Welcome back to another edition; I must say, it feels bizarre finally getting out of Fate Zero; all things considered, that portion of the story took the better part of a year, yet here we are.
I honestly have few words to say, but as always, I wanted to extend my thanks to everyone willing to read this story, it means the world to me, and I pray for your well-being whenever I can.
Now, as many of you know, I'm not one for wasting time on filler or random things that don't contribute to the story in any meaningful way, but I decided an interlude chapter would do some justice for what's been going on for the past few years. Bare in mind there won't be some arc in between the Grail Wars; the next chapter jumps straight into Blade Works, but this includes a significant setup.
Many of you seem to like the dynamic between Raiden and Sakura, so this chapter will be a fun experience since it's almost entirely about them and how they work together in this new mode. I won't jump super into it, but those two are my favorite part of the story to write, so this felt like a nice break compared to the constant action and conspiracy.
With all that said and done, as one of you referenced, "Now go! Let the legend come back to life!"
...
"What are you and Otacon fighting for?" -Raiden
"A future." -Solid Snake
A howling wind roared overhead; its unstoppable pathway was marked only by the harsh whistle echoing across the land, followed by the inevitable trail of white speckles flowing in its wake. Men, women, and children all buckled beneath the unavoidable strength of nature's will, some pulling their coats just a bit tighter while others hurried their pace, hoping to reach their destination by a few more seconds.
There was a peacefulness to it all, people from all walks of life pushing forward into the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring, and yet they trudged along into that biting cold, again and again. Many passed through those busy streets laden with revving engines and honking horns, trying to make their way through the confusion of daily life in an urban center so similar to many others.
Fuyuki... an inconspicuous name for an unimportant metropolis to the wandering eye across the endless horizons strewn upon a map. Many would gleam at its rising towers of concrete and glass scattered about neighborhoods of old wooden architecture, finding the location a marvel amongst many Japanese cities, blending the old with the new.
Yet many called this indistinct city their home, finding solace in its winding pathways and carefully structured borders. Denizens often took pleasure in a local pride no outsider could truly fathom, knowing just where to turn, what places to go, and who to speak to, a small feat, yet something to take pride in all the same.
Urban life never felt quite so calm as many wished to believe; there was always motion, some action taking place, whether a new building was rising in the distance or the pattering of heels along paved roads; progress never ceased, for better or worse; things kept moving forward.
And yet, even in a world as compact as this, where thousands rushed about, interacting in a myriad of ways, there was always a sadness to it all. Many seemed too preoccupied with their own affairs; they struggled to understand their fellow man, those standing beside them on public transportation. What were they doing? Did they need help? Thousands of questions arose, and yet none went answered.
Such was the curse of modern life; as technology grew closer to that distant horizon, the gap between human beings seemed to grow further and further away. If one were to ask a resident about the catastrophic destruction their town endured a mere five years ago, many would tilt their heads before nodding in understanding.
It was almost unfathomable to think of burning wreckage and charred corpses lying across the open pathways of the city, with over a quarter of the metropolis utterly devastated. The cause was never sure, merely listed as another natural disaster; some would faintly recall talks of a natural gas leak, no response ever truly satisfying inquiring ears...only for all dialogues to disappear entirely.
Such was the fate of many a catastrophe in a world so strewn with mass media; they received their five minutes of notoriety before the focus shifted toward yet another tragic event elsewhere. These events were thrown in their faces so often that it almost felt normal at a certain point to hear, and like that, many would bury their dead and have to find acceptance in a world that simply stopped caring about their suffering.
For most, that was enough; time would heal all wounds eventually, and they could forge new bonds, share their trauma and move on to that uncertain horizon, desperately hoping for a joyful end. But for some, those who couldn't accept the narrative, the people who wanted some kind of justice, the ones who always turned back, facing their past with unending questions, their pain ever-present...they were left behind as little more than obscured outcasts, watching the world go by as they remained ever still, stuck in that exact moment, its chains dragging along with each step taken.
*Creak...Creak...Creak
An old swing, blighted by year upon year of exposure to the elements, swished back and forth, its occupant gently pushing their knees back, waiting for the perfect moment before kicking out into the cold winter air, soaring high above the near-empty playground for the briefest of moments.
A pair of violet eyes studied their surroundings, no particular sight in mind, more a curiosity, evidence of youthful vigor, something their owner hadn't felt for quite some time. A strand of equally purple hair flashed in their view before being pushed to the side, exposing the world beyond once more.
As the swing reached its maxim, the girl took a slow breath of cold air, taking no satisfaction in its dry effect on her lungs; a shiver racked her skinny form, piercing through layer after layer of meticulously worn coats and sweaters, and yet she ignored it all, staring out into the world she so feared just a few years ago.
Children of all ages ran about, those brave enough to endure the chill of layered snow and icy sidewalks for those brief few minutes of afterschool fun before heading home, and yet she remained alone, the empty seats along the swingset drifted with the breeze as she stared out once more.
There was a calm to it all, watching the cars drive along roads interwoven with barren trees along their winding pathways, passing by building after building, each a unique niche of its own, with memories and bonds holding their societal foundations together. Memories are a funny thing, giving value to seemingly worthless places, bringing a smile to even the most worn-out faces as recollection surged to the forefront.
The girl idly hummed to the tune of her own thoughts, idly listening to nearby conversations of the upcoming holiday; how long ago had she been dull to all this...just fading into the backdrop of life as it went on around her? It felt like a lifetime had passed since then, every day bringing a unique experience, another reason to get up for a new morning again and again, no longer in repetition but something else.
A flash of motion caused her purple orbs to wander, trailing over a smattering of features of no particular regard, bystanders the girl would never talk to, and so she paid them no mind...and yet...a spark of recognition flickered within her eyes as they wafted toward the school entrance, its old white surface as its glass doors reflected the shimmering sunlight, opening and closing with each passing body.
Time seemed to slow as a familiar flicker of blue popped into view, followed by a set of brown hair tied into pair of neatly positioned pigtails, bobbing up and down with each step. Despite the sheer distance, unable to even hear the girl who consumed her focus, she didn't need to listen to know a site she pondered every day. A prideful smile concealed behind layer after layer of added behaviors, a facade she knew melted away the second she wasn't at school, Rin.
The Tohsaka remained blissfully ignorant of her observations, followed by the same crowd of faceless nobodies, aspiring to mimic her in some fashion, whether it was for grades or popularity, the girl couldn't say, nor did it matter; she paid them no mind. In an instant, with the wave of a hand, the followers poured away on some statement of having something else to do or something along those lines.
As the magus wandered off toward her home, those same purple orbs trailed her path, their owner thinking back to a time when they were family, sisters, it felt choppy, but her heart never stopped hurting whenever the topic came up.
The purple heiress's brow furrowed as she took a sharp breath of air, emotions running high as she questioned her existence. It made no sense; one day, out of nowhere, her father told her to pack up and leave for some family she had never met...saying they could never speak again...just to throw her into a hell she couldn't even imagine...
Her gaze drifted, unable to bare the site of a girl she once loved, falling low toward her tiny boots as gravity took hold; the moving ground below seemed so bleak, a vile mixture of upturned mud interlaced with a sleek layer of white snow floating into the muck. She bit into her lip as her eyes burned in a familiar emotional pang; the girl couldn't hope to describe how she felt looking at her old life...at first, she wanted nothing more but to come home to people that cared...then...
Her mother said no, saying she couldn't take her back...it hurt more than any torment her new family could give, and then some. Those old memories had carried her forward, keeping the magus from going insane from grief, only to lose the one thing holding her together-
No
She gripped a fist, feeling her skin tighten despite the cold weather surrounding her as she forced the feelings away, her thoughts turning toward their surroundings. It felt strange to consider, such a short time ago, day after day, she spent hours here, avoiding her family for a few graceful hours. The girl never truly fit in; making a friend felt an impossibility; she lacked the drive to even speak, let alone interact for more than the briefest of moments.
Her breath briefly hitched as she witnessed an upturned worm crawling about the scum below, searching for some meal or other, but she couldn't bare to look at it. In an instant, the girl's head turned, facing the nearby school as children continued to pour out of it. Even thinking about those things sent an unbridled terror through her very being...what if...
Her grip along the chains grew tighter despite her mittened hands, forcing the issue out of her mind. She took a slow breath as her legs jutted back, opening her lively eyes as she exhaled a cloud of white smoke; no, she didn't need to worry about that anymore.
Her legs kicked back before shooting out once more into the endless sky above as a small but present smile grew along her pale face, and her nose ran red from the cold, but the girl didn't care; after all, there was a reason to come home now, someone that cared. He promised to keep her safe...no matter what...and she believed him.
As her grip slackened, the young magus sailed through the air with a flying jump toward that boundless abyss always floating overhead; she didn't look back toward that pit in the ground; she'd never have to go back there again. Her purple hair fluttered with the free breeze as it engulfed her entire form; it took so long to realize that life was worth living, that there was more than just blind obedience.
Her smile grew as she glanced up, peering up at the glowing sun above as its rays shined through the relentless onslaught of clouds, showering her with its warmth. Her past haunted her dreams, keeping her awake with constant night terrors and memories of old times...but for now, she felt happy.
Her flight slowed as gravity took hold, slowly pulling her downward, her coat bustling in the breeze as it raced through the skies of Fuyuki once more; she paid it no mind. Every day she strove to find something to smile about, not just for her...but to make him proud, to show that she was getting better...it was slow, but something...maybe someday she cou-
The mage glanced down as her black boots landed along the ground heel-first, only to slide as friction gave way to a pathway of sheer ice. She wobbled uncontrollably as her arms flew into the air as her weight gave way, her voice escaping as a high squeal, "Eep!"
*POOF
For a few brief moments, the world blurred into a frenzy of white dots as snow shot into the air as the girl slammed into their padded banks, her layers of clothing sparing her from any injury as she lay there staring up at the clouds.
She rested there, ignoring the nearby crowd of kids as they pointed at her and laughed, not caring much for what they thought. The sky always looked so pretty to her, the few splotches of gentle blue reminding her of a world where she could live free...she just needed to get stronger.
She raised a gloved hand, studying the soft blue material before dragging it across her face, removing a trail of white powder as she kicked along the ground to get a foothold, appearing as a blob of color helplessly floundering about, Jack was right, she needed to stick those landin-
"Sakura!"
As the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps grew louder by the moment as the snow crunched underfoot, she leaned back, her gaze squinting beneath the beaming light. She studied a familiar tan outline as a pair of grey sneakers sloshed about the white material, their wearer utterly unfit for the cold temperatures yet ignorant of them all the same. Whether or not that was a good thing, the Matou couldn't say.
His hands freed themselves from the confines of his green jacket as his black scarf fluttered in the breeze. His fierce golden brown eyes met hers as his spiked auburn hair resisted the elements, remaining utterly static as he marched onward, pushing past the gathering crowd, coming into clear view as her mind flashed in recognition. "Shirou?"
The strange boy had been going to her school for the past few years, but the Matou had never worked up the courage to actually speak with him until recently. Talking was never a strong point of hers, but enough prodding from her "uncle" had convinced her to try one day, and she finally did when she saw him struggling in class.
She couldn't help but give a relieved smile at his presence; he was sweet in his own way, never quite the best student, but she helped him get by, and in turn, they started to spend recess together, and soon enough, the Emiya became her first real friend. She felt awkward for weeks afterward, never quite knowing what to say, but the chestnut-colored boy never seemed to mind.
As the unprepared kid slowed to a stop, he slowly surveyed his surroundings before lowering himself down to a crouch, looking over the concealed magus, "You okay?"
As the girl nodded, the Emiya cupped his chin in thought, his tan skin exposed to the elements as he hummed, racking his brain for a solution that didn't involve him falling with her. The auburn boy smirked in approval as an idea came to mind. Without wasting a second, he gripped his friend's padded shoulders, dug his feet into the ground, and slowly pushed back, each step trailing through the slosh as the pair got to higher ground.
Moments later
As the magus slowly rose onto her still wobbly feet, she gently brushed a layer of matted snow off her layered jacket, the material spraying about in every direction before she nodded in satisfaction, her exposed hair bobbing with the motion.
*FOOH
As a strange sound entered the girl's ears, she turned, her boots dug firmly into the ground, seeing her friend blowing hot air into his exposed tan hands, heating the red frost from their surface. She sighed at the sight, slowly trudging across the deepening slurry before reaching out to swipe away the loose slush strewn about the boy's form. "Senpai...I told you to wear warmer clothes...you're going to get sick."
His bronze eyes flashed to life as he chuckled, shoving his hands into a jacket pocket as the Matou finished her rounds. He grinned, ignoring the biting cold across his skin, "I'll be fine, just glad I was there to help-"
The kid raised an eyebrow, turning to see a nearly empty playground, with most of the other kids having abandoned their positions mocking the poor girl after he arrived, heading home for the long winter break, some getting into their parents' awaiting cars, others making that long trek he marched every day.
He took a step back, putting his hands back within the warm confines of his worn green jacket, years of comfortable use etched into its very material. "What were you doing out here anyways? Don't you need to head home?"
As Sakura took in the question, a sudden awkwardness erupted from her as she stared toward the ground, uncertain of what to say; she had planned to ask earlier but didn't have the guts to go through with it...she was hoping to catch him on his way out of school and lost track of time...
She shook the thoughts away, she was raised to be tough, and part of that meant saying what she wanted...took Jack a long time to get that through to her, but the magus promised she would try. She took a slow breath of frosty air as worries ran high, would he say no, what would she do if he did? It was all so confusing...what should she d-
No, you're better than this.
Sakura slowly exhaled a bated breath, releasing the anxiety as a puffy cloud of heated air. Her purple eyes slowly drifted up, meeting his questioning gaze, "I was...can we...walk home together?"
...
...
Silence, with nothing more than the boundless activity of the city to keep the girl in check, her heart raced despite the simple question; the Matou was never good with these things; understanding people was so hard.
Her mind raced; she knew it was a stupid question; they hardly lived near one another, to begin with, but she wanted a friend outside of school, and this was that first step...what would he-
"That's all?"
As her confused gaze stared up at the boy, his smile grew, making the cold winter air feel that much warmer; he slowly raised a hand, placing it on her shoulder with a light poomf from her jacket, "You could've just asked; we're friends, aren't we?"
Time seemed to stand at an utter standstill; was it really that easy? Sakura had wanted to ask that question since the moment they became friends, but it always felt weird, like something she needed to wait for, but the when never came. For some people, it was a simple thing, but to her, the small things always ran through her head over and over. The heiress knew she was getting better, but it still took a toll on her.
As the Matou delved into her head, as usual, the Emiya shrugged it off, knowing Sakura was never one for many words anyways, not that he really minded; he'd care about his friends no matter what they were like, it's just how he was as a person. He raised his arms, leaning back along his palms as a playful smirk grew along his visage, "Gotta say, you're a lot heavier than you look."
A moment passed in utter silence as the boy gazed off toward the sky, ignorant of the meaning behind his words as he wondered what the old man was up to back home. As seconds ticked by, he tilted his head in confusion; Sakura was quiet...but she usually answered when he said something.
The boy slowly tilted his head down toward the girl, worry and confusion rising as he still got no response. He forced away the dread in a burst of courage, studying the girl as her purple hair shrouded her eyes in darkness, "Sakura?...Eh?"
Like a flash of lightning, the heiress blurred into motion; driven by years of intensive training, the magus threw caution to the wind, her left boot slamming backward into the earth as a mixture of mud and white slush flew into the air around her, dancing through her roaring purple hair as her hidden eyes flashed to life.
Learning to defend herself, to go on the offensive, it all flowed through the mage at once, culminating in this exact moment, a regiment, a legacy bestowed upon only those deemed worthy. Her shoulders tightened as her left arm drifted back, her fingers balling into an iron-gripped fist...
Shirou couldn't even react before she lunged like a predator toward prey, her pale fist slamming into the boy's unprotected stomach as raw instinct driven by intensive close-quarters training threw untold pressure into his core. A blast of spittle erupted from him before he blasted off, his body blurring into a spiraling ragdoll before crashing into a gathered mound of snow.
...
...
Reality surged into place as the Matou came back from her quiet place, glancing about in utter confusion before staring at her outstretched fist as a fresh layer of steam billowed off it. Her gaze drifted forward, following a trail of upturned snow, seeing her friend lying amidst a scene of destruction. His limbs spread out as his head poked above a layer of snow, the cold material coating his hair in a whig of glaze, his spit flowing to the frozen ground below as he lay there unconscious.
She glanced at him, then her fist, again and again, confusion running at an all-time high; "Senpai?... Senpai?"
...
*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
The old clock meticulously droned on, its arms moving bit by bit as time marched onward, pushing into the exact repetition as it always had with mechanical precision. Many found such objects a relic of a decadent age, its smoothed oaken surface with etchings of a finer era, with a skill few could fathom acquiring in the modern day; why bother when better, cheaper options existed?
*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
Such was the nature of the modern world, a realm where old finery gave way to the inevitable march of progress, replaced by a digital revolution the likes of which few could have predicted. For some, it remained a matter of principle, maintaining the "good old days," as many came to call them, indicative of a deeper meaning a new generation couldn't hope to truly understand, but their stagnation left them to rot as the world moved on.
*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
They would fall into obscurity and niches, just as their predecessors had before, believing their methods to be the best, with foreign concepts and new ideas shunned as unnecessary. To some, change will always remain an unwanted presence; why get an upgrade when what you have works just fine?
*Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock
But that was just the issue; the world didn't wait for convenience, nor did it worry about menial things such as comfort. A singular actor that only cared for improvement was all it took; adapting an unknown method, a new technology, or some unorthodox idea brought them to the forefront, leaving all in their wake. The context mattered little, whether it was in daily life or through warfare itself, any aspect driven an inch forward granted one an edge over their adversaries, lest they follow their course, changing the means of combat once more in the endless schisms humanity endured.
*Bump-Bump...Bump-Bump
A pair of heavy boots clicked along the wooden floor, slowly wandering the chamber as they had many times before, their blackened edge polished to perfection. However, their owner paid little mind to such things, having better things to concern himself with than how he looked.
The steps slowed to a stop as a pair of cold blue eyes stared at the device, their owner hummed in thought, rubbing a pale finger along his chin, observing his reflection within the immaculately clean glasswork adorning its surface, ignoring the rotating components within.
Five years had passed, and yet he always looked the same, those wild blonde hairs never growing or losing an inch, nor did his skin stretch with the countenance of time, appearing as though he never aged a day. He dragged a finger along his visage, feeling the distinctive grooves separating flesh from solid steel hidden behind a facade of humanity.
To some, the prospect of never aging a day seemed a blessing, like something straight out of a dream, but to him? The warrior's gaze hardened as his orbs flickered a glimmering red before dispersing into their natural hue. Augmentation meant a lot of things, superhuman strength, untold speed, the list went on, but it also meant a prolonged life.
Nanomachines, advanced circuitry, and new prospects in the medical world combined with a lack of biological segments meant he'd live a far longer life than most. Whether or not this was a good thing, the man couldn't say for sure, but it meant he could fight on, not having to worry about the weariness of old age or the exhaustion in his limbs. For better or worse, the Liberian's appearance remained unchanging, reflecting the same "pretty boy" look others claimed of him.
Looks aside, the man's mind remained in flux, refusing to accept his standing, pushing onward into the unknown, and changing along the way as he molded and adapted beliefs and ideals into the chaotic maelstrom he called his person. He briefly wondered why he kept the clock around if it meant so little to him in the grander scheme of things.
The soldier had little use for old-school things like that; he had advanced systems embedded into his brain, knowing the time wasn't an impossibility for him, but not everything needed logic behind it. A dark smirk grew along his face as he remembered a scene from years prior, flashing into his mind as though it were happening before his very eyes.
Even the thought of that withered husk of a man drove untold anger through the samurai's form, his very name forcing him to grip a fist as his synthetic skin tightened. Zouken Matou, a name renowned in the magical world, his ambitions endless, his life ceaseless...or so he thought.
The patriarch had died a mere few feet from where the device stood; most of what was once the bastard's study had changed after the Liberian's coup within the family, wiping them out and taking their place. He had no regrets on the matter; it wasn't hard if you knew what to do, forge the right documents, bribe specific people, and he was suddenly a "distant relative," no questions asked.
Raiden was many things, a liar, a thief, and a killer; he could label himself for hours, but what those people did was unforgivable; he never harmed the innocent, it brought a wave of dark anger within him, seeing a child suffering because of their greed, but it didn't matter anymore. The cyborg sighed away his frustrations, letting out a slow breath of heated steam; they died for their actions, and they couldn't hurt anyone else.
As the warrior turned away from the mechanical relic, he couldn't help but acknowledge he kept the thing around as a reminder; knowing what that family did to an innocent girl kept him on the level, knowing what was at stake in these fucking wars. It didn't take much convincing for him to understand the magical world needed to burn away; he had limits, but clearly, for the sake of a wish, they didn't, and if innocents suffered, so be it.
His idle gaze shifted about the chamber; the bookshelves had remained in place, their contents long since picked through and organized within the confines of his enhanced mind. Their old wooden surfaces were laden with stacked papers and maps. The entire room, from wall to wall, reflected a similar nature, appearing as little more than decorative designs and scattered fragments of information, intentionally deceptive.
Raiden's enhanced eyes flickered into action, and with the wave of a hand, his mind constructed an unseen world of interconnections and markings between the scattered sheets, and unknown symbols understood only by him.
A single unspoken command forced the disparate information together, digitizing a map of Japan centered along the city of Fuyuki, with roads and pathways stretching out across the wider world, the words 'The Church' spread across the horizon.
The samurai raised a hand, tapping along a list of nearby cities, each coated with a red X, as a series of crossed-out names and locations appeared before him. Jack had dealt with secret organizations his entire life, always in the shadows, but this? The cyborg considered it laughable how blatant these people were.
The Patriots rarely acted on their own, always working through proxy after proxy, no one truly knowing who or what was in command; just as they liked things, each actor was fooled into thinking they led the charge when in reality, they were a rook amongst many pieces in a never-ending game. It was nearly impossible to find them, always having to go on traces and little else, but the Church was something else.
Jack paced around the room once more as images of individuals appeared before him, many wearing the traditional black vestments often seen by clergymen, others not, but it didn't matter. The Patriots might have used a hierarchy, but theirs was self-sustaining, hardly even needing input at a certain point, but the Church was archaic at best, their allegiance to order demanding they handle these affairs themselves, and he took full advantage.
It didn't take long for them to know someone had figured them out, not after enough of their agents stopped responding; Jack had burned through quite a few strongholds before they seemed to back off for the time being, but the cyborg knew this was temporary at best, but he was active, slowly extending his activities outside the city, searching for new targets.
The man had his reasons for wanting them dead; it started as a hunt for that priest Kariya had mentioned, only to fall into dead end after dead end; the man was lying low somewhere, but it didn't matter. No amount of training could keep people from talking for long, not after he had his fun; he had a name, Kirei Kotomine; it was a certainty that they'd meet someday, and besides, those mages kept his batteries charged, and if they wanted to keep throwing men at this city? He darkly grinned in anticipation, then so be it.
With a shake of his head, the apparitions dissipated into nothingness as the room returned to its normal disorganized state. Cautious couldn't hope to describe the state the man existed within; a lifetime of war had taught the cyborg to leave no stone unturned; it was more than just some vengeful grudge against an unknown man.
The Church itself was up to something; it didn't take a genius to realize they wanted the Grail for some purpose or other, but the secrecy, the constant surveillance? The warrior had his theories; maybe they were a faction in this fight all the same, or were they out for some united purpose, striving to change the world itself with some moronic wish?
Progress felt slow going, but it was a given; the man was in a foreign nation fighting a war he hadn't even known existed until a few short years ago. He needed contacts, information brokers, and a backdoor into their dealings, but mages were a tight nit group, untrusting or uncaring of outsiders, but the Liberian had his ways.
An image blipped into his enhanced mind, revealing the face of a scrawny teenager, his green eyes reflecting a youthful naivety the soldier had seen many times before on the battlefield. An inexperienced magus with limited potential, holding a grudge against the more established families in the magical world, only entering the war to prove himself as a magus, too perfect.
Raiden was no fool, he needed an in, but luckily for him, there happened to be a mage wandering his town for quite a few years before heading back to his studies. It didn't take much to get Rider's former Master to start talking; a mix of threats, bribes, and deals got the kid talking faster than the man expected, but in the end, he understood.
It was a simple arrangement; the kid got access to whatever magical nonsense Zouken had lying around to improve his studies, and in exchange, the mage told the Liberian anything he wanted to know. There was nothing amicable about their relationship; Raiden knew damn well the teen was terrified of him, even giving him a cold dead-to-the-world stare when they talked, something he'd seen time and again from veterans on the fields of war. It wasn't surprising, he did kill Rider in front of the kid's very eyes after all, but it didn't matter, both gained something out of the deal, and they'd go their separate ways afterward.
Well, the Englishman thought he got to see everything; after all, some things were best left unseen, and besides, someone in his house was very adamant about letting her study the stuff with his supervision, of course. He idly chuckled at the thought, his unseen metallic frame gently rising and falling in motion. The girl seemed to get more stubborn by the day; whether or not she got that from him, Jack wouldn't admit it, but it made him proud in a way, seeing her voice what she wanted and if she wanted to get stronger, then who was he to stop her?
The warrior glanced toward his hud, humming in tedium as he checked the time, 2:30, almost time for them to get back. Raiden slowly loosened his shoulders as he stretched his form, rolling his arms before making his way across the room, taking one last glance around the chamber before pacing down the elaborate halls of the Matou estate.
As the man's heels clicked along the solid floor, his mind drifted once more; Waver could only contact him at certain times, always worried about getting caught talking to an outsider, but had told him enough to get by, giving him the layout of an institution, a magical school of all things, the Clock Tower. An image of a particular movie series about British wizards popped into his head before vanishing by sheer force of will...he'd rewatch it later.
Things remained clouded in shadows, but it seemed that's where the big wigs sent their kids to learn about whatever magical nonsense one could imagine before becoming the heads of their families themselves. Things seemed odd at first, but it fell through as he learned more, constant infighting, people fighting for scraps of control, even the kid's former teacher was involved in the previous war, although they had never met...it didn't matter, the man was dead anyways.
The Liberian gripped a fist as his anger boiled to the surface, his synthetic skin stretching beneath the pressure. It all felt so draconian; factions with different ideologies, families only having a single heir, throwing innocent children to the wayside, or ignoring them entirely for the sake of maintaining a solid image. He couldn't help but think of the purple-haired girl he saved from that system, her sweet smile meaning more than words could hope to describe, but to a magus family, she was expendable; it sickened him.
Hard flooring gave way to soft carpeting as the main foyer drew near, the Liberian utterly ignoring the old decorations still strewn about the property, with any image of that family burned to ash years ago, just like he planned to do with the magic world. There was a lot on his plate, but once this was all settled, the cyborg had another war to fight, he just needed to-
*Click
A distant sound broke the man's chain of thought as the howling wind from outside billowed about, its piercing screech quickly reaching his augmented senses. A moment passed in silence. Usually, one of the kids would call out and say they were home, but...nothing...just...a strange noise the man knew all too well from his missions where assassination and espionage were the name of the game, a pair of limp feet slowly getting dragged across the flooring, followed by hard breathing.
Jack huffed in frustration before slowly trudging his way forward, rounding corners as he paced toward the entranceway through immaculately clean halls. His brow furrowed, having a good guess which troubled child caused another problem today, the man could deal with a lot, but the blue-haired Matou had a mean streak that got him into shit on a daily basis.
As moments ticked by, he heard the distinctive slam of the hardwood door, growing ever closer as he sighed, suspecting he had some parent to talk to about his "nephew's" bullying. There wasn't much Raiden could do about the kid; hell, he didn't even know he existed until the boy turned up one day looking for his dad, only to find a complete stranger in charge of the Matou house.
It both was and wasn't a matter of immense guilt for the Liberian, finding out Byakuya had a son; in his defense, the soldier didn't know, but he knew the pain of being an orphan all too well, and he could understand the boy's issues, not that he'd regret killing that complacent fuck. The samurai took him in without question, with all the awkwardness it entailed, but the kid wasn't like his adoptive sister, who needed constant attention and reminders that someone cared; no, he reminded Jack of how he acted when he was a kid...Shinji was an ass.
That word didn't even do it justice; something was just fundamentally wrong with that kid; everything about him screamed "Matou," from the arrogance to some petty complex toward Sakura about her magic that the cyborg put an end to immediately, never ceasing to be a colossal pain. Raiden suspected some kind of issue when the boy shrugged off his father's death like it was nothing, saying he didn't care about disappointments like him, but the kid was far more than a problem child. From bullying to failing his classes, it was always something; the cyborg took a slow breath as he rounded that last corner; what was it this tim-
...
...
The Liberian had seen countless atrocities as he stood atop mountains of dead on unknown corners of the world, the fate of humanity resting on his shoulders time and again. He had seen the worst things imaginable, experienced things which would leave even the most hardened of individuals shaking in their boots, remaining firm against impossible odds, and yet...Raiden stood dumbfounded, unsure of what was occurring in front of him.
Leaning against the wall, huffing and puffing as her red face slowly regained its pale complexion as layer after layer of puffy red jackets dragged against the paint was his adoptive ward, the girl he had fought tooth and nail to protect from a world of pain and suffering so much like his own, Sakura.
As the magus struggled to catch her breath, the warrior's gaze drifted down toward her shaking arms, seeing an all too familiar boy with auburn hair held in a vice-grip against her, utterly unmoving as a trail of spittle trickled down toward the floor.
He knew the kid at a glance, those golden brown eyes, albeit dulled from lack of awareness, the adoptive son of Kiritsugu Emiya, Saber's former Master in their Grail War...even if he didn't know, the boy was the only reason Raiden didn't put the man down then and there...Afterward, he kept tabs for a few months, but after a while, he just saw no point after the man hardly did a thing; the soldier had better things to do than spy on a man with one arm anyways.
Seconds flickered by like hours as the purple magus remained utterly unaware of his presence as he chose his words carefully. A part of him never wanted those two to interact, but the girl seemed so deadset on making a friend; he had to choose between safety and her happiness, so he took a risk...and now the kid was unconscious in their living room.
The killer idly studied the boy's expression, knocked out cold, his hands loosely holding his stomach... on the exact same location...she must have taken the kid down in a single hit...despite the circumstances, the samurai felt a twinge of pride in his heart, the other half worried she was a bit too much like him at times.
Raiden struggled to find the words to even respond to this; what could he even call this...assault, kidnapping...no, that would just make the poor girl freak out even more than she already was...he took a breath as ideas came to mind; alright, time to remedy this situation.
*Click
With the tap of a boot on hard flooring, the magus shot up like a deer caught in the headlights, her purple eyes widening as they glanced toward the Liberian, then down at her...victim, again and again, realizing just how bad this looked. The Matou's voice escaped as little more than a stuttering mess, "I...Wha...no...he...I-"
Raiden sighed as he watched the poor girl speak in loops, trying to explain a kidnapping to a trained assassin; he couldn't help but chuckle at the girl's nervous habits; it was cute in a way, he supposed. With a shrug of his shoulders, the man cut her off, waving a hand in dismissal, "Hey, it's fin-" only to get cut off by more stuttering as the girl's grip grew tighter as she spouted more nonsense, squeezing the life out of the poor kid stuck in her claws as his lazy stare drifted toward the heavens above.
For the briefest of moments, the cyborg actually felt concerned as the boy's soul threatened to give way to the realm beyond life, uh oh. Like a flash of lightning, the cyborg zipped in front of the purple magus as though he moved at the speed of light; he crouched to her level, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder as the pressure jolting the heiress from her stupor with a single word, "Sakura!"
Reality flashed into place for the young student as she glanced up at her supposed uncle, then around the room itself, realizing she had run home at some point in her panic. Her purple orbs drifted down as a weight shifted in her arms, seeing her first true friend utterly unconscious in her arms. With a squeak of surprise, she let go, the boy sailing on a course straight toward the floor...only to land atop a pale hand appearing out of nowhere beneath him.
Without so much as a glance toward the poor victim, Raiden threw the kid over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his spiky chestnut-colored hair shifting as it dragged along the cyborg's black jacket as he bobbed about before slowing to a halt as the man stood upright. The Liberian glanced toward the girl below as she nervously shuffled in place, shaking his head at the sight, "let's just put him somewhere, then you can tell me what happened, alright?"
The Matou stared in another stupor before slowly nodding her head in response, and with that, the warrior slowly strode into the house, wondering how the hell he was going to explain to the kid that Sakura both beat him up, then proceeded to kidnap him...as the warrior slowly approached a distant leather couch, the man could only wonder, was he a bad parent?
...
Later
Raiden leaned back along a kitchen counter, his synthetic skin feeling the cold marble as he stared ahead at the little magus sitting opposite of him, listening as she explained her story. He idly glanced down the hall, spotting the girl's victim still sprawled out on a couch, wrapped in a veritable cocoon of blankets on her orders. A soft voice, interlaced with an unending chasm of angst, caught his focus once more, "that's...pretty much it."
Sakura stared at the man as he slowly tapped the countertop in thought; she twiddled her thumbs as she stared down at the floor, racked by worry after worry. Was he going to be upset, disappointed, or angry? These things flickered through the Matou's mind in a never-ending assault on her person; what would she do if-
A flash of movement caught her by surprise, her purple orbs widening before shutting tight, instinctively flinching as a hand came down from above-
*poomf
The heiress sat there in confusion, still wrapped in her endless wardrobe of winter clothing, slowly opening her eyes as a hand ruffled her neatly combed hair into a frizzled mess, seeing the former Berserker giving her a small smile from above. "You worry too much."
The magus grumbled in frustration as her guardian gently ruined hours of brushwork in seconds; ignoring that for the moment, she felt so confused; why wasn't he punishing her? Didn't she do something wrong? With the push of a tiny hand, the assault on her lochs came to an end as she forced down her standing static hairs. Her gaze shifted toward the still unconscious boy down the hall as a pout grew on her face, "I didn't mean to hurt him...I just-"
Jack chuckled at the girl's concern, slowly walking toward a nearby window, scanning the snow-filled horizon as the occasional expensive car drifted down their plowed street, their hood ornaments reflecting the dwindling sunlight from above. He briefly wondered where other Matou, who still hadn't turned up yet, was, somehow knowing the kid landed in detention...again, staring at her reflection in the glass as he spoke, breaking her chain of thought, "Don't know your own strength?"
As the grape-colored girl slowly nodded, the samurai shrugged his shoulders, figuring something like this would happen someday; after all, his childhood was nothing but violence, but he always figured Shinji would be the first to win a fight...yeah, that never happened, the kid came home with more black eyes than he could remember...
He turned to face the kid, crossing his arms as his blue eyes briefly shined beneath the artificial lighting as he awkwardly scratched his cheek, somewhat knowing their training might have caused this; whether or not it was his fault, the ninja would never admit to it; "Well...not every kid knows how to fight like you can...but it's not like you meant to hurt him, so it's fin-"
"No!"
Raiden paused in surprise at the outburst as the magus hopped off the counter, her tiny boots clicking along the surface as her face scrunched up, tears threatening to boil over from her shivering purple orbs as she stared at him in distress. "I-I don't want him to be mad at me...he's my first friend and I-"
*Sniffle
"I-"
*Sniffle
"I-"
Time slowed as the cyborg's mind ran into overdrive, his processors burning to life as solutions burned through him; he knew that sad look like the back of his hand; if he didn't act soon, the waterworks would start, and he hated seeing her upset. Ideas, plans, an entire array of human psychology flickered through his mind only to disperse in an instant, no, there was a time for strategy, and this wasn't it.
Kids were a complicated thing; Raiden knew this all too well; adjusting to having a five-year-old son thrown at you wasn't a fun experience, not that he blamed Rose for that. The most minor, inconsequential things make them freak out, then panic, and it spirals out of control; John was a calm kid, but the boy had his freakouts too. He took a slow breath; okay, time for damage control.
As the warrior slowly crouched, he hadn't even oriented himself before a purple blob tackled him into a hug as she dug her teary face into his jacket. As he gently patted her back, the man couldn't help but think back to those early days when she hardly even spoke; that dull-eyed girl who seemed so lifeless now clung to him like an emotional support. "You're alright; just take a breath."
Sakura's upbringing felt so much like his own; the warrior couldn't help but want to help her; she meant a lot to him, and just seeing her progress filled the Liberian with pride he couldn't quite describe. It's strange to think; he'd probably spent more time with her than his own son at this point...
An image of a bright blue-eyed boy flashed to mind, his spiked blonde hair resembling his father's to perfection, sitting in his room reading a collection of comic books he bought for him on deployment, with a smile on his face seeing his "hero" dad. The memory sent a pang of sadness through the cyborg, John...he missed the kid, wishing he could see him more than anything else, but for now...his blue eyes stared down at the mess of purple below, she needed him too, and he wasn't going anywhere until she was ready.
The cyborg put his hands on the girl's shoulders, slowly pushing her away as she stubbornly held on, her puffy purple orbs slowly coming into view. His voice remained stern yet caring as he spoke, "Look, sometimes, you're going to make mistakes, and sometimes, it blows up in your face, but you're making a big deal out of nothing."
The Liberian stretched out his thumbs, wiping away the Matou's tears as they dragged along her pale face. "Yeah, you kicked his ass, and I'm nothing but proud of you for it; maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn't, but what's done is done, don't worry about the what ifs; figure out what to do from here."
The magus took a shaky breath, holding back another wave of emotion as she calmed herself, reflecting on her lessons over the years to get a sense of control once more. Her mind raced, trying to find a way to rectify the situation before looking back up at the person who seemed to know just what she needed to do whenever she was in trouble, "Then...do I tell him I'm sorry?... What if he's mad at me?"
A gentle smile grew along the warrior's face; for a girl that endured so much pain in her life, Sakura was very unaware of how the world worked, but this could be an important lesson for her. "Truth is an ugly thing, and it usually hurts to hear, but trust me, it's better than a convenient lie; those always have a way of coming back to haunt you someday-"
He sighed as the girl began another round of sniffling; maybe she still wasn't ready for this talk; it might be better to push it to a later date when she was better. "But...I know friends aren't easy for you to come by, so...-" his smile returned as the girl's orbs flickered in a spark of hope, something he never got tired of seeing. "Just this once, I'll help you lie, but you need to promise you'll tell him someday."
Without a second to spare, the girl shook her head up and down, the sight reminding the Liberian of a bobblehead as her hair flew around without control before she lunged into another hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I promise."
Before long, the soldier sighed, putting the girl down as he stood upright; even with his augmentations, taking care of kids was exhausting, and there was still more to do...but seeing that smile on her face made it all worth it. To her dismay, he ruffled the kid's hair once again, finally understanding why her uncle did it so often before walking off toward the cabinets across the room, "Alright, how about I make us something while you check on that friend of yours?"
...
Later
A figure stirred in their sleep, instinctively lashing out a hand, swiping away an unseen foe before falling to the wayside, swishing through a spiked mop of auburn hair, soon going still. Unconscious thoughts are a strange thing, blending the lines of myth and fiction into a strange concoction, inconceivably paradoxical yet only understood as such once one surged into awareness once more.
Sweat poured down the young boy's complexion, staining his tan skin with each passing droplet; taking hitched breaths as an unseen terror racked his mind. It flickered by in spurts, memories flashing before his eyes; he remembered running, a feeling of untold fear coursing through his veins, making his tiny legs go that much faster.
A fire burned across the city, engulfing entire structures within its raging confines, the heat spreading across like a tidal wave of pressure, overwhelming his small stature as smoke burned his lungs with each breath taken.
The boy glanced up, seeing buildings pass by in a blur as screams echoed around him before falling silent behind his form, as though a hunter had captured them like prey within its impatient grasp, always trailing just behind him, yet surely following all the same.
Whether he had run for minutes or hours, it all felt the same: waves of exhaustion overwhelmed his weak form, his sprint turning into a jog before falling into a stumbling mess as tears ran down his face, unsure of what was to come.
His golden brown eyes flashed to the side, watching as a horde of shadows ran through a desolate alleyway, unmarred by whatever pressure flowed through those horrific streets. He took a breath, ignoring the burning in his body, finding a second wind to push onward, sheer instinct guiding him forward, step by step, hoping to see someone...anyone that could help him.
As the Emiya took his first step into the sideroad, a shadow loomed overhead, an old brick storefront standing tall above, despite the raging inferno engulfing the city. He scanned the pathways, not seeing a trace of humanity, as if the people he just saw had vanished into thin ai-
*CRACK
The child could only gaze up in terror as a colossal fracture formed along the structure lying mere feet from him, spreading by the second as small chunks of rubble rained down. He tried to run, to force his weakened body to give him just a bit more energy, slowed by the excessive smoke and his own lack of strength; he could hardly turn before-
*RRRRR
A tidal wave of rock collapsed toward him, the world going dark as the material first made contact, burying him beneath its weight.
*BOOM
Reality shot into place in an instant as the auburn-colored teen rocketed up, gripping his head in confusion as beads of sweat poured down his face. The world remained a blurred mess as he regained his composure...that dream...a fire...no...it felt hazy...the boy tried to force himself to remember, only to restore nothing before the sensation faded entirely, leaving him there with a rapid heart rate and no recollection of what had transpired, gone as soon as it had arrived...what was he dreaming about again?...
With a shrug of his shoulders, the Emiya slowly withdrew from the...blanket? The auburn boy tilted his head in confusion; where was he? The last thing he remembered was being outside...something hurting then...blank. His bronze eyes drifted about, attracted toward a nearby crack, spotting a lit fireplace with an old carpet strewn before its blazing form. With a hum of confusion, he kicked off the couch, his feet landing along the floor as he studied the room, seeing a tapestry of old artwork and other nonsense adorning the walls, idly thinking that the old man would probably find it interesting, but he didn't really care about that stuff-
The student paused as a nearby laugh caught his attention, echoing from some part within the strange place he found himself, completely familiar, yet lost within the haze of waking up from a deep sleep, but as a voice grew clearer, talking about their day, a name flashed to mind, Sakura! That's who he was with...he tapped his foot along the floor in impatience as thoughts refused to surface before launching up to his feet, figuring he could just ask her and save the trouble.
The Emiya walked through winding hall after winding hall, a pair of voices guiding him forward through the maze-like property, one the familiar gentle hum of his newest friend, the other, older and far drier...with a strange accent he couldn't quite place...she did mention a distant uncle once, right?
As the last corner rounded out of the way, the harsh synthetic light from within momentarily blinded the boy as the smell of untold levels of spice filled his senses, not unpleasant, but overwhelming, put it lightly. He squinted, raising a hand to block the glow from above, spotting his friend standing on her tiptoes, chopping something white...his gaze narrowed further...a root with keen precision, no longer wearing the mountains of winter gear the boy was so accustomed to seeing, still in her unifor-
"Finally awake, huh, kid?"
As the boy's chain of thought broke, he turned, spotting a tall figure staring at him from across the room. His stare meta singular blue orb as the man glanced over his shoulder while working over a smoldering pot of what the boy could only assume was a soup of some kind.
Shirou nearly had to crane his head to see the man's head, seeing a mess of wild blonde hair cascading over a black suit, the sight reminding him of something the old man used to wear around the house. Weird resemblen-
"Senpai!"
A pair of dress shoes clambered over hard tile flooring as a purple blob flashed before the boy in an instant, far faster than the boy expected, hardly even able to turn before Sakura gave him a once over. "Are you okay?"
The boy squinted in confusion, not understanding what the fuss was about with her. Did he get hurt or something? He raised a tan hand, rubbing it through his rust-colored lochs, "Yeah...-" the student idly turned around, surveying the kitchen as ingredients and dishes lay everywhere before turning toward his friend, "do you mind telling me how I got here?"
In an instant, her worried expression turned toward a strange mix of something the boy couldn't understand like she was afraid about somethi-
"You got knocked out trying to help her up after she fell, kid."
His focus drifted toward the unknown man; his back still turned as a pale hand reached out, popping the lid off a container of spice before casually dumping the entire thing in like second nature. A moment passed as the man lifted a spoon, tasting the broth before giving a slow nod, putting a lid over the steaming container, and turning to greet the boy.
The businessman stood firm, his pale skin and foreign features confirming the Emiya's theory, not that he really cared, just something he noticed. The man nodded toward the purple girl standing beside the auburn student as she nervously turned away for some unknown reason, "She carried you all the way back here by herself."
Seconds ticked by as the boy absorbed the statement, it sounded right...but...was he missing something? He glanced toward the purple headed heiress, with the Matou still holding the same nervous smile, humming in thought as though he were onto something...his voice sounding accusatory, "Sakura...-"
The magus shook in her boots as the boy's eyes squinted toward her, the hum growing louder by the second, his bronze orbs staring into her very soul as worry after worry piled within the poor girl's head. This was it; she was going to lose the first and only friend she had ever made...why did she have to do that...why was she such an idio-
"do you work out?"
The Matou paused as all thoughts came to a crashing halt, replaced by a sense of utter perplexion before her body gave out.
Sakura fainted.
...
The sound of running water permeated the room as a cyborg idly scrubbed dishes as his ward, and unexpected guest dug into their plates behind him. His pale hands flashed between tasks with machine-like efficiency, a prideful smirk growing along his face as he heard the boy comment on his cooking. You can take him out of Liberia, but some parts of that country always stuck with the soldier; his palate just wasn't aligned with western tastes, demanding a level of spice that would seem insane even to the bravest of souls.
As the man glanced out a nearby window, glancing toward the setting sun as its orange glow reverberated across the urban center, he couldn't help but consider his circumstances. His childhood was anything but pleasant, taking his first life at the age of six, any normal person would repress and bury those memories, yet here he stood, cooking dumboy and pepper soup, the same things he ate as a kid...albeit without the gunpowder.
Part of the samurai knew it was a thing of comfort in those times, those brief moments of friendship with the other boys in his unit...not having to go on patrol or worry about an imminent attack on their base, where they could just...be kids, for a few minutes... crack jokes, get into fights...it almost felt normal before they were thrown back onto the fields of war again and again.
Jack was their captain, their lives were in his hands, and time and again, he would lose them; their remains, buried or not, became part of the land, wasting away into the dregs of history. For the Small Boys, it was a lifetime of pain and suffering, but to the outside world, all of it was a footnote. No one bothered to remember those children, their parents either dead or worse, and as the survivors dwindled by the year, only Raiden would know their names...
The cyborg paused his tasks, staring down at his reflection within the cold metal sink. Maybe that's why he did all this, keeping those traditions alive for the friends he lost...if they even were friends...but he carried those legacies with him, never forgetting who those boys were, nor any other comrade lost along the way...it's an inevitability in war, everyone has their ways of coping with it, was that his? Watching old movies and cooking food from the country he called home?
He turned, watching as his purple protege laughed at some half-baked joke from the auburn boy about some unlikable teacher of theirs before digging back into her plate. It started as another job, never wanting to see another Ripper come out of this world, not while he still breathed, but it led to him raising the girl as his own after losing the only man who wanted to see her happy.
Family is a strange word, mixing the bounds of bloodlines and human empathy into a bizarre mix only the individual in question could understand. For the veteran? Doubly so, considering his father and every relative were clones of the same man, yet different people all the same...hell, Raiden saw the irony in it, considering David more of a father figure than his own adoptive one, even though genetically, they were nearly identical.
To him, blood never mattered, he might have Big Boss's soldier genes, but that meant nothing; the Liberian was still his own man, just as Snake was. They were family because they cared about each other, and words couldn't come close to how much he missed the man every day...it was beyond tempting to go out and find him, knowing he was still alive here and now, but...it wouldn't be right, changing history for some selfish wish wasn't his way of doing things...he wasn't Arthur.
Sakura's assault on her plate came to a grinding halt as her purple orbs drifted toward the cyborg, giving him a small smile of appreciation, the message going unspoken. Raiden could only nod in understanding, tilting his head toward the unaware Emiya, trying to prod the girl to initiate a conversation before she took the hint, asking about the boy's plans over break.
It was strange watching the girl grow from someone so sad and hopeless into the person she was now, reminding the killer more of himself every day. Raiden glanced around the room, taking in the sights he had grown so accustomed to since joining the conflict all those years ago. Saving Sakura started as just another mission, another war to fight before moving on, but he couldn't leave the kid alone...Raiden wore his heart on his sleeve; it's who he was, his blunt nature an inherited trait from the man who raised him for better or worse.
Deep down, the cyborg had to admit he didn't keep those traditions alive for the sake of repetition, nor did he do them to maintain some lost innocence from his youth. Maybe...he just wanted to share parts of his life with the people he cared about...and somewhere along the way, that purple ball of angst became family too.
Pushing the matter aside, Raiden hummed in thought, idly glancing toward the boy who unwillingly saved his adoptive father all those years ago, the Emiya wasn't a bad kid by any means, but the cyborg had his concerns given who was raising him. The samurai wasn't so pigheaded that he'd throw an innocent into the cold; he was cautious, not an asshole, there were risks in letting an unknown factor around, but he wasn't Snake. No matter how much the Liberian respected the clone, he couldn't accept the distant walls the man put up, keeping people out; the ninja saw a fine line between safety and living freely...but that didn't mean the warrior wasn't going to make sure.
As the conversation toned down, the veteran leaned back against the counter, feeling the material creak beneath his multiton form before settling into place. As the soldier crossed his arms, his raspy voice breached the momentary silence, "So, Shirou-"
The boy turned in his chair, humming in confusion, before remembering there was someone else even in the room, his gaze meeting a pair of calculating, cold blue eyes staring down at him in some unknown emotion. Listening as the man pushed on, "how's your dad doing these days?"
With a slight tilt of his head, the auburn schoolboy squinted in perplexion, lightly pushing off the table, trying to balance his chair on its back legs, wobbling back and forth in thought, "The old man?...you know him?"
The Liberian broke out into a light chuckle as memories flickered by, images and audio files blurring into a burning warpath littered with dead Servants and fallen Masters. The warrior settled on a familiar shot of his friend held at gunpoint, seconds flickering by like a reel, ending in the destruction of the city he tried so desperately to protect, proving the Emiya had told the truth.
It was an odd hatred; Raiden knew that better than anyone, the magus had told him the truth in the dumbest way possible, and the city burned because of it. He lived with that guilt every single day, knowing just how many innocents had died because of their stubbornness; both of them were at fault for it...but it didn't mean the ninja accepted it; he tore Zouken apart for his inaction, scattering his remains into little more than ash in the wind, but...-
As the samurai stared at the innocent boy sitting in front of him, his golden eyes reflecting a youthful ignorance, not knowing the man who caused his suffering stood before him, it brought out a pang of guilt. He couldn't take the kid's father away from him, not after causing so much devastation already, but it didn't make him hate the former Master any less. His pale hands fell, gripping the counter as it silently cracked bit by bit beneath his augmented hold, a forced smile growing on his facade of humanity as he spoke, "we have history."
The boy remained utterly ignorant as he hummed in interest, studying the man with his youthful curiosity. "Never pictured the old man having friends...but-" he cupped his chin in thought, unaware of the audible cracking of solid rock with each passing word. "he's been sick late-..ly"
As though a lightbulb had turned on within the Emiya's brain, the kid sat there dumbfounded as though a long-forgotten memory had flashed its way to the surface.
Moments ticked by as Raiden stared in perplexion, the boy remaining utterly still as his internal gears ground through their circumstances; was he missing something? Before the cyborg could even make a sound, the kid shot out of his chair, "Old man!-"The Emiya's panic burst into overdrive as he glanced at a nearby clock atop a stove, his scream of terror bringing forth a surge of lectures on responsibility that happened every time he made a mistake. "I'm so late!"
As the boy's panic slowly made more sense by the moment, Jack shrugged, glancing at the setting sun over his shoulder; it probably wouldn't be safe for the kid to walk home by himself...besides, he needed to have a word with that man some day anyways, and a sickness? The Liberian was no fool; that black ooze probably had something to do with it...maybe the magus knew something he didn't? With a nod of self-agreement, the warrior spoke, "if you want, I could give you a..."
His blue eyes narrowed as an orange blur roared out of the front door, taking off into the night across their lawn and toward the front gate; guess giving the kid a ride was out of the question, not that it mattered. With the flick of a finger, the latch unhooked, the window flickering open as a blast of cold winter air surged into the kitchen, billowing through his blonde lochs, "Hey!"
The Emiya skidded to a stop, glancing over his shoulders as his cheeks reddened from the cold, his breath escaping as a white cloud. Moments passed before the teen's gaze found the source of the commotion, even at that distance, feeling an utter sense of gravity from its tone, "Tell your dad...Jack says hi." With a nod of his head and a mock salute, the boy took off into the rising night, idly wondering if he could come over again someday, and unknown to either party, it was the first of many.
As the kid trailed off into the distance, a pale hand slowly pulled the window shut, denying the breeze its easy access into the confines of the Matou estate. Raiden let out a sigh of relief; these kids were going to kill him someda-
"You made him leave..."
An eyebrow twitched as the cyborg slowly turned around, seeing his purple-haired ward leaning against her palms as she stared at him in a mixture of annoyance and sadness. He stood there in utter disbelief before letting out a forced chuckle as reality surged into place, figuring out that she was being serious, "You're the one who kidnapped him!"
Sakura let out what one could only describe as a groan of embarrassment; her face smushed against her pale skin as she tried to hide her burning face. "...it's only because of you I know how to do that..."
The Liberian suppressed a snort, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the damaged counter, one of the many things he's broken over the years...not that he'd admit to it. A gentle smile grew on his face as the girl pouted in annoyance, "I might teach you, but remember, what you do with that training is up to you...and look-"
The Liberian pushed off of his perch, slowly approaching the little magus before putting a hand on her shoulder, putting an end to her daily mental roundabout. Her purple orbs traced along his pale hand before meeting his gentle stare above, "someday, you're going to be faced with more tough choices...and I might not be there to bail you out...it's part of life, but I know, you'll be ready when it happens."
Sakura sighed, staring beyond the man and toward the ceiling above, exhaling her frustrations; he always made these things sound doable, but was she really able to be like that? Jack never seemed stuck on anything; he just...knew what he should do...and did it; part of the magus wished she could do that too..."Do you mean it?... Every time I try, things just... go wrong...is life always this hard?...I-"
*poomf
A pale hand gently plopped onto the girl's head, shaking away the vestiges of anxiety as the man ruffled her lochs again, to her dismay. "Yeah, sometimes, things suck...you'll make mistakes and spend a long time regretting them, but think of it like this, you'll get better every day...remember what it was like, growing up with that family?"
It didn't need to be said for the heiress to understand who the Liberian was talking about; she could only hum in understanding, unable to find the words to speak as he pushed on, his peaceful smile never falling away. "I still remember that tiny girl, standing to the side with those dull eyes, trying to hide from sight, but here you are, making your own choices, finding some friends, trying your best...and I'll always be proud of you for that, do you know why?"
The girl gazed toward the cyborg, her old worries forcing the magus to scan the man for any signs of deceit, yet finding none as always, but she knew that...he was the only person she could trust with anything. And so, with a shake of a head as her purple lochs flipped about, Raiden continued, "No matter how many mistakes you make, the choices are yours to decide; nobody else's opinion matters...not mine, not Zouken, or anyone else...I'm proud of you because you're being yourself."
Seconds ticked by as the magus silently considered his words; she leaned back in her seat, the old hardwood lightly creaking with the motion as she sighed away her frustrations. Jack always seemed to know just what to say; it was weird, it felt like he knew just about everything in some way...but she knew almost nothing about him...maybe she could ask him?... but ask him what?
The heiress grimaced; no, it didn't matter; he liked to deflect whenever she wanted to know something...The Matou took a breath as she glanced toward a branching hallway winding through the maze-like property, an idea coming to mind as a certain training room flickered into her thoughts. Jack taught her to be crafty, and he'd regret it, "Can we practice today?"
Raiden paused a brief moment before, surprise settling along his features as his blue eyes widened just a bit; when had she ever asked to train?... Oh well, the Liberian shrugged his shoulders, disregarding his suspicion immediately. With a chuckle and one last attempt to ruin the Matou's matted hair, the veteran smirked, "That's my girl; how about I show you how to properly kick today?"
The ninja relented, lifting his hand off as the purple magus rushed to push her lochs down; he turned away, idly shifting through their regiment in his augmented mind by the moment. Jack stopped mid-track, glancing over his shoulder as a mocking smirk grew along his face, "then you can really knock that kid out."
He chose to ignore her outburst as he walked off...only for his enhanced sensors to detect the distinctive click of the front door. Like the flip of a switch, the soldier took off through the halls, knowing if he waited even a minute, the kid would disappear into his room like he always did.
...
Moments later
The cyborg perched along a wall, ignoring the withering support beam struggling beneath his multiton form; he glanced upward toward the stairs, knowing the kid had to pass through here to avoid him, not this time. Try as he might, Raiden could never get through to one of the Matou siblings, but he couldn't blame the boy, they were strangers after all, but it didn't stop the veteran from trying.
He huffed a sigh of frustration, pinching his eyes shut for the briefest of moments, calculating each word as though it were a battle strategy. Raising children was far more complicated than people claim it is; Sakura was like John; quiet, awkward, the list went on, but they both wanted his advice, Shinji...did not...he was loud, opinionated, and generally a pain in his ass...just like him...maybe that's why the boy bothered him so much? Who know-
All thoughts came to a halt as a blue mop of disheveled hair flickered into view just below the man's line of sight. He glanced down, seeing the Matou in his white dress shirt and worn slacks, their brown coloring withered with time, and yet he stubbornly refused to even let the Liberian buy him new ones, finding creative ways to annoy him with the most basic things.
As the teen trudged forward, either unaware or uncaring for the cyborg's presence, Raiden clicked his tongue in irritation, knowing the uphill battle that was to come for even the most basic answers. "How was class?"
Without missing a beat, the Matou pushed forward, shrugging his shoulders with a bored hum, letting his backpack fall to the floor as he approached the stairs, gripping a hand along the wooden railing before briefly pausing. "Had detention again, same thing as before."
Jack's blue orbs briefly flashed in acknowledgment, the kid liked to act stern and mysterious, but he could read Shinji like a fucking book, he had some kind of grudge against everyone, and he took it out on everyone. The mercenary hated that mindset more than anything, the smug look, the arrogance whenever they spoke, just radiating the words 'I'm better than you,' even if it was never true, the failed magus believed it, and that was the problem.
The cyborg tapped his fingers along his jacket sleeve, feeling his digits bouncing off the hidden metallic components beneath the surface. He slowly exhaled, he had a short temper, but fighting fire with fire wasn't what the kid needed. "I made dinner...we could talk about i-"
"Not hungry."
Reality surged into place as the Matou marched up the stairs, utterly ignoring the Liberian's existence before rounding a corner, disappearing from sight, leaving the man standing there in nonsurprise. Jack stood from his perch, gripping a fist, everything screaming at him to set things straight with that brat before-
No
Like a flash of lightning, the warrior slammed his augmented fist back, crashing into the wall as a crack traveled up the surface, with tiny speckles of flayed paint interlaced with drywall falling to the floor below. No matter how angry he got, Raiden would never raise his kids like his father did...he was better than that. Oh, he could scare the living shit out of Shinji if he wanted to, but that wasn't going to fix the teen long-term...he would have to try again another day and hope the kid would talk to him.
...
Later that night
*BOOM
...
"Again!"
...
*BOOM
...
Raiden's blue eyes flickered as his systems blurred to life, watching as his protege lept back, sliding along the hardwood floor before coming to a stop, her swaying purple lochs unable to block her view, tied into a tight ponytail just like he taught her.
Sakura panted her exhaustion away, sweat dripping across her pale skin, lightly wincing as a numbness ran through her legs; every time she tried to land a hit, it either got deflected or felt like she hit solid steel...but she was getting the hang of it, slowly but surely.
The Matou glanced down, having discarded her uniform for her gym clothes, a simple white shirt and blue shorts, loose-fitting; the first lesson she ever learned from her mentor, never let yourself get caught off guard; any hindrance became a weakness, mitigate the risks, then assess your circumstances.
The magus didn't need to observe her surroundings, knowing them like the back of her hand. The old family training room, a vast open space connected to other parts of the house through various entranceways, its blank walls and polished floors reflecting an area of utter concentration. It was more a thing of tradition than any practical use until Jack showed up, at least, but it wasn't the time to get sidetracked.
She gripped a fist tight, ignoring a scrape as a light trail of blood flowed down her digits, forcing her pants into a focused stream of intake, her weariness dispersing by the moment as prana flowed through her system, reinvigorating the Matou's tired limbs by the second, her technique was sloppy, but she'd figure it out someday.
The cyborg studied her stance, knees slightly bent, ready to flow into action once more, her dominant right hand extended slightly forward...need to work on that; too predictable...but still, she was getting better.
Combat training had to come as close to the real thing as possible, but Raiden wasn't cruel, he wouldn't subject Sakura to the same things he went through as a boy, but still, the magus couldn't be stupid in a fight either. There was a balance to it all, but still... his lens zoomed toward the girl's wounded hand, watching as a fine layer of steam erupted from the laceration, closing it into healthy skin once more before disappearing entirely as though the wound had never existed. The heiress hardened her stance, staring at her teacher, forcing a question through her layers of exhaustion, "If I do this right...will you...tell me...how you know this stuff?"
His augmented mind flickered between old memories, remembering the hard times all those years ago, risking everything to save the girl's life with a flawed idea that somehow worked. To his surprise, the nanomachines stuck around; he could only guess her mana was keeping them active. Otherwise, they would have deactivated within weeks at most, not that it mattered, hell, she got more use out of them than he expected, and the magus heiress needed all the help she could get; after all...they had a new war to fight soon.
Raiden grimaced, his brow lightly furrowing as his gaze traveled upward, spotting an all too familiar, unpleasant sight, red markings, three of them, an array of flower petals lightly shaded into the girl's flesh...a command seal. The samurai didn't know what to think at first when they popped into place a year ago, he hated the idea of forcing the girl into another conflict, but there was no avoiding it; the system chose the kid for some reason or other...the only thing Jack could do was prepare accordingly, like he always did, no plan survives first contact.
The warrior pushed the thoughts away, knowing fully well that worrying about the what-ifs would do no good for the time being; for now, he had an apprentice to train...it still felt weird saying that, after all...the real world didn't need Snakes anymore, but as he stared at his protege's purple eyes flash in determination, he could only grin, idly wondering if the magical world needed one instead; "If you do it right? Sure...now then...again!"
*CRUNCH
With a rush of mana, the magus took off, the floor beneath her cracking oh so slightly from the force, launching wooden splinters into the air as she raced past the debris. The Matou's gaze remained fixated on her target, forcing her tired limbs to move as new energy surged within her, each step calculated and initiated to perfection, her form graceful yet capable of response in an instant.
Time slowed as the heiress drew near, forcing more power into her limbs as she flowed with the motion, dropping low before blasting off the ground. Artificial wind billowed through her tied hair as she spun, her form blurring into little more than a whirling cyclone as the Matou's right leg extended, rocketing through the air on a collision course with the cyborg's head as her leap reached its crescent-
*BOOM
Only to slam into the former Berserker's waiting palm, flashing into existence at breakneck speeds, merely appearing as though it had always been there. The magus grit her teeth, her mind wandering, wanting nothing more than at least some kind of answer to what kind of person Jack was; her uncle knew, but she didn't...it bothered her. But there was only one way forward...get creative.
As the veteran's grip refused to budge, the Matou pushed, years of musculature clenching as she forced her form upward through sheer force of will. Raiden's eyes could only slightly widen in surprise before the Matou leaned back, raising her free leg high, the tips of her shoes reflecting the lights above before slamming down with everything she had; the wind howled, and prana surged through ever fiber of her being.
A feeling of elation took hold; the mage couldn't believe it...this was it; Sakura could feel it, days of practice, getting nowhere, making the same mistakes over and over again, but this time, she adjusted, using her enemy's tactics against them...She could finally push on-
*BOOM
Only for her attack to collide with yet another waiting hand, the mage's onslaught coming to an end as soon as it began. Sakura sighed in defeat, glancing down toward her teacher, his wild blonde hair blocking his expressions from sight, deep down she knew fully well that she was stuck with no way out, caught like an animal in a trap...but wanted to know something...anything...maybe next time she'd get it righ-
*Bump-Bump
No
*Bump-Bump
Like a thunderous wave of energy, a wave of cold rationality overtook the magus, disregarding her emotions and her angst, letting it all drift to the wayside into veiled obscurity, becoming utterly null to all the unnecessary features of life.
Time slowed as the protege took in her circumstances, locked into place by a foe raising her upward; his grip was firm yet malleable. Raw calculations ran through her as years of intensive training rushed to the surface...each out involved massive risks, but the magus had an ace...Jack wouldn't hurt her...not really.
There was no time to worry about what could happen, not like this; she couldn't get lost in the endless chasms of mental anguish. The Matou wanted to win more than anything, to prove herself...and she would do whatever was necessary to achieve it.
Reality surged into place as the heiress lunged forward, throwing her torso over the cyborg's back, knowing Jack's grip would have to follow her; it was instinctive, knowing if he didn't, she'd get hurt, and the apprentice planned to take full advantage. On cue, the former Servant raised his arms high... now!
As the warrior's grip slacked for just a moment, the magus launched off, rocketing toward the ground below. Sakura winced as she slammed a left hand into the floor, feeling a distinctive click of pain as shockwaves traveled through her nerves; with a grunt of refusal, the heiress pushed off in a discharge of prana, flying between the Liberian's legs, twisting her small form to fit between the narrow gap.
Seconds ticked by as the cyborg remained flabbergasted, his surprised gaze only able to flash downward as his apprentice slammed a free hand into the ground once more, her momentum rocketing the purple-haired magus upward. Sakura lurched back, her legs outstretched as she flew on a collision course straight toward the man's chin...his arms couldn't go down fast enough; she'd make contact and win their bet; victory was assur-
The Matou's eyes could only widen as a grin grew along her Master's pale features, and with the most casual of motions, he leaned back, watching as his apprentice sailed past him toward the ceiling above before falling back down.
As the floor above drew closer by the second, a sense of loss settled into place within the aspiring trainee, and with that, all sense of instinct and skill blasted away, leaving the girl utterly confused, as though she didn't even know where she was anymore.
Eh?
As the exhausted trainee remained utterly unaware of gravity rocketing her tiny form downward, the samurai's arms shot down, catching the magus mid-drop as she gazed around in utter perplexion at what had just happened. Raiden could only smile in approval for what the girl had accomplished; getting a little better each day might not suffice anymore; she had far more talent than he thought. "Good work."
Eh?
The magus could hardly react before the cyborg casually tossed her to the sky; through raw instinct, she leaned back with the motion, her form rotating as gravity took hold, yanking the Matou downward. She landed with practiced precision, hardly making a sound as her feet made contact with solid ground.
Sakura could hardly even glance toward the man to question him before the cyborg looked about the room as though he were looking for something, yet not finding it. A moment passed before, and with a simple shrug, the warrior fell back, slamming onto the floor with his legs crossed. The Matou swore she felt the foundation shake from it before disregarding the issue, being long since used to Jack destroying the house in some way or other on a daily basis.
The cyborg slowly adjusted his arms, his elbows leaning atop his planted legs as his chin rested on his pale hands. With a simple nudge of his head, his protege followed suit, sitting across from the honed killer without so much as a word. He feigned a grumble of annoyance, staring the unwavering magus down, "Guess I underestimated you, huh?"
His apprentice could only tilt her head in perplexion, not understanding what he meant; she still lost, didn't she? With a grumble of disappointment, the magus blew away her frustrations in a raspberry, a bad habit she picked up from a man with many bad habits, yet only able to do them around people she trusted, another curiosity that made up the heiress's person. "Don't lie...you knew exactly what I was planning, didn't you?"
A chuckle broke out from the warrior; the man shook his head in denial, his blonde lochs waving with the motion. Jack leaned back, his back audibly popping as his mechanical components shifted into place. A moment passed before his blue orbs glanced toward the girl, his eternally dry voice breaching the veil of silence, "No, I didn't-"
Raiden paused, humming as he considered his words; these things were more intuitive than anything; he had never actually had to describe them to someone before...hell, back in the day, it was usually someone else telling him how shit worked..."...think of it like this, you can plan for anything, but every method relies on fixed actors, Zero leads to One...One gets you to Two; it goes on forever, but what if Zero doesn't happen?"
Sakura clicked her tongue in thought, her thoughts wandering as she idly pictured a chain of arithmetic, traveling along its proverbial axis of numbers before reaching an utter void, a nothingness where Zero once stood. How would she go forward? There was no-it all clicked together at once. "You're stuck...right?"
The cyborg's blue eyes glowed, briefly exposing the intricate layers of circuitry buried beneath the surface, only to fade into their ever-static hue. "In a way, but if you know what to do, there's always a way, each passage a little bit harder to open. Let's say Zero doesn't happen, but things still keep going... they always do...your enemy rushes you instead of staying still; how do you react?"
Sakura's gaze narrowed, picturing a shadowed figure sprinting toward her with everything it had; in an instant, the entity slammed its right leg forward, twisting its torso as its concealed left fist came crashing toward her-"I'd bloc-"
"Wrong"
She could only tilt her head...Eh?
The man couldn't help but chuckle at the purple blob's confusion; it was cute in a way...seeing someone else act just like he did learning this nonsense...but it was helpful nonsense. "You can try to predict human behavior all you want, but nothing survives first contact... if you hinge your entire strategy on something that might happen-" the floor creaked as he leaned forward, his multiton form putting more pressure on the support as his expression grew stern, "you already lost."
The ninja slowly drew back, sitting upright as he gazed about the room, an old habit that died hard, always trying to remain as aware as humanely possible. "You'll never predict everything, but you can train yourself to react to anything-" He smiled down at the girl, "like you did just now, you didn't think...you instinctively knew what to do; that's what I wanted, it's a sign you're getting the hang of things, and from here on...you'll only get better..."
With a sigh of exasperation, the veteran leaned back on his palms, ignoring the splintering wood beneath him; it took far more out of him putting any of what he did into words than the Liberian cared to admit...maybe he really was getting old? "Anyways, fair is fair; you get one question, kid, ask-"
"What about the other ways?"
Huh?
Like a train coming to a crashing halt, the cyborg's mind paused as realization set in...right, the others...leading your enemies toward Zero from the shadows, and there was erasing Zero yourself to create new parameters...yeah...no...as proud as Raiden was...Sakura wasn't ready for that lesson, not yet, at least. He shrugged the matter off, "Let's leave it for another day; you still need to master step one, then you'll see the others, but anyways, you get one question, shoot."
As the poor kid's mind raced, trying and only somewhat successfully absorbing the lesson, she pushed it aside for the moment, knowing she'd have to come back to it. She stared at the man for a brief moment, raising a hand as a finger dragged along her lip, a thumb jabbing into her pale cheek as she hummed into a new wave of questions.
There were a lot of things Sakura wanted to ask him; sure, she could probably guess a lot of things about him, but it always felt better hearing it from someone else...what did she want to know anyways?... Everything just raised more questions; he was from an African country...Li- it took a moment before the word came to her...Liberia, right?
Why was his family living there...what were his parents like? What's his last name? The list went on and on forever; the heiress's hums grew louder as frustration took hold, her brow furrowing as she nearly vibrated from the feeling. What could she-
No
The magus slowly took in a breath of air, feeling the calming intake overwhelm her senses; there was no point worrying about getting a specific answer...she just wanted to know something...anything.
Sakura was awkward; the girl knew that better than anyone; words never came quickly to her, but...Jack had done so much for her and never asked for a thing...he always knew just what to do, said what she needed to hear, she wanted...to be like that...confident.
Her hand withdrew, her purple orbs watching its expanded digits reflect the gentle light from above as her faded seal glowed a dull red. They were preparing for another war; she knew that...Jack told her the truth since day one...the magus knew what was at stake; it scared her to no end, but she didn't want to stand by anymore and let someone else help her...the Matou was tired of being helpless, and he helped her get stronger but...what about after?
It wasn't something the girl liked to think about; Jack was a former Servant; he needed mana to stick around, and he put on a tough front, but she knew he was acting different lately, sleeping more, doing less, how would he handle himself in a Grail War without a Master?... He couldn't... not by himself; Sakura knew, deep down, she needed to be strong...not just for herself...but for him.
The magus clenched her fist as a fresh wave of prana revitalized her system, determination flowing to the surface once more as chaotic thoughts settled into a gentle certainty. "Jack, can I ask you to promise me something?"
As the cyborg's gaze narrowed in perplexion, his apprentice didn't give him a moment to respond, pushing onwards, finding her own voice. "I want you to promise that no matter what happens...-" she blinked away a pang of emotion, refusing to let her eyes wobble for even a moment, soon finding her standing once more, "you won't disappear."
Raiden bumbled to respond, half expecting a question about himself or anything else if he was honest...no, he should have expected something like this; Sakura was far more observant than most kids her age; she had an eye for detail, something he'd help hone. As the warrior collected his bearings, he sighed, "I wasn't planning on leaving, kid, not until you're ready, but a deal's a deal, right?"
The veteran slowly raised a hand, clenching his digits into an outstretched palm toward his protege, his black suit sleaves remaining eternally clean despite their continual use in combat; "Shake on it?"
Sakura slowly shifted to her knees, far too short of reaching the former Servant's height otherwise, before slowly reaching out her own hand. As her seals approached the man's waiting clasp, she couldn't help but wonder if this was what happened all those years ago with her uncle...the Matou could only hope he'd be proud of how far she'd come, and as their hands met, she could only smile, "it's a promise."
As the duo made a promise for the conflict to come, neither was aware of the pair of cold blue eyes staring from a doorway within one of the many darkened hallways of the estate, glaring toward the purple heiress in utter hatred before disappearing from sight.
...
later that night
*Crunch-Crunch-Crunch
The falling snow gave way, its matted mounds of blissful white falling away into a string of trenches, dug through sheer pressure before the assaulting boot lifted, only to slam down once more through the biting winter cold.
*WHOOSH
A shiver racked the traveler's form as the howling night winds pierced through his unprepared senses, shocking him into a momentary lull as he oriented himself. He gazed up, his bronze eyes studying the property he had lived nearly all his life, more a compound than a house. Still, the boy wouldn't complain...aside from how long it took to clean the place, why the old man thought they needed so much space for two people, the Emiya would never quite know, not like his father would admit anything.
The snow shrouded much of their property, but as he gazed about, much of it stood clear, the tall gates looming behind his form casting a shadow beneath the dim light of the moon, but ahead, the ever-green roof lay overhead, nearly hidden from sight. However, he could still picture the unchanging view; coming and going to the same place every day gave you an understanding few others could have.
With a shake of his head, the teen reached out, his almost numb hands grasping the wooden doorway, clicking his tongue in annoyance as a layer of ice threatened to hold it shut before ripping the entranceway open and shambling into his home.
As the door closed shut, he could only lean against its surface, breathing warm air onto his cold fingers; it had been a long day, more lessons he didn't understand, then making an idiot of himself trying to help his newest friend...could have been better, but she seemed happy, so it wasn't all bad he supposed.
The Emiya ran a hand through his rusty lochs, flaking off clinging snow without a care as it drifted toward the floor below as he looked around the room. The lights were still on, illuminating the green floorboards interlaced with blackened dividing lines with a few tables and various furnishings adorning the chamber, same thing as always, but where was the old man? He sighed, knowing just where the man was, yet never approving, deciding to call out all the same, "I'm home."
A moment passed before, and with a simple shrug, the teen dropped his backpack to the ground, leaving it a problem for later as he trudged through the house, heading straight for the back door. The old man didn't want him to worry, but the student could tell he wasn't doing well; the boy was justified in not wanting his dad out in the cold, but did the man ever listen?
With the swipe of a hand, the door flew open, the same scene as before, revealing a wooden walkway lightly covered by the tile roof above, supported by an array of white columns aligned along the building. Sitting beneath their protective covering lay the man in question, wearing simple sandals a simple blue robe, with one of its sleaves tied into a knot, the arm utterly missing, lightly covered by an old blanket in the middle of the winter cold, simply staring up at the full moon above as it shined down on him. A breeze ran through the figure's black hair as his coal-like eyes drifted to the side, spotting the boy as he grunted in annoyance, both knowing he disapproved, with one not caring much for it. He gently smiled in recognition, "Shirou."
The Emiya could only pinch his brow in frustration at the sight, "Honestly, Old Man, you're gonna get sick sitting out here-" The auburn boy glanced about the vast yard, seeing nothing more than endless pathways of white snow, "what are you even doing sitting like that?"
A gentle hum of thought broke out, breaching the winter winds with a defiant voice, one which had ended countless lives and yet found a new purpose in saving just one, whether it was out of desperation or genuine care, only he would know. He turned, gazing out into that infinite horizon once more as he spoke, "When you're an 'old man' like me, you'll get sentimental too, Shirou; sometimes it helps to take a moment to yourself and appreciate what you have-"
His mind wandered, drifting back to those old days of war, interlaced with moments of genuine humanity with the only woman he'd ever love, and if the assassin tried, he could still picture her gentle red eyes staring into his...the man could only sigh, knowing they'd be together again soon enough...but for now- "the world is a chaotic place, but it teaches you to appreciate things for what they are."
He raised a hand, its pale, withered form drifting along the white horizon of nothingness, the image reminding him of those cold winter days, playing with his daughter along the Einzbern estate...words couldn't describe how badly he wished to see her one last time...if only..."there's a calm to it, those tedious days where nothing happens, you think nothing of them until they vanish, leaving you wanting nothing more than another moment of rest...I suppose I'm enjoying the peace while I can, Shirou."
The teen tilted his head in confusion, wondering why the man always had to speak in riddles he couldn't understand; why not just say it like it is? He sighed, "What are you even talking about, dad?"
Kiritsugu could only chuckle at the boy's thickheadedness; being stubborn wasn't necessarily a bad trait, but it tended to make the kid not even listen to a word he said sometimes. He shook his head, turning back to the boy as he drew the blanket closer, "Nothing important...now, where have you been all day?"
With a grunt of embarrassment, the boy ran a hand along the back of his head, running through his rusty lochs in a failed effort to push away the thoughts before giving in to the temptation of a half-truth. "A friend invited me for dinner...-" As the words escaped the kid, his eyes flashed in realization, "actually, her uncle mentioned knowing you."
The former assassin raised a brow, running an emaciated hand along his scruffy chin in confusion; there weren't many people still seeking to meet him, not after he had finally retired from his craft, the world not having much use for a dying killer anyways. "Did he give you a name?"
The Emiya paused a moment, raising his arms behind his head as he leaned onto his elbows, trying to think back to a moment he really didn't put all that much thought into; "I think it was...Jack?"
...
...
A strange silence overcame the still-sitting man, bringing a sense of perplexion into the boy, but as he looked down, the man's voice took a firm tone unlike anything the student had heard in years. "Shirou...I want you to go inside and make us some tea, do you understand?"
Huh?
The Emiya tried to talk, to even ask what was suddenly bothering the old man, but...the look in his eye was...different like he wasn't asking...no, he was telling him to listen. With a few seconds of hesitation, the teen nodded, rubbing a hand along his concealed arm, "alright...I'll...be back in a few, I guess?" before disappearing into the house, shutting the door behind him.
...
...
The man sat there, his eyes closed as the howling night pushed ever onward, silence reigning around him entirely as the lifeless winter crushed all within its grasp. "So, you've finally come for me, right... Jack?"
*CRUNCH
*CRUNCH
In an instant, the quiet fell away, replaced by a pair of heavy footsteps, a sound the trained killer hadn't heard in many years, yet still bringing his hairs to a rise as they drew closer by the second. He didn't need to gaze upon their form to know who it was; the figure remained a specter in his mind since the last days of their conflict, those burning red orbs drilled into his memory for the rest of his life before the world turned to ash around them. He had no doubts the killer could break into their property any time he wished, and there was nothing he could do to stop the man. As his mind wandered, it came to a screeching halt as a dry voice broke out, "I was planning on it, but it looks like the Grail is doing that for me, isn't it?"
The man grimaced, clenching his fists as his entire arm shook from the pressure, almost unable to move, entirely helpless in front of the figure standing before him. With a grunt of frustration, his black eyes reopened, seeing an all too familiar foe, the same man who took his arm, wearing the same black suit as always, his pale skin reflecting the moonlight above as he utterly ignored the cold weather, having no effect on his metallic frame. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
A spark ran down the cyborg's form, burning a hole through the snowline beneath him as it simmered into hot steam, rising around him like a veil of mist. "I didn't come here for chit-chat; hell, the only reason you're still alive is that kid." his static orbs burned a bright red as prana surged through his systems, "Otherwise, I would have killed you myself and gotten rid of the trouble."
The former assassin chuckled at the idea; disappearing seemed almost a blessing at this point, the pain was nearly unbearable, but he couldn't leave that boy alone...not yet...the Emiya swore he'd stay with him as long as he could. He stood his ground, remaining utterly in place without a trace of fear in his being, "I'm no fool, Jack; what do you want from a dying man?"
Static flared as the augmented mercenary took a step forward, then another, his shadowed form gradually growing clear, appearing as though he never aged a day, his biological clock utterly halted through untold operations beneath the facade of humanity. "Back then...in that theatre, you tried to warn me about the Grail-" he raised a hand, pointing a finger directly towards his former foe's heart, "I want you to tell me everything you know about that thing."
The Emiya scoffed, his breath escaping as little more than a cloud of steam as he leaned forward in his seat, ignoring the drifting snow from above as it danced along his exposed skin. "We've done enough damage, you and I; what do you hope to gain in knowing anything about it?"
Jack sighed as electricity surged across his augmented form, frying and eradicating the frozen liquid into nothingness, creating a patch of dry land beneath him. His mind flashed back to that night, burning buildings coated in human remains and charred corpses as far the eye could see, bringing an indescribable feeling of hatred within him as his counterpart bubbled to the surface in agreement. "I'm doing this so that our mistake doesn't happen again; you can either tell me what you know or sit there and rot for all I care."
Moments passed by in utter quiet as the once Master stared at the cyborg for any trace of dishonesty, yet finding none in the man's eyes, only seeing a similar familiar sensation he had learned all too well throughout his life, guilt. It was apparent to both parties that they were responsible for the chaos that fateful night; neither had thought through their actions, and it cost uncountable lives. He looked away in frustration, "There's nothing you or I could do to stop this; the Grail's vessel is already decided, an innocent girl that deserves none of this-" a wave of emotion hit the killer as he spoke, and yet he pressed on, "believe me, I tried everything to get to her."
Raiden's gaze narrowed, his systems recording the entire interaction for later use, confusion running high, and yet they were almost out of time, that kid would be back any minute now, but there were still questions to ask. "To do what, kill her?"
The killer shook his head in utter denial, his orbs drifting toward the ground, his black lochs shaking as he took in the cold winter air, "No...I couldn't do that...not to her...Illya...she's-"
His gaze flashed up, staring at the former Berserker with utter sadness, reflecting a life of hardship and pain, culminating in a loss he couldn't hope to describe. "my only daughter...I wanted to save her...to not die like her mother, but their barriers kept me away..."
As Raiden took in the man's words, his mind flashed in realization, thinking back to a conversation all those years ago...with the same woman he saw in that strange vision. "Your wife...it was Iris...wasn't it?" His blue eyes widened, staring toward the ground as his thoughts ran wild; if the Grail needed a host, then she must have been it...that's how she got in his head...no, not her...how that thing got in. "And the same thing will happen to your kid, won't it?"
The man nodded, sending a sense of utter dread through the cyborg, another innocent child's life on the line for the same fucking war...prana surged through his form as Jack lifted an augmented leg, slamming his boot into the ground as cracks billowed across the property as he growled in anger. As the Liberian stood there, panting away his frustrations as his eyes glowed a vibrant red, a voice broke out, "I need to ask something of you."
Time slowed as the soldier's gaze flashed up, meeting an equal determination from their black counterparts, with the man standing upright, defying his ailing form with each passing second. "I know you hate me, Jack, and I don't blame you, but...my daughter has nothing to do with this-"
The former Master slowly discarded his blanket, letting the cloth fall to the ground as he slowly stepped off the wooden porch, trudging through the snow toward the samurai as the man watched in confusion.
The pair stood off in silence before the assassin broke through, speaking with a mixture of pleading and absolute dedication for the briefest of moments, standing tall like he once had on the front lines all those years ago. "You fought to save that girl from Zouken..." the man grunted as his withered form tried to resist and fall over, shaking from exhaustion yet remaining upright all the same "I've been watching you just as you did to me...so I'll ask you to do the same once more-"
The Emiya slowly reached out a pale hand as the wind billowed through the tied sleeve on the opposing side, "promise me you'll save my daughter...and I'll tell you everything I know."
...
...
Without so much as a second of doubt, the Liberian's hand clasped around his in agreement, both reflecting a sense of complete honesty, a mutual understanding. Electricity danced along the cyborg's form as his eyes glowed beneath the moonlight,"I swear, it ends with us."
*Creak
A voice broke out across the property, as the sound of shuffling glassware echoed out as a set of auburn hair poked out from the door before revealing the tan teen once more, "Hey Old Man, I got the- eh?... What are you doing out there by yourself?"
The Emiya turned, gazing toward where his former foe once stood, seeing nothing more than the burned piece of land where he once stood. He shook his head before heading back to the house, smiling at his adopted son, "Nothing important."
...
Omake
A purple pair of eyes gazed up from the floor, staring in idle wonder at the glistening orbs of various colors strewn about the evergreen tree posted in their living room, a wonder-like smile growing along her pale face. Years ago, Sakura didn't quite know what to make of Christmas, but she grew to like the environment.
She sat along the floor, a mug of cocoa in hand, listening to some old music Jack had found to play on a radio, jingle bells blaring into her senses, intermingling with the smell of ginger in the air wafting in from the kitchen as her father-figure baked something or other with the lingering excitement of the gifts to come bringing a sense of joy the Matou couldn't quite fathom.
A grumble of disappointment rang out next to the girl, dragging her attention toward her adoptive brother, yanking his red hat off, revealing his matted blue hair before throwing it across the room, its white tail fluttering about before colliding with the floor and sliding to a stop. "This sucks."
The magus could only sigh, Shinji never seemed to like anything, and mandatory family time always set the boy off to new height-wait; what was he doing?
In an instant, the troublesome teen crawled along the floor, grabbing toward a stocking perched beneath the tree decorated with a crudely drawn reindeer atop its stitched form. Sakura glanced toward the kitchen before reaching a hand out to stop the boy, "Shinji..he told us to wai-"
"Shut up-"
Without sparing his sister a glance, his hand clenched the material, dragging the container toward himself with a smug grin along his face, "the least he could do was give us some good shit for behaving all year."
As the boy got to his knees, he gripped the stocking's edge, ready to reveal its contents to the world; Sakura tapped his shoulder, "I don't think you should-"
With a forceful shrug, the girl fell back, bringing a dark grin to the boy's face as he took in the minor victory, slowly opening the fluffy object, "Now let's see the-"
"AHHHHHHHH"
Time slowed as Sakura glanced over the Matou's shoulder, not seeing an array of gifts like she expected, but a blinding white light as a colossal figure ran at incredible speeds toward them from within; Shinji could only gasp in shock as a giant fist roared into existence from the device, hardening into solid black steel before-
*BOOM
Bones cracked as blood exploded across the room, an impossible force blasting the blue-haired teen across the room, imbedding his shattered skull into a nearby rock wall as his legs limply dangled toward the floor.
Sakura could only shiver as the stocking fell over before its material began to stretch and expand before blasting away into nothingness in a shower of white light as a shadowed figure slowly stood.
Her purple orbs shifted toward the radio as the Christmas carols distorted into a strange melody the magus had never heard before- standing here...I realize...
As the glow dwindled, a figure stood tall, wearing expensive black suit pants and ornate brown shoes, having no shirt whatsoever, revealing a tan torso coated in musculature and expended veins as his blackened fist tightened, raising his digits to the sky as his Santa hat billowed in a nonexistent wind. His voice broke out, its harsh tone sending shivers through the poor girl as it boomed through her ears, "Making the mother of all naughty lists, Shinji, can't fret over every bad egg!"
Chunks of rock fell as the boy tried to speak, as his legs lightly flailed about before going completely still as he blacked out. The giant scoffed in disgust, "pathetic...now-" he turned toward the purple-haired girl, "You..."
Fear ran through the Matou as she scrambled to back up, crawling backward on her hands as her tiny feet kicked along the hardwood floor, the attacker in hot pursuit. She tried to call out for help, not finding the will to speak as untold fear took hold; she stared at him in utter terror. Would this bald man be the en-
Only to get a neatly wrapped package coated in paper with crudely drawn metal wolves along the surface. She glanced at the box, then at the man again and again as confusion took hold, eh?
The man grinned, pulling out a cigar from seemingly nowhere as the girl grabbed the package, slowly withdrawing a lighter before flicking it on, taking a long, slow puff before releasing a cloud of smoke into the air. "Part of my political campaign, giving presents to all the good little American boys and girls."
She gulped away her anxiety, staring up at a man who could very well destroy her in a single tap; she pulled the package close, shivering as she spoke, "But...Japan isn't part of the U.S..."
A moment passed as the giant puffed his cigar once more before reaching a hand, pinching it, and pulling the object away with two fingers, as a smirk grew along his face, "for now."
And with that, he turned and scanned the horizon from a nearby window before, with a simple shrug, running straight through the wall itself, leaving a man-sized imprint as he crashed onto the streets of Fuyuki, with cars and sirens soon wailing in the distance.
Sakura sat there in utter perplexion, holding her present, glancing between it and her unconscious brother, before a silence grew throughout the room for the first time in years...Shinji was quiet...it was truly a Christmas miracle; as a tear traveled down her face, she could only smile, "Thank you, Senator Armclaus."
...
That entire sequence came to me in a fever dream; feel free to tear it apart, lol.
Anyways, there isn't much else I have to say on the matter, but this chapter establishes the prevailing narrative for Blade Works quite well. For those who doubted me, Sakura will be a main character within the story, and I'm hoping you all like the general motivations and shifts I've made for the Matou so far.
Her relationship with Raiden has grown far more than I ever expected, and honestly, I love writing a father-daughter dynamic with them; it makes the fic a lot more enjoyable.
Regarding an upload schedule, I can't make any grand promises on when chapters will upload, especially considering I have to start the bulk of my dissertation work quite soon but never forget this story will go onward.
If any of you remember me mentioning wanting to write a few side stories, I have some stuff in the works, not related to Grail Wars. I'm looking into writing more Fate crossovers since people seem to like what I've done so far, and I generally enjoy the series as a whole, albeit without the layers of rules and whatnot; I've made it clear I care more about telling a story.
It'll function as a group of loosely connected mini-series, a completely cracked idea that came to me on a whim, just like this fanfic. There aren't many specifics to keep in mind, but the general concept revolves around an FGO timeline where rather than multiple Servants getting summoned into a Singularity or Lost Belt, the system throws what I call an Avenger nuke into it instead.
It'll range from a diverse series of universes unrelated to fate, dropping some of the strongest characters I've grown to love over the years into dangerous situations at full power; it's essentially me throwing my gloves off and having a lot of fun.
It took quite a lot of testing to find an idea that stuck, but I think the first step will be a lot of fun; here's a sneak peek:
The former Saint could only stare in utter perplexion, watching as her boundless flames, whose very embers could ignite the world itself within her endless hatred for a system that punished her mere existence, blew away before an unseen force. Their roaring inferno parted ways like the sea of scripture, a book she threw to the wayside long ago, as the mechanical figure stood within its cloud of security, his blackened visor absorbing every spec of light that dared approach.
*KHOOOOH PUUUUHRR
*KHOOOOH PUUUUHRR
An automated rasp broke the silence as the Avenger stood tall, masked behind layers of metal and augmentation, his laborious breaths the only sign of life within his otherwise machine-like form. With a single outstretched palm, the Sith deflected her strike as though it were nothing more than a plaything. As his helmet slowly rose to meet her yellow glare, his shadowed eyes pierced into the woman's very soul, "Such anger...you would have made an excellent Inquisitor..."
The alter grit her teeth, swiping a hand across the burning landscape before her as everything withered to ash, just as she planned for the rest of this damnable nation of France, its sins far exceeding her lost forgiveness. "I heed no words from those of the Church...your inquisition burned me for my mere existence! Where is the Godliness in mutilation beyond reproach!?"
The flames burned hotter, scorching the atmosphere as sparks flickered through the air, roaring toward their target...only to blast away like all the rest. The oppressor slammed a hardened boot down, splitting the floor as he slowly marched forward, raising his chosen weapon as its demonic red glow pierced through the veil of fire and brimstone. The fallen child of destiny pushed onward, refusing to stop for even a moment, his hatred incalculable, his very existence the symbol of wrath itself. "Then it appears you shall burn once more..."
...
Vader in Orleans; sounds like a fun combination.
That's all for now, and with that tangent out of the way, I want to wish you all a Merry Christmas or whatever other holiday you celebrate; take it easy, and I'll see you at the next one!