had at its disposal. It simply wasn't enough. Perhaps if a True Magician or a human with a Reality Marble were to suddenly appear, they would have a chance, but that was unlikely in the extreme.

So instead, Balefor had taken to laying the groundwork for future generations, being satisfied with the knowledge that someone would one day reach Akasha partially because of his contributions.

However, those seeking the Root were not the only ones who would appreciate his research. Every single Magus in the world would laud him for it! His work was revolutionary, game changing even. When he finished his project, he would no longer need to hide in Japan, the nobles of the Clocktower would beg him on their bare knees to grace them with his presence.

What else could they do, after Balefor had singlehandedly solved the ages-old problem of insufficient Magical Energy-supplies?

Magical Energy, and especially the ability to channel it, was what separated the Magi from the plebs. It was the fuel of Thaumaturgy, essential for Magecraft, and those who could wield it were blessed by Life itself.

Channelling and wielding Magical Energy was done through so-called 'Magic Circuits', which were pathways in the Soul through which the Energy could flow. No Magic Circuits meant no ability to channel and wield Magical Energy.

It went without saying that most people in the world did not have Magic Circuits. Those people were the plebs, the common folk, who were forever beneath those who did have Magic Circuits, the Magi.

Magi were the superior kind, the chosen few. They had the ability to wield Magecraft, which allowed them to shape the world on a fundamental level. They were the ones who braved the countless dangers of Thaumaturgy to gain power and ability, all done through the Magical Energy they could harvest from themselves.

Unfortunately though, Magical Energy was not infinite. To the contrary, it was scarce. For all that Magic Circuits were amazing tools, they were often limited. There were too few of them, or they were too low in quality, and thus could not channel sufficient Magical Energy for their owner's purposes.

Even he, Joseph Balefor, heir to an ancient and well-respected family, had only thirty-three Circuits of reasonably good quality, and that was enough to make him 'above-average' in the Moonlit World.

Of course, he also had the added advantage of having a Crest that contained one-hundred-and-twenty-one more Circuits, but that was still not enough.

Even with all of his power, far more than most Magi would ever have access to, he still had to spend countless hours waiting until he had 'reloaded' his reserves, he was exhausted after a couple of minutes of fighting, and he just plain couldn't do some things because he couldn't amass enough Magical Energy at once for them.

It was grating, and the fact that other Magi had exactly the same issues was a cold comfort.

That was why he, Vincent Balefor, had decided to do something about it. He would fix the problem of Magical Energy-shortage, and make Magical Energy an unlimited resource, so that every Magus in the world would never have to worry about their reserves again.

'Well, not every Magus.' He corrected himself with a small smile. 'Only those I deem worthy shall partake in the fruits of my eventual success. Those that do not have my favour will never gain access to unlimited power. Rewarding me is the least they can do after all those years I spent working on this.'

He'd still been a student at the Clocktower when he'd decided upon this path, and he had pursued it ever since.

Back then, he'd tried his luck with all kinds of methods, using everything in the Clocktower that he could get his hands on to see what would produce desirable results.

His first idea had been to lessen Gaia's influence, to make Magecraft easier and more permanent, but not only hadn't it born him any fruit, he had also been slapped down at once when his uncle, the lord of the Balefor-family had realised what he had been doing.

Trying to harvest more Mana from the air helped in some instances, such as Shamanic rituals, Formalcraft, and even with Runes, but always very little, to the point where it wasn't worth the trouble.

That was when he'd started looking into sharing Magical Energy, and perhaps even Magic Circuits, between individuals. The Crests that were passed on through families were a good example of this. Every generation contributed a bit to the Crest, and the later descendants could reap the benefits before adding their own share.

The downside about Crests however was that there were a very limited number of them around in the world today. Their precise origin was unknown, though it was heavily speculated that least a number of them had been created originally by Solomon, the King of Magic, who then had passed them on to Magi around him. A feat that had not been replicated ever since.

Combining spells and Circuits and whatnot together in an intricate manner like a Crest was undoable for most Magi of the present era. No more Crests could be made, and if a Crest was too damaged, it could never be repaired either.

As such, Crests were heavily guarded by those who possessed them, and any tampering was heavily frowned upon. If Balefor had been a nobody, his ambitions would have ended right there.

Fortunately, his uncle had been the bearer of the Balefor-family Crest and had been quite influential in the Clocktower. The man had been willing to let his nephew study his own Crest and had arranged access to the few Crests in the Magus Association's storage for him as well.

From that point on, Balefor's research had gone much better. He had finally been able to familiarise himself with Crests, sketch a somewhat coherent picture of the base-plan all Crests had been constructed with, and discovered a new way of adding spells and Circuits to Crests, easier than the standard methods.

After all that success however, his luck ran out and he hit a large snag. Just observing Crests on a surface-level no longer was enough, and it had showed in his research, which had stalled completely.

He'd not been overly worried about that though. He had been the foremost candidate for receiving the Balefor-family Crest after his uncle's death, and he would have been able to study it more closely when it was in his possession.

Until then, he had decided to focus on other matters and pursuits, and had in the process discovered that he had a great talent for Chimera-construction.

It wasn't at all what he had envisioned himself doing for a job, but when his models had started selling like crazy and important people had placed commissions for his work, he'd shrugged his shoulders and continued building them.

'I must say I am happy I did that.' Balefor thought to himself with a small smile. 'If it wasn't for my accomplishments back then, my current group would never have reached out to me, and God only knows how much I still would be suffering now in that case.'

Back at the Clocktower, when he hadn't been a Sealing Designee yet, the circumstances he'd been forced to work under had been horrendous and incredibly stifling.

Oh, the Clocktower had been accommodating enough when he had been working on animals or willing human subjects, like his uncle, but it cracked down hard on any Magus working on unwilling subjects. Experimentation could be done on the corpses that were taken from mortuaries, or sometimes on Sealing Designees and criminals, but capturing people of the streets was forbidden.

Supposedly, this was because kidnapping people had a high chance of revealing Magecraft to the world, but no one with a brain believed that.

Balefor had a brain, and he had thought that reason idiotic back then and he still thought so now. Presently, he could even back it up with evidence. Abducting people of the streets did nothing to expose the Moonlit World as long as you were a little smart and careful about it.

Still, the Clocktower didn't allow it, no matter how much time and effort he and some other like-minded people had put into making plans to safely obtain specimens. Their pleas and ideas were constantly rejected out of hand. It had been maddening, doubly so because Balefor knew very well that it wasn't actually forbidden because 'it could compromise the secrecy of Magecraft'.

It was forbidden because of that arrogant, prissy, bleeding-heart bitch of a Barthomeloi!

Lorelei Barthomeloi was the current Vice-Director of the Clocktower, the de-facto leader of the Magus Association, also known as the 'Queen of the Clocktower'. She was immensely powerful, revered, and widely regarded as cold and ruthless. She had even been granted the moniker of 'Most Powerful Magus of the Modern Generation'.

In the eyes of most people of the Moonlit World, she was the perfect Magus.

Those people were idiots.

Balefor knew the truth. Lorelei Barthomeloi was weak. She was weak and feeble, unable to stomach the realities a Magus had to deal with.

It was her who had forbidden the capture of mundane people after all, for no other reason than that she pitied them!

Sure, she might try to explain it away it as measures to protect the Secrecy of the Moonlit World, but Balefor wasn't so easily deceived. He understood that she was just hopelessly noble. That had been made clear as day when she had personally come to his chambers to slap him down after he had submitted his seventh request to obtain specimens.

She hadn't given any reasons, she hadn't explained anything, she'd just torn up the papers with his requests on them and told him that if he dared to kidnap anyone, she'd kill him herself.

Weak as her mindset was, she was still immensely, incomprehensibly powerful, and Balefor, fearing for his life, had agreed to stay down and behave like a good little boy, lest she made good on her threat. He didn't believe for a moment that it had been an idle one.

That she hadn't been bluffing was proven a little over a month after that incident. A friend of his had been caught kidnapping infants from a maternity-ward to use for his research. Barthomeloi had been utterly furious. She had quite literally torn his friend to pieces for it.

She had cited disobedience and endangerment of the secrecy as reasons for her brutal action, but there was no denying that she had looked very satisfied after that, like someone who had avenged others in a righteous kind of way.

It was also quite telling that the abducted infants, all of them, had been returned to their mothers the next day.

That feeble bitch didn't deserve to be called Queen of the Clocktower, that was clear.

He had been smart enough however to not mention his opinion to anyone, as that would just have gotten him killed as well.

So he had kept his mouth shut, and his eyes fixed on animals. He would continue pursuing his greatest goal only when he had his family's Crest. With that uppity cunt watching him like a hawk, it was much too dangerous to do otherwise.

First, he would make his breakthrough with his research, and after that, with the fame and influence it would bring him, he could have his revenge and oust Barthomeloi to take her place at the top.

Or maybe he could even force her to marry him. That would be much more satisfying than just throwing her out of the Clocktower or killing her, he had to admit. The prospect of breaking the proud woman was appetising indeed.

But then, not long after his friend had been executed, things had started to go wrong for Balefor.

His uncle had grown to dislike him. The man had always believed hard work and dedication were the most important qualities a Magus could possess, and he severely disapproved of Balefor's belief that power was all that mattered.

This difference in opinion had led to his uncle refusing to make Balefor his heir, choosing one of his own sons instead, a man of mediocre talent, but with unwavering dedication and a penchant for hard work. In short, just what his uncle appreciated in a Magus.

It had been a big shock to Balefor. The only chance for him to get a Crest had been brutally taken from him. Without that Crest, he would never be able to complete his research, and that mean he wouldn't revolutionise the Moonlit World, and that in turn meant he'd never be able to amass the influence he would need to match Barthomeloi.

It would have spelled the end of his ambition. He would've had to work on Chimeras and other small pursuits for the rest of his life, just to earn his living. Not to mention that Barthomeloi had still been carrying a grudge for him. If he had stayed, he would have been challenged to a 'duel' at one point or another, he was sure of it.

So, one evening, he had decided he'd had enough.

The rest, as they say, is history. He had killed his uncle and stolen the Crest, before murdering his cousin too, just as a little goodbye-present to the family. After that, he'd booked it, surviving on the fringes of society, living much below his standing, getting by with illegal surgeries on mundane people and other such pursuits to earn money.

He had despised it, but obtaining a Crest was worth some discomfort.

It also helped that many of his former employers from the Clocktower had just kept on hiring him to make them high-quality Chimeras. They didn't pay him much, eager as they were to prey on his desperate situation, but it had been enough for some luxury at least.

Then everything changed again, for the better this time.

A few months after fleeing from the Clocktower, he had gotten an order for a couple of Chimeras. In that same letter had also been a request for him to come to Japan to meet a group of individuals in the same situation as he was. A group he could perhaps join if he was interested.

Being interested, and knowing that Japan was far away from the Clocktower, he had accepted the offer.

That choice had been one of the best he had ever made, perhaps only second to killing his uncle and cousin and taking the family-Crest. After meeting with the group only once, he had already understood that they were his people.

They had taken him in, granting him many opportunities he wouldn't have gotten anywhere else. He had all the freedom and resources he needed to let his artistic spirit come to expression, and best of all, there was no Barthomeloi breathing down his neck. Boy, he could only imagine how furious she must have been back when news reached her that he had made off with the Balefor-Crest. He wished he could have seen her face.

Chuckling lightly, Balefor shook off the memories and finished cleaning up his working space. Then, he left his Workshop to head to the meeting room.

Burgon and Waudenstad had insisted on weekly 'conferences' to plan out new strategies ever since they had hit the first snags on their masterplan to kidnap the Tohsaka-girl. They hadn't really made any progress yet, but Balefor had good hopes for today. Waudenstad had said he had a new plan, and considering the rat-man's level of intelligence, it should be something good.

Once more, he was the last to arrive, and after some polite inquiries about the progress of his work by Burgon, the snide insults of Palerna and Alva, and the short nod of Waudenstad, they were ready to begin.

"I thank you for coming, hm, yes." Waudenstad began, opening the discussion. "I was ordered last week to devise a simple, yet effective plan to abduct the Tohsaka, and I think I have succeeded quite well, hm."

"Oh, excellent." Burgon said with a smile, leaning forward in anticipation. "Do tell us, Oliver. Don't leave us hanging after such a riveting and exciting statement."

"I agree." Palerna smiled, angling her head to the side. "Do tell us your plan, Oliver."

"It is nothing special." Waudenstad said humbly. "The gist of it is that we will take advantage of a disruption in Tohsaka's normal schedule, during which she will leave Fuyuki-City entirely."

"Why would her location matter at all?" Alva asked brusquely, once more showing he had the brains of a concussed cow.

"Because a Magus outside of their Territory is a weak Magus." Palerna replied with a grin, one that grew wider when Waudenstad nodded in agreement. "We won't need to bother with complicated plans if she's out of Fuyuki-City; we can just snatch her up whenever we like."

"Correct." Waudenstad nodded eagerly, looking happy the blonde woman had understood his plan so quickly.

"We can take her, whether she is in her Territory or not." Alva spluttered, and Balefor amended his earlier thought. A concussed cow was far more intelligent than the Southern-European Magus.

"We can most likely defeat her, yes." Waudenstad agreed with Alva. "But we will only have one attempt to do so. If we fail that first attempt, or if she has some kind of failsafe, she will file a complaint with the Clocktower, and as you all know, that kind of complaints are always taken very seriously. Hm, yes. That is why we will kidnap her when she is away from her home."

"And when will that be, my friend?" Burgon asked kindly.

"In about two months, when she will stay the night in Hikone."

"Hikone?" This time it was Balefor himself who interrupted the ratman, and with good reason. Hikone had been the city of his initiation, where he had for the first time successfully pulled off their trick of hypnotising gang leaders. If that was also where they would obtain the Tohsaka-girl, that would be a very odd coincidence.

"A strange coincidence indeed." Waudenstad nodded, indicating he too had seen this oddity. "But that's all it is; A coincidence, nothing more. I have checked it thoroughly and repeatedly and have found nothing to suggest it was for the purpose of drawing us out."

"Good, that is good." Burgon sighed in relief. A sigh echoed by the other people in the room, save one.

"That is all good and well." Alva hissed, looking once more as if he were on the edge of a tantrum. "But you still haven't told us your so-called 'masterplan' yet, Waudenstad. Why don't you start talking now, before I go off to abduct her myself."

"Then I will test your patience no longer." The addressed plotter replied, not reacting to the man's anger at all. "As it turns out, Tohsaka will be staying at hotel Maihame during her stay in Hikone."

"Why is she going there anyway?" Palerna asked, before putting her hands together in an apologetic gesture. "Pardon the interruption."

"That's quite alright, it is a good question. From what I understand, she is going there for some kind of 'swimming exam'."

"Huh?"

"I thought it was strange too."

"Who cares?!" And Alva yet again lost his patience. "What matters is what we will do. Are we going to abduct her when she stays in that hotel?"

"Not us personally, no." Waudenstad shook his head slightly. "I hired a professional for that."

"Excellent work, Oliver." Burgon smiled, throwing his arms wide in a gesture of enthusiasm. "But if you don't mind, I would like to meet this professional of yours first before we send him off."

The little man nodded in response, making a note of it on a piece of paper, before addressing the room again.

"Does anyone have any comments or questions?"

"I do." Alva sneered, and the entire room, even Palerna, rolled their eyes in exasperation. "This plan of yours will have us sitting on our hands for two months. That is too long!"

"How about this then, Allesandro." Burgon quickly proposed. "If you are not content to wait, you can still try your hand at abducting her sooner than that, as long as you are careful to not give her any cause to suspect something is wrong."

"Is that only for Allesandro, or also for the rest of us?" Palerna asked. "If, for instance, I were to try and draw her out with, let's say, some of those gems that her family so highly covets, and I were to successfully capture her, it would be okay?"

"As long as you make sure you don't get caught in the act." Burgon nodded. "That goes for all of you."

"Hm." Balefor hummed non-committedly, showing his disinterest. He was only interested in the Tohsaka-Crest, and he had a standing agreement with the group that it was his no matter how they got their hands on the girl, so he was going to stay out of this.

As such, he could probably get back to his Workshop, but as he looked at the Southern-European duo plotting together, he couldn't resist the temptation to get one last little jab in.

"Alva, Palerna, do make sure your experiments don't escape your sight again, please." He told them, carefully keeping any mocking out of his tone. "You got so absorbed in plotting last time that you didn't even notice it was gone until the next day."

"We said we were sorry that it managed to escape!" Palerna snapped, pouting at the room when Burgon and Waudenstad laughed. "Why do you keep bringing it up?"

"Because it is amusing, dear." Burgon replied in Balefor's stead, winking at the distraught woman. "The fact that you let a fledgling Dead Apostle escape from your Workshop, the one that you created out of that pathetic, drugs-selling, whining boy even, does drawn some mocking chuckles even from the most compassionate of us."

"I am just happy that we can all laugh about it." Waudenstad added, the little grin on his face making him seem all the more like a rat. "If it had been one of Joseph's Chimeras or one of my Runestones that got away from us, we wouldn't be laughing at all, rather we would be scurrying for damage control. A Dead Apostle is hardly a problem though. Those abominations are spawned in great numbers even without us contributing, and if it is discovered, it will undoubtedly be dispatched swiftly. No risk for us."

Balefor agreed with the assessment. The chance that the Dead Apostle would be the cause of their downfall was so close to zero that it would practically never happen. Nevertheless, it was still amusing to rib the two researchers every once in a while, just to make sure they stayed on their toes.

Now, with the mocking over and done, he should leave.

Balefor rose from his seat, straightened his shirt, and turned towards his leader. "Can I be excused then? I would like to continue my research."

He got yet another smile from Burgon in return. It almost seemed as if the old man did nothing but smile the entire time. "Of course. Go now and have fun. I think the rest of us are going to stay here for a bit longer, I feel like we are finally making some progress."

With a curt nod, Balefor exited the room again. The Homunculus he had left in his workshop should be done preparing his tools and workspace by now. All he had to do was grab a new specimen from the storage, secure it to the table, and start working.

Maybe he could finally make some progress again. That would be nice.

---

"Where is your master?!"

The question was roared with a thunderous voice, as Shirou slammed the Dead against the wall, holding it at its throat. Around them lied the disappearing corpses of its fellows, who had been taken down by Shirou only moments before.

In all honesty, he didn't expect all that much from the interrogation. Rather, he expected absolutely nothing.

Every source he'd ever consulted, including his own father, had agreed that the Dead were nothing but mindless husks that only moved through the will of their master. You couldn't interrogate something that did not speak, did not think, and did not feel.

Nevertheless, it couldn't do any harm to try, and if it somehow worked, he could save a lot of time in his search for the Dead Apostle.

Alas, all he discovered right now, leaning back slightly to avoid the clawing hands of his conversation partner, was that his father had been absolutely correct.

"SSSSCCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

Another screech echoed through the alley, as the creature once more made clear that it wasn't capable of coherent speech, coherent thought, or indeed any thought at all.

So with a sigh, Shirou pulled his arm back slightly, before slamming the Dead against the wall again with enough force to kill it and reduce it to dust.

Brushing the dust off his arm, Shirou took a deep breath through his nose, confirming that the Dead Apostle was still in the same place.

He had been hunting the creature for several hours now, and while he had not been able to pinpoint its exact location, he could at least determine that he was getting closer to his prey. Hopefully, he would be able to catch it before the night was over.

That same breath also revealed however that there were more of the Dead in an alley somewhere to his left, and that they were currently rapidly conversing on a specific spot. Most likely, they had found themselves a victim.

Shirou immediately made his way over to the specific alley, and he was just in time to prevent the poor victim from becoming yet another minion he would be forced to put down. From up above, he could clearly see how she was trying to run away as the Dead gave chase. The woman was running impressively fast, even though she had a slight limp, all the while calling for help.

Having seen enough, Shirou struck.

He flew down to the ground at maximum speed, making sure to land between the woman and her pursuers, coming down with great force, aided by the weight of his armour, shaking the ground and even cracking the stones beneath him.

Absently, he registered a feminine yelp behind him, followed by a thud that indicated the woman had likely tripped. He winced slightly, hoping she was okay, but he didn't take his eyes of his opponents.

Both parties stood across from each other, staring silently, neither side moving an inch. One side was frozen in instinctive surprise, the other in tense anticipation.

Then they all sped forward at inhuman speed.

The minions of the Dead Apostle, though not sentient, were fearsome opponents for any unprepared hero. They were faster, stronger, and more resilient than a normal human had any right to be. They had fangs and claws and were almost never alone.

A good thing then that Shirou was not unprepared.

After having kicked off from his spot, Shirou was upon them in less than a second. The first of the Dead promptly received a blow to the head that would have knocked over a fully-grown elephant. It proved to be enough to obliterate its head on the spot.

Two of the others, driven by instinct, immediately lashed out at the shape responsible for the demise of their comrade.

Their claws hit nothing but air, as Shirou had already taken two steps back, after which two quick jabs at the now-exposed midriffs of the ones who had failed to strike him were enough to reduce the number of opponents from four to two.

The remaining Dead attempted an attack of their own, but it was obvious that they stood no chance against him. Instead of feeling triumph however, Shirou felt only sadness at the sight of them. They had been nothing more than a teenage boy and an old woman, and now they were not only dead, but their bodies were being desecrated in one of the most horrendous ways possible.

The sadness did not stop him from dispatching them though. The people they had once been were gone now, and mindless slaves were all that remained. Defeating them would be a mercy to the deceased.

Shirou caught their claws on his vambraces, easily blocking the assault with superior strength and unyielding arm-protection. He then threw his arms wide, throwing his opponents off-balance as they stumbled backwards, giving him the opportunity to jab at their throats, shattering their necks and killing them.

Just like that, the fight was over. Shirou quickly inspected his vambraces for any damage, ignoring the incredulous huff from Mjolnir at that action. True to the hammer's word, there was not even a scratch on them.

He'd swapped his vigilante-outfit for his armour some time ago, just in case the Apostle had something that could potentially pierce his skin and injure him. He was still wearing his vigilante-mask though, covering the lower half of his face, making him unrecognisable.

But he was forgetting something again, wasn't he…?

The sound of someone crawling backwards over the ground, accompanied by almost hysterical breaths, reminded him of the presence of the victim behind him. Shirou turned around slowly, not wanting to scare the no doubt-terrified woman even more than she already was. Being chased by literal zombies had to be a frightening experience, and he shouldn't add to it.

He would have to alter her memory a bit, perhaps change it to her being chased by normal criminals before a vigilante had driven them off. Yes, that sounded like a proper plan.

"How-? What-? Who are you?" The woman managed to get out, looking at him with eyes wide as saucers, lying on her back, a hand raised in order to point a disbelieving finger at him. "W-what d-d-did y-you do t-to t-those p-p-people?!" She screamed, stuttering from raw terror.

Shirou flinched, looking away slightly and raising a hand to scratch the back of his head. He really should have anticipated this. Of course a normal human, ignorant of the Moonlit World, would be shocked to near speechlessness by being chased by the Dead.

Maybe it was for the best that he would remove this entire episode from her mind, instead of just altering the memory. Things like this tended to traumatise lesser informed people, so removing the memory might help her a lot.

Before he would do that though, he would ask her a couple of questions about her pursuers, to see if she had any information. Maybe she could point him in the right direction, or at least share observations that may be of use to him in his hunt.

Nodding to himself, he took a step towards the woman.

"H-Hey, answer me!" She cried as he began walking towards her, again scrambling backwards as fast as she could.

Belatedly realising that his actions could be seen as threatening, Shirou stopped walking immediately and raised his hands to show he meant no harm.

"A-Ah, I'm sorry, I won't do anything." He assured her, hoping to stop her from losing it completely. "I just want to ask you a few questions, that's all."

It seemed to work. Although her eyes were still fixed on Mjolnir in his right hand, the woman noticeably made an effort to compose herself after hearing his words, taking a deep breath and sitting up straight instead of lying on her back. After shaking her head a few times, she already seemed a lot calmer.

The look she gave him was still cautious however, but that was only to be expected in the current situation.

"I-I asked y-you a question f-first." The woman stuttered out, apparently not as calmed down as Shirou had hoped. "Answer m-me."

"Right, yes." Shirou mumbled, trying to remember what her questions were. "I am a vigilante, and those people, I… I dealt with them."

"A vigilante?" The woman questioned, the tension largely disappearing out of her body for some reason. "I've never heard of you before. Are you perhaps new at the profession?"

"I have been active for several months now, actually." Shirou corrected her, not surprised she didn't know of him. "But I haven't been in the news at all, so it makes sense you don't know me."

The green-haired woman blinked once, before she nodded slowly, and then looked at the piles of ash behind Shirou.

"What were those things?" She asked, now apparently feeling comfortable enough to stop stuttering. "You said you dealt with them… They weren't humans, were they?"

Shirou did not answer for a few moments, weighing the pros and cons of telling her in his mind.

It might just be that she had valuable information, and that to obtain it, he would have to explain a few things to her. But it could also be that she didn't know anything, which would mean he was just wasting time here.

Normally, he would alter her memory immediately and then continue on his way, but it just so happened that his instincts were telling him to choose the other option this time. Seeing that his instincts hadn't led him astray yet, he decided to be truthful with her.

"Those were the familiars of a vampire." He told her, and the woman blinked in utter confusion.

"Vampire?" The woman whispered, looking at him with wide eyes again. "Those exist? And one is in this town right now?"

"Yes to both questions." Shirou nodded, his lips involuntarily pulling into a grimace. "And I am currently hunting it, which is why I must ask you again to tell me what happened. It is important that I catch this thing before sunrise."

"Uh, right." The woman mumbled, looking a bit out of it. "I- uh, I was just walking a few streets away from here, when these… these vampires came out of an alley and started chasing me."

Not extremely useful information.

"But," The woman continued. "I remember they came from the direction of the old factory. I believe it belonged to a company that made construction items, but they abandoned the building years ago. That sounds like it would make for a good hiding place for a vampire, right?"

"Indeed." Shirou smiled, already scanning the horizon for any visible factories. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. But now that we have helped each other and everything," The woman went on, standing up and dusting herself off, "maybe we should introduce ourselves. I am-"

"No!" Shirou interrupted her sharply. "Don't tell me your name, I have no business knowing it. I'll make you forget this entire happening anyway after we finish talking."

"Make me forget? Like, forget forget?" The woman asked, an awed look on her face, which was honestly the last thing Shirou had expected. "You mean this is like Harry Potter? Or Men in Black? Or one of the other films I watched with the girls? You are going to make me forget this ever happened? That is so cool!"

"…"

Shirou had no reaction to that. Why would she consider memory-erasure cool?

"Yes, I'll have to make you forget." He confirmed again, decided to ignore the woman's strange quirks. "Though you don't have to worry, it's completely harmless."

"I believe you." She smiled, before suddenly reaching out to pat his back. "With how kind you have been so far, I don't think you would willingly put me through something painful."

"Ah, yes." Shirou nodded, slightly blushing at the compliment. "Why are you patting my back though?"

"No particular reason. I figured you deserve something like this, being a vigilante while still a teenager, not to mention you saved my ass just now, so I'm sort of really happy."

"You're... You're welcome." Shirou mumbled, before taking hold of her wrist to stop her. "But there is no need-"

"Ah!"

He immediately released her wrist when the green-haired woman flinched at his touch and made a sound of pain, before he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

He might be strong enough to push over an elephant, but he was quite sure he had measured the strength of his grip enough for it to be painless and well within the comfortable zone. That she still flinched in pain could only mean...

"You are wounded." He said sharply, absolutely certain of his declaration. He would accept no denial here, no stammering excuses that were now coming from her mouth. She had been hurt.

Fortunately, he could help her with that.

Very recently, Mjolnir had seen it fit to bestow yet another power upon him. This ability was not rooted in the Magecraft of his world, but rather in the Mysterious Power. It was a power that he had seen the use of right away.

'Cleansing Power', was what Mjolnir had called it. It encompassed a lot of different abilities, each and every one of them incredibly useful and highly coveted among Magi.

It was a power that removed everything that was 'not naturally supposed to be there', or rather, everything that Shirou considered to be something that was not naturally supposed to be there.

In other words, it did not affect living creatures, no matter how evil they might be in their hearts, nor did it affect Magecraft, which Shirou considered to be fairly natural.

The Cleansing Power only attacked things that went against the natural order in grotesque ways. Merely being a Magus or a totally evil villain wasn't enough. You would have to do something like stealing the essence of others to prolong your own life in order for the Cleansing Power to have any effect on you.

A Dead Apostle and its minions were of course fair game, and Shirou had already managed to destroy entire groups of the Dead by blasting them with white waves of Cleansing Power, which seemed to work pretty much the same way as lightning blasts. Just aim and shoot basically.

The strength of the Cleansing Power did not just lie in destruction of evil though. It was also a very potent Healing Ability. Once properly mastered, it would be able to cure any wound, curse, or malady with ease, be it natural, magical, divine, or anything other in origin.

He was currently limited to minor wounds, such as cuts, scrapes, bruises, and the like, but he was progressing fast, mostly by healing the few criminals he had accidentally hurt too badly.

Undoubtedly, it would be able to heal this woman as well.

"Ah, well, yes. I suppose I feel some pain. It's not from the chase just now- or maybe a bit, I think?" Said woman rambled, fidgeting slightly under Shirou's gaze. "It's just that, well, some of my clients insist on being harsh with me, and, uh, they don't really know when to stop."

Shirou frowned at that, wondering what kind of profession would require her to accept abuse from her clients.

"Oh, right. You are a teenager; you might not get what I am trying to say." She mumbled, looking contemplatively at him, before straightening her back and spreading her arms wide, as if presenting herself to him. "Perhaps if you take a closer look, you will understand?"

Shirou looked at her more closely. She was tall and lightly muscled, with dull green hair, fair skin, and a beautiful face, coming close to even Sakura, Ayako, and Tohsaka. She was wearing a short green cocktail dress with a low cut, displaying quite a lot of cleavage. She also wore a jacket over it, as well as thigh-high boots with high heels.

All in all, a very impractical outfit to wear late at night. Unless you were one of those women who made their money by…

Oh...

That kind of clients.

"I see you understand now." The woman said with a humourless smile. "I am often not strong enough to defend myself against them, and no one bothers with me afterwards, so I have learned to just take it and shut up. We all learn that at my… job."

…Alright, even if Shirou hadn't been intending to heal her before, he was now. Truly, it was an unfair world to live in, even more than he had thought. This woman seemed to be barely twenty years old, if that.

Without another word, he reached out to the woman again, taking her hand in his. Ignoring the puzzled and questioning look she shot him, he called forth the Mysterious Power, and pushed it out towards her.

The woman looked on with increasing shock as trails of golden light came from Shirou's hand and spread to her own body, quickly travelling over her skin and healing any malady they came across, fresh and old. Bruises disappeared, scars smoothed out, cuts stitched themselves, fractures in bones healed, sprained muscles relaxed, and much more.

When it was done, Shirou let go of the woman's hand, but she didn't notice, too occupied with the sudden lack of the pain that had accompanied her ever since her foster-father had started drinking.

When the realisation that it was real had fully sunk in, she turned towards Shirou again, the shocked expression making place for a teary smile. Without saying another word, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I, well, I- I don't know what to say. Thank you! Thank you so, so much." She began, bringing her hands together in front of her and bowing deeply. "I never thought something like this was possible."

"Do you feel alright now, miss?"

"I am perfectly fine." She replied instantly. "I haven't felt this good since-, since forever. That was amazing!"

"You are welcome." Shirou said, rather lamely in his opinion. Once more, he was forced to face that he was terrible at interacting with people he'd saved, and not for the first time, he wished he could have been a little more charismatic.

It certainly would have made the next part easier.

"Ah, miss, I am sorry, but I'll have to lock your memories away now." He said apologetically, bracing himself for her reaction.

But, just like before, she didn't seem to have a problem with it at all.

"Go ahead." The woman smiled, before she frowned suddenly. "Hold on!"

"What is it?"

"What should I do if I'm ever faced with the supernatural again? If I don't have these memories, I just know that I will freeze up again."

"Ah, uhm, well, how about this?" Shirou had to ponder for a moment, but then something occurred to him. "I will lock the memories of these events away, but if you are ever in the presence of something unnatural or impossible, that lock will break, and you will regain the memories of this conversation instantly."

Her first response was a surprised blink, followed by a shake of the head and a muttering of 'irresponsibly overpowered wizards'.

"Sounds acceptable." She then smiled, folding her hands in front of her in a sign of gratitude. "Then I suppose you can do it now."

"Look into my eyes." Shirou ordered, waiting until he had eye-contact and then doing exactly what he had promised he would do, erecting a barrier that would break when the woman was confronted with the supernatural.

When he was done with the process, he wished her good luck with a soft voice, before quickly disappearing while she recovered from the disorientation. No sense in repeating the entire conversation they just had after all.

Flying away from the scene, making his way over to the old factory, Shirou had mixed feelings. On one hand, he genuinely hoped to see the young woman again someday. She had been a very nice person, whom he had enjoyed talking to for as long as it lasted. On the other hand, such a thing would mean exposing her again to the dark side of the world, and that was not something he was willing to do.

Unknown to him though, that was not a choice he would get to make. There was no way he could have anticipated this, but the woman regained her memories very quickly, the very next day in fact.

When Shirou had healed her injuries, he had unknowingly bestowed upon her a small amount of his power. It was but a drop, almost neglectable, but it was enough to give her more power than any mundane could ever hope to have.

That power had settled into her, and now she could reap the benefits.

The day after meeting Shirou, the woman had to entertain another client, who happened to be of the aggressive kind, seeing women like her as nothing more than things to do with as he wanted.

The woman naturally attempted to protect herself, although she didn't expect to have any success. All of the other times had proven she simply wasn't strong enough to defend herself.

It was to her great surprise then, that a single open-handed-slap managed to not only get the guy off her, but also sent him careening into a wall, knocking him out cold. Barely able to believe it, she sat on the couch, frozen in mid-motion.

She did not have much time to be surprised however before the next shock came over her.

She had knocked out the guy who had been assaulting her, but his friend, another one of that highly aggressive, wannabe-dominant kind, had then pulled a knife on her, shouting several verbal abuses and threats at her.

Still in shock about her own deed, the woman hadn't reacted in time to stop his swing. The knife connected with her forearm…

And broke on her skin.

Having regained her bearings at that moment, the woman quickly thought back on the few self-defence classes she had been able to attend, and then grabbed the man by his collar and flung him into the wall as well.

As she hastily returned to her lodgings afterwards, her mind reeling from what had just happened, she could only think about the impossibility of the situation. A thin, waifish woman like her shouldn't be able to knock two men around with that kind of ease. It was impossible.

In fact, it was deemed impossible enough that the lock on her memories was broken that very moment. The entire event of the previous night was placed into her conscious memory again, and she could recall all of it.

After a minor freak-out in her lodgings when she had realised that it hadn't been a vague dream and magic was indeed real, the woman tried to make sense of what happened.

Recalling what the kind vigilante had done for her, healing her wounds by infusing her with some kind of golden light, gave her something to work with. After a few tries, she managed to call on the power again, making her veins glow a soft golden.

She couldn't actively do anything with it, it only served to passively increase her abilities, but it was still the greatest gift anyone had ever given her.

She didn't switch careers afterwards, as she understood she had to keep all of it a secret, but she did manage to make her own life and that of her fellow girls a little easier, mainly by dealing with the aggressive customers.

Since those customers were often married or otherwise in positions where one shouldn't visit women like her, the legal fall-out was minimal. She did discover though that her durability was also high enough to make her able to take bullets with relative ease.

All in all, Rikudou Reika could only be grateful to the magical vigilante, and hope she would meet him again, someday.

---

When Shirou reached the abandoned factory, he discovered immediately that it was indeed the hideout of the Apostle. The intense smell of a graveyard hanging around the complex was enough to prove that beyond any doubt.

He hesitated in approaching the building though, for things were not quite as he had expected them to be.

If one had asked Shirou the day before what he thought a Dead Apostle's hideout would look like, he would have answered something along the lines of a sheltered place, with plenty of shadow everywhere, easily defendable and with the smell of Magic and Death permeating through everything.

A fortress basically, protected by many Spells, Wards, and Curses. A mighty bulwark worthy of a vampire powerful enough to terrorise and plague an entire city on its own.

This factory… was not that.

It was a decrepit hole that seemed days away from falling apart, and it didn't seem to have any Magical Defences whatsoever.

Shirou couldn't for the life of him discover whether it was a trap though. Perhaps the Apostle had noticed its familiars being picked off one by one, and had now deactivated its defences to lure Shirou inside, before either springing an ambush on him or locking him inside while it fled. Or perhaps it genuinely didn't have Magical Defences at all.

Shirou really couldn't find out which option it was, but he didn't have much more time to waste either before sunrise, so he would just have to hope for the best.

Shirou rose from the building he was standing on and flew to the main doors of the factory, before channelling the Mysterious Power and unleashing a lightning bolt straight at said doors.

The doors were blown inwards by the force of his attack, torn completely off their hinges, and were sent flying into the wall on the opposite side of the hangar. Wary of traps however, Shirou remained where he was for a few seconds, well away from the opening.

A wise decision, for not a second after his attack, a large vault came down from above on the place where he would have stood had he entered the building right away. It seemed to be quite a heavy one too. Not enough to harm Shirou, but anyone without considerably augmented durability would have been killed on the spot.

It was strange though that it was a mundane trap, likely triggered by the doors opening. He would have expected at least a bit of Magecraft to be involved, but that was apparently not the case.

Shirou entered the building slowly and warily, almost certain more traps were waiting for him as he walked towards the stairs.

He was proven right only seconds later, when he discovered a tripwire on the first set of stairs, a tripwire that led directly to six guns that were poised to shoot at anyone tripping it. That would have killed an unprepared human, even a Magus, with ease.

Of course, no Magus, Enforcer, Executor or otherwise would ever contemplate hunting a Dead Apostle unprepared. Reinforcement alone could have made this very survivable, and Runes stitched in clothes or tattooed on skin could have made this no more than an annoyance.

So why was this Apostle even trying to use guns? Hoping for a lucky strike perhaps? Or did it genuinely not know that its traps would be so ineffective?

On his way to the top floor, where the origin of the smell of death was located, Shirou discovered that the Apostle, whether it used Magecraft of not, was definitely not taking half measures. He encountered more guns, a dozen explosives connected to doors, more explosives connected to the locks in those doors, a few tripwires on random steps, and heavy things falling from the ceiling when he opened the doors after disarming the bombs.

He'd learned to spot the last kind of trap very quickly, especially after a forklift truck of all things had almost fallen on his head after he had stepped through a door at the sixth floor.

He had accidentally triggered two bombs already though. Those bombs had been placed very strategically, namely on doors where there had already been a trap, effectively making it a double trap.

The times he'd had a bomb exploding on him did prove once and for all however that such things were utterly useless against him now. Discarding the air-pressure from the explosions that had put him on the backfoot for a moment, he barely even felt anything beyond some heat and a little shrapnel bouncing off him.

When he got past the seventh floor though, things started to get progressively weirder, to the point where he almost believed himself to be in a videogame. There were motion sensors that activated flamethrowers, pit falls with spikes at the bottom, sawblades coming from the ceiling, and even an actual boulder sent rolling at him. There were even more guns, cages with a small number of the dead in them, it just went on and on.

There were even attempts at changing the factory into a maze, if the numerous, sloppily erected walls on a couple of the floors were anything to go by. By that time however, Shirou was done messing around, and had smashed right through those walls.

Shirou had never been one for videogames, but even he was able to recognise that this Apostle had clearly played a few too many of them.

Dodging the nth boulder by just a hair, he had to admit that he had severely underestimated the Apostles' ability to protect itself without Magecraft. Admittedly, its defences were not stopping him, and would not have stopped powerful Magi or groups of less powerful ones either, but anything below that would never have made it through. He dared say that even Kiritsugu would have been impressed by this.

Finally arriving at the top floor, Shirou glared at the last door in his way, contemplating on how to get past it. It was undoubtedly the most trapped door in the building, and the Apostle was probably waiting behind it, ready to attack. Shirou would either have to be extremely careful in entering, or he would have to use overwhelming force.

Then the choice was taken out of his hands.

The door opened inwards, and a head was stuck through the opening, red eyes cautiously peering down the hall, until they landed on Shirou.

For a moment, for just the blink of an eye, neither being moved, Apostle staring at Magus, and Magus staring at Apostle. It was just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Shirou to take in his opponent's form.

There was no denying that the man had been handsome once, with an angular face framed with black hair, with pleasing features and the part of his body that was visible being lean and toned. It was quite ruined however, by the unnaturally pale complexion and sickened look, the air of filth and death around it, and the blackened veins that ran all over its body.

The moment of silence passed quickly, and Shirou kicked off from the ground, rushing towards the open door. The vampire then showed it was superior to its thralls, for it actually managed to follow him with its eyes, for the half a second that it took Shirou to cross the distance and slam into the door.

The result was precisely as one would expect. The door was instantly smashed to pieces and the Apostle went careening backwards, flying through the entire room and smashing into a wall dozens of metres away.

Not wanting to give it a chance to escape or do something creative, Shirou rushed forward again, swinging his hammer in an arc towards the creature, aiming to take its head off in one blow. Once more the vampire showed it was far beyond its thralls, as it managed to dodge his swing, if only by a hair, by jumping to the side, landing on its back on the ground.

"Curse you!" The Apostle cried, in a surprisingly smooth voice, attempting to crawl away, before remembering that it could walk bipedally as it jumped back onto its feet. "How did you get up here- no, how did you even find me?!"

It received no answer, as talking in battle was a sin.

Realising Shirou wasn't going to say anything, the vampire pulled a grenade, an actual grenade, from its belt, ripped out the pin, and threw it at Shirou, in a perfect straight throw.

Shirou caught the explosive however, and easily crushed the piece of iron in his hand, letting it go off between his fingers, before dropping the ruined metal on the floor.

The Apostle's eyes bulged at the sight, which made it look even more unhealthy, before it started running towards the corner, where, the armoured teen saw, even more guns and explosives were stored.

Did it not have any other tricks that it could use? Certainly, it didn't actually think that mundane weapons would be enough to defeat him? Those weapons would be useless.

This was again proven when the Apostle grabbed a machine gun and unleashed a hail of bullets at Shirou, all of them harmlessly bouncing off from his armour and even from his skin.

"Die already!" The vampire spat in a mix of fear and anger, as it dropped the gun and pulled out a remote, pressing a big, red button, causing a door at the back of the room to open, revealing half a dozen of the Dead, who immediately charged at the redhead.

Shirou waited until they were almost on him and then swung Mjolnir in an arc, hitting all of them in one swing and reducing them to ash.

Upon turning around once more, Shirou spotted his enemy trying to reach a back door, no doubt intending to escape. He had no intention of letting it flee however, and unleashed another blast of lightning, hoping to incinerate the vampire.

Unfortunately, the Apostle noticed the blast in the nick of time and actually managed to dodge, though the pressure wave from where the lightning struck the ground still sent it flying once more, away from the door.

It crawled back to its feet swiftly however, its expression twisting into crazy delight.

"So, the great hero has come to slay the beast? Well, I anticipated this already, fucker!" It howled in a victorious tone. "I will not die here, and I won't be taken back to them! I will become more powerful than any vampire has ever been, even Dracula, and I will have my revenge, fuckface!"

'Them?'

The Apostle pressed another button on the remote, and Shirou heard a creaking sound, as if a garage door was being opened. More of the Dead poured out of their hiding places a second later, yet this time they were not running towards him, but towards the stairs.

"Choose, hero!" The Apostle cackled cruelly. "You can stop them, or you can stop me, and we both already know you'll go after them. Think of how many people they'll kill otherwise…"

Shirou tuned the vampire out after that, as it kept talking about villains, heroes, and the rules of being an Evil Overlord.

It was now clear beyond a doubt that it had no knowledge of the Moonlit World at all. If its strange fascination with becoming stronger than Dracula wasn't enough of an indication, then the fact that it believed that an Enforcer or Executor would prioritise saving random people over killing it proved that it knew nothing.

Which raised the question of how it had become so powerful.

But that was a concern for later. Right now, he had to stop the fleeing creatures.

Shirou drew the Rune of Fire that had given him such impressive results back when he did his first power testing, invoking its name in a stern voice.

"Sowilo!"

It was the Rune of the Sun, and true to its name, it unleashed a torrent of white-hot fire, which was aimed straight at the Dead.

Even though the familiars of the Apostle had been progressively getting away from him, the firestorm caught up to them easily, overtaking them in moments and burning away everything in its path, leaving only charred remains.

Having dealt with the immediate problem, Shirou faced the Apostle again, who was staring slackjawed at the destruction that had been wrought. Taking advantage of his opponent's lapse in attention, Shirou jumped forward again, throwing himself bodily against the vampire. The poor Apostle, to stupefied to react on time, was slammed against a wall hard enough to shatter the bones of any normal person.

It did not go down that easily though. When Shirou took a step back to get himself some room to manoeuvre, it lashed out at him with its sharp claws, aiming to rip the teen's throat out. Shirou blocked the swing with his forearm, neatly catching the claws on his vambraces. He then threw a punch at the Apostles head, which was dodged at the very last second.

The vampire jumped forward, pushing itself off the wall in order to gain enough momentum to throw Shirou on his back. The redhead managed to stop it in its tracks by grabbing its wrists however.

For a moment, the vampire struggled in his hold, until Shirou decided to emulate Thor for a short moment and head-butted his enemy so fiercely that it was once more knocked into the wall behind it. Not giving it a chance to regain its bearings, Shirou stepped forward and launched a haymaker into the Apostle's midriff.

The air was forced out of the undead's lungs, making it wheeze to get some back. Its efforts were rendered useless however when Shirou grabbed its throat in a vice grip and then slammed it into the wall again.

It wasn't lethal, not to something like an Apostle, but it would still hurt like hell, which was exactly what Shirou had been going for. Inexperienced warriors tended to lose their rational mind when in pain, and he had already determined that this Apostle was inexperienced indeed.

Watching impassively as the Apostle struggled feebly against his grip, Shirou contemplated whether to kill it at once or to interrogate it first.

He certainly had no qualms about killing it, or any others of its kind. Apostles were not human, they were not animals, or even plants. They were monsters, plain and simple. They had lost all of their humanity the moment they had been turned. Killing them was the greatest mercy one could show.

The only reason Shirou was even contemplating leaving it alive for now was because it was no threat to him at all and he still had some questions it might be able to answer, the most of important of which was who the Apostle had meant when he had mentioned 'them'.

In the end, Shirou decided on a short interrogation. He had dropped the ball when he hadn't interrogated the criminals smelling like Magecraft in Fuyuki-City the moment he'd found them, and he wasn't going to mess up like that again.

"Apostle." He started, noticing the brief look of confusion the use of that word got him. "You are strangely weak for your kind, and your knowledge is lacking. How did you become like this, and why do you not know of the Moonlit World? Were you not changed by another vampire?"

A flash of defiance sparked to life in the vampire's eyes, but a dark look from Shirou snuffed it right out again. He loosened the grip he had on the creature's throat in anticipation of an answer, but still held it firmly enough to keep it from escaping.

The Apostle had never been a brave man, even before its untimely death. In fact, it would be much more accurate to call it a coward. As such, its resolve broke to pieces when confronted by someone so much stronger than it.

"It was no fucking vampire that did this to me." It squeaked. "I was just selling dru- just minding my own fucking business, when a bunch of motherfucking criminals attacked me. The next thing I know, I was in a room with two wackjobs, who were doing all kinds of weird stuff to me. It's all their fucking fault, not mine, really not, I swear!"

Shirou took a sharp breath, immediately seeing the possible connection between this Apostle and the Magi he'd been hunting. Now, it might be totally unrelated, but it might just as well not.

"What more do you know?" He asked sharply, looming over the Apostle despite being at least a head shorter than it. "Do you know where you were? Do you know who did this to you?"

The answer came significantly quicker this time, partly because of the increased intimidation, but also because the vampire was glad to finally be able to vent its frustration.

"Fuckers said they wanted to experiment." It hissed, clearly affronted anyone had dared do such a thing to it. "Said they were going to perfect some shitty procedure, told me that I was a fucking testing subject, an animal. Can you believe that? Motherfuckers thought I was just an animal! Me!"

Its voice shifted from affronted to borderline hysterical. "There were others like them too, three of them, stupid fucks visited sometimes. They never even looked at me! I was nothing to them, nothing at all. They just hurt me over and over again, until they had changed me into this!"

The Apostle went off on a rant about unfairness, about his 'rights', but Shirou wasn't really listening anymore. He was totally occupied by the what the creature had just told him.

Five Magi. Two of them engaged in Dead Apostle research, and three others with unknown professions. Provided these Magi were indeed the ones he'd been hunting, that was more information than he'd ever gathered before.

That the Magi who had created this Dead Apostle were the ones who he was hunting was extremely likely, and now he also knew that these Magi were criminals in both the mundane world and the Moonlit World.

Dead Apostle-research was highly illegal. It was absolutely outlawed. Dabbling in it was enough to immediately be declared a criminal and an outlaw by the Magus Association, no questions asked, no quarter given.

In other words, it was enough to get a Sealing Designation.

A Sealing Designation was an edict handed down by the Magus Association to maintain and protect special Thaumaturgical abilities which could not be acquired through study, or to detain criminals who were going to be executed and experimented upon, not necessarily in that order.

Sealing Designees, who were the people who had received Sealing Designations, were rare, and most were relatively harmless. Some of them however, especially the criminals, were extremely dangerous, to everything and everyone around them.

And considering what he'd just learned, Shirou could say that he had not one, not two, but five criminal Sealing Designees in his country at once.

That was a disaster. An unmitigated disaster.

"-more powerful than even you."

Realising that he was neglecting his conversation partner, Shirou looked back at the vampire, who choose that moment to start laughing maniacally, gloating about how it was stronger than anyone else, apparently completely forgetting that it was at his mercy at the moment.

"I manged to escape. All by myself." It giggled hysterically. "Fucking ripped myself loose when the fuckers weren't paying attention. Getting outside was a fucking piece of cake."

Shirou remained silent in response, letting it speak.

"I don't where I was after that, somewhere in the mountains, at the edge of a city. I just ran away, very far, until I got here. I survived, even though everything in this world was out to kill me."

That was slightly useful at least.

"You think you have me pinned down, don't you?" The vampire continued, grinning maliciously, looking like it had some kind of secret that it was about to reveal. "But you don't! No one can hold me down, not anymore. After escaping their clutches, I learned I was a vampire. I craved blood, so I feasted on it, made myself stronger and stronger every day. I am stronger than anyone else in the world. I must thank those whackjobs when I find them again, right before killing and enslaving them of course."

"You killed hundreds of people, simply to have a shot at revenge? On people you don't even know the slightest about?" Shirou interrupted, his mood changing from annoyed at the Apostle's cowardness and arrogance to actual burning anger at its vile deeds.

"Sure did!" The thing crowed, looking awfully proud of itself. "I'll find them. Even if I have to bury Japan under my minions, I will find them! I have read Dracula and seen those films and anime that portray Vampires. I'm already better than most of them, and one day, I'll be as powerful as Alucard! In fact, I'm already more powerful. You think you have me down, but you haven't fucking seen fucking anything yet!"

With those words, the Apostle's hands wrapped around Shirou's wrists, and its legs came up to kick Shirou repeatably in the stomach. True to its word, the Apostle was a lot stronger than before, at least half again as strong as earlier.

It wasn't enough to make a difference though, and ultimately, it was more awkward than troublesome to Shirou.

"What the-? How-? No! I am stronger than you, better than you! You can't kill me!" The Dead Apostle screeched when it saw it was still outmatched, now resorting to biting and clawing, which was no more effective than its other tactics had been. "You can't kill me! You- You're a hero after all. I am only a poor victim, I swear. T-T-They did this t-to m-me! This is their fault! Y-You must be-believe me, please."

The Apostle descended into outright pathetic begging, but Shirou was unmoveable. The vampire had proved itself a despicable being, not even having tried to hold on to its humanity, even though it had been granted a unique chance to do so when it had skipped the mindless Ghoul-phase of its turning. It had just started murdering, in a vain attempt at revenge.

No, that wasn't correct. Revenge didn't even enter the equation. It was using that as an excuse, but it just craved power and dominance over others. It was a vile existence, one Shirou had to destroy for the good of all.

"No, don't! I-I can reward y-you! I h-have money! It's not my fault, I swear-"

Shirou once more channelled the Mysterious Power, calling upon its Cleansing Aspect, just like before when he'd healed the green-haired woman. Unlike with her though, this Cleansing was not meant to heal and invigorate, but to destroy. Its light was not soft and golden, rather it was a harsh silver-white, giving off an unforgiving aura of power.

The white light flowed from Shirou's hand into the Dead Apostle, spreading through its entire body until the light began shining out of its eyes and mouth. Barely two seconds after that, the body crumbled into dust.

His job finally done, Shirou turned his back on the pile of dust on the ground and walked away. He did not look back. There was no need to.

---

Half an hour later, Shirou stood outside again. The reason it took so long was because he had taken the time to deactivate all traps in the building, to prevent other visitors from losing their lives to them.

The smell of death was noticeably letting up now. With the origin removed, the scent was quickly disappearing into the atmosphere, and Shirou could breathe a little easier again.

The missing person-reports were thrown into a trash bin, something that actually took a while, considering how many there were, how many people this Apostle had needlessly killed.

It made Shirou feel… unpleasant, to be so blatantly reminded that outright evil people also existed. People that didn't deserve to be saved. The kind his father had spoken of, in one of their few heart-to-heart conservations.

Being a very experienced hitman and assassin-for-hire, Kiritsugu had known that some people weren't worth saving. Some people were just evil for no discernible reason and putting them down was all you could do. He had known that, and had tried to impart it to his son as well.

Shirou hadn't understood at the time, but now, after several months of hunting criminals and seeing the evils of humanity, he felt he understood a little better.

Nevertheless, Shirou lamented the fact that he had taken a life, however twisted that life may have been. He didn't regret it, but he did wish that it wouldn't have been necessary.

Yet another reason for him to hate Urayasu, though he was rational enough to acknowledge it wasn't the city's fault that a Dead Apostle had taken residence in it. Maybe with the monster removed and most of the criminals incarcerated, it could become a better place.

Though it was still a huge dumpster.

Shirou frowned, reluctant to leave the city with such a huge problem, but unsure what he could do about filth and waste.

That was when Mjolnir came through yet again, showing him a Runic Array that would be able to clean up an entire city.

The Runic Array would slowly destroy the useless waste lying around, while 'encouraging' people to clean up anything that was actually useful or recyclable. It would remove chemical components on the streets, in the water, and in the air. It would remove gum, blood, and other stains, and it would cure the people, the animals, and even the plants of the damage that the pollution had wrought upon them.

This would happen over time, slowly, unnoticeably to anyone who wasn't aware already of the spell's existence. The secret of Thaumaturgy wouldn't be revealed that way.

Shirou took a few seconds to marvel at the incredible Runic Array, one that could potentially match the work of the great masters of old, the Rune-Crafters of Ireland and the gods of Scandinavia, before taking a look at the downsides.

The most prominent downside was the insane cost of powering the Array. Drawing and activating it would already cost a lot of power, but even after that, it had to be supplied constantly. If he ever stopped supplying for even a moment, the Runic Array would cease to exist immediately, and he would have to apply it all over again. Keeping it active for long enough to clean up a city would be an incredible drain on his reserves, but Shirou estimated that he could miss the power, at least until the city was mostly or even completely clean again.

It took a little more than ten minutes to cast the spell, as he had to carve the Runes into the ground at a secluded spot, but its effects were instantly noticeable. The air around the array became visibly cleaner, and the stains on the ground surrounding him disappeared without a trace. It was slow-going, but the spell made up for that through its incredible meticulousness.

Shirou smiled at the sight, happy that he had been able to help the city and its inhabitants in more than one way.

Not to mention he had finally found some clues related to the Magi he was hunting.

Finally, he had made some actual progress.

---

The Lord could only pace in ever-increasing agitation, the carpet in his room being slowly worn out by his steps, as he found himself at a total loss.

Despite the hope-giving report of several weeks back concerning the criminal he'd been trying to catch for years, they hadn't made any progress ever since.

It was frustrating, but his target had buried itself deep, far beyond his reach. The Lord knew Joseph Balefor was somewhere in the one country he never wanted to visit again, but that was as far as his knowledge went.

Frustrating, frustrating to no end.

He had half-considered going over there himself, but he was smart enough to know he would only hinder the professionals in their work. He would follow later, when the target had been found, in order to drag the scumbag to the Clocktower for his trial and to get the Balefor-Crest back. Until then, there was very little he could do.

Sighing deeply, the Lord put the matter out of his mind. Getting annoyed by it would only be a waste of time and effort, and he had another matter that demanded his attention.

Abandoning his frantic pacing, the Lord prepared himself for the event that was about to take place. He quickly combed his hair, washed his face, and put on his best clothes. It wouldn't do to look anything less than perfect after all when interacting with his fellow Lords. Showing any form of weakness would only be blood in the water for the more ambitious among them.

With that done, he left his office, on his way towards the Arena, which was perhaps one of the most famous areas of the Clocktower.

When one's honour was slighted, when one wanted to fight someone else for training, or when arguments couldn't be worked out in a peaceful way, the Arena was the go-to solution. It was a place of battle, where disputes were settled in very definite ways, and this morning, a one-sided slaughter was about to begin.

No one would really die, people rarely died in the ring, but a certain someone was about to take a huge blow to his ego nevertheless.

The idiot had brought it upon himself though. The pompous fool had asked to marry Lorelei Barthomeloi, the dreaded Queen of the Clocktower, the Strongest Magus of the Modern Generation, even though he had been strongly advised against it multiple times. Upon having his proposal be denied, as had been expected, the fool had demanded she reconsider. When the Queen had refused again, he had challenged her to a duel, as was his right, demanding that if she forfeited or lost, she would marry him.

Suffice to say that the idiot was going to suffer, a lot.

The only reason Lorelei Barthomeloi was humouring him at all, instead of just kicking him out of the Clocktower, was because she was under pressure. According to the grapevine, her family was insisting that she marry someone soon, so she could produce powerful offspring and forge important bonds between families, solidifying her authority and enforcing the status-quo.

Barthomeloi had been able to stave them off quite efficiently however by claiming she would only marry someone strong enough to face her in battle, which was close to impossible to anyone but a few.

Zelretch would be able to defeat her, but he wouldn't be interested in the fight, much less the marriage.

A select few Apostle Ancestors might be able to defeat her, but they would be equally uninterested, not to mention they were smart enough to stay well away from the Queen.

Of course, ORT would definitely win, but the possibility of an alien god fighting Lorelei Barthomeloi in the Arena, willingly adhering to the rules, was absolutely laughable.

One thing was for sure: she was definitely not going to marry today. Everyone knew that, except that one fool apparently.

The Lord briskly walked into the Arena, ignoring the shouts and whistles from the Enforcers and the 'cultured conversations' from the nobles in favour of brooding some more about Balefor still being at large.

He was aware that he could be considered a luckier man than most, having survived things that he'd had no right of surviving, but today, he prayed for just a bit more fortune coming his way.

For there to be some progress with the case of his friend's murder.

---

Author's note.

In this chapter, you got a closer look into the mind of Balefor, and a glimpse of his past. We now see a bit of what drives him, and what his goal is. Now, for all of you who want to shout that his goal is unreachable, that is completely true, but Joseph doesn't believe that, so he's going to continue.

For all those that want to say now that I have made Lorelei Barthomeloi too nice, with her aversion to amoral actions, well, the only thing I did in my story is letting the brainwashing stick less to her mind than in canon and most fanon and add a kinder nature to her underneath all that. That opens up the possibility for character development.

Our dear Magi make plans to get Rin. For those of you that wonder why: they want to have a Magus to either experiment on, or to serve as their lapdog if her talent is great enough. Now, we know that she is a prodigy, so it will probably be lapdog, but experimentation is still a real possibility.

It is also a test to see if they can pull something like this off. If they can, they might just try again, and again, and again, and so on.

But that's not the only thing they have been doing. They all have their own projects, with among them some Dead Apostle research. One of their specimens escaped, and now Shirou had to pick up the slack, which he does successfully.

Shirou also meets a certain green-haired woman. If you've watched/read Apocrypha, you'll know who she is. She now has her own abilities, but don't fret, she is not suddenly overpowered. She is strong enough to handle mundane threats, but any experienced Magus will still kick her ass seven different ways to Sunday.

She will remember Shirou quite fondly however, which will be quite convenient later down the line.

The battle between Shirou and the Apostle was very one-sided, but that was the intention from the beginning. I can imagine you all want some real fights, but I cannot make an OP-Shirou and still have him struggle with a run-of-the-mill Apostle. This was mostly to show just how strong Shirou already is.

The vampire had some information for Shirou, after which Shirou disposed of the Apostle with his newly found Cleansing Power. I thought of this Cleansing Power after reading that Thor healed a man with Terminal Cancer once. That put the idea of healing in my mind, and from there it was a small step to a Cleansing Power.

Keep in mind what I have said. It only works on what the Shirou-Force, thus Shirou himself, considers to be unnatural. It would not work on Magi or Heroic Spirits or the like, but very well against things like Dead Apostles and Zoukens.

An example of something it would not work on is for instance the Caster of Fate Zero. Despite his evilness and insanity, he is not necessarily unnatural, at least, not in Shirou's opinion, which is really the only thing that matters. The monsters he summons however are fully susceptible to the power.

Shirou makes an effort to clean the city, which will work quite well. It will be repeated many more times.

The 'mysterious' Lord hunting Balefor for personal reasons also returns, to give us a bit of insight into the Clocktower.

That's all for now.

Ted.