EDIT: Myself? I'm just Berix, a friendly neighbourhood editor for all of SWG's forgotten chapters.
Hello everyone, a decent sized chapter after a long wait, hopefully that will lessen your anger at having nineteen days of anxious waiting at the edge of a cliffhanger. Well, today you finally get to jump although the ground below might not be what you expected.
Both myself and my beta (Talndir, best beta I could have asked for btw) have been swamped with various life things so that's the main reason for the delay. Regardless, we're both happy to let this carefully crafted chapter out.
Before the loremasters bite my head off, understand that everything in this chapter has been carefully thought out as to not break the entire story or introduce elements that just shouldn't be there. Remember that everything happens for a reason and that not everything sticks.
Anywho, enjoy. :)
He had no trails, no leads, nothing. The kidnapper was gone and each passing second made locating him harder. Shirou was up the metaphorical creek without a paddle. Oh, who was he kidding? At this point, he didn't even have a canoe. He had followed the footsteps to the start of the pavement where his only lead abruptly ended. If Shirou had to guess, the kidnapper likely went down the alleyway just ahead. He had no idea how smart the kidnapper was. If he was operating on Kiritsugu's level, he would have avoided the most obvious and preferable option to take an unexpected route where he wouldn't be followed. There were too many options and Shirou had no way to narrow things down.
The golden sheath of Avalon suddenly illuminated the interior of his mind. Curious, Shirou tried to determine what it wanted. He wasn't doing anything special, there was no reason for it to be acting up. "What's your problem? Can't you see I'm dealing with something else here?"
The sheath flickered. Did it want to be traced? Right now of all times? Testing his hypothesis, Shirou thought about tracing and the light from the sheath flashed. Thinking about projecting the sheath itself bore no such results. "Trace… Trace…" Shirou mumbled, looking around as if someone or something nearby would have the answer. "Trace Illya?" he asked, uncertain on what the artifact wanted.
He couldn't trace Illya, tracing had to be done on seen or touched objects. Maybe it wanted him to think about what he knew about Illya because he had traced her before. Magic circuits had been embedded just beneath the skin across her entire body, her organs were deteriorating at an accelerated rate and had the appearance of someone who was sixty already and for how much mana she stored, her signature was low. With each major point, Avalon idly hummed along in his body until he reached the last feature. After considering her mana-capacity, an odd warmth blossomed from deep within his chest, a foreign but simultaneously pleasant feeling.
Something about her signature? Her signature and tracing… Shirou shifted his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other. Being so tense and prepared without anywhere to move was making him sore. A little under two minutes had passed since he'd last seen Illya and there was no telling how far away she could be at this point. He couldn't trace mana signatures, but did he even have to?
He could trace the ground and see where high concentrations of mana were located. When Illya wasn't repressing her signature consciously, she was practically a beacon of energy. In theory, it would be easy to find her this way. Tracing the air might have been more intuitive but trying to trace gases or even liquids was extremely difficult. Since both states were constantly changing, their data had to be recorded continually to keep it recent. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that their composition was usually a very specific blend of minute things. Shirou had almost had an aneurysm the one time he'd tried to trace the air around him. He really should have paid more attention in science when learning about atmospheric compositions.
The ground was his only option. Bending down, he closed his eyes. The hammer of his father's gun slammed into position, imaginary explosion setting his circuits alight. A shout of the first line of his aria sent seething pain into his skull. He quickly limited the trace to just below the surface so his brain didn't explode trying to trace everything from the crust to the Earth's core.
While limited in scope, the information stream was intense. It wasn't to the level of Kiritsugu's journal - of which he based everything he traced - so it certainly wasn't fatal. The pain was equivalent to jamming a burning rod into the base of his neck. It was on the same level as converting his nerves into circuits.
Scrunching his face and gritting his teeth, he focused on trying to find mana concentrations. Three large signatures became apparent. One to the west, one to the east and two to the south. The southern ones were undoubtedly the bounded fields of the Tohsaka and Matou manors. The Emiya field did not appear simply because its meticulous construction allowed it to be near invisible. Based on the western signal's awe-inspiring size and powerful, clean concentration, it was Ryuudou Temple. The eastern signature was moving, and rather quickly as well.
It was at this point that Shirou thanked Rin for teaching him magecraft for all these years. Using what he knew about mana, Od and both of their respective properties, Shirou could essentially track Illya by following the trail of mana she released over time. Due to the fact that mana generated within the body, Od, diffused over time, magi left a signature which could easily be found through tracing. Since Illya was quite literally a massive battery of stored mana, she diffused it at an incredible rate and practically coated her surroundings with mana when she wasn't consciously making an effort to minimize her signature.
To Shirou's tracing, she was a large splotch in the distance. Locking the traced image into his mind, he shot forward like a bullet. The kidnapper was a little under half a kilometre away, not too far for someone moving nearly twice as fast as an Olympic sprinter. Upon reaching the location he'd sensed her to be, Shirou came across absolutely nothing. Repeating the tracing process, he found the signature had taken a skewed path two hundred meters to the northeast.
Shirou stood and had to pause for a second as a pounding headache pierced through his skull. This was progressively killing him each time, wasn't it? A third or fourth time might put him out of commission. Looking towards the last known location of the kidnapper, Shirou roughly calculated distances and decided on his path. Reinforcing his legs further, he chose the path and quite literally leapt to claim it.
With a powerful magically-enhanced jump, Shirou cleared sixteen feet and landed on the roof of a house. Trying to move around winding corners would slow him down in the long run, a straight line was much faster. With the compact design of Japanese houses, Shirou was able to rapidly close the distance between him and the kidnapper by leaping across the roofs of buildings. From this vantage point, Shirou could see his traced point. It was on a larger street which cut east and west. He was heading east, toward the red bridge between Miyama and Shinto. With a hop, he left the roof and landed on the sidewalk. He paused to look around, trying to discern where his target went. Shirou didn't want to trace the ground again if he didn't have to, but unless the kidnapper leapt out from around the corner within a few seconds,, he would have no choice.
One second passed while steaming breath poured out of his mouth and body. There was a considerable amount of heat being generated by his circuits. Deciding to do something idiotic, Shirou took a moment to reinforce his eyes. It was a very intricate procedure on account of the eye's complexity but with Shirou's proficiency, the task was only marginally more difficult than any other part of his body.
Immediately, the night grew brighter and objects that had been blurred became clear as could be. Items he focused on in the distance actually became magnified like he was peering through a rifle scope. Shirou scanned over an alleyway across the street and took a couple of seconds to look over the area. He would have to trace the ground once more if he took any longer. He wasn't going to jeopardize Illya's safety to lessen the burden on himself.
Then, in the alleyway, something caught his eye. A snow-white strand of hair lying on the ground. He would have missed it if he hadn't scoured the area with his reinforced eyes. Launching off like a bullet, Shirou crossed the street and slid into the alleyway. At the far end, a shoe rounding the corner told him he was heading in the right direction. Chasing after his target, a strange noise barely reached his ears.
With the pounding in his head and the heaving of his lungs, he couldn't really tell what it was, it might have just been the kidnapper panting from his run or his shoes on the concrete below. Shirou would need to turn soon but slowing down would make catching up all that much harder. With quick thinking, he braced his shoulder and slammed into the far wall in an attempt at transferring some of his momentum. Bouncing off the brick, Shirou rapidly realized that nobody was here.
This alley was a half-block long, there was no possible way a normal human could have cleared that distance in the time it took Shirou to get to this corner. Gradually slowing down, Shirou paused and examined the area. There were no ladders or ways up, so where had the man gone? He let the reinforcement in his eyes go away, normal vision returning on cue.
Forward was out, as were up and sideways. Did the kidnapper become a mole and dig through concrete? Turning back to where he came, a doorway subtly set in the corner caught his attention. It was a rusted, yellow metal thing that seemed oddly befitting for a serial killer.
It opened outwards, which meant kicking it down wasn't likely to happen. He could pound out the hinges with a hammer and screwdriver but that would take too long. Shirou didn't know Kiritsugu's spell which unlocked doors either, but there was another trick up his sleeve he did have access to.
Placing his hand on the door, the wireframe shape leapt to mind. Alteration could do an incredible number of things, from adjusting or altering the outline to completely rewriting the material composition. The latter was too costly in terms of mana, so he elected for the former. Most of the material making up the door was moved to the edges to leave the center as a weak point. When Shirou was finished, a large portion of the middle had been made as thin as aluminum foil.
With an open palm, he struck just above the centre and much of the door exploded into flakes of rust. A decently-sized gap now allowed him access into a dimly lit staircase. A pale yellow glow originated deeper within to keep things just above pitch black.
With some difficulty, Shirou squeezed himself through and practically glided down the stairs to the basement. The room he entered was small, dimly lit and impossibly clean. It was far from incriminating, but suspicious all the same. Had he gone the wrong way? What other route could the kidnapper have taken? It was very sparsely furnished - two cheap metal chairs and matching table, the latter of which held a purple coat and a small battery-operated radio.
Three doors were in this small room. If the staircase was to the rear, two doors sat straight ahead and one was on the right. Whichever one he chose had equal chances to be correct, so he'd go through them all if he had to. Taking the farthest door which was ahead and to the left, Shirou roughly kicked just below the handle. As this one was made of wood, it easily fell to his efforts.
The sight inside immediately etched itself into his brain. While illuminated only by a single half-dead bulb hanging limply from a cord in the center of the room, it was certainly enough to reveal the contents. Dozens of mutilated corpses. Old, young, large and small were compiled together in a single room, forgotten or mercifully cast aside by their tormentor. Immediate nausea struck Shirou, bile rising in his throat only to be repressed through will and purpose alone. It was a repulsive agglomeration of mutilated corpses. One was skinned from head to toe, another was missing all of their limbs and was hanging upside down from a meat hook. A few were crucified to the walls and some had even been burnt to blackened husks. An inadvertent trace revealed they had died of dehydration, meaning they had suffered the pain of a slow death as they witnessed more and more bodies fill the space. An unbearable smell of copper, feces and decaying flesh flowed continuously from the room.
There were twenty-three bodies in total, fourteen women and nine men, eleven were under the age of thirteen and one was alive. Based on her position at the front of the pile, she was the most recent addition to this aberrant collection. Her condition was dire. Broken bones throughout her entire body and multiple lacerations along her back. She was still breathing, although her collapsing blood pressure and weak pulse signified that she wouldn't be for very long.
This wasn't the room he was looking for, Illya wasn't here, but his body felt obligated to help the survivor. He had been someone in a state like this before, without hope and without a saviour. If Kiritsugu had passed him by or had deemed him too far gone to save, Shirou wouldn't be alive today.
Not allowing himself to waste more time, Shirou closed his eyes and reached inside himself for a familiar blueprint. Shirou had no spells capable of healing someone in this state, but who needed healing spells anyway? Four seconds passed as he quickly rattled off his tracing aria. When he was finished, golden sparks appeared above his hand, descending downwards as the gleaming form of Avalon became reality.
It was a copy, sure, but it held all the properties of the real thing. In theory, the girl would at least stay alive long enough for Shirou to get her to appropriate help. Leaving the wounded - but stabilized - woman alone, Shirou moved to the next door and repeated the process of kicking it in.
It was a bathroom, unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Congealed and dried blood seemed to stain every surface. Hanging off the sink was a freshly bloodied scalpel, a memento of atrocities and suffering.
With only one option left, Shirou bashed his shoulder into and through the last remaining door. This room was the largest he had encountered, double the size of the body storage room at the very least. The setup was very rudimentary; a large oak table sat dead center, illuminated by a hanging incandescent lamp and nothing else. Dirtied medical curtains surrounded the area, torn and splattered with bodily fluids that reeked in a repugnant, decomposing way. Whether the staining fluid had originally been red and turned brown through decay or had been brown to begin with was up to debate.
Illya was laid out on the operating table, specifically on a plastic sheet that had unceremoniously been draped over it to preserve some semblance of cleanliness. She seemed to be in a state between conscious and unconscious - too far gone mentally to put up any resistance, but alive enough to feel everything that would be done to her. Half-lidded eyes seemed to flicker at his appearance, recognizing who he was and what he represented but unable to respond properly. Like her body was captured in a thick gel, she extended one hand palm-up toward him.
Everything began to move slowly, adrenalin production kicking his body into an eerily focused state. The man, the kidnapper, stood across the table directly ahead. He was so absorbed with himself that he hadn't even noticed Shirou had burst through the door. Bright orange hair and black, hollow eyes that seemed to sparkle in anticipation of what was coming. His face was sharp with discreet, intricate features split wide in a manic smile. On each ear, a simple silver stud added some flair to the otherwise plain features.
Naturally moving away from identifying the threat, Shirou realized that Illya's clothing had been removed in one way or another. That was far from the most noticeable part of this scenario, however. Shirou's eyes had locked onto the glint of cold steel. The kidnapper was leaning over her with a scalpel in hand, peering down at the surface of her skin like a child eagerly awaiting the opening of a gift. A hollow laugh filled the room as he grazed the surface of her chest with the precision of a surgeon.
As the first trickle of scarlet fluid reached Shirou's eyes, something inside him snapped. Every barricade that held him back, that forced his thoughts to remain on the side of "good" vanished instantaneously. An emotion stronger than anything he had ever felt cascaded through him. At that moment, he had changed. It was almost as if he had become a spectator in his own body. Someone else was taking the controls and they were far from pacifistic.
… …. ….
"Ǐ̴͔̮͓͑̌͠ ̸̫̮̫̄̇̕à̶̡̱̲̔̀̾-̵̝͓̾͜ ̴̨͐̆̉̃͑̕t̸̗͗͘h̶̜̀̿͗̈̕ȩ̵͔̼͕͈͙̊̇̓̓̕͠ ̷̰͎͗̏̓͝b̴̻̥̩̅-̵͚̦̼͐̀̍n̸̳̙̰̰̓̈́͗͌̇e̷͓̯͖̓̑͂͒͠ ̵͙̫̣̿̀ò̸̗̦͚̫̅̋ͅf̵̖͕̞͒͛͝ ̷̭̰͈̑m̷̡̛̻̩̺̲̳̀͗̎͒͠y̸̛͉̰͎̙̬ͅ ̷̔̇̋̉̚͝ͅ-̴̨̐̀-̷̜͉͉̦̺̀o̴̤͆̾̀̓͝͝-̸̧̛̪̙̿̀d̵͈̜̩̒̐͗́̄"
… … …
Coursing pain shot through his skull, but he hardly recognized it. In his eyes, the world had faded away. The walls had become covered in overwhelming flames, unbearable heat filled the air and metronomic pounding of hot iron flooded his ears. Shirou hadn't even noticed the blades materializing in the world around him. Had he even gone through the process of their creation or had they simply appeared from the air?
The first struck the kidnapper's hand with such velocity that the appendage actually severed from the wrist. Before the murderer could even realize that something had happened, another blade struck his shoulder, sending him away from the table. Surprisingly, he maintained his balance and merely stumbled back.
Autonomously, like a machine programmed to kill, Shirou strode forward. The kidnapper was studying his severed limb, turning it over and bringing it close to his face as if he wasn't quite sure what had happened. With simple grace, Shirou vaulted over the table and Illya to land on the other side. Reinforcing his body to the extreme, he leaned back to deliver a powerful side kick to the pommel of the impaled blade.
The kidnapper was thrown back against the wall and the blade impaled itself to the hilt. He was effectively pinned in place now, being hung a foot off the floor from his shoulder. There was a brief moment of shock on his face before it turned into a sickly smile. He looked over himself and began to speak, but Shirou couldn't hear a word. The endless pounding in his head had overridden his ears and rendered him deaf.
The forging of steel was too great a sound to comprehend anything else. There was an external pull, a force alongside this forging noise that compelled him to craft endless blades.
Blades appeared from all around him in an instant. Nameless weapons that served a single purpose. With surprising speed, they impaled the man at his every joint, affixing him to the wall and effectively converting him into a twisted science experiment. Shirou watched the man's mouth move and could see a strange sparkle in his cold eyes, but it meant nothing to Shirou. He had taken Illya away, he had hurt her and made her bleed, he would suffer, he had to suffer. Shirou would kill him and would make his death painful-
But that was wrong, killing is immoral isn't it? Could he really kill a man?
Yes.
A blade that formed in Shirou's waiting hand had already begun moving, planting itself in the man's hip. The initial strike was without great force so it sheared against the thick hip bone and served only to slice off a chunk of flesh. The next stab was lower and held enough power to shatter his femur. The blade itself actually fragmented like the bone it struck. Without pausing to think, the blade in his hand dematerialized in a puff of blue mist. In a fraction of a second, another identical copy filled his hand to stab once more.
… … …
… … …
Shirou had no idea how long he had butchered that man. Everything had become a red-haze and time became impossible to comprehend. It could have only been minutes, but it certainly looked like hours. The kidnapper, what was left of him, couldn't be called human any longer. He was a mass of ground meat barely positioned to be humanoid in shape alone. Shards of bone, strands of muscle and bits of torn skin were all that indicated what species it had once belonged to. It was almost like he had been pulverized or crushed against the wall. Two earring studs, a thin silver chain and leopard-print shoes were the only remaining pieces of identification.
Shirou himself was a bloodied mess. Crimson coated his chest, it was on his face and in his hair and it steadily dripped from his arms and hands. It was like he had just walked off the set of a terrible horror movie. Looking himself over further, he noticed the blade still in his hand.
It had been broken in half but that obviously hadn't stopped him from using it. The entire surface of the blade, from tip to pommel, was drenched. When he peeled his hand off the grip, the space underneath was absolutely clean. His grip has been so tight that not a single drop of blood had touched the handle beneath his fingers.
The blade clattered with a splash on the bloody floor before dematerializing in a wisp of blue mist. Shirou, just now realizing how heavily he was panting, looked at both of his hands as if confirming that he was here, that he was in control again.
He had done this, he had obliterated another human being without a shred of mercy, without any regrets. It was strange that he couldn't remember anything after coming through that door. From that point on, everything was fuzzy until now. Should he be thankful for his lack of memory or terrified by what it meant? With one question, came a multitude of others. What had this man even looked like before? Had he been terrified? Had he begged for his life or asked for salvation? What reason did he have for killing all those people? Shirou would never know. Those answers were either locked away by his own mind or they had died with the kidnapper.
His hands slowly clenched into fists, shaking as he tried to rationalize his actions. He had murdered another man but it had been for good reason, right? This wasn't a bloodthirsty kill or murder…so why did his mind continue to call it such? Would he become a monster like this man? He had so many questions and Shirou could almost feel his sanity and humanity slipping out of his grasp. Something in him wanted to scream to release his pent-up emotions, but another part held him back.
A warmth suddenly touched his back and began spreading through his body. The warmth paused for a moment before landing on his hand and snapping his mind from its inner turmoil. Turning, he found Illya, staring up at him with empty eyes. The usual happiness and hope within them had been extinguished, replaced with a sense of dissociation. She was trying to appear as emotionless as possible, an emulation of their father, the Magus Killer.
"I'm alright," she whispered. Her eyes promptly relit themselves with emotion and tears began filling the corners. More than anything, he wanted to hug her tight to tell her everything was alright now. Shirou's mind stopped him, offering a reminder that he was covered in someone else's blood. Illya had been through enough, being smeared with blood probably wouldn't do her any good. The first tear trickled down her face and she tentatively moved to hug him from behind. "You don't have to be mad anymore, I'm not hurt, see?" she sobbed, pressing her face against his back.
"I'm…" He paused. He was a lot of things now: a murderer, uncontrollable, inhuman. He swallowed thickly, noticing his mouth was painfully dry. "I'm just glad you're okay." His voice was hoarse, his throat in slight pain from all the heavy breathing he had done.
"So go back to normal, okay? There's nobody here that could hurt us anymore." She squeezed tight against him, shaking him slightly with her sobs. Back to normal? What did she mean by that? He tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves but a sudden pain hitched his breath.
Looked down at his chest, where the pain originated, dread washed over him. He had been stabbed in the heart at some point. He hadn't even noticed that a scalpel had embedded itself four inches into his chest to precisely sever his aorta. The damage to his heart wasn't even his source of concern. What horrified Shirou was the fact that his wound had healed itself. Not with flesh or bone, but steel. Latticed, sharpened metal sheets had closed the wound and sealed his heart so that it could still function properly. The metal was bare of blood and actually shimmered in the dim glow of the room. If the slow expansion was anything to go off, this was some sort of cancerous growth that was progressively spreading through his body. He could visibly watch the expansion of this new blade-flesh.
With his emotions and the adrenalin fading away, pain became apparent. Each breath stretched the blade-skin and made his body feel as if it were being cut a thousand times. There was even a slight pulsing pain to each heartbeat. The repaired muscle was still pumping blood and each motion stabbed those latticed blades into soft flesh. Tracing himself, Shirou was relieved to see that this wasn't a very deep infection. It had only affected the area he was wounded and spreading relatively slowly. Something strange he noticed, was that his circuits were still active and that they were supplying mana to something. With a thought, they deactivated and the blades sealing his body faded away in golden sparks.
Shirou breathed a sigh of relief. If that hadn't worked, he had no idea what he would do. A warming glow spread through his body once again and the wound stitched itself together with fibrous strings of his own flesh. Illya was healing him, she had been since she'd first approached him. His affliction must have scared her as much as it had him.
"Illya...is there anything you can do to clean me up?" he asked quietly. A short noise of agreement followed and the pale blue glow of Engel Note bathed the area. The magical string swirled around his figure and applied a slight pressure as it slowly moved upwards. There was a cooling sensation as the blood was absorbed into the magical construct. With his body cleaned up as good as it could be, Shirou quickly turned and knelt to embrace his sister tightly.
"I'm so glad you're alright." Illya sniffled against him, wrapping her own arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. She tried to speak, but her words were broken by her sobs, shivering and shaking against him while nuzzling her head against his shoulder.
"I promised to you and Kiritsugu that I wouldn't let anybody hurt you," Shirou began, closing his eyes tight. "I failed today, but I won't let it ever happen again, alright?"
She nodded against him, turning to sniffling as her sobs tapered off. Shirou broke the embrace to stand, pausing only to give his sister's tear-stained face a sad look. Shirou moved past her and felt his hand suddenly being held by the girl. She wasn't holding him back, she was just keeping a grip on him to comfort herself.
Exiting the operating room, Shirou pointed to the stairs with his other hand. "Go up the stairs, I don't want you to see inside the other rooms." Releasing his hand, she followed his orders and carefully climbed up the dark stairway. He took a detour, going to the corpse room to collect the injured woman. Giving her a brief trace, Shirou found that most of her major injuries had healed. He must have been in that room for some time. Most of her broken bones had set and stitched themselves together. Even the cuts on her back from the whippings had sealed themselves. Some of the more minor broken bones were still broken but they were steadily being repaired.
At the very least she could be moved without worry of death or bleeding out. Carefully, Shirou picked the woman up bridal style and moved to rejoin Illya on the stairs. Thankfully, the woman was still unconscious. Trying to explain the entire situation to her while simultaneously hauling her somewhere safe would have been excruciatingly difficult.
Clambering upstairs was a little harder than he remembered with someone in his arms, but he managed well enough. Illya was patiently waiting for him at the top of the stairs just before the door. With the natural moonlight illuminating the area, Shirou could actually give her a good look-over. She was wearing the childish outfit she had picked out earlier, although it had been altered slightly. The kidnapper had carelessly cut her clothing straight down the center and to preserve her modesty, Illya had used a strand of Engel Note as makeshift stitching. The string was cross-stitched directly down her center from neck to hip and it provided a pale blue glow in the night.
Every time she looked towards him, fear washed through her body and glimmered in her eyes. At least she had stopped crying, at least she was safe. If killing innocent people and becoming a monster was what it took to protect Illya, he would do it without a second thought. As he considered this, searing pain shot through his skull. Deep in his mind, the steady radiance of Avalon pulled away and sent a chill down his spine. The artifact hadn't appreciated that thought in the slightest.
Rightly so, considering what it was supposed to represent. Not many holy relics appreciated the thought of senseless innocent murder. Even if it was in defence of a loved one, murder was just that.
Grumbling to himself, Shirou cautiously clambered through the hole in the door. Illya looked lost, peering around and shuffling uncertainly. "Where are we?" she asked softly, looking up to the sky as if it held the answer.
"Ten blocks from the park. I don't know how he moved faster than I could keep up but somehow he did," Shirou commented, motioning with his head for her to follow.
"You didn't hear what he said?" Illya aske, voice surprised.
"What do you mean? He didn't say anything. I killed him and that was it." Shirou furrowed his brow, mind absolutely blank.
"What are you talking about?" The homunculus suddenly shouted, voice full of shock. "When you stuck him to the wall, you were standing there listening for five minutes!" Shirou stopped, scrunching up his face as her words reached his mind. He thought back to that moment, to when he had leapt over the operating table. He had killed him a few seconds, hadn't he?
The entire event seemed blurry in his head and trying to delve deeper brought on a fierce headache. Come to think of it, he couldn't even recall how he'd killed the kidnapper. "I don't remember," he decided to mumble, continuing his walk back home. Something caught his jacket, body instinctively stopping.
"Don't say that." There was a sobbing noise from behind and the hand holding onto him shook once. "Don't say you don't remember, you were looking right at him so you had to hear…" She trailed off, sniffling loudly. "You're not a monster, you saved me and this girl. You aren't someone who kills just for fun but if you didn't listen to him…" She trailed off. Shirou could fill the blanks, and he didn't like what was being implied.
He continued walking, forcing the thought from his mind. "We're going home. We'll make sure this girl is alright and find out what she knows before letting her go," he explained, turning down the alley.
The hand on his back dropped off and there were a few distant sniffles before quick footfalls neared and the soft pressure of a hand on his jacket returned. After a few choppy, cry-laden breaths, a soft voice cut through the silence of the night: "Thank you."
… … …
… … …
Thankfully, Kiritsugu wasn't waiting for them when they returned. Shirou made sure to enter just as quietly as he had left and without saying a word, the two separated and went to their own rooms. Since Shirou was holding onto a girl in his arms, he had to open the door to his room with the back of his foot, awkwardly pushing it open and stumbling backwards before turning around.
The first thing he noticed was that the wall had been fully repaired. Shirou had only gotten it half done yesterday, so who had finished the rest? The second thing Shirou noticed, was the very irate-looking man standing with his back against that very same wall.
With eloquence passed down from his father and the ever-respectful Tohsaka, Shirou let out a very bland "shit" upon discovering he had been found out.
"I had expected you to do something stupid but I hadn't expected this. I told you not to go after that kidnapper and you still disobeyed me." The Magus Killer pointed an accusing finger towards his son, eyes as sharp as daggers and voice as cold as the night. "I know you don't care about yourself, but you should at least care about Illya. Can't you see how much danger you put her in by taking her with you?"
Shirou flinched. Not only had he endangered her, but he had also almost gotten her killed. The old man was right like always. He should have considered Illya's safety more than he had. Shirou would never forgive himself, he could already tell that he would never stop regretting his choice. "We st-"
"Whether they're dead or not doesn't matter, the outcome could have been much worse. One mistake and either one of you might have died." The old man folded his arms across his chest, continuing to bore holes in his son with his eyes alone. "I don't know the details and I don't want to, but what you've done is idiotic. You leapt straight into battle without understanding your opponent, without weighing the variables. I had thought I taught you better than to blindly leap before thinking." Kiritsugu moved two fingers to tap the side of his own head, face set in stern annoyance. "I suppose I'll just have to teach you with a little more effort to correct these mistakes." Shirou gulped audibly. That could mean a lot of things and none of them were very pleasant. The old man briefly glanced at the unconscious girl in Shirou's arms. "I'm guessing they got away and you had to tail him to his safe house where you found that girl. If he was able to escape both you and Illya, he must have been a magus. Or at the very least, an expert in his craft."
Until now, Shirou had never looked at the woman's face. She was actually rather stunning, a mature beauty in her late twenties. Sharp features with full lips, a thin nose and long dark-brown hair that was stained with dried blood. At least it wasn't someone he knew, Shirou had never seen her before. "It doesn't matter, he's dead either way."
Kiritsugu hummed, face not softening for a moment. "How was he disposed of?"
Shirou made a noise, twitching as he remembered how the remains had been left. He couldn't lie to the old man, that would get him in even more trouble. "He wasn't," he admitted, watching his father's frown deepen a touch more.
"Are the circumstances of his death going to raise questions from the authorities?"
Shirou shuffled. He hadn't thought about any of this but his father's questions raised some incredibly good points. Someone being turned into ground beef was definitely not a daily occurrence. If news of a murder like that got out to the public, someone from the Mage's Association might happen across it and from there it was fifty-fifty on whether they put in the effort to investigate or not. "Most likely, yes," he grumbled. He still wasn't going to lie. One way or another the old man would find out.
Kiritsugu sighed, placing his face in one hand to further express his exhaustion with the situation. "Then we just hope the Association doesn't look too closely into things. If they somehow trace it back to you and discover your ability, the rest of your life will be lived out dissected in a jar." He lifted his face from his hand and let his arms down, slowly walking towards his son. "Set her down here and dematerialize Avalon. She's not a magus so its aura comes straight through."
Shirou paled. He could sense Avalon? Worse yet, he knew Shirou was projecting Avalon? He had never told anybody about being able to project the sheath. To all known laws of magecraft it shouldn't have been possible either. If the old man knew, Rin likely did as well, which meant she was bound to start experimenting with him again. Well, technically she already had if he thought about earlier today. "How do you kn-"
"I know a lot more than you might think." He stopped in front of him, eyes softening just a tad as Shirou flinched. "I'm glad you're both safe. But for the very least, wait until you are stronger and wiser before trying to play hero." His voice held a distinct hatred within it. Not toward Shirou himself, but the term he used.
Hero.
The word was a point of great conflict for Shirou. Years ago, he wanted to be the exact embodiment of a "Hero of Justice". At the time, he had hardly known what he had been saying but the desire burned so brightly within him it couldn't be explained any other way. Shirou had wanted to become strong enough to protect everyone, to save everyone and to make everybody around him happy. Most of all, he wanted to experience what the old man had that day. The Great Fire, when Shirou's life as he knew it began, when he was found in the burning rubble. Whenever Shirou looked at his father, the overjoyed expression he'd held during their first encounter popped into his mind. Even with Shirou's accomplishments and all his progress, his father never smiled or looked as happy as he had that day.
And that hurt. Being unable to make his father truly happy caused him so much pain. It was why Shirou continually strove to be more. To achieve and excel, to become something his father could finally be proud of. He wasn't going to stop pushing himself until Kiritsugu could look at him once more like he had that day.
When he was fourteen, Shirou had finally made a choice. In order to fully commit himself to reach his goal, he would have to renounce his dream at becoming a "Hero of Justice". Kiritsugu had always told him that being a hero was impossible, that such a person was a paradoxical hypocrite. Who was a supposed hero to decide what good and evil really were? Who were they to decide which person was innocent or guilty? It was a fierce gray zone that couldn't be argued for or against. Obviously, there were good and evil beings, but the definitions of each were impossible to determine.
Was his father an evil person? Was he a guilty murderer because due to his ideal of killing the few to save the many? Shirou didn't believe so. The Magus Killer was a force of good through evil means. Assassinating murderers to save lives before they were ever taken. To the old man, everything was a game of numbers. One life was less than ten, ninety-nine was less than one hundred, so long as more people were saved than killed, the outcome was preferable. So where did a man like that place on a theoretical scale of "good"? If the Clock Tower or the general magus population was to be believed, he wasn't. Kiritsugu, as close to a hero as a man could be in Shirou's eyes, was viewed as some homicidal maniac. A villain that needed to be purged by the good guy.
Shirou abhorred his father's methodology. Nobody should be sacrificed for another. Everyone should be saved regardless of the personal cost. If it would save more lives, sacrificing oneself should be the obvious choice. That's how heroes were supposed to work. The righteous, selfless embodiment of all things "good".
That was what Shirou had believed when he was younger. With all his teaching, training and experiences, that definition had changed and altered itself into some sick hybridization of numerical values and absolute salvation. As hard as he tried, Shirou couldn't truly renounce his dreams. Deep within him, the "Hero of Justice" valiantly fought to save everyone around him. Shirou always did his best to save everyone, regardless of any personal harm he might come into in such a pursuit. He would sacrifice himself without a second thought if it were to save even a single person. Although, he was able to see when a situation was impossible. Shirou could tell and had come to accept that he sometimes couldn't save everyone. If the situation was truly dire, if there was no flawless outcome, the numerical system of his father came into play. It was a system of juxtaposing ideologies that directly overrode one another on a case-by-case basis. This system came to a screeching halt and crumbled to pieces whenever Shirou thought about sacrificing his friends. He wasn't his father, he wouldn't sacrifice his wife or loved ones to save a group of people - he couldn't! Their lives were important to him, but were they more important than the life of another? If so, how many?
The important lesson Shirou had learned, and become accustomed to, long ago, was that heroes didn't exist. Perhaps in dreams or tales of fantasy, but real life had no place for pious, honourable heroes that saved all. "I'll never become a hero," Shirou spoke with venom. Only, nobody was there. Kiritsugu had left the room while he was trapped in thought.
… … …
… … …
Shirou visited the unconscious woman in his room early the next morning, leaving a glass of water and an energy bar beside her for when she woke up. Kiritsugu and Bazett would be the only two home and Shirou was confident that the old man could handle things should she wake up before he got back.
She was sleeping soundly and her bodily condition was as to be expected; the copy of Avalon had returned her to a healthy state. Sighing loudly, Shirou lowered his head and closed his eyes. He couldn't imagine what the girl had gone through, what she would remember or what she would say upon waking. Would she even have her memories or would her brain just repress the events entirely? Shirou honestly couldn't tell which outcome was better.
Then a noise snapped his eyes open. It was a slight gasp from the unconscious woman's mouth. Had she woken up already? Rather convenient timing if he had anything to say about it.
But she wasn't awake. She was just reacting unconsciously to something in her mind as she slept. With another sigh, Shirou stood and moved to the door. He offered the unconscious woman one last glance before leaving for school.
… … …
… … ...
With the house repaired and everything back in order, training with Bazett finally began. Even though it was supposed to be a normal fist fight, she had decided to wear that same suit as their first battle, although this time forgoing gloves.
"Where'd you learn to fight, kid?" she asked, rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms across from him in the dojo. It was strange to be fighting another magus here. Most of his training around magecraft or spars had been outside. Only Taiga and Reikan had taught him indoors.
"The old man and a friend of Taiga showed me what I know now. I've never really been good at anything, but I've learned bit by bit." He had told the truth, his progress in every field had been average at best. He had a fifty-fifty chance to win against Taiga or Reikan in a fight only because he knew their style so well. He just couldn't seem to predict his opponents' attacks well enough to respond in time if they happened to mix things up.
"Showed you? You mean they told you how they fought, right?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow as she menacingly cracked both knuckles.
The boy nodded. "I've tried to copy them a-"
"So you're all idiots then." Shirou deflated like a balloon, slumping over momentarily. "That's not how you learn to fight. Combat has to come naturally, you have to develop your own style and learn how to use it against your opponent. Some fancy martial arts studio might try to teach you techniques and moves but that means jack in a real fight." She paused, snapping into a stance Shirou was all too familiar with. "The other day you tried to use my own combat technique against me." Bazett gave her head another shake. "Foolish, that's bound to fail from the start. You can't win trying to beat someone at their own game when they have years more experience than you."
Shirou actually found himself nodding in agreement. "I understand what you're trying to say. Because you're familiar with your own fighting style, it's easy to counter your own attacks."
"Precisely. On the other hand, it kept you alive long enough for your friends to help you out. If the goal is only to survive, then it's a good option. Winning, on the other hand, is a different story because eventually, your opponent will see what you're doing and will start acting unpredictably." Bazett motioned for him to come at her with one hand. "Forget everything you've been taught, try to realize how your body naturally wants to respond. For now, the strikes will be light."
… … …
Shirou rolled along the floor three times before flattening out on his back, panting heavily. "You call that light?" he groaned, forcing his body to sit up.
"As light as I can make my punches without slowing them down."
The boy groaned, spotting a familiar girl behind Bazett. For whatever reason, the pain in his body seemed to fade away and his stamina returned. "Kiritsugu told me you two would be here, can I stay to watch?" Rin asked, stepping in calmly before casting a strange glance at Shirou's downed form.
Bazett straightened and dropped her stance as the newcomer entered. Casting the girl a look, she turned back to watch Shirou struggle to stand. Eventually, she motioned with her head towards the boy. "I suppose so if he's alright with it."
Shirou shakily regained his ground, nodding towards the Tohsaka who offered a brief smile. Maybe this was what he needed, something to fight for, a goal. Taking deep breaths, he began visualizing that scene two nights ago. The scent of magic flames, the orange glow reflecting off Bazett's angry eyes as she stormed towards the near-unconscious Tohsaka. There was no doubt that Rin would be killed if Shirou didn't do something to stop her.
His fists unconsciously clenched and his eyes snapped open with renewed flame. With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pain and exhaustion in his body ebbed away. "Again, this time I won't lose!" he shouted defiantly, watching the enforcer cock one eyebrow as she slowly returned to her stance. Seemingly testing his offer, she shot forward and time seemed to slow as the familiar words left his mouth.
"Trace on!"
Bazett's heart rate and blood pressure were standard and she was operating at peak performance. Although, simple bodily stats weren't what he was looking for, what Shirou cared about was the rate of oxygen flow to various parts of her body. That alone told him which muscles she was flexing, how she would move and in what direction to anticipate attacks. It wasn't much, but it would help him out a tad as he attempted to develop his own fighting style.
He had no trouble blocking the first punch, as usual, using one forearm to hold back the powerful blow as he prepared a strike of his own. There was a spike of blood flow to one of her legs and the same arm she had thrown the punch with was moving to grab the wrist of his other hand were he to complete his strike. She was expecting his return and was preemptively moving to cover her dropped guard.
This was the problem, Shirou could never predict attacks while it seemed that Bazett could. Unable to move fast enough to simultaneously reverse his attack and cover his side, he settled for reinforcing his body and bracing. A massive force collided with his lower ribs and sent him flying back-first into one of the support beams of the dojo walls. Sliding down to the ground, his body collapsed as he tried to capture gasping breaths. Forcing his body to move, he propped himself up on his elbows and gradually pulled his leg up to help him stand. The taste of copper bubbled up in his throat and a quick trace revealed that she had ruptured his large intestine. Thankfully, Avalon was patching the organ up and the internal bleeding would stop before it became a major concern. Bazett sighed, shaking her head. "That was even worse than the last time, are you sure you want to keep getting your arse handed to you?"
He needed a style, something different of his own that could beat her. Over and over in his mind, Shirou wondered how Bazett seemed to know where his next attack would be. She had allowed her right side to remain open in that last attack, then preemptively primed her body to strike where his counterattack would be.
Had that been it? Had she purposefully goaded him into striking an area she expected to be attacked? In his mind, the blueprint of her gloves appeared and Shirou ran a scan over its accumulated history. All of her battles and all of her techniques revealed themselves to him. She had never used the moves she was using here with real enemies, but she had definitely used them before. In friendly spars or in training exercises, she left herself open and allowed the enemy to strike right where she expected, then capitalized on their surprise.
Why didn't she use that technique in real fights? Was it because she was scared that the enemy would see through it or that she'd be unable to block the attack? Or was it because the premise was suicidal? If she were outmatched in speed and power, the attack would go straight through into her most vital areas. Pushing off his knee and using the wall as a support, he eventually managed to stand. Shirou coughed up a glob of mucus and blood into his mouth, quickly spitting it onto the floor. "Again," he panted, lifting his fists.
"Jesus, kid. You're nothing if not persistent. This is the last time, then you can go practice whatever you do with Tohsaka." Bazett sighed once more, lifting her hands hastily as the boy lunged forward into her range. She easily blocked the first strike, but then Shirou switched his entire tactic and allowed her to make the first move. There was a lull in motion as the offence shifted from one party to the other. He positioned his hands so that his shoulder was left open. His eyes barely caught the twitch of her arm and with blind faith, he snapped one of his hands to where he believed her fist would land.
With a meaty thwack, Shirou's fingers wrapped around Bazett's fist and the two both made a noise of surprise. Bazett's eyes contracted into pinpricks, confusion and shock etched in her features, then Shirou's fist planted itself in her nose. Recoiling from the blow, both her hands came up to hold her face. Slowly her hands lowered, revealing unbridled fury and a bloodied nose. While Bazett's entire body from the neck down was defended by her suit, her face was still very much human. Letting the blood dribble from her injury, she reached into her suit and withdrew a pair of gloves.
Eyes widening, Shirou began murmuring his aria to prepare his own set. His minor victory had pissed her off and she was more than prepared to repay the favour it seemed. The woman tugged on the base of her gloves to tighten the material against her hands, casually stepping forward with an inferno raging behind those cool burgundy eyes.
Just as she leapt in to try and take his head off, Shirou projected his own pair of identical gloves around his hands and batted away the oncoming fist. His new technique had worked, but now the question was if it would continue working against someone stronger and faster than him. No longer was the woman leaving her defence open, so could he still pull off another strike if she were fighting for real?
Shirou grit his teeth as he was forced to defend a dozen punches from every direction. Using his knowledge of her fighting style and his new technique, he was able to hold off the oncoming blows without much worry. The intensity kept him from returning blows of his own but he was working to change that. With each blow, his technique slowly built and developed itself in his mind. Shirou could actually start to feel his body wanting to react differently to her attacks. Each blocked strike brought with it a miniature explosion of raw power - she wasn't pulling her punches and it definitely showed. The entire dojo shuddered as the air pressure slammed into the walls.
Deciding to test his fresh technique, he left his arms high and tried to bait her into kicking his ribs once more. Eventually, she bought, back leg pivoting just a little more than usual to reveal her true intentions.
Against his survival instincts, he dropped his guard from the rest of his body and dropped one hand, bracing it against his hip to catch her foot. As if on queue, his hands wrapped around her foot and the woman made a grunt. With a noise of his own, Shirou took one step forward while yanking her leg high with one hand. With the extreme change of balance, the woman fell over onto her back. Shirou let the leg in his hand slip free along his hip, allowing him to close the distance and rear his other fist back to strike at her downed face.
Then he paused, holding his fist high. There was a second as the two simply panted heavily, frozen in place as they looked into one another's eyes. He had won the fight, but he was hesitant to end it with this punch. It was barbaric to strike someone when they were down like this. Then Bazett wrapped both her legs around his neck and rolled him over like a crocodile.
Faster than he could react, he was on his back with the full weight of the Irish woman atop him. With a tensing of her powerful legs, his oxygen was entirely cut off. "You still lose, kid," she huffed once, leaning forward while maintaining pressure with her legs. He couldn't breathe and with his body screaming for oxygen from his previous exertions, his vision was already fading. "Don't stop fighting until your opponent is unconscious or dead."
… … …
Shirou's eyes opened to the gentle sound of humming. Even though his eyes were still blurry, he could tell he was in the stone shed. The gray colour on all sides was unmistakable. The question was, who was humming, and why?
Turning his head, he watched a blurry figure wearing red stretching high to grab something from one of his shelves. It was Rin, he could recognize that figure and those legs anywhere. From this low position and with her pose like that, he could almost see directly up her ski-
Shirou suddenly turned his head away in embarrassment, closing his eyes to try and purge the sight from his mind. Rin must enjoy the attention such an outfit got her. Nobody in their right mind would wear a skirt that short in the middle of winter for any other reason.
The Tohsaka continued hunting for whatever it was she was looking for, knocking something over that shattered loudly on the stone floor. She paused, expressed a calm "whoops," and continued her humming search.
Shirou tried his best to appear sleeping as he listened to her discover the object of her search. She carefully stepped over to his side and kneeled on the ground. Something was placed under his nose and upon the first inhale, Shirou's body was forced to react violently. An incredibly powerful smell of chemicals filled his nose and burned everything from his nose to the bottom of his throat. With hacking coughs, he abruptly sat up and clawed at his nose to try and rid himself of the feeling.
"Huh, these things work a lot better than I expected them to," Rin commented. Glancing her way, he could see a small plastic capsule between her fingers.
"Who uses smelling salts on someone?" he coughed out, desperately rubbing at his nose and scrunching up his face in discomfort. He had known exactly what the package was when he put it together with the smell.
"Well, I couldn't have you unconscious all day, dummy. I had to wake you up somehow." Rin shrugged, offering a slight smile as Shirou glared at her. "Now come on and stop wasting time. I want to experiment with that new form of projection you have."
"Rin, what do yo-"
"Just sit there and try to follow my instructions, alright?"
… … …
Rin left for her own home when night rolled around, leaving an exhausted Shirou behind. She had tested every possible theory she had and forced him to push each limit he'd set for himself. Everything from their rate of creation to something as minute as their stability when being formed. She had decided the latter by balancing a glass of water on the tip of the blade as it was being established in mid-air. The projected blades in creation seemed to act like a permanent fixture, holding any amount of weight on any point without wavering. This changed when the blade finalized itself. After completion, physics took effect and the blade acted accordingly. Needless to say, there was a lot of glass and water on the shed floor.
Using this strange property, Shirou could make a set of makeshift stairs that he could climb. Slowing down the process of creation, he could make these sword-stairs last a good thirty seconds before they started acting as they were supposed to.
His projections had several strange limitations and features like this. Another notable one was that he couldn't alter the blade after it was launched. As in, after defining a target and altering the weapon to have a velocity, he couldn't change it in any way. Rin couldn't offer an explanation simply because of her unfamiliarity with his entire field of projection. According to her, mobile projections like this weren't even possible.
Shirou stepped out of the stone shed, looking over a nameless sword in his hand. Lightly rusted and far from its prime, it assisted Shirou in realizing that he needed to expand his collection of swords. But where in this day and age would he find quality blades?
Maybe the old man would know or Taiga's father, Raiga. After all, he was the leader of the local Yakuza. His knowledge of Fuyuki and its going-ons must be commendable at least to hold a position like that. Normally Shirou disliked gangs and criminals, but Raiga's Yakuza were much more civilized and decent. They tidied up petty criminals around the area and while they had protection fees, they were reasonable and the protection was genuine.
His men - and sometimes Raiga himself - occasionally asked Shirou to repair their cars and motorbikes. He had done it for free every time and had always done it faster than any mechanic in the area thanks to his tracing ability. After all, he had done for them, Shirou could easily be considered a good friend.
The blade in his hand faded away into golden sparks. Speaking of the Yakuza, Taiga would likely show up soon, which meant he would need to start dinner or face her wrath.
… … …
Dinner went as well as could be expected. Bazett spoke significantly more tonight than she had yesterday. Although, that wasn't saying much considering she didn't speak at all yesterday. She had even gone so far as to compliment Shirou's meal. He took it as an incredible commendation. A woman like her with all her life experiences must have eaten some phenomenal cuisine, so for his to be on par with those must mean his cooking was quite special. Taiga had shown up on time and was surprised and slightly angered to find Bazett. For her cover story, Kiritsugu simply told her the truth - Bazett was the daughter of an old friend of his and she was staying here while she found a job.
Shirou could understand where the emotions came from. Bazett was a couple years older than her, quite attractive and more Kiritsugu's style - serious, calm and composed. All things that Taiga wasn't. The lovestruck girl probably saw her as direct competition, even though Bazett seemed to hold a mild form of contempt for the man.
Thankfully dinner hadn't elevated to a dining room brawl and Taiga had left on good terms. Deciding to tuck in early tonight, Shirou had gone off to get some sleep. Since his room was occupied, he had been moved precisely one room over. Even with a warm, familiar bed of his own, sleep just wasn't coming peacefully to him….
Closing his eyes was normal, as was the flickering flames of his common nightmare. He was accustomed to it, the Great Fire bothered him no more beyond refreshing the sense of guilt in his mind. A new dream, a new sensation had developed and was keeping him from dreaming.
Just before slipping off to sleep, the scent of cold steel and smoke filled his nose and an incessant pounding came all at once from every direction. It was impossible to rest with such a sudden noise crashing into his ears like a cymbal. Rolling over restlessly in his futon, he caught the time on his clock: midnight. At this rate, he wouldn't get a wink of sleep before school started. While spells to reduce fatigue existed, he'd have to ask Rin to cast them and that felt too embarrassing. She'd probably call him stupid too.
Closing his eyes defiantly, he set out to give sleep another try. Long before he got close to a good rest, the sound of a sliding door interrupted him. Opening his eyes and sitting up, he spotted an unnaturally sheepish Illya.
"You couldn't sleep either, huh?" she asked. Her voice was strange, softer than he had ever heard with something strange hiding just beneath the surface. "I've been having nightmares since then."
Shirou felt a pang of remorse. If he had known how that night would have turned out, he would have never asked for Illya's help. His foolish mistake had scarred her more than the faint scar on her chest.
"So you want to sleep beside me and see if that fixes things?" Shirou put two and two together. With uncertainty, she nodded and took a started walking forward as if he had already agreed.
With a half-sigh, Shirou shuffled over on his futon and allowed her some room. He couldn't deny such a simple request after all he had put her through. Thinking about sleeping in the same room as Rin or Sakura weirded Shirou out entirely. Since Illya was his sister, the thought wasn't as bad. Relatives did this kind of thing, right?
In a minute, the two were settled and trying their best to sleep. Ten minutes passed for Shirou with similar results. Each time he neared unconsciousness, the ear-ringing clang of hot steel would abruptly wake him. Carefully, he rolled to face his sister. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly parted. With a quick trace, he made note of her heart rate and body temperature to ensure she was asleep. If only he could read minds to make sure her slumber was dreamless. If this was all it took to stop her nightmares he decided that it wasn't that bad. Certain graces could be made for siblings after all...
Watching his sister like a creep actually got his eyes rather heavy. It was like her exhaustion was contagious and without warning Shirou found himself slipping off.
… … …
… … …
… … …
The land was empty, an endless expanse of earth beneath a calm, cool blue sky. There was no sun visible, however, it was obviously day. The ground was foreign and clearly fabricated. Tall, wild grass with inconsistent overgrowths and barren patches of randomized shapes. Below, his feet left impressions in the soft, dense clay. The grass around him didn't seem to mind the fact that it was growing through clay in the slightest.
Shirou looked around, trying to find a landmark to help guide him. There wasn't a single thing in sight. Nothing in the distance, no trees or hills. This was just a perfectly flat world full of grass. His mind was telling him that he had a goal to accomplish here, something that had to be done before he could leave. Shirou cautiously made one step forward, then another, choosing a direction and walking toward whatever end this world had.
Shirou knew this was a dream. His motions were light, his mind impossibly clear and when he closed his eyes, the image of his "birth" during the Great Fire was nowhere to be found.
Rin had told him once that dreams were significant in a way few understood. They could foretell the future or reveal insight into oneself. With what happened to Kiritsugu, Shirou more than believed the former, but how could a dream show more about himself than he already knew?
So what was this dream trying to show him? Caught up in his mental questioning, he hadn't noticed the abrupt appearance of a blade in the ground. It hadn't been there a moment ago, so where had it come from?
It was familiar, a blade Shirou recalled well. It was the same sword he had held just hours prior, the European longsword traced during his visit to the history museum. What was it doing here? Wrapping his hand around the handle, golden sparks crackled around his skin. There was pain, but not enough to stop him from pulling the weapon free. As it was lifted to his face for examination, the sword dematerialized into a blue cloud.
Scrunching his face in confusion, another blade caught his eye. This one was in much better shape but had been originally seen in the same place. The weapon was significantly younger than the last. It was a remake, a modern rendition of a medieval greatsword that was too large and unwieldy for Shirou to operate effectively. With a hasty jog, he moved over and repeated the removal process. It responded in the same way, which served only to confuse him more.
Turning around, Shirou spotted a strange ring of flame. It had originated from where the first sword was drawn and it was slowly growing to consume the wild grass.
Something told him that the flames weren't right. They weren't supposed to exist in this world. As he prepared to back away, they extinguished themselves as if obeying his thoughts.
Shirou felt as if he were in an inferior version of The Twilight Zone. He was prepared to just lie down and admit that he would never understand this subliminal garbage until a familiar sound caught his ear.
It was faint and hardly audible but unmistakable all the same. The forging of steel, a consistent sound that resonated deep within him for reasons he couldn't understand. Turning to face the sound's origin, Shirou spotted a hill and immediately his mind began to pound in tune with the clanging steel. Jutting out from the thick grasses was a hardened, baked-clay spire about twenty feet tall.
He could see the source of the noise now. Just above the crest of the hill were blades locked in an endless cycle. Forming, colliding with one another then dematerializing into blue clouds. It was incessant, stubborn and ultimately futile. What was the point of it all? The sight actually infuriated Shirou for reasons he couldn't comprehend.
Shirou found himself climbing the hill without memory of ever walking toward it. His mind had already created a blade, the long greatsword he had withdrawn earlier. He realized his goal in this dream, to halt the idiotic repetition that plagued this world. As if sensing his approach, the blades stopped their battle, suddenly turning to face the boy moving to interrupt them. Shirou had never seen these weapons before but their appearance was unforgettable. Short, falchion-type blades designed to be the absolute antithesis of one another. While one had a blade of purest white, the other was of deepest black in a beautiful yin-yang type display. The only difference beyond the colour scheme was that the black blade also used a hexagonal design with the borders in bloodied crimson.
In all his life, Shirou would never forget those magnificent weapons. From the first glance alone, he was truly awed at their beauty, but he couldn't quite appreciate it very much while they were flying straight toward him.
With all his strength, he swung the sword up from his low grip and struck the black blade as it had launched itself first. Shirou expected some resistance from the weapon but instead of deflecting, it simply dematerialized upon contact and made Shirou greatly overswing.
Unable to defend himself from the incoming white blade now, Shirou was forced to abandon the greatsword and focus on dodging. With such little time, he had no chance of making it out unscathed. The blade flying toward him tore out a large chunk of his midsection, dematerializing in the same instance after completing its task. Before he could even react, the black blade was already upon him once more. Lifting his arm and moving to the other side, it narrowly missed his hip.
The white blade had returned to his front and a new sword found its way into Shirou's hand, a lighter blade that could be swung with one hand. Since all he needed to do was touch the blades to stop them, it wouldn't matter how much force he applied to his swings. As he prepared to deflect the white sword, searing pain jabbed into his spine and his body collapsed onto the clay below without warning.
Falling, the white sword flew over of his head into the distance. Looking over his shoulder, Shirou spotted the black blade embedded into his back. It had severed his spine and crippled him from the waist down, he was out of the fight now. Somehow, the weapon returned to strike him in the back after being dodged. Thinking it over, he had made a stupid mistake in assuming the sword couldn't reverse its motion after being launched.
Some distance away, the white blade spun in the air to reverse its motion and was on its way to finish him off. He had failed in his objective, there was no hope for him now, he would die on this hill. Shirou slowly closed his eyes, accepting his face and the knowledge that he could not halt an unstoppable force such as this. These weapons would always clash, they would always fight regardless of what he did to try stopping it. The inside of his eyes were dark, cold and unfeeling. It was hopeless here, much like his chances at success.
That sword was taking an awfully long time to kill him, wasn't it?
Then a shout broke him from his depressed thoughts. Someone was screaming his name, they were crying, begging for him to stand and fight. He opened his eyes and watched a black shot of Gandr colliding with the blade that had spelled his demise. In a splash of blue, the weapon vanished.
"Get up and fight you big idiot! You're going to let one little thing take you out like that?" a woman shouted, moving to stand between the downed boy and the top of the hill. It was Rin, someone unmistakeable in appearance although she hadn't been the one calling out for him. Ahead, dozens of the black and white blades had appeared in the air. Instead of firing all at once, however, they were firing sequentially - one at a time.
There was no way Rin would survive an onslaught like this, not on her own. Shirou wanted to do something, anything to help her survive but his circuits weren't working. He couldn't project any blades to help her, the process just wasn't cooperating.
"Because it's not correct," a voice whispered into his ear, creating a jabbing pain in his temples with each syllable.
Rin had done her best with lowering the number of blades but for each one she destroyed, two more took their place. The rate of their launching changed too, accelerating linearly with the total amount. Switching from the more accurate one-handed method, the Tohsaka mage used both hands to fire Gandr like she was using dual pistols. The bright blue-green glow of her combined magical circuits began to peek through the sleeves of her shirt. Even pushing herself like this, it was obvious that the girl would be overwhelmed soon. The weapons weren't difficult to destroy but their numbers were growing to a staggering number.
Rin had taken a step back, fear evident in her actions as the weapons progressively got closer to spearing her. Since there were almost two firing at a time now, she couldn't destroy them before they fired and cleared about half the distance to her. Just as it looked like she would be engulfed in blades, a spear of inky black pierced through a half-dozen of the blades in one thrust. Sakura moved beside her sister, holding out an open palm to guide the dark weapon to its targets. Each weapon the spear touched didn't fade away as if destroyed but rather fell apart into metal shards as if the bonds between each magical particle had been removed. Shirou had never seen such a technique or spell before. He didn't even know Sakura could use magecraft.
"You need to get up, Senpai. We'll help you along the way!" she shouted with more emotion than he had ever heard her use. She was crying but keeping a strong facade as she assisted the Tohsaka magus in protecting him.
"Don't let us both down now or we'll never forgive you!" Rin added.
Even with their combined forces, the battle wasn't looking any better. Like an endless tsunami, the number of blades continued to grow in number and in ferocity. One managed to go straight through their defences and slice through Rin's midsection as it had done to Shirou. The girl made a noise, stumbled with one foot but otherwise held firm.
She was still alive, they were still holding on. Shirou wanted to help but how could he from here? His magecraft wasn't working and his body was in no condition to start battling weapons. A warming feeling came from behind, something had been removed from his body and his lower half painfully regained feeling. Looking back, he spotted Illya, healing his injury with tears streaming down her face. "Daddy said you'd protect me no matter what," the homunculus sniffled, wiping her eyes on the back of her arm. "So you can't give up!"
Seeing her face and hearing her words ignited something inside Shirou. His friends counted on him, they needed him to stop this force and only he could do it. Anger, determination and dedication swelled in his chest and seemed to refresh his entire being. With feeling in his limbs once more, he stumbled onto one knee and forced himself to stand. "Trace on!" he commanded, and the swords ahead seemed to hold for a fraction of a second. One shakey step after another, he resumed climbing the hill as blueprints of the weapons ahead filled his skull. They were simple, without purpose or a sense of anything, but at the same time, they were crafted with incredible skill and of the highest quality. Taking the time to go through his aria wasn't going to be possible here. It would take too long and put Rin and Sakura's safety at risk, he couldn't project blades.
"Little do you know," came the same voice as before. Was this voice mocking his struggle or was it trying to help him in a convoluted way?
There was a blade that had been created near the side, out of Rin and Sakura's view. They hadn't noticed it and it was preparing to fire. Shirou opened his mouth to shout a name, but his throat simply would not release a sound. He reached out and tried to move in the way, but it was simply impossible with the amount of distance between them.
The blade fired and shot straight towards Rin. There was no doubt it would kill her. Primed to strike her abdomen and take her out with a single strike. If she fell, then a major point of their resistance would fall and it would all go downhill from there.
Out of nowhere, the old man seemed to appear. Placing himself between the Tohsaka magus and the oncoming weapon, he was speared through the abdomen unceremoniously. Blood spewed from the wound and he slid down the hill a few feet but he was still standing. Without skipping a beat, the Magus Killer raised the weapon in his hand and sprayed bullets wildly into the steadily growing wall of blades. The hosing of bullets was incredibly effective but the act seemed to draw the attention of every blade summoned. Without warning, they all turned toward him and began firing haphazardly. These were no longer coordinated projectiles but a complete zone annihilation. Hundreds of blades struck his location all at once. There was no possible chance of surviving such an attack, even if he had tried to dodge out of the way.
Dozens of weapons impaled his entire body. Arms, legs, torso and neck ran through leaving blood spewed across the surface of the hill. His body was carried off the hill from the force of the impact. Landing somewhere in the thick grass below, his body disappeared without a trace. Even after he was gone, more weapons continued to bombard his location to add insult to injury.
An indescribable rage washed over Shirou. What sort of force would so mercilessly kill his father with such prejudice? What reason would it have to slaughter a man who had done nothing but good his entire life? The weapons seemed angered by Kiritsugu's mere existence. They had killed him as if wanting to erase him entirely.
A red haze descended over Shirou's eyes and something within him stirred. The swords in his mind began appearing over his shoulders with a spray of blue light. They were being made faster than ever before at a quality that was greater than he was used to. Perfect, identical copies of the blades before him formed and fired to destroy their brothers. The process of their creation was entirely different than he was used to. It was like they were being pulled straight from somewhere within him and placed in the real world rather than building themselves from a stored memory. The load on Rin and Sakura was taken away as Shirou countered the incoming barrage with one of his own. The cacophony of screeching metal and clanging steel actually hurt his ears but did nothing to slow his walk up the hill.
Step by step he moved closer to the peak, moving past the girls who had remained behind him, almost like they weren't prepared to follow him to his goal. While the oncoming blades dematerialized after being struck, Shirou's own weapons shattered into metal shards that littered the ground and rained down upon him. Even though these hot pieces were showering his body, he continued his journey. Five steps from the top, he started running out of steam. He had projected hundreds of blades already and there was no sign of the offence slowing down.
His body was on fire, magic circuits roasting him from the inside out. Surprisingly, his mind wasn't being overloaded over handling all the information from his projected blades.
"That's because you're doing it the right way, the way it's meant to be." The voice returned once more, seemingly guiding him. "Pull the blade from within, don't create a new image each time."
Shirou couldn't even listen to the words properly. His anger was overriding all of his senses, including pain. A blade impaled itself in his back, not paralyzing him and refusing to dematerialize as well. Three steps from the top, another blade ran him through the chest, piercing his lung and forcing his legs to shake. Blood was everywhere, but so long as he could move, he would. There was a ghastly humanoid shape waiting for him at the top of his hill, staring down at him with extreme contempt and hatred.
It was an emotion shared by both Shirou and this apparition. The white blade formed in his right hand, Shirou would kill this being just like he had killed the kidnapper. They had hurt Rin, they had made Illya cry, he wouldn't-
… … …
… … …
… … …
Shirou's eyes opened to the ceiling of his room. He had woken up, returned to his physical body after...what had that dream been about again? Trying to scour his mind for details, he found an absolute blank space. He was supposed to remember important details. Something about swords and his friends? Shirou was so caught up in trying to discern what the dream had just been about that he hasn't noticed his positioning in his futon with Illya.
Through the night, she had turned around and pressed up against him. He might have had some involvement in things considering that his arm was draped over her. Wanting to avoid ending up on a criminal watch list, he carefully removed his arm and got out of his futon without waking Illya.
The clock beside his bed told him it was time to get up anyway. Quarter to six was a little earlier than usual but that just gave him more time to exercise. He carefully turned off the alarm on his clock so that it wouldn't wake Illya. She could sleep in until school was about to start.
His mind returned to that dream as he moved to find a new pair of clothes. There were things he was supposed to remember that he couldn't for the life of him. Something about a sword? Something about…. There were people in that dream with him and he knew them well, so why couldn't he remember their faces? Grumbling, Shirou decided it wasn't worth exerting himself and he snaked out of his room to the dojo.
… … …
Today was much warmer than it had been the past few days. While it was much more pleasant to be outside, exercising was just a touch harder. After finishing his physical exercises, Shirou carried on with the daily ritual and practiced his magecraft. Normally, he had done this in a few simple ways. Meditation with his circuits active, reinforcing his body further and further or projecting various objects. Recently, he had started creating projectiles pointed towards him with the task of grabbing them from the air. That worked both his body and circuits simultaneously.
He was going to try something different today. Even though he couldn't remember anything from his dream, there was something that still pulled at him. It was the same feeling he'd had when he refined his tracing procedure all those years ago when Avalon had expressed its desire to be summoned.
There wasn't anything asking him specifically, but projecting objects how he was used to suddenly felt very wrong. He had already spoken the aria and called forth the blueprints in his mind, but he stopped at that point.
Shirou started focusing more on the blueprint and questions soon followed. Questions regarding how he could remember the details of weapons so well, where the blueprints were coming from and why he couldn't alter the weapons after they were created. He wiped away the weapon in his mind and summoned another one, trying to see where the blueprint originated.
It almost seemed like…as if the weapons were all being summoned from-
"You're up early," came a womanly grunt. Concentration broken, Shirou opened his eyes to find Bazett. "You usually get up around six-thirty then meander out here 'round seven."
For a woman who seemed to care little about those around her, she was awfully perceptive. "And you usually don't wake up until eleven," Shirou pointed out blandly.
The woman hardly seemed offended, shrugging impassively before running a finger along her forehead to move the hair from her face. "I needed to talk to you alone so I made a slight exception." Shirou narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to resume the dropped topic. "It's about your magecraft. Your physical abilities are on a level far above your age and from what you showed me last night, you're already on your way to developing your own fighting style. It ain't often that someone can land a hit like that on me. What's holding you back is your magecraft, you aren't going to be able to fight effectively with reinforcement or your little blade projectiles."
Shirou narrowed his eyes. Contrary to what Rin believed, he could see when someone was planning something. "I can't do anything about my magecraft. Reinforcement and projection are the only things I'm good at."
Bazett slowly walked in front of where Shirou was kneeling, settling down onto her knees herself before giving a sharp nod. "Absolutely right, and nobody around here is on your level."
He narrowed his eyes further. She was planning something, but he had no idea what it might be. "So what do you suppose I do? My only option is to continue training and hope Tohsaka can figure something out."
Bazett stared him dead in the eyes for a few seconds. "That's not your only option. There is one that your father's been hiding from you. Since I don't want to see your talent wasted, I wanted to make you aware personally." So that's what this was. Bazett was going behind the old man's back to let him know her thoughts. It wasn't surprising, considering how Kiritsugu liked to hide things away if he deemed them inadequate or plain idiotic.
Shirou snorted, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "The only other option would be to go attend the Clock Tower like a good little magus." Looking into her eyes and seeing the bland look, Shirou realized he had nailed it right on the head. "Now hold on a moment-"
"The Clock Tower has resources beyond what Rin or Kiritsugu can provide. You might be lucky enough to find someone who understands your form of magecraft and can assist you in developing it further." Bazett was trying to help him, but there were too many problems regarding the Mage's Association. Not only did his father have an incredible amount of enemies, if Shirou's ability was discovered, he'd become a sealing designate in an instant. Being able to trace Avalon and other relics was too good of an ability to let slip away. What finalized his disagreement was his sister. If the Einzberns heard of an Emiya roaming around Britain, they'd come for blood. The old man hadn't really asked for Illya politely after all.
"No way, it's too dangerous. Besides that, I have no way of getting i-" Shirou paused as his mind snapped onto a memory. Long ago, Rin had spoken about someone named Waver Velvet taking over the crumbling lord-family in the Clock Tower. She had remarked over how uncommon bringing an outside magus into a family was. That memory wasn't enough to pause Shirou on its own, but when combined with the fact that Waver Velvet had allied himself with the old man during the Fourth War…
"You just thought of a way in, didn't you?" Bazett asked blandly, getting things back on track. "So one way or another, you've got a way in, and you certainly have time. During the summer when school is out, you can attend the Clock Tower and learn what you can. That way, your exposure will be limited from the short stay." Bazett stood and rolled her shoulders one at a time, making loud cracking noises as they settled into place. "It'll put me a little closer to home too. Since your old man is paying me, I go wherever you go."
Shirou let his head fall. "So I can't escape beatings from you wherever I go, is that it?" he whined, getting an incredibly flat agreement as response.
"If I'm not there to kick your ass you'll get soft." She actually smiled for the briefest of moments, but maybe Shirou had just been seeing things. "Think about it, ask your girlfriend if you have to."
Shirou's head snapped up in astonishment. "I definitely do not have a girlfriend, I don't know what you're talking about." Hearing himself speak, Shirou realized how guilty that had made him sound.
Bazett chortled, walking towards the exit while throwing one hand over her shoulder. "Sure you don't, but talk to her anyway and see what she thinks."
Now alone, Shirou was left to stew in his own thoughts. It was true that the Clock Tower would have invaluable amounts of knowledge for him to use. Perhaps something about adding velocities to projectiles, or new weapons to add to his collection or even-
He paused, looking around briefly. Shirou could have sworn that someone had just tried to whisper something to him. Verifying that he was alone, he chalked it up to the wind outside playing tricks on his ears.
Was the high risk truly worth the reward? If the Mage's Association tracked him back to Fuyuki, Illya and Kiritsugu would be forced to pay the price. Shirou wouldn't even be able to help, he'd be put into a nice jar on a shelf long before he could ever see his sister again.
Maybe Rin would know what to do.
… … …
Would that boy go to no end to cause trouble?
If given the choice, would he seriously consider putting everything on the line just to save a few lives? The Magus Killer stared down at the unconscious form of the woman his son had dragged in nearly two days ago. Avalon had healed her wounds and time had finished what had been left but it would seem that her brain still believed she needed rest.
He looked towards her side, spotting a glass of water and an oddly familiar energy bar. That had been the same energy bar that he had hidden so he could enjoy it later today! It was his favourite flavour - one that had been discontinued - and was the last one at that.
Scowling, he reached down and collected his treat, tearing it open to indulge himself for once. Maybe it was his old age, but he had started caring less about others and more about his own family. It was a disgusting thought considering he had once wanted to save the world and had sacrificed his wife to achieve that very goal.
Looking back now, he realized how foolish such a wish really was. Nothing ever ended in rainbows and happiness like books, songs or legends claimed. Life had a way of hitting you when you were down, powderizing whatever little shred or scrap of hope you had left and grinding you into a paste. The strong become hollow, demoralized shells and the weak simply give up. Kiritsugu didn't know which category he fell into at this point.
So many people in his life had come to face this reality first hand. Maiya, Kariya and Sakura Matou, Tokiomi Tohsaka, his wife, Risei Kotomine and even himself. Every day he thanked whatever force preserved Illya's innocence and hope. Shirou was a lost cause, but he had always known that, hadn't he?
If Shirou could protect Illya and keep up the illusion that good existed in the world for her, Kiritsugu could die a happy man. Munching on the bar, the Magus Killer crouched down beside the woman and used his thumb to pull back her eyelids. Placing his snack between his teeth he snapped the fingers on his other hand and summoned a small flicker of flame to light up the room. In response to the changing light, her pupils contracted as he expected. Letting the flame die, they dilated appropriately as well.
"No major brain damage, so why aren't you waking up?" he asked himself, humming quizzitively. Just to test a hypothesis of his, he reached out and pinched her nose closed. The body was a very strange thing. So long as the brain was functioning properly, it would wake the body if signs of trouble arose. It was why drowning in the bathtub after falling asleep was impossible. If no oxygen was entering the lungs, the brain threw up every red flag it had. It was similar to the effect had near sleep where the body jerked awake just before unconsciousness.
Slowly, the Magus Killer counted how long he was depriving the girl of oxygen. He could feel her lungs futilely try sucking in air through her plugged nose. Three seconds passed and he was about to pull his hand away when several things happened all at once.
The girl's eyes and mouth snapped open, she heaved a great breath, tried to sit up then met Kiritsugu's hand and a searing pain to the head that set her back down on the ground. Judging by the fear in her eyes, she had absolutely no clue where she was, or perhaps it was a questioning gaze that pondered how she was still alive.
Pulling his hand from her face, the Magus Killer took another bite of his energy bar, motioning offhand to the glass of water. Her body seemed to break all hesitation her mind might have created. Without a second thought, she reached out and drained the entire glass in one big gulp.
"You shouldn't gorge yourself after dehydrating your body, it causes more problems than solutions," he pointed out casually. He wasn't going to stop her of course, she could make her own decisions.
His suggestion fell on deaf ears and she placed the now empty glass back on the floor and slowly sat up to curiously look around the room. Eventually, she settled on the man leisurely eating an energy bar, asking so many questions with a look alone.
"You're safe now, that kidnapper won't be hurting you anymore. But until you answer a few of my questions, you aren't allowed to leave." Kiritsugu popped the last bite of his snack into his mouth before standing. With a mouth half-full of food, he spoke rather clearly. "Come with me, you can use the bathroom and change out of those bloody clothes."
… … …
The weather outside had warmed enough to warrant a pleasant lunch on the school roof. Rin didn't even ask to take half of his lunch, trading their meals in a silent agreement. Shirou had felt too sheepish to speak up about it before but now it had almost become ritualistic. Trying to break the Tohsaka from her routine just wasn't possible, so he let sleeping bears lie.
Sliding his back down the wall, Shirou settled into place and Rin took her familiar spot on his left. Many days had been identical to this one, although for some reason he felt like this day would have significantly more yelling. "Tohsaka," he began, looking down at his bento as if it held the correct words.
"Uh oh, whenever you start conversations like that, you've got something important to say," Rin casually pointed out, mouth half-full of Shirou's portion of her lunch.
His head popped up and he gave her a glance. She had swallowed whatever was in her mouth, giving him a warm smile. Regardless of the situation, that damned smile always made his heart flutter. "Am I that easy to read?" he asked, getting a laugh from the Tohsaka magus.
"Ever since I've known you. You've always been an open book."
Looking into her bright cerulean eyes, Shirou almost got lost. Why did his body always chose to act like this during serious moments? He faced forward and took a large breath to try and clear his mind. "Bazett wants me to focus on my magecraft, she wants me to go to Britain over the summer so I can take classes at the Clock Tower."
He was expecting laughter or perhaps for her to call him stupid for thinking he could get into such a prestigious academy. She did neither, choosing to remain silent for a few long seconds. "Oh," she whispered, shuffling her knees up to her chin. "Kiritsugu probably knows ways to get you in so I'm not surprised. You'll be gone over the whole summer?"
"That's what you're focused on?" Shirou countered, glancing over to the magus questioningly.
"You were supposed to project a lot of gems for me and I had some experiments planned with your new ability." Her eyes and voice seemed devoid of emotion. It was like her brain was just relaying information while her body shut down completely.
"I see, so that's all you wanted me for."
"Of course that's not all I wanted you for you big dummy!" Completely opposite to how she had been, Rin shouted into his ear with surprising ferocity.
Shirou actually fell onto his side to avoid the loud outburst, looking back at her with bewilderment. "Can we focus on the matter at hand here?"
She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "You're right. If you're going to be attending the Clock Tower, you're going to need a few things. A new name and identity and some other skills you'll use during your time there."
Shirou nodded, then realized what he was agreeing to. "Hold on, you really think I should go?"
Rin looked at him like he had just grown a second head. "Absolutely, passing up a chance to study at the Clock Tower would be the stupidest decision in your life!" She spoke as if he really was the idiot she claimed him to be.
Looking over her face, he realized something. She was a lot angrier than when he normally asked stupid questions. "Rin, why are you so mad?"
Her knees shuffled closer to her face and her eyes squinted and looked away. There was a very low mumble before she actually spoke at a level he could hear. "Because you're going to go there long before I can." Her eyes seemed to glaze and look absently forward. "As Second Owner, I can't leave the city I preside over until I'm an adult, regardless of how much of a prodigy I might be." She gave her head a light shake. "But this isn't about me. With your projection and tracing skills, you might become a half-decent magus."
"That's the problem exactly." The girl made a noise of confusion, looking toward him for an explanation. "If I show them my abilities, I might become a sealing designate. Neither one of us know just how well I can replicate things, what if it's possible for me to project noble phantasms or conceptual weapons?"
She didn't speak for a few seconds, thinking it over before nodding along with him. "If you could copy weapons like that, there's no doubt that the Mage's Association would try to reverse-engineer your ability. Although I doubt you could ever copy a noble phantasm and have it retain its properties." Shirou looked away so she couldn't read his face. If only Rin knew how broken his ability was. "That's not really the strangest part about you. If anything, you'd get designated for having a matching imaginary origin and element."
She was right. He hasn't even considered how the Association would look at his literal embodiment of sword. "And if I get found out, it'll come straight back to Kiritsugu and Illya."
Rin paused and looked off into the distance again. "Then you're just going to have to hide your abilities. You can still project weapons, but you need to hide the process. No projectile creation either, that's probably not something normal people can do. You won't get designated for projecting blades in your hand. Even if they're near-perfect copies, it's still something from an everyday field of magecraft."
Shirou pulled himself off the ground, assuming that Rin was done with yelling for now. Sitting beside her, he just thought about her words for a long while. Rin seemed to be doing the same, thinking over the situation and putting the puzzle together in her mind. With pursed lips and gently flickering eyes, she was likely figuring out what he would need before he left.
"A new name," she mumbled from her knees, eyes snapping onto his when he didn't respond.
"Huh?" Shirou asked intelligently.
"You need a new name and a threatening nickname. Not just to hide your identity, but to protect you as well. A good nickname might scare the average mage from messing with you, meaning you won't have to interact with them so often, minimizing your exposure. I would have suggested a rendition of your father's old name but if you don't want attention brought to him, it might be best to avoid it entirely." Rin stretched out her legs a tad, graciously picking up what was left of her lunch to eat a few more bites. "Nicknames aren't as important as a good cover name you can stick to. If you mess up and respond to Emiya then it's all over from there."
He rolled his eyes. "I know how lying and deceit works."
Looking at him questioningly for a moment, she returned to her lunch. "You'll also need a mask or some sort of concealment for your face."
"What, why?" he asked, scowling.
"If anybody sees your face when you try telling lies they're going to see right through it. Giving you a mask will throw them off. With a mask, you can be honest all you like and people won't be able to tell if you're telling the truth, lying or being sarcastic."
He couldn't really argue against her, especially since she had such a compelling argument. Making a noise of defeat, Shirou returned to his own lunch.
"You'll also have to learn how to act around lords and magi in general. You have to speak with respect and civility, two things you're miserable with. I'll have to teach you before you leave and we've only got a few months so it's best if we start right away."
"Tonight then?" he filled in, getting a bright smile from the Tohsaka magus.
"Consider it a date, I'll bring over a few books on etiquette you can keep until you leave."
… … …
… … …
"That's all I remember, I swear!" the girl sobbed, wrapping her hands around the warm cup of tea in front of her.
He had pushed her too far, she was too mentally strained and as a consequence, she wasn't going to give him any new information. Interrogation never really was his strong suit. He could pull it off, sure, but it wasn't a major component of his profession since permanent silence tended to pay more than information extraction.
"Abduction, torture, then waking up now is all that you remember?" He wasn't asking because he hadn't been listening, he was asking to verify what had been said.
She nodded, tears sneaking through closed eyes to roll down her cheeks. A long period of silence followed, broken only by occasional sniffles. The woman had forgotten most of herself, similar to Shirou's predicament only she had gone through much more physical abuse. Her name and history were lost as her brain tried to forcefully block out the torture it had endured. A common ailment to survivors of extreme trauma.
"We're done for now, continue trying to remember every detail, no matter how small." Kiritsugu stood from the table and moved to the kitchen. Although leftovers didn't exist in his house with people like Taiga, snacks certainly did. Pilfering the cupboard, he found crackers and sugary treats. Nothing that could properly feed the woman, but something to hold her over until dinner arrived.
Setting what he found in front of her, she expressed a feeble thanks before hungrily taking and opening one package. The sweet food would aid in easing her emotions a touch. Sparing a glance at the only clock in the house, Kiritsugu realized that Shirou wouldn't be home for a few hours yet.
While he was waiting, he could pay a visit to the overseer of the Fifth Holy Grail War.
… … …
Illya waved goodbye to her friends as they left school for the day. When she had first gone to school, Illya had expected everyone to ostracize her for being more than an entire foot shorter than most people her age. But she was far from ostracized, the exact opposite in fact. The boys in her class liked her a little too much, claiming she was a "magical girl" from some manga or whatever due to her appearance and outfits. The rest of the class had taken the liberty to spread her image around as some sort of model student to strive toward. While nice of them, she definitely wasn't a role model: most of her assignments were late, she constantly rushed to meet due dates the day before and without Shirou and Rin helping her, her marks wouldn't be half what they were.
Typically, Illya would walk with her friends and split off when she got close to her house but today she was staying to watch Shirou in archery club. From what she had heard, a representative for Japan's kyudo community was talent scouting and had come specifically to see Shirou in action.
Since he hadn't even mentioned it to her or Kiritsugu, he must have thought it wasn't important. How could being recognized for his archery skills across all of Japan be unimportant?
Traversing the school grounds, Illya eventually found the archery hall and she quietly let herself in. Kyudo was very different from other forms of archery. It was ceremonial and ritualistic, rather than combat-oriented. The archer was expected to clear his mind and focus entirely on the bow and arrow, becoming one with the weapon. According to the "laws" of Kyudo, proper form and set-up would always result in perfect shot placement.
Illya had never seen Shirou use a yumi before so she was anxiously waiting for the chance. Upon entering the dojo, Illya was greeted to the sight of teenage girls anxiously watching something within while whispering amongst themselves. The entire entrance area was packed, held back by Mitsuzuri and Makidera who were menacingly brandishing shinai to act as gatekeepers. Evidently, Shirou had quite a fanbase. Far to the side, Illya briefly spotted Rin and Sakura speaking to one another.
It was surprisingly quiet in here, likely out of respect for the sport and the one performing it. With her thin frame and small stature, Illya easily squeezed to the front of the group and looked to Mitsuzuri who recognized her immediately. Motioning with her offhand, Mitsuzuri beckoned her forward. Interested in what the archery captain had to say, Illya moved onward.
Crouching, Mitsuzuri whispered close to her ear. "Shirou's setting up just now, you can go on to get a closer look but make sure you don't distract him, alright?" Nodding in understanding, Illya carefully crept down to the lower level to get a better view of her brother. At the moment, Shirou was positioning himself near the edge of the dojo where the floor broke off into dirt. He was dressed in simple, formal attire consisting of a white gi and a pair of pressed black hakama. The outfit was immaculate and from the way he was moving, Shirou seemed to be trying to preserve its flawless condition.
He was the only one setting up at the range and both eyes were trained on the target with extreme determination. If Illya had to guess, the target was only thirty meters away, something Shirou could pull off blindfolded after spinning around a few dozen times. Something at this distance was quite literally child's play for him.
Illya carefully moved along the back to the far side of the dojo where an older looking man in a trimmed suit was watching in interest. He took notice of her, but didn't speak out or comment on her presence. From this angle, Illya had a better look into Shirou's eyes. He seemed entirely fixated. If an explosion went off and killed everyone, Shirou probably wouldn't have even noticed. He methodically notched an arrow and raised the bow gracefully with even, flowing movements. With similar gracefulness, the string was pulled back to his shoulder and he paused to ensure his target.
Living with Shirou for most of her life, she had noticed quite a few things about the boy. The most major quirk of his was his inability to tell lies. His face literally held every emotion running through his mind.
Right now, he looked distant and almost regretful. It had changed so suddenly that Illya nearly flinched. While Illya had never seen him use a yumi before, she had watched him with other bows several times. Not once had he held an expression like this.
She watched him release a long breath before easing the string from his fingers. With a hearty thwack, the arrow was sent flying down the range - only to miss the target entirely. With her unnaturally gifted eyes, Illya was able to watch the arrow hit the dirt mount behind the target, severing an earthworm that had been writing on the surface.
There was a surprised gasp from the crowd behind him, then a sea of murmuring over what it meant for the boy. Illya just scrunched up her face. That shot was a piece of cake, he easily could have hit it if he wanted. He was up to something and the bright smile that spread across his face only verified her suspicion.
With surprising grace, he turned and bowed to the kyudo representative and then his flabbergasted audience. "So that's what it feels like to miss." Everyone in the crowd shifted, whispering to themselves in shock. Sakura seemed depressed, disheartened to the highest degree while Rin was smirking for unknown reasons.
… … …
"Idiot-Senpai," she mumbled, shaking her head quietly as she walked. Sakura had watched the entire affair at the archery club play out. While she wasn't a student at Homurahara Academy, she still wanted to see Shirou become recognized for his ability. He was an incredible archer, so why had he shot the wind so foolishly? He could have become famous, known throughout Japan competitively if he really tried. He must have had a reason to miss so blatantly. Rin hadn't let up anything, keeping her secrets to herself. From how the two glanced at each other after he had missed, Sakura could tell her sister had expected the outcome.
"What was that?" Shirou asked from her side, startling the girl out of her thoughts. Turning to face him as he spoke, his words clicked in her brain with a slight delay.
"N-nothing!" she clumsily stuttered out, turning her head to sheepishly look down at her feet. "I was just wondering why-"
"Why I chose to purposely miss a shot that would have led me into a regional championship, then quit archery club?" he filled in for her. Hesitantly, she nodded. Both of his actions had come as such a shock and she couldn't determine his reasoning at all. Mitsuzuri had really taken it hard, while Shinji…. "The answers to both are pretty simple. I didn't want my name becoming public, and kyudo was just too easy."
Gaping at him for the briefest of moments, she turned forward and thought it over. That shot had been the first and only time Shirou had missed his target, ever. She could understand how boring repetitive excellence might have gotten. What she didn't understand was why he didn't want the attention. Sakura would kill for attention, especially from a clueless redheaded boy in her near vicinity. "Senpai, what's wrong with publicity?"
She turned to watch him, reaching up with one hand to fiddle with the ribbon tied on her left side. He shrugged impassively before speaking. "Nothing for normal people, but I'm not very normal. A lot of people want to hurt the old man, if word of an Emiya in Fuyuki got out, they'd come looking for us."
Sakura nodded with a sad smile. "You gave up everything to protect your father."
"He's only part of it. There's a group of people who hate him so much, they don't want to kill him." Sakura was about to ask what he meant but he continued before she could. "They want to kill Illya, the only thing he lives for." Sakura flinched at the sudden change in tone Shirou underwent. He had been light and jovial when speaking earlier, even about his father. Now his tone was harsh and full of cold fury.
"What makes you sure that your name hasn't already reached the Mage's Association?" came a pompous voice from behind. Sakura could recognize it from anywhere, it had practically been burned into her brain at this point. It was none other than-
"Shinji," Shirou huffed, turning around. "What are you going on about?"
Sakura turned to face her brother as well. Sure enough, he was standing there, hands in his pockets looking as confident as ever. Instinctively, her face leered downwards. Whenever she looked him in the eye, he always seemed to get annoyed with her. When he got annoyed with her, the beatings started.
"I'm just saying that your name might have already been forwarded to the Mage's Association, or at least someone who works close to the Association." From where she was standing, Sakura could hear the crack of Shirou's knuckles as he clenched both hands into fists.
"Zouken and the old man had an agreement."
"They did," he began, closing his eyes and reciting a memory. "Neither one can meddle in the other's affairs." His eyes opened and a grim smile split across his disgusting face. "Providing me with connections so that I can squeal on you myself doesn't break any part of the agreement. You should never have made an enemy of me, Emiya." In casual Shinji fashion, he ran one hand through his hair and held up one finger in front of his face as if it were some kind of taunt.
"You better not ha-"
"But I already have. Thankfully for you, the Clock Tower isn't very trusting of strange magi. They're sending an enforcer to verify my claim." The smile on her brother's face grew wider with each passing second. Lifting her eyes for a moment, she caught the tensing of every muscle in Shirou's body.
Then he stopped suddenly and reached into his coat pocket. He withdrew something silver that was vibrating viciously. Flipping the device open, he set it to his ear. Even though Sakura was standing beside him, she could only make out the incoming words due to her being well-trained in the art of eavesdropping.
"We've got problems," came a slightly crackling voice from the other end. Sakura had heard of these devices before. Cell phones, electronics that could be used to communicate with anyone in the world. They weren't very common and they were pretty expensive. This had been the first time she had ever seen Shirou use it.
"Are we walking with death?" Shirou spoke in a strange code, glowering at Shinji who had maintained a malicious smile the entire time.
"It seems so. Get back as soon as you can, we'll need to start planning."
Without any goodbyes, Shirou snapped the device closed and replaced it in his pocket. "You weren't lying." His voice was cold and empty, a tone she had heard only once just a few days ago when Shinji was about to insult Illya.
"I've always been known as an honest man. When I said you and I were enemies I meant it."
"Aren't enemies supposed to fight?" Both Sakura and Shinji made a noise of surprise. Was he suggesting they try to kill each other right now? She didn't want either of them fighting or getting hurt. She loved Shirou of course but Shinji was her brother, she had to defend both of them. Sakura opened her mouth to try settling the two but Shirou was too quick to the punch again. "I don't agree with how Illya treated you that day. It was rude of her to speak about you like that but it gave you no right to do this." Shinji's smile had actually faltered a little. Whether it was because he didn't fully realize what he was doing by contacting the Association or if it was the look on Shirou's face couldn't be determined.
"Of course I knew what I was doing. From what I hear, your sister isn't even related to you. She's a kidnapped child from one of the other magi families. I figured that whoever her real family is would like to know where she was nowadays so they could teach her some manners and respect," he snorted. Sakura had been looking at Shirou, but a sudden thwack from the direction of her brother shifted her attention.
Shinji was laid out face down on the sidewalk, knocked unconscious in a single punch. The one who had thrown it was none other than Rin. Rubbing the knuckles of the hand she hit him with, she looked up to Shirou. "Sorry, hearing him talk like that was driving me crazy."
Shirou made a noise, then slowly eased the tension from his body. "It's fine, I got what I needed out of him anyway." Both Rin and Shirou turned to glance at Sakura, who stiffened in response. She could see the thoughts behind their eyes. Both of them wanted to kill Shinji or at least punish him in some way. At the same time, they both understood that Sakura wouldn't allow it. Or that she would be hurt because of it. She was far too forgiving of her evil, abusive brother. "Just leave him here, I don't really care if he wakes up or not."
Rin smirked and placed one hand on her hip. "I hit him pretty hard, he'll be out for a while." Anger flickered within Sakura for the briefest of moments. It might have been irrational, that she had looked too deep into the meaning of her actions but Sakura could have sworn that Rin was asserting her dominance just then. Showing Shirou that she could defend herself and stand up on his behalf, unlike Sakura.
"It's good that you're here anyway." The anger returned in full force, blooming at the tone in Shirou's voice. He was glad she was here? "We need to prepare. You won't be doing any fighting but you'll have to feign ignorance and stay as far away from us as possible." Rin nodded, stepping over the limp form of Shinji to get a little closer.
"If Shinji got upset with you three days ago, he likely stewed over it for one, tried planning for another then asked Zouken today on the third. Enforcer mobilization takes about a day itself, so we won't have much time if they decide to go full-frontal. Unless the enforcer is smart and decides to watch us for a few days to verify the information. In that case, it could take anywhere from a couple days to weeks." Rin moved the hand from her hip to sit over her lips. Casting her head off to the side, she pulled off the classic Tohsaka thinking pose she was well known for.
"Illya is going to have to lay low. If the Einzberns know she's in Fuyuki, they might try to take her ba-" He stiffened suddenly. Sakura caught the flash of panic in his eyes. She had only ever seen that emotion on his face whenever Illya was in trouble. Is that was he believed now? That she might be in trouble?
"Illya left when the shouting started," Sakura pointed out, calming him down slightly. Shirou reached into his coat, withdrew the cell phone again and called somebody. Waiting a few seconds, a cheery greeting, likely Illya, came from the other end. Sakura watched him let out a sigh of relief.
"Hey, just called to tell you to get home quick. I'll fill you in when I get there." He paused, listening to the other end. Since he had set the phone on his other ear this time, Sakura couldn't hear what Illya was saying. "Yeah, be there in ten minutes."
As Shirou closed and replaced the phone in his coat, Rin took a few more steps forward, rapidly approaching the point where Sakura would comment on her proximity. Rin always had a tendency to breach Shirou's personal space without considering how awkward that made him feel. "Let's get going then, it would be best to get organized as soon as we can."
Nodding, Shirou turned and strode off towards his house with a little extra purpose. Sakura moved to follow but was stopped as something caught her hand. Sliding closer, Rin whispered in her ear. "I know it's not the best time, but we need to have a little sisterly chat about Shirou."
This chapter was fun to write even though I had writer's block for most of it. I love Rage-Shirou and the subtle planning between Rin and Sakura, the Tohsaka Sisters.
I love hearing feedback from you readers, so if you want to leave a review but can't think of anything to say beyond "good write, fun read", tell me all about what you think Shirou is at this point. Does he still want to become the Hero of Justice? Is he the Son of the Magus Killer or is he something messed up between? Do you think he'll survive in the Clock Tower? How do you think he would react if he were to see his Counter-Guardian self?
Tell me all about the little idiot, I want to know everything you think about him!
Oh! And remember to favourite, follow and leave a review! If you do decide to write a review, add a line to offer my beta, Talndir, an egg in these trying times ala Danny DeVito style.
