EDIT: Disregard my ramblings. This is just what I do when I get bored with editing and is my only way to squeeze words into SWG's fic.
Mid-terms suck. That's probably obvious, but I just wanted to make it known.
Going to let you all in on some sneakrets (sneaky secrets), I've been waiting to write the next chapter for a long, long time. Got quite a bit planned and I hope you'll enjoy it all.
I've been feeling really neglected lately because nobody is writing any reviews. Maybe my writing just hasn't been up to snuff, if that's the case then I'll try to kick things up. [I'm not being super serious about this, I love all you readers equally and so long as you enjoy my writing, I'm more than happy.]
I won't bore you all with more notes, now is the time for action!
The brightly-coloured man slowly removed his glasses and immediately a feeling of weakness washed over Shirou. It felt as if all his potential was being stripped from his body. Naturally, he wanted to activate his circuits to regain some semblance of energy, but a voice in the back of his mind, oddly similar to Rin's, dissuade him against it. The woman took her own glasses off, tucking them gently into an inner pocket of her suit. Beneath her gaze, Shirou felt even less than naked. It was as if she could see beneath his skin, deep within his body.
To say the feeling was uncomfortable would have been an understatement; it was downright nauseating. Shirou's hands clenched into fists, he could handle this, couldn't he? After all, they were just magi. Bazett's suit could defend against a considerable amount of magical force. That had been made clear following Rin's attack the first night of her arrival.
But perhaps it was best to just test the waters first. The freelancers didn't want to kill him outright, so a powerful attack he couldn't defend against was unlikely. He looked deep within himself and a blade pulled itself from deep within his mind. With a whisper of golden light, the familiar, antiquated sword materialized in his hand.
"Look at this, the kid intends to fight," the man snorted, casually cracking his knuckles.
"Then he's not the spineless coward I had pegged him to be," the woman hummed, rolling her neck. While it was important to stretch before a fight, this was getting a little overplayed to Shirou's taste.
"Can we just get on with i-"
That was as far as he could get. The man had lunged forward like a colourful bolt of lightning. Shirou awkwardly moved his blade to deflect an open-handed slash, stepping back to put enough room between them so he could properly use his sword. The configuration of his hand perplexed Shirou and gave the man an advantage in the fight almost instantly. Capitalizing on Shirou's confusion, rainbow boy managed to land a glancing blow down Shirou's right arm.
With a cry of pain, Shirou leapt backward, examining the wound to find fresh claw marks where he had been struck. Four grisly streaks ran down his upper arm, ending at the elbow. Glancing between the wound and his opponent's hands, it was clear to see a match. At some point in their brief spat of strikes, the man had grown claws. In fact, his hands didn't look all that human. The fingers had compressed, shortening to become stubby, boney-looking things with wicked hooked claws at each fingertip. Long wiry strands of yellowish-gray hair began to cover their surface. The hair atop his head, which had been so lovingly dyed with primary colours, had extended and began to take on this blond coloration.
A shape-shifter of some sort. Manipulating his body to his advantage by using the concept of alteration. It was an incredibly uncommon form of magecraft if only due to the dangers such a gross manipulation of self-presented.
"You should be in a lot worse shape than that, you're not bad at defending yourself kid, but can you actually swing that blade of yours?" A taunt, an attempt at angering Shirou so he made a mistake. "I'm actually surprised that projected blade of yours held up so well. You must not be that bad of a magus to make such a durable creation." It was hard for Shirou to tell in this light, but he could have sworn that the man's teeth had grown longer. The hint of a lisp due to such an obstruction in his mouth also began to gleam through.
There was no point in talking. Conversing on the battlefield opened up defences, allowed the opponent to read you that much better. Kiritsugu had taught Shirou all about the mind games of combat, he wouldn't fall to them in his first real battle. A rustling noise from his left was the only thing that saved him. Lifting his blade, an incredible amount of force slammed into his guard and flung him to the side like a ragdoll. Rolling on his shoulder, Shirou popped onto his feet and lifted his blade - what was left of it - to defend three more slashing attacks.
The force of the initial blow had shattered his weapon a few inches above the hilt while left him defending blows with what was essentially a dagger. Interestingly enough, the weapon in its damaged state was working with more efficiency than a full-length blade. It's lighter weight allowed Shirou to manipulate it with much more finesse. Reinforcing his limbs, Shirou prepared to halt an overhand ax blow. The impact of the two attacks sent an explosion noise and a pressure wave through the area, shuddering his entire body as he strained to retain his composure.
With a grunt, Shirou bent his body and forced the woman's arms away. With speed granted to him through reinforcement, Shirou released the broken weapon, snapped both arms downward and summoned another copy of the same sword. Both of the woman's arms were above her head, forced that way as a result of Shirou's deflection. With Shirou's reinforced muscles, his motions were too fast for her to counter. As his hands wrapped around the hilt of his created weapon, the woman's eyes shrank in surprise. The tip of the blade was thrust forward, piercing her abdomen and carrying through with surprising resistance.
The woman made a gasp, stepping backward due to the force and surprise of the attack. Reaching down, she grasped the sword's handle, looking down in shock. Shirou had thought her face was the mortification of oncoming death.
Then the man took hold of the weapon and yanked it out carelessly. A large splash of blood spewed from the hole, and the woman made a noise of pain as she partly covered the wound. Looking the weapon over, he motioned handle-first toward Shirou. "Well, it's a nice gift and all, and I suppose it's the thought that counts, but did you keep the receipt?" The weapon was thrown toward the ground but before it could clatter against the concrete, it had dematerialized into golden sparks.
Much to Shirou's bewilderment, the fresh wound he had just made no longer existed. Blood coated her front, but the gaping hole left by the weapon had sealed itself after the obstruction was withdrawn. Touching the new flesh, the woman hummed. "You managed to land a strike on me. Perhaps you're not so naive. I suppose we'll have to take you seriously now."
The two looked behind themselves in unison. "Although it might be best to relocate to a more appropriate area, wouldn't you agree?" Hardly waiting for a response, the pair quickly moved down the street, only stopping to collect Sakura before sprinting wildly along the road. Shirou was a little late to the draw on following, reactions dulled by such an unprecedented turn of events. Even though the two were at least two turns ahead of him every time, Shirou could easily follow their trail. For whatever reason, Sakura could compete with a floral shop in terms of scent. Because of this, he could just follow the smell of flowers with relative precision.
Within a dozen minutes, he had reached the old Fuyuki docks, where his father had once had a battle of epic proportions with heroes long dead. The sun had vanished some time ago and the moon solemnly took its place in the sky. Closer to the sea, the smell of salt water and fish lingered around eye level. Another feature of this area was the deathly silence. The port was separated from the residential homes of Fuyuki. In this corner of the city, industrial buildings had taken up much of the space to provide goods to the people.
To say things were a little eerie would be an understatement. Trying to follow his nose wasn't working anymore as the ocean breeze and its lingering scent had washed away Sakura's floral trail.
"Trace on," Shirou whispered to the night, and his circuits came alive to the impact of a pistol hammer. Continuing to murmur, he completed the rest of his aria. It would be best to prepare for an ambush now rather than later. With a yellowish glow, Bazett's suit enveloped his figure and a nameless sword formed within his hand. He considered making a projection of his bow, but at what possible point could he use a ranged weapon in conditions like this?
He had been forced to break the lock of a gate closing off what appeared to be a shipping depot. The other magi had likely scaled the fence in some way, but Shirou lacked a spell to perform a similar feat. Walking down the gently sloped pavement, Shirou could almost hear the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the nearby warehouse. Checking his corners and looking over his back every so often, Shirou wondered if he was in the right place.
Then a howl echoed from further down. It was animalistic, but with a growling quality that clearly came through. What would a wolf be doing this far into Fuyuki? Shirou could feel the hairs on his neck rise with a sense of dread. Maybe he really was biting off more than he could chew.
There was a scraping noise that rang out from his side. Turning his head to see the cause, Shirou rapidly understood just how outmatched he was. The creature ahead could only be recognized by the tuft of green atop his head, otherwise, Shirou would have thought this beast to be a new threat entirely. It was a werewolf, no doubts or second guesses about it. The face of a wild dog, the muscular humanoid, hair-covered body and the odd glimmer to his fur which appeared to resonate with the moonglow. Rising at least nine feet tall even while slouched, the werewolf was coated in thick, glossy blond fur. Familiar grey eyes were set behind a snout full of gleaming yellowed canines. Even through the heavy fur coat, Shirou could see taut muscle. It was the only bodily feature shared between his human and animal forms.
The beast made a throaty, growling snarl before dragging its front paws along the pavement in a direct threat. All the clues seemed to line up now. The wet dog smell from the two, the claw marks on his shoulder - which Avalon had sealed - and their strange behaviour.
If Shirou were a betting man, he'd put money on that woman being a werewolf as well. They were likely packmates or whatever they called themselves. Thinking about the matter further, Shirou realized that he was really out in the deep end. If legend were to be believed, werewolves were only weak to silver. Although, that didn't mean they were invincible to everything else.
The beast bowed, powerful muscles quivering as it launched forward with staggering speed. Memories of long, cold nights alone in the wolf-filled Einzbern forest came flooding back to him and through experience alone, he sidestepped clear from the path of the charging beast. With practiced ease, the blade in his hand sliced downward to cleave a gash in the werewolf's hind leg. It was the exact way Shirou had dealt with the smaller animals in the forest, although those wolves were significantly slower and far less dangerous. While his attack had struck exactly as intended, nothing more than a scant few drops of blood remained on the beast's pelt. Maybe silver blades were the only effective way to put these beasts down.
Shirou rapidly reminded himself that wolves operated in packs, that there had been two freelancers who had come to his home. Turning his head, he spotted the large dark form of another werewolf. It was already sprinting toward him with feral fury, significantly faster on all fours than the blond wolf. By process of elimination, he determined this to be the female freelancer.
Dodging would get him nowhere. The blond wolf would have likely recovered and even if Shirou could move out of the way of a third attack, he would still have one werewolf on either side. Channelling a couple of dozen hollow blades in his mind, he positioned their points of conceptualization between himself and the black animal racing toward him. Against all of his instincts, he sprinted forward, aiming to face the animal head on. As he was constantly tracing the beast, he could sense the tensing of her muscles, could see the intention to pounce course through her form. With his mind screaming that he was an utter fool, he dropped to the ground and slid along the pavement. Bazett's finely made suit made the action quite easy in fact.
With his body low along the ground, the black wolf leapt high, aiming to come down straight on top of him - until blades suddenly appeared in her path. As if they were immovable stones, the werewolf landed on the blades and stopped dead in the air. Several of the swords had broken due to the force of the impact but all that mattered was that they held up enough for Shirou to slide under.
He was in a prime position now. Snapping to his feet behind the black werewolf, Shirou spotted the blond one looking him over. "What sort of trick is this? Making blades that will not break?" It was obviously the man's voice, but it had been twisted and distorted - harsh, grating and throaty as if he had consumed a truckload of gravel since their last encounter.
Almost on command, the blades fully formed and shattered into golden sparks beneath the female. With a yelping bark, the beast awkwardly dropped onto the pavement shoulder-first. The weapons had been hollow after all, so much as a grain of sand contacting their surface would cause them to shatter. They had only managed to remain up to that point due to the fact that they weren't fully formed.
To be fair, Shirou had abused a strange limitation of his projection magic. The incredible fact was that it had worked. His face held a look that revealed he didn't even believe what had happened either. "I guess we both have our secrets," he commented, raising his sword in preparation for an attack.
The man performed the werewolf equivalent of a snort before leaping forward. Rather than move directly into striking range, he stopped short, then hopped wildly to one side while making a desperate horizontal slash.
Narrowly backing out of the initial attack, Shirou was forced backward as the wolf began haphazardly swinging while moving increasingly closer. Each blow shattered his nameless blade and rattled his very bones with sheer power. The slowing of each attack offered just enough time for Shirou to dodge. Even with Bazett's suit and his reinforcement, the wolf was too fast for him to keep up. He was barely managing to twist his blade to the right angle to keep those claws from hooking an edge to even consider a retaliating strike.
But in the heat of battle, a thought crossed his mind. What if he were to employ his own tactic in this fight? The one he had used against Bazett in training? It was a nice thought only before he could act on it, the smaller werewolf had encroached upon his other side.
While she wasn't powerful enough to shatter his blades outright, she might as well have been. Hairline fractures lined the entire surface from tip to hilt after a single blow, rendering the sword as useless as a piece of paper in combat. Cursing his lack of quality weaponry, Shirou replaced his sword and readied himself to face two werewolves simultaneously. What options did he have? He could run, leaving Sakura to these two beasts. He could fight them head-on, likely die and ultimately leave Sakura to her fate or…
That was it, two options. Altering his sword to change its construction to silver would be an effort in futility. The only form of silver he had seen his life was jewelry, meaning the metal would be too flimsy for combat. That being said, projectiles didn't need to be durable.
The werewolves were regrouping, moving to stand side by side. This would be a joint attack, likely one he wouldn't survive. Reading the field, Shirou made an entirely unexpected action: he ran.
With his tail between his reinforced legs, he sprinted directly toward the nearby warehouse. Not bothering to see if it was locked or not, the boy slammed shoulder first into the door. It flung open with an grating, unoiled creak and made a loud bang as it slammed unhindered into the concrete wall. Wasting little time, Shirou quickly turned, shut the door behind him and created a slow-forming blade near the top and bottom of the door. With the creation process slowed, the immovable weapons would provide some resistance to the door, but this wasn't Shirou's full intention.
Kiritsugu and Rin had both passed down their knowledge of bounded fields. Rin demonstrated how to create them and Kiritsugu taught him what to look for to break them down. With knowledge of both creation and destruction, Shirou could develop bounded fields that were near unbreachable. Beyond reinforcement and what little runecraft he could manage, bounded fields were the only other form of magecraft he could utilize effectively.
As the sigil on the door was completed, hundreds of thin, wire-like bounded fields connected the two blades, creating a condensed, multi-layer wall of mana. Each field was given a simple purpose: resist foreign objects. If the door tried to push itself into the field, it would be repelled, a simple but effective property.
Upon completion, a violent bang echoed from the door as something impacted the other side. A large dent had formed in the middle, but the forming blades and the bounded field were holding firm - for now. Smirking to himself over the minor victory, Shirou allowed the blade in his hand to disappear before looking over the area.
It was dark, especially since this area had no windows to speak of. Even so, Shirou could still pull off a decent assessment. This was the back of the warehouse, indicated by the featureless walls and storage area appearance. To his left was a small recession which held shelves full of supplies, as well as a metal staircase up to the second level where pallid streams of moonlight could be seen. Straight ahead was another metal door similar in appearance to the door he had just come through. If he had to make an educated guess, the ground level door would lead to the warehouse floor. Another loud noise from the door behind him pressured a decision.
Not wishing to put himself out in the open again, Shirou elected to take the stairs two steps at a time. Taking a right further into the building, Shirou realized that this path connected to a series of catwalks suspended above the main warehouse floor. The catwalks spanned the entire circumference of the building with walkways connecting the two sides every twenty-five feet. With the large windows overhead allowing the light of the moon to shine through, this area of the warehouse was decently illuminated. Not that it gave the appearance of day, but it certainly was far from pitch black.
Peering over the edge of the walkway, Shirou spotted innumerable shipping containers in an array of basic colours. The scent of stale saltwater and heavy oils wafted up to assail his nose. Each step further into the building sent the sharp rasp of metal flooring echoing through the building. It had almost obscured the sound of a door being forcefully bashed open. The noise, coupled with the subtle sense of a weight being removed from his shoulders, revealed that his barricade had been broken. So long as Shirou forced this fight into a one-on-one, he could defend himself well enough to survive at least. Calling up the well-used sword from his mind, he projected one into his waiting hand and began altering a handful of others to use silver as the main material of composition. Turning one-eighty to begin backpedalling, the blond wolf appeared almost on cue. Unexpectedly, the black werewolf neglected to make her appearance behind him. Perhaps she had gone to attack from the ground floor? A noise from below confirmed Shirou's suspicions. They were still trying to strike from two sides, even on such a narrow walkway.
Focusing on one issue at a time, Shirou hefted his blade into position, rapidly realizing that this narrow pass also limited his own combat potential as well. He wouldn't be able to fully swing without contacting the handrails. But would he need a sword? Cutting weapons seemed ineffective, but would the werewolf be able to resist internal damage as easily?
Like a train switching rails, Shirou near-instantly abandoned the sword in his hands for a pair of Bazett's gloves. The rough clatter of steel as the wolf rapidly moved across the catwalk became a cacophony as it bounced around the warehouse and overlapped its own echo. With each running step, the monster's claws shredded the metal grating below, forcing the material aside in search of traction. This left the floor behind him a shear-sharpened mess of twisted metal strips. Considering how large the animal was, the catwalk was a marvel of engineering to support such a weight.
As the werewolf neared, it reared up onto its hind legs and began swinging carelessly. Adopting his own half-baked tactic tested only against Bazett, Shirou was astonished to find it was actually effective. Every time he lowered his guard, the wolf tried to capitalize on the perceived mistake. Each time, Shirou flawlessly intercepted the strike and either dodged or parried where allowable. Until he could be sure he wouldn't be caught off guard, he would stick to the defensive and slowly learn the beast's technique. Since he was using his fists rather than a blade, Shirou had to be careful not to gouge himself on the claws while he tried to parry strikes.
Bazett's suit was holding up against the beast's claws as well as could be expected. Shirou had to constantly regenerate the damaged material after each parried blow which was progressively draining his mana reserves. Following a dozen failed strikes from both claws and jaws, Shirou decided he had learned enough to feel confident in setting up his own offensive. At the same time, the werewolf grew tired of the futile stalemate as well. The beast stood tall, sucking in a deep breath to produce an ear-splitting howl. His eyes were locked onto Shirou for the duration and as the sound continued, a sudden surge of weakness washed over the boy. In fact, he could actually sense that his suit and gloves were losing their magical ability. Not only that, but their rate of decomposition had accelerated tenfold.
Before his very eyes, each projection began to release sporadic golden sparks which drifted up into the atmosphere. A hasty tracing revealed that the items had a few seconds before they would vanish entirely. "Mystic Eyes of Cancellation!" the beast howled in what Shirou could only guess was laughter. Grimacing, awareness of the new situation settled in. His weapons and outfits, the only things protecting him from those wicked claws, would fade away just seconds after being created. Going head-to-head against the werewolf with swords wasn't going to be enough anymore.
That didn't stop the projected silver blades from firing forward into the beast's wide-open chest. Due to Shirou's inability to adjust velocity after the initial creation period, they weren't directed anywhere specific. One impaled itself off to the side of his abdomen while the other skewered his left hind leg. What had been a mighty howl, turned into a yelp of intense pain.
As the silver weaponry pierced skin, the scent of burning fur and boiling blood near-instantaneously filled the warehouse. Stumbling backwards, the werewolf fell over onto the jagged metal grating he had left behind during his rapid approach. The pre-weakened material buckled under the sudden impact, collapsing under his weight. With flailing arms, the werewolf caught onto the guide wire supporting the catwalk. With a loud twang, the steel cabling snapped effortlessly but his claws did not stop there. Like a hot knife through butter, the beast cleaved through the metal handrail as well, separating the catwalk into two halves.
With a groan, the entire section Shirou was standing on lurched. Unbalanced, Shirou stumbled forward. He had to get off now, otherwise, he'd fall down onto the ground floor with both wolves!
The catwalk had different ideas, however. The steel cable behind him snapped from having to support the additional load. Unable to move, the floor beneath him gave way and the darkness below rapidly approached his face. Shutting his eyes, Shirou diverted his mana toward maintaining Bazett's rapidly vanishing suit and reinforcing his body to prepare for the impact.
The screeching groan of metal preceded the clamour of crashing steel. Opening his eyes, he found himself rapidly approaching the edge of a shipping container. Unable to defend himself in time, his head roughly smashed against the metal surface. Stars and black spots clouded his vision and his entire body went limp from the jarring cranial injury. Collapsing off one side, he landed on a heap of metal with a grisly noise. With his head reeling, Shirou couldn't even so much as lift his head from the pile of scrap he landed in. Struggling to breathe, the edges of his vision rapidly came to a point as unconsciousness took over.
… … …
"You want us to stay here while Shirou's out there fighting?" Illya shouted, throwing her arms out from her side haughtily. How could Kiritsugu just abandon him like this? She had half a mind to weave around him and race out the door, but a hand on the collar of her dress shattered the forming plan.
"I know what you're feeling kiddo, but your dad is right." It was Bazett, her voice cold and distant. Illya turned her head to look up to the Irish woman so that she could defy her as well, but after seeing her face, words became impossible. The stern expression reigned in Illya's emotions. "Shirou's gone off and we've got no idea where he could be. If any of us go looking for him, we'd cause more bad than good."
The two adults shared a look, nodding to one another. "Our only option is to wait, lest we set off an unfortunate chain reaction." Bending down seemed difficult, but the old man dropped to her level, running his hand along her head comfortingly. "Shirou will be fine, he's been training for a moment like this all his life. You just need to believe that he'll pull through, sweetheart." He offered a genuine smile. It was something she hadn't seen for years and her mind flashed back to Germany.
Her eyes grew hot as tears began to well up, but before she could even begin crying, the orange gem on her ring exploded with the sound of glass. Everyone paused to look at their respective rings, realizing that two of the colours were now missing. Now Shirou and Sakura were sending the distress call.
What were they to do now?
… … …
A flash of searing pain forced his eyes open. Shirou gasped as agony coursed through his body. There was an intense pounding in his head which pulsed to the beat of his heart. It was visibly disturbing his sense of sight as rims of black began fading in and out in tune with the pain. Severe nausea and ringing in his ears weren't a good sign either. It was a concussion, no doubt. Shirou was surprised he had actually woken up from an injury this severe.
His head wasn't the only part of his body that hurt. His back felt like he had slept on a pile of junk for hours and hot, continuous aching came from his leg. Blearily looking down at the limb chilled Shirou to the bone. Sections of the metal flooring had been torn apart in the collapse of the catwalk, meaning long sharpened strips of one-inch wide metal were jutting out from the pile Shirou landed on in every direction. His weight had impaled three awkwardly angled pieces in his lower left leg. The pierce appeared clean at least, with a tight fit around the material preventing major blood loss. Then again, that might have been Avalon's doing.
Avalon did nothing for the pain, however. The shear-sharpened ends had torn up the flesh inside and every minimal motion sent stabbing pains through his form. With a groan, Shirou instinctively reached down to the injured limb. Stretching his body revealed just how damaged he was.
His landing in the pile of twisted scrap had jabbed sharpened bits of metal into his back and most of his body. Multiple lacerations had made the mere act of bending forward a painful endeavour. Avalon was doing its best to knit these wounds sealed, prioritizing them over the impalement as the relic was wise enough not to completely heal wounds with foreign objects inside of them.
To make matters worse: Bazett's suit had vanished and left him in his normal clothes - what was left of them. One of his most important defensive elements had been lost and so long as the blond wolf remained, he wouldn't be able to project anything without having it removed in short order.
Gritting his teeth, Shirou tried to locate his enemies, finding that the blond wolf was still out cold for now. A dozen feet away, the beast's chest heaved slowly underneath a portion of the catwalk he had brought down. As a holdout, Shirou prepared silver coated blades within his mind. Should the black werewolf appear, he wouldn't go down without a fight.
A loud crash from further in revealed that the rest of the catwalk was still collapsing onto the main floor. A screeching noise preceded a building-quaking boom. If Shirou had to guess, a shipping container had been toppled as well. The resulting shock actually carried through the steel in his leg and sent pangs of pain up his body.
There was no easy way to get out of this, and he would have to do something if he wanted to save Sakura. Carefully stretching to wrap one hand around his ankle, Shirou closed his eyes and took several, shaking breaths to prepare himself. Counting down from three in his mind, he roughly yanked up on the injured leg. The blood surrounding the wound had congealed and has already scabbed with Avalon's advancements which meant the entry and exit wounds tore rather than slid along the metal piece.
Through a cry of pain, Shirou's leg had been removed from its stuck place. With the foreign object removed, Avalon got to work with sealing the gaping holes. They would bleed for a few minutes, but the blood loss wasn't enough to be of major concern - yet.
With incredible difficulty, Shirou grabbed onto the various pieces of rubble around him to assist in standing. Through small noises of pain and some careful motions, he managed to upright himself, favouring his damaged leg as it slowly sealed itself. As he stood, shards of crystal dropped to his feet from beneath his shirt. Putting one and one together, Shirou realized that the signal gem must have broken in the fall. The sound of clattering metal and a low rumbling from his side dragged Shirou's attention away. The blond wolf was stirring, lifting the piece of catwalk from its body and standing with significantly less difficulty than Shirou.
Unlike the boy, the werewolf wasn't wounded in the slightest. Sure a piece of metal impaled his shoulder, but by the way he was moving, it hardly seemed to bother him. With one clawed hand, the beast gripped the foreign object and slowly slid it from his body. Faster than Avalon could even dream of being, the gaping hole knit itself closed. The only reminder that an injury had ever existed was the odd, hairless, goose-like pink flesh over where the wound had been.
The two opponents shared a look, sizing one another up and trying to determine if it was worth fighting in a pile of scrap. Shirou decided for them, limping sideways toward where he believed an exit would lie. The werewolf followed, but this time they were at a distance, likely cautious of more flying swords.
Every stumbling step sent jarring pain through his body as he was forced to put pressure on his injured leg. Even breathing caused intense agony, wounds on his back and a pounding headache both insisting that he stop and rest, but he couldn't. If he stopped moving, he'd die to one of these werewolves. Speaking of werewolves, where had the woman gone off to? A rapid clatter of metal from around the corner clued Shirou in. She had backed off to avoid being injured and now she was coming in to assist. Rounding the corner, the black beast came into view.
Shirou wasted no time forming and firing off silver blades. As the first one actualized, the female seemed to realize the threat and backed off to join her counterpart. As line of sight was opened up between the male wolf and Shirou, his projected blades began fading away. Those mystic eyes of his were insufferable. If he had such a powerful ability, what kind of power did the woman have?
Launching his crumbling blades haphazardly, Shirou continued to stumble along the twisted path alongside shipping containers. Eventually, he reached the side wall and a brief look over his shoulder confirmed that a door outside sat behind him some twenty feet away.
By the time he got onto the second dozen batch of silver swords, Shirou could sense his mana reserves running light. If he lowered the quality of his projections and decreased the amount of silver to a thin coating, he would be able to project a dozen more but then he would be totally spent.
It seemed that the black wolf realized this fact, as she was pressuring him to use more blades than before. Shirou safely assumed that to be the ability of her Mystic Eyes: A sort of detection-type power that could see the magical condition of a magus at a mere glance. While he couldn't be sure, it sure seemed like she knew how desperate he was getting.
Close to the door, Shirou stumbled and fell backwards onto the cold steel. As the pain from such an impact on fresh wounds came through, Shirou reflexively bit his lip to silence his screams. His hip pushed the bar enough to open the door and all at once his weight came crashing onto the concrete outside. With a cry of pain, Shirou awkwardly closed the door with his good leg and projected two shoddy-looking blades like he had at the other door. He managed to string a few bounded fields between the weapons, but not nearly as many as he wanted.
A loud bang sounded from the other side and a hole was nearly punched through the center. From the impact alone, most of the bounded fields shattered. Another impact like that would blow the entrance open.
Deciding to establish an ambush as a last-ditch effort, Shirou shuffled away on his back along the cold concrete, projecting several silver weapons above his shoulders. As he further strained his circuits, steam began to whisper off his hot body. Shirou had already made a plan: When that door opened, he would fire the few swords he could make through. He would need to kill the wolves before they could pay him the same favour.
As he was mentally preparing his weapons however, someone grabbed on by the collar of his shirt and roughly pulled him backward. Trying to look up at his saviour, his eyes met someone he had never seen before. She was cute in the same way that some would consider Illya cute: a petite frame and young, childish face. She must have been stuck in nostalgia or still living out a childish dream because she wore a flamboyant dress in bubblegum pink. If Shirou could best describe her simply, she looked like a young girl pretending to be princess. Her appearance didn't correlate to her strength as she was able to drag Shirou along the ground with one hand.
Her face was scrunched up aggravation and she suddenly launched into a mumbling aside. "Late to Fuy- this town, late to find the kid and late to the fight as well. When am I ever going to get my scheduling together?" she questioned, giving her head a slow shake.
Shirou was more confused than ever before in his life. Who was this woman, why was she here and why did she seem to know him? Swallowing thickly, he tried to stop her with a trembling tone. "Hey, it's dangerous here, you have to leave! There ar-"
She laughed noisily, cutting him off. "You want me to leave? Are you going to cover my escape like some darling hero?" The woman snorted, then laughed coldly before rudely dropping him on the ground. She stepped around him and faced the door as it blew open. Two different coloured werewolves leaped out, snarling madly before spotting the new petite opponent.
The male wolf pushed past the smaller one, standing tall to peer down at the girl. Shirou could see the gaping holes that his silver blades had made. Blood gently oozed from the edge, dripping onto the beast's thick fur. The edges almost looked charred while the inside flesh still bled deep crimson. "Look sister, the homunculus girl has come to the boy's rescue." Shirou couldn't move past the word sister. So these two werewolves were related, likely part of the same pack. Now the similarities between them made sense.
"Huh?" the woman asked, looking at the werewolves in confusion before glancing between them and Shirou himself. Rolling her eyes and sighing, the princess placed both gloved hands on her hips. "I'm not here to save him, and I'm definitely not a homunculus." Slowly, she pointed up to her eyes - which were green as could be - before resuming her pompous stance.
"Either way, you've seen too much." The woman finally spoke for the first time. "Just close your eyes and we'll make it quick."
The princess laughed jauntily, holding onto her stomach. "While I could take you both on with my eyes closed, I'd like to watch this fight." Shirou couldn't see the woman's face, but he imagined she was smiling. The two werewolves shared a look then suddenly broke into choppy chuckles.
"What can you, a simple human, do to us?"
The princess reached up beneath her blonde hair to withdraw two, small, green and silver earrings. They were teardrop shaped, roughly the size of a leaf. A simple trace revealed them to be conceptual weapons. "Enforcers are capable of quite a lot, you know," she stated, moving one earring to each hand. As the word "enforcer" reached their canine ears, both werewolves stiffened.
Hesitating no longer, the werewolves lunged forward with feral snarling. The princess raised one arm, bright blue light flashing from the palm. "Hafask lind fyrir!" The woman spoke a language Shirou had never heard before. At her behest, an ephemeral blue shield slammed onto the ground a short distance ahead of her. The werewolves, with the momentum of their run making them unable to stop, slid along the concrete and bashed into the unmoving surface with a reverberating gong.
Turning her palm over, the mana from her body channelled itself into her conceptual earrings. Before Shirou's very eyes, the earrings elongated and expanded tenfold to become short, heavy blades. Their appearance was unlike any conventional weapon Shirou had ever seen. The blade edges were in gleaming polished silver, with the main construction of the weapons being an enamelled green. They were wickedly curved to the point of weakness, but Shirou could tell they wouldn't break by any normal means. They were short but thin weapons with thicker portions near the hilt. They featured knuckle guards and intricately crafted crossguards made to the likeness of a bird of prey with the beak and wingtips acting as blade catches. Shirou immediately committed the blades to memory. Oddly enough, it felt as if they were recorded somewhere else without any interaction on his part. Those blades were edged with silver, they were the perfect weapons for fighting werewolves.
The shield the woman had deployed vanished and the werewolves clumsily stumbled forward as the stationary wall left. Two sets of beastly eyes locked onto the woman before their bodies stiffened at the sight of the swords. The princess made a haughty noise. "It's a good thing I was the one chosen to come collect this bounty. Anyone else might have had trouble with beasts like you."
The blond wolf snorted, then snapped forward with pure rage. Watching the fight as Shirou crawled backwards on the ground, he could see that the enforcer wasn't overstating her abilities. The clawed hand of the werewolf was poised to take her head clean off. Using her petite size to her advantage, the woman ducked under the attack and quickly slashed the backside of his arm, eliciting a howl and the scent of burning fur.
Angry with how he had been injured once more, the wolf launched into a flurry of rampaging swings and strikes that tore up the ground below with screeching noises. Nothing seemed to land however, as the beast's claws were either parried by the silver blades or the petite woman simply dodged the attack entirely. She was obviously a skilled swordswoman to battle a werewolf without so much as a scratch.
Unfortunately, her attention could only be spread so far. Behind the battling pair, the black wolf darted off to the left, toward Shirou. Without a single word being said, Shirou could determine what they had planned. While he held off the enforcer, the female werewolf would take Shirou away so they still had a line to the Magus Killer. Pawing around in the dark, she was almost invisible. The only detail Shirou could decipher in the darkness were yellowed ivory claws and the reflective gleam of predatory eyes. The scent of salt water had mingled with wet dog and hot breath, a disgusting conglomeration of conflicting scents that made Shirou nauseous.
The wolf grew near and he desperately tried to defend himself by kicking her in the face. Silver blades formed over his shoulders, but a brutal backhand threw the blueprints from his mind. With his concentration and coherency shattered, the silver blades faded away before they were fully projected and his already half-spirited attempts at kicking her away ended. With no sense of delicacy, the werewolf bent down and clamped her jaws onto his already wounded leg, teeth sinking into the still healing holes.
The pain was unbearable and Shirou couldn't help by cry out even in his dazed state. Without being gentle in the slightest, the werewolf yanked him along the cold concrete and away from the fight. His vision suddenly inverted as he was yanked upwards by his leg.
"Don't think so!" came a shrill voice from behind. Shirou couldn't really see properly with everything being star-speckled and upside down, but he knew by the pitch of voice that the enforcer had caught onto the werewolves' plan. There was a half-muffled yelp of pain and suddenly Shirou was falling. The last thing he remembered was the sound of grinding metal as his head collided with the concrete.
… … …
Sakura's eyes fluttered open, and she slowly lifted herself off the cold ground. She had been asleep for a while if the nagging desire deep within her was any indication. She had been walking home when those strangers ambushed her and put her to sleep somehow. Now she was in some dark-looking building with tin walls. It was obviously an industrial building of some sort, further reinforced by the appearance of large boxes of chemicals and various industrial implements she couldn't name.
Just as she finished standing, the building spontaneously exploded. Not with a blast, but by some large shape tearing through the opposite side. The object was a mix of yellow and red, but it had only been in front of her for the briefest flash of a second. With a shocked noise, Sakura tucked herself up against the far wall in fright, trying to be as small as possible. There was silence for a moment, then the air was filled with the clamorous clanging of blades along with an odd growling noise.
When nothing new happened to further scare her, Sakura took a few cautious steps forward. Nearing the destroyed part of the building. The girl poked her head out so she could peek out of the shed to the left and right. On the right was a strange pile of yellow fur splattered with blood. It didn't seem to be moving but it was dark, so Sakura couldn't be sure. Looking off to the left, she spotted an ongoing battle between two people.
Well, she imagined there were two people there anyway. She could easily see the small woman in pink with two blades dancing around the ground, but whoever she was fighting was nearly invisible. Only after squinting did she spot small flashes of white being slashed wildly in unpredictable directions.
She looked over the area once more, making sure it was safe before trying to figure out how to escape from this place. Although, on her second look, something white and orange caught her attention. It was Shirou and he was lying on the ground!
She wanted to call out his name to see if he was alright, but with his proximity to the battle currently taking place that might do more bad than good. She took a few steps out of what remained of the shed, stepping onto the bits of metal walling and burst chemical boxes. The scent of industrial-quality cleaner stung her nose and made her a little lightheaded, but she was able to get by without much problem. Stepping onto the concrete, a shifting from behind froze her in place. A deep, rumbling growl drained the blood from her face and with uncertainty, the girl turned to face the noise.
The yellow mass from before had shifted and stood, rising to reveal its true status as a real-life werewolf. Like a deer in headlights, the violet-haired girl stood there trembling. Even as the beast strode toward her and wrapped its powerful hand around her torso, she couldn't get her body to budge. She could feel the tips of its claws cutting into her soft skin, forcing small noises of pain from her lips.
With a mighty bark toward the two locked in battle, the beast actually began speaking English. "Let us take the boy and go or else we'll kill the girl." It was a man if his voice was any indication. It was a deep, grumbling rasp and he was struggling to get oxygen by the rate of his breathing. Sakura could tell that the tone behind his voice was more of the bargaining nature.
The halting of metal clanging meant the woman in pink had stopped her battle but Sakura couldn't tear her eyes off the monster ahead of her. "Who do you think I am? I'm an enforcer, not some hero. Kill her if you want, it matters little to me because you'll both die here tonight!" she shouted, a dog-like yelp of pain signifying that her statement must have been rather truthful. So there were two werewolves here. The other must have been black for Sakura to have been unable to see it.
Growling, the blond wolf looked directly at Sakura, fingers squeezing tighter as he seemed to debate something in his mind. There was a second where Sakura thought she would die. Being crushed wasn't really her preferred way to go, but it certainly seemed like that was how things would end up. Images of Shirou and Rin flickered behind her eyes. She hadn't said goodbye, she had never admitted her feelings or tried to connect with her sister. It was over, but what could she do?
"You let her go you bastard!" came an angry shout from the side. It was so attention-grabbing that the werewolf himself turned to look. Which might have been a mistake, as a green and silver blade pierced the beast's arm.
The scent of burning fur stung her nose before the sound of a pained howl ever reached her ears. In the same moment, she began falling towards the cold, hard ground. Her body tensed and both eyes closed in preparation but her landing was much softer than expected. She felt warm arms around her, and heat from someone's body was pouring onto her. Opening her eyes, she spotted Shirou with a determined glare.
… … …
His entire skull was screaming in pain, every heartbeat sending pulses of black in from the edges of his vision. His leg was beyond crippled at this point, and since he was bitten by that werewolf, he was likely infected with their curse. None of that really stung too hard on Shirou's mind. What really gnawed on him was the fact that he was useless. He couldn't take on the freelancers and he wouldn't be able to defend himself from the enforcer after she was done. She would torture him until he gave up Kiritsugu and everything he had worked towards would fall apart like a house of cards from there.
He was actually considering giving up. To just close his eyes and let the sense of fatigue consume him. It would certainly be easier than trying to keep them open. Absently, he watched the male werewolf get launched from the fight by a blast of energy. Apparently, the princess disliked dealing with a two-on-one so she had removed him from the fight for a while.
Expecting the wolf to stand up and re-engage in a moments notice, Shirou was surprised when nothing stirred. Maybe that attack had finally put the wolf down. Shirou laid his head onto the concrete, strength across his body fading and eyes closing of their own volition. Even in his dreary, half-conscious state, he was able to see something violet appear in the night.
The colour alone snapped his eyes open. Only two people he knew wore colours like that and only one of those had it for their hair. It was Sakura, she had been deposited in that shed by the wolves. She had been right under his nose the entire time.
He reached out, but the strain of moving his arm sent his head reeling and dark spots clouded his vision. His head fell to rest on the cool pavement while he tried to capture his breath and force the pain away. When he eventually looked back up, she was clutched in the wolf's paw, being handled like some sort of doll. His ears had heard the exchange, but his mind couldn't comprehend the words. The only thing he could focus on was the building rage.
Sakura was in trouble, he had to save her but with his body in such a knackered state how could he?
Then something flashed in his mind. The pain from his headache was nothing to the indescribable flash that coursed through his entire body. All at once, the monotonous clanging of forging steel pulsed in his ears. The sensation was oddly familiar and it took him a second to place where he had felt it before. This same feeling had hit him only a few nights ago when he had gone off to hunt the serial killer.
The sound of crackling flame accompanied this monotonous forging clamour, beginning as a barely perceivable noise but rapidly growing to an inferno-like howl. Before Shirou could even consider what it meant, words came to his mouth. As he spoke, the clouds in his mind faded away.
"I am the bone of my sword."
Like a wall had been lifted, memories of the night he reached Illya flooded back to him. He had said the exact same phrase then, but he was too full of rage to remember it clearly. It had given him power beyond his capabilities; it had also turned him into a monster. Every vivid detail of the killer's death replayed in his mind and a sickness stirred in his stomach.
Shirou opened his mouth to scream as an unbearable pain shot through his leg, but his body shut off his vocal cords before a noise could be made. Sparing a glance down at the source, Shirou paled at the sight of blades. The entire portion of his leg that had been impaled and bitten became a patchwork mess of overlapping, scale-like metal sheets.
As if reminding himself of his true objective, Sakura's face flashed into his mind. His body began moving of its own accord, standing upright through the searing agony. Each motion of his blade-laden leg sent the pain of a thousand cuts up into his brain. Even with the pain, he still began to run forward, mind pulling the enforcer's blade from somewhere deep within. With a splash of blue sparks, a sword was projected in an instant over his shoulder, already firing toward its target as Shirou mindlessly shouted the first thing that came to mind.
"You let her go you bastard!" He wanted the blade to strike the werewolf's wrist so that he would release Sakura. As if reading his mind, his projected blade changed directions while flying through the air to strike precisely where Shirou had desired. The male werewolf howled, released his captive and backed away to withdraw the offending blade. In that time, Shirou had moved underneath the beast's paw, placing himself to catch Sakura before she could impact the ground.
The two shared a glance of acknowledgement before the Emiya set the Matou on the ground and instructed her to run as fast as she could. The girl hesitated, but ultimately complied and took off toward the entrance of the compound. The shink of a withdrawn blade sounded from his side and a rumbling growl soon followed. With nothing more than a turn of his head, blades appeared and fired toward the werewolf. The rate of creation and velocity of the blades was too great for the beast's Mystic Eyes of Cancellation to have any major effect.
The blades of the enforcer were formed by the handful. The first volley of weapons were easily swatted away, the inhuman speed and strength of the beast meant he was able to successfully repel each weapon. It didn't come without consequence, however, as each deflection cost the beast his claws. Every claw was either chipped or sheared off entirely. The sheer velocity coupled with the werewolf's innate weakness made his claws about as durable as dead wood.
The beast, in its attempt at preserving its life, blocked the next volley with its arm, snarling and growling as blades impaled the limb and stuck in place. One blade managed to sneak through his defence, and two more before the werewolf decided that an outright offensive rush was the best course of action. Forgoing all attempts at defending himself, the wolf lunged forward, taking a sword to the shoulder which did little to slow his movements.
Growing near, Shirou gave a look of steely determination, opening both hands to wield two green and silver blades just like the enforcer herself. Something felt right about using two swords at once. Almost as if he was born to use blades in this configuration.
With each hand gripping the finely crafted hilts of his new weapons, the information about their original owner's technique streamed into his head. Calling her style wild would be an understatement. Many of her moves capitalized on her small stature to confuse and dance around the enemy all while aiming at making small lacerations that added up over time. Her technique explained the countless scars lining the blond wolf's body at least.
Swords impaled the monster's now defenceless body freely, striking at vital points on the body which would rapidly ensure his death - the kidneys, the lungs, the heart. With what remained of his arm, the wolf prevented a sword to the throat and in the same motion, swung at Shirou.
The red-headed boy had wanted his enemy to drop before getting close so that he wouldn't have to move, but it looked like what he wanted and what he got were two different things. The werewolf launched into a desperate flurry of swings as he got within range. Unable to concentrate enough to form projectiles, Shirou was forced into his self-made tactic, abusing the enemy's assumptions regarding his undefended areas against them. Each missed strike landed in the concrete below, flinging pebbles of crushed stone into the air.
With more confidence than his earlier encounter, Shirou actually began attacking between his parries. No longer was the battle a one-sided defence on his part, but a true battle that made his heart race and muscles quiver. It wasn't out of something so heinous as bloodthirst, but nervousness and something akin to anticipation.
Because there was a chance the enemy might see through his technique and capitalize on it, he was nervous. Because he was growing ever closer to his goal of experiencing what the old man had the day of the Great Fire, he felt anticipation. He hadn't saved anyone yet though. As long as the wolf was alive, Sakura was in danger. In order to rescue her fully, this dog needed to be put down.
The silver blade in his hand sparked as it was ground against the sharpened claws of the werewolf. The good arm of the wolf locked against his blades and the two tried to out-muscle one another. With the lull in combat, Shirou was able to stare the beast dead in the eyes. "Nobody threatens my friends," he growled with heartless anger. The tone was enough to send a shiver down his own back. Never before had he heard his own voice speak in such a cold manner. The beast's eyes widened, not because of the Shirou's voice, but the silver sword impaled in his throat. With one arm mostly debilitated and the other locked against a blade, the beast was unable to defend against a projectile.
He made a gurgling noise as blood flowed freely into his lungs. His last good hand moved to remove the blade, but before he could, Shirou skewered it with the blade in his hand and yanked forward with all the might his body could muster.
The sudden imbalance coupled with the surprise of pain sent the beast toppling forward. Continuing to pull, Shirou watched the monster slam onto his face, jamming the silver blade deeper into his neck. The force might have broken the monster's spine, but Shirou couldn't bother checking. Allowing the embedded blade to dematerialize, he stumbled toward the ongoing fight behind him to finish the freelancers once and for all.
Running a self-check, Shirou was surprised to find his mana levels above empty. He had been using projections and bounded field magecraft so freely that his reserves should have been bone dry. The only logical reason was that his projections were costing less to produce. Comparing the most recent results to the scan he made earlier revealed he has used surprisingly little mana in the creation of all those blades. In fact, the drain had been one-hundredth of what was normally required.
Right now he wasn't concerned with why. That was something to consider later. For now, Shirou would push himself until his body refused to move. With slight hesitation due to fear of what he might see, Shirou spared a glance toward his leg, which had been progressively growing in agony since he had first stood. The sight that met his eyes terrified him to no end. It had been no more than five minutes since he had been lying on the ground, but the lattice-like sword flesh had grown up to his knee and down to his ankle. In fact, twisting his foot - as painful and difficult as it was - produced an ear-rending shriek as the dozens of metal plates ground against one another.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of cold air to calm himself, Shirou tried to purge the image from his mind as he lifted his head. With his eyes still closed, he was greeted to a strange scene: An endless field of green grass. In every direction, the land seemed to stretch on for eternity. Above, the sky was coloured with the beautiful shades of a sunset. Oranges, purples and reds offering a sense of tranquillity. Oddly enough, he could see himself in this scene. Looking down with his eyes closed revealed his body as it was in reality. Opening his eyes and sucking in another cold breath, the grass beneath him was replaced with concrete.
Was that some sort of dream? Or had he just bashed his head a little too hard this time around? Only now, without the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears, did the pounding noise of a forge return. Thinking back, it had always been in his ear, he had just grown accustomed to it, or he had tuned it out with his attention diverted elsewhere.
More words came to mind, threatening to spill out of his lips. Shirou had listened to his brain once and look at what it had done to him. If he spoke more of whatever spell he was coming upon, who was to say his entire body wouldn't become steel?
Giving his head a rough shake, Shirou looked ahead to find the enforcer currently wrapped around the werewolf on their back, stabbing one of her blades into its spine repeatedly as the monster flailed to throw her off. Eventually, the wolf slammed back-first into the nearby building, crushing the enforcer between the two surfaces.
Shirou moved forward, aiming to join the fight but all he managed was to stumble onto the wall of another building as a wave of nausea swept over him. His body wanted to vomit and the world span like a dreidel on Hanukkah. The shock of striking the wall made a searing pain known on his right arm. Looking down, he spotted another patch of sword skin in the shape of long, jagged lines. Piecing things together, Shirou reasoned that the blond wolf had caught him sometime during their battle. The condition of his own body shocked him, but there was no sense crying over spilt blood. He still had to deal with his two remaining combatants.
Each step forward was accompanied by the screech of metal. There would be no chance of sneaking up on the two in his current state, but would he even need to? A half-dozen copies of the enforcer's sword materialized over his shoulders with a whisper of blue sparks. Like autonomous missiles, Shirou relayed points he wished each blade to strike on the body of the black wolf and coordinates streamed to fill in the blanks.
It seemed that speaking those words changed something fundamentally within him. With his mind somewhat clear, Shirou could actually feel the swords he projected being pulled from somewhere deep within his mind. They weren't being replicated through blueprints, it was almost like they originated from some sort of repository or armoury.
Each silver-edged blade howled as it shot forward through the night. With the werewolf's back toward the incoming projectiles, they were unable to defend themselves from the incoming attack. The first blade hit and the remainder followed in quick succession as the beast started to howl in pain.
It was a very short howl at least. From the pain, the wolf stumbled forward and threw their head back. The enforcer capitalized on this movement by leaping up and slashing her blade across the monster's neck. Just like her brother, the werewolf immediately began choking on their own blood. Unlike the other werewolf, this seemed to infuriate the beast even further. Like the ravenous animal it was, the werewolf put everything that it had left into injuring the enforcer.
Not expecting such a redoubled force, it actually worked partly. The enforcer had taken on a large gash down her leg in the midst of her dancing around the wild, uncoordinated attacks. From where Shirou was standing, he could see the wolf was running out of steam. Its attacks were progressively getting sluggish and feeble. Eventually, it reached the point where the enforcer could bat away the beast's arms with the back of her hand.
Then with a thump, the werewolf collapsed dead on the concrete. Without the sound of battling blades - or swords and claws for that matter - an eerie silence descended over the harbour. Or it would have anyway, if not for the endless noises of clanging metal continually pounding in Shirou's ears.
The enforcer gave him a glare as she approached. Her outfit had been stained in blood. No longer was she wearing the pristine dressings of a princess. Now she was some sort of twisted battle maiden bathed in the blood of her enemies. What had once been white, was now an eerie crimson shade. Even her hair had been partly dyed with the fluid and a splatter slowly trailed down her cheek.
"You look different," was all she said, lifting a sword-bearing hand to her chin as if thinking. "You patch up all your wounds with swords? Pretty interesting technique but it seems effective."
Shirou shifted his weight and as if on cue, the grating noise of steel pierced the night. Giving himself a brief once over, he realized that the sword flesh had extended to reach just below his knee. Even though he was wearing clothing, the cutting edges of this "skin" make quick work of the fabric, making itself visible as it spread. It had actually extended beyond his ankle and torn apart his shoe, meaning he was walking on one bare foot.
For the first time since this all began, Shirou noticed his trembling hands. Whether it was from pain, fear or something else entirely, he couldn't tell at this point. He was used to pain, maybe it was fear? "Well," he coughed, looking back to the petite enforcer. "You know what they say about doing the best with what you have."
Both eyes of the enforcer were flickering between the latticed blade skin and the sight of her own weapons in his hands. She hummed, twirled both blades then took slow steps forward. "I'm going to guess from the dead wolf behind you and the fact you're still holding swords that you're not going to come quietly or give me any information."
Shirou's foot discreetly slid back along the concrete, silently preparing himself for combat. It would have been silent if it weren't for the blades expanding across his body. Instead, the bottom of his foot noisily ground across the concrete and made bright orange sparks. "Very observant of you."
The princess made a "hmph", twirling her blades at her sides while taking methodical steps forward. Shirou wanted to hurry this along, get everything over with so he could deactivate his magic circuits and stop the spread of sword flesh. Last time, it had barely gone below the surface of his skin. This time it had invaded much, much deeper. It was threatening to convert most of the flesh in his leg into blades and soon enough it would succeed.
Deciding that he had waited long enough, Shirou screeched forward. From the first move, he could tell that his foot was getting stiff. Moving the joint was becoming near impossible like he was trying to operate two sheets of metal rather than muscle and bones. The metal-on-metal grinding continued as two identical blades met and ground against one another. Bright orange sparks illuminated their determined faces. Appearances were obviously deceiving. Even though the enforcer was nearly a full foot shorter than Shirou, her strength was almost equal to his own. With the conversion of his right arm into patchwork blades and the full-body soreness from tonight's events, they were at the same level. What little she lacked in strength, she made up for in raw speed.
She was incredibly fast, Shirou was only able to keep his limbs due to his steadily growing suicidal technique. This technique also happened to be Shirou's only advantage in this battle. Since he knew her style and where her weapons would lead, he could pre-plan a string of attacks and actually get his own strikes in to put her on the defensive as well.
He was getting significantly better with interpreting other opponent's styles as well as developing his own fighting style. With each contact of their blades, Shirou's experience grew, growing increasingly confident with his fighting ability.
Sparks flew freely as the two combatants danced around one another. Shirou was only countering the woman's motions but she was spinning around him constantly, forcing him to make sparks with his foot as it skidded along the concrete. In the midst of his battle, searing hot pain began coursing through his entire body. Along with the sound of forging, a rhythmic screeching accompanied his heartbeat. Unable to stop his battle with the enforcer, he couldn't really trace himself, but something was definitely wrong.
Catching a point he could capitalize on, Shirou hooked his blade beneath the winged crossguard of his rival, snapping his arm upward with a twist to wrench the weapon out of her hand. With a whistling noise, the weapon was flung over his shoulder, landing somewhere behind him with a clatter.
The enforcer leapt back, looking over her hand for damages. When it was considered that this woman took on two fully grown werewolves alone, she was in remarkable shape. Only a few minor cuts and scraped in non-lethal areas dribbled blood. Shirou had been the first to leave a real mark: a grotesque gash which threatened to separate her thumb from her hand.
With some distance between them, Shirou gave himself a trace and discovered microscopic blades invading his bloodstream. They were lacerating him from the inside out, progressively killing him with each beat of his heart.
"You're pretty good. A lot more skilled than those wolves. Then again, with your father being who he is I suspect you were trained extensively." With the coordinated finesse of a fencer, the petite woman stood tall and flourished her remaining blade with one hand. "Unfortunately for you, swordsmanship isn't the only thing I'm good at."
As if on cue, the near-amputated thumb on her left hand knit itself back together with sinewy white threads, almost like spider silk. In fact, all of her wounds were being sealed by this material. Tracing the repaired wounds, Shirou found the material to be a mana-manipulated form of hair, just like Illya's Engel Note. Come to think of it, her hair was a few inches shorter than it had been earlier.
This wasn't good. Whatever magecraft he had enacted on himself was progressively killing him and this enforcer was more durable than she looked. The princess had obviously been holding out, only deciding to get serious when she encountered a fight that actually strained her abilities. She still seemed confident with her odds, however. Shirou would as well if he were fighting someone in his condition.
The old man had demonstrated that being underestimated was a good thing. Even though he could summon weapons and clothing again, if he tried to don Bazett's suit, it would be torn to shreds from his sword flesh. Trying to power torn clothing was like trying to get pressure in a hose with one end cut off. All his applied mana would leak out of the open threads. Kiritsugu's coat might work a little better, but it might also experience the same shredded fate. Shirou decided that clothing wasn't an option for now. Weapons were his only usable projections.
It was only a matter of deciding which weapon to use. Would he continue keeping things close range and pelt her with blades as he occupied her front? Or would he shift the battle to long range? A brilliant plan combining the two blossomed within his mind and he decided to act on it while they were separated.
One blade dematerialized into blue sparks and his now empty right hand snaked behind his back. A cylindrical canister formed in his open palm. This first part of his plan required concealment. A long while ago when Kiritsugu brought Shirou into his hidden armoury. The boy had traced more than just an anti-magic crossbow. Firearms of every classification, bullets and most importantly, grenades. With some degree of dextrous skill, Shirou pulled the pin and dropped the spoon of the grenade all in one hand.
The tinkle of metal behind him set the enforcer into action, but his grenade had already been dropped to his feet. Clattering to the concrete with a rather dense noise, Shirou had to shift some of his focus to repelling the single blade directed his way. After releasing his grenade, he had reformed the other sword so he could better defend himself, taking large steps back to put himself out of range of the smoke.
"Trying to make a getaway with some sneaky trick? Are you a coward like your father, too?" the enforcer taunted, readying a strike. Something deep in Shirou's mind told him this attack would be stronger than most, so instead of lining up his own retaliatory strike, he crossed both blades in an X and tucked both elbows to better absorb the force. As soon as their blades collided, a large explosion of mana threatened to blow the weapons from Shirou's hands. His arms shuddered in a vain attempt at containing the raw power behind the impact. Still reeling from the blow, Shirou didn't expect a fist to plant itself in his abdomen and send him sliding along the ground.
The strike held enough force to wind him entirely and rupture his intestines, forcing blood up into his throat and mouth. The searing pain that had been coursing through him for some time now stabbed at his entire respiratory system as miniature sword-laden blood flowed freely throughout. Skidding along the concrete, Shirou smirked to himself even as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The blades in his hand vanished, hands opening wide. "You're still standing? Jeez, you're tough. Why don't you just lie down and die?"
Like some sort of grenade dispensary, several already-fuming canisters formed around Shirou only to fire forward along the ground toward the enforcer. The canisters spread out through the general area, dispensing thick clouds of white smoke to cover most of the port. Shirou had only needed to activate one grenade before he could simply copy and project pre-activated canisters. As the first whiff of smoke struck her face, the enforcer took a deep breath and began coughing immediately as she tried to cover her face from the smoke. Kiritsugu was a very fond user of a specific smoke grenade. Brought out of commission in 1990, the AN-M8 produced smoke laden with zinc chloride, which became hydrochloric acid on contact with water. Humidity was high at the port, so the effect here would likely be incredibly pronounced.
The smoke rapidly obscured the woman and Shirou moved partly to the side - even with such intense pain running through every facet of his body, he still had a job to do. His own discomforts could wait. Unless he collapsed on the ground, he would put every effort into eliminating this threat.
And the enforcer was definitely still a threat. If Shirou didn't put this woman down here, right now, she would track down Sakura, or come straight to his house and hurt his friends. The image of Sakura in the clutches of that werewolf bolstered his resolve, and pistols found themselves forming in his hands. Shirou disliked using firearms, but he couldn't disregard their efficacy in what they were designed for: to kill.
In the dim moonlight, the beautiful engraving of "Maiya" could clearly be seen. Tracing complex devices like pistols and grenades drained his reserves heavily, but he would only need to project them this once. With the enforcer still struggling to escape the seemingly endless cloud of smoke, Shirou lifted the two firearms toward the cloud and began firing each pistol in an alternating pattern. Between the deafening noises of echoing gunshots and the steel forging, a cry of pain reached Shirou's ears. He must have hit her at least once, but he continued firing until both pistols made a loud click. Dropping the magazines with the push of a button, two more were projected in place and as the slide was released, he began firing another volley.
When this set of magazines was empty, Shirou stopped and dematerialized both weapons, allowing the enforcer's green blades to re-form in his grip while he repositioned himself once more. He couldn't see anything stirring within the smoke so maybe the enforcer had fallen to a bullet?
Shirou made a small gasp of pain. Every inch of his body inside and out was in intense agony. He felt light and reasonably guessed that he was verging on the edge of collapsing. His vision dimmed heavily, but with a painful shake of his head, it returned.
A gust of wind sent a large portion of the smoke away, clearing the field and leaving behind the sight of an injured woman leaning against the nearby wall of the warehouse. She was holding onto her stomach in pain even though there was no wound visible. Curious, Shirou traced her to find that he had shot her, she had simply healed over the bullet hole. The bullet itself was still lodged in her abdomen, foreign object likely causing her intense suffering.
Her hair was significantly shorter now. Although a little hair was a worthy sacrifice to prevent death to a bullet. She was holding another open hand over her face and a pale blue glow was emanating from the palm. As the smoke around her finally cleared, the woman lowered her hand and pushed off from the wall. "What the hell are you?"
Shirou thought that question over for some time, debating over what sort of interesting, witty thing he could say. After a second's pause, he spoke but his mind switched tracks in mid-sentence, so all he managed to get out was a stuttering, jumbled mess of his own name and his father's nickname. "The Shirou Killer." Even though his body was tearing itself apart, the embarrassment from his words seemed to hurt the most. His face scrunched up and his cheeks turned red as he ran his own words over in his mind.
"Good execution," the enforcer commented dryly.
As she neared, Shirou noticed that her now bright red eyes were streaming tears down her face and her nose seemed to be leaking clear fluid. Before he could gather any more useful data about her condition, he was forced to deflect a magically-enhanced sword. As the blade in his right hand contacted hers, an explosion of mana sent his own blade flinging from his hand. Thankfully, this wasn't a significant issue as he simply projected another blade to take the last one's place. Even though she had likely suffered injuries at the hands of both werewolves and Shirou himself, she hardly seemed the worse for wear. It was then he realized that she had likely been healing herself with her hair ever since the fight began.
As more blows were rained down onto him by the agile girl, Shirou rapidly realized that blocking her swords simply wasn't an option. If he wanted to reach her, he would have to do something unexpected to get under her blade. Even with a single blade, she was too fast for Shirou to feel comfortable in risking getting under her blade.
Or he could do something else entirely. As the blade in his right hand was blown away for the fifth time, Shirou projected a weapon to replace it, although, this time he had made a new blade. This wasn't a real sword, but a hollow shell he had extracted from an image of a sword. With the silver blade in his left hand, Shirou seamlessly deflected another attack only for the weapon to be expectedly flung from his grasp. Watching her movements and using her own technique stored in her weapons, Shirou could easily plan one move ahead. She would strike toward his right side now and his plan would come to fruition.
Like clockwork, the enforcer's single blade was swung toward Shirou's right weapon. At the briefest touch, the hollow sword shattered and the woman carried through into an off-balance state. She had been expecting some resistance as she had encountered time and time again. To have a blade act as if it were made of thin air threw her off and instantly put the fight into Shirou's favour.
Her abdomen was left wide open due to the overextension of her weapon. With her eyes going wide in realization, Shirou quickly thrust the still-forming silver blade into her stomach, making a grisly noise and eliciting a grunt of pain as the weapon entered one side and exited the other. Regardless of the amount of reinforcement she put her body through, it was nothing for such direct attacks. Her clothing wasn't enhanced, so it did little to stop the blades. Taking a shaking breath, Bazett's Irish-tinted words of wisdom came as a ghostly whisper to his ears, drowning out the clanging of a forge and his shrieking heartbeat.
"Don't stop fighting until your opponent is unconscious or dead."
Projecting another, shorter blade in his hand, Shirou used his free elbow to bend the woman over the weapon impaled in her abdomen. Spinning the blade in his hand, Shirou jammed the weapon into her back, forcing steel through her spine in one quick, merciless motion.
There was a sharp gasp and the clatter of steel while the enforcer's lower body failed her. She coughed, though whether that was from the two blades skewering her body or the residual effect of the smoke grenade was unclear. Weakly, her hand came up to grip his arm, trying to pull herself up and resume fighting even without a weapon or her lower half.
Shirou left the dagger impaled in her back, moving his hand slightly upward to project another which he stabbed into her cooling form. With two blades impaled in her spine, the woman couldn't mount much of a resistance. She collapsed further in Shirou's arms and the boy gently lowered her down to the ground. "Goddamnit," she cursed, sniffling noisily as she was settled on the concrete. "Taken down by some kid that creates swords, what a joke." Shirou didn't say a word, slouching over her form as the pain finally hit him at full force. The edges of his eyes were closing in and all the strength in his body left him as the adrenaline rapidly wore off.
Bazett's words reminded him once again, and he felt compelled to finish things once and for all. If this enforcer somehow escaped, she would go on and inform the Clock Tower, possibly alerting even the Einzberns as well. As much as Shirou hated to admit it, he had to kill her. He had to make sure there was no possibility of her escape.
A copy of her own blade formed itself in his hand, vision spotty and closing steadily with each passing second. Shirou collapsed on one knee, legs too weak to support him any longer. Every muscle in his body began to shut does one by one. Just holding the projected blade above his head felt like an insurmountable task.
Shirou looked down at his enemy, the fear and hatred in her eyes, the slight tremble of her body as it began to shut down from all the abuse it had gone through. Could he do this? Could he really kill another human being?
… … …
… … …
Sakura had run as she was instructed. She had gone straight toward someone who could help, none other than her wise sister. Stumbling through the iron front gate, Sakura sprinted up the walkway, lungs and throat burning from all the exertion she had put herself through.
The door opened before she actually reached it, the concerned figure of Rin standing in the doorway with the soft glow of light behind her. The Tohsaka called out her name first, bewilderment evident in her voice. "What are you doing here? What's wrong?" she asked at once, watching with confusion as Sakura paused to catch her breath.
"Senpai-harbor-werewolves-in trouble." The girl gasped, bending over and clutching at her neck as if it would ease the pain. Her body was heaving for oxygen. Unknown to either Rin or Shirou, Sakura was surprisingly fit for her age. Her only explanation for the feature was that the crest worms in her body were manipulating her in some way. Or maybe it was all the stairs she had to climb to get to and from the worm pit. The distance from her home to the harbour was still enough to test her stamina on a good day. Even if she wasn't naturally fit, the thought of Shirou being injured by her sluggishness was enough to send her sprinting the entire distance.
Her message was enough to get Rin on the right track. Seriousness spread across her face and the older girl began giving instructions immediately. "Go inside and call Kiritsugu to let him know what's going on." Without explaining anything else, the dark-haired girl moved out of the door and seemed prepared to run off just like that.
She would have too if Sakura hadn't caught her hand as she moved past. Turning around with a look of incredulity, the two sisters shared a look. Rin seemed to understand immediately and her face softened. "He'll be fine, Shirou's tougher than most. The only thing he'll have worry about is me after I save his dumb ass."
Sakura wanted to laugh, she really did, but with her exhausted state, she made a pained wheeze instead. Her hand loosened its grip on her sister and Rin took that as a signal to break away and run off. Sakura reached out to try and stop her, to tell her sister that it was more than just the werewolves, but it was too late - Rin wasn't going to waste time looking back.
Sakura remained outside for a few more seconds while her breathing marginally slowed. Stumbling into the Tohsaka manor, the girl still remembered to remove her shoes before heading toward the kitchen where she knew the phone would be.
Reaching the device, the Matou punched in the correct numbers and held the receiver to her ear. On the second ring, the other line opened up with a calm greeting, one which lacked an identifier for who she was speaking to.
Sakura swallowed heavily, trying not to pant directly into the receiver and weird out who she assumed to be Kiritsugu. In speech that was slightly broken by her heaving breaths, Sakura relayed what she knew, being a little more descriptive than she had been with Rin.
There was little more than an acknowledgement and a short thank-you from the other end before the phone made an empty tone. Settling the receiver down in its holder, Sakura stood motionless for a moment as she considered what to do with herself. She was practically less than useless in a combat sense so her only option now was to sit and wait. Though, what would happen if-
Lifting her head from her vacant stare at the phone, Sakura spotted the warm eyes of her mother and a well of emotions bubbled up from deep within. Joy, sadness, regret, shame and embarrassment flickered across her features like a faulty projection. Her mother looked the same as she had remembered, but the sadness in her eyes nearly broke Sakura's heart. The girl's lip quivered before parting to speak.
Aoi beat her to it, speaking two simple words that brought tears to Sakura's eyes. "I'm sorry."
… … …
… … …
The endless meadow surrounded him once again. At this point, it was becoming familiar in a strange, concerning way. The scent of fish and salt had gone away, replaced with the pleasing smell of freshly cut grass, warm air and hot steel.
After taking in the sights, Shirou examined himself, finding several things all at once. At first, he realized that his body felt weightless, an extreme contrast to how it had been just moments prior. What hit him next, was the expeditious spread of sword skin. His entire body was being converted to blades at a surprising rate, starting at his feet.
The pain he had felt during his fight with the enforcer was nothing compared to this and as a response, Shirou openly screamed in agony. The noise of his own voice actually scared him more than the rising level of sword flesh. He wasn't one to shout or make noises of pain but his body was acting of its own volition.
He tried to step forward, lower body making grinding, screeching noises and filling his entire body with inscrutable pain. With a disgusting, sudden grinding noise, jutting swords burst from beneath his skin in various portions of his body. In an instant, it felt as if he had been stabbed a hundred thousand times across each inch of skin. With each bursting section, his body jerked in sporadic directions, throwing him to and fro as the sword flesh covered his entire body.
As his limbs were converted into unrecognizable piles of overlapping steel, Shirou wished for nothing but death, an end to this traumatic nightmare. As if his wish was being answered, a bright flash of light overtook the area and Shirou found the pain dissipating as weight returned to his body all at once.
Like being dragged up from the bottom of a lake, he felt himself being yanked upward. He had no idea where, but the blinding light in his eyes slowly gave way to darkness. A voice from wherever he was heading reached his ears, but the words were too distorted to actually understand.
All at once, like he had been splashed with icy water, he returned to his body and gasped, chest heaving like he was a fish out of water. A hand on his chest kept his body on the ground as if he could even move with how heavy he felt at the moment.
The stabbing pain of a thousand blades returned to him. With bleary eyes, Shirou looked down to examine the main contributor of agony. His entire left leg had been converted into blade-skin, gleaming in the moonlight even with partly rusted edges. Leaning his head back and pressing it hard against the concrete in pain, Shirou shut his eyes and deactivated his magic circuits. Unlike last time, the pain failed to subside. In fact, without the reinforcement of his body, it might have hurt even more. At this point, the pain had transcended any sort of scale so Shirou wasn't sure either way.
A sob reached his ears and for the first time, he realized who was there. For the first time in his life, determined blue-green eyes were unfamiliar to him. It was Rin, but it wasn't her at the same time. Rin was a confident, knowledgeable girl who was always one step ahead of everyone. She responded to new situations with extreme professionalism, something that could even be called grace.
So who was this frightened, quivering woman looming over him with unbridled terror and suffering in her eyes? "Y-you-" she stammered, unable to get her thoughts out coherently. "How do you have a reality marble?" The question came out of nowhere; with the pain coursing through his body, he could hardly force out a single word. Rin only shook her head, a single tear from her eyes striking his face to mingle with the beads of sweat forming across his body. "That means…"
Shirou hardly understood what she was saying, but he could see that she needed something to ease her mind off. With what little strength he could muster, he wheezed out a question that had been plaguing his mind since it had happened. "If you're bitten by a werewolf, do you turn into one?"
Rin was speechless, mouth parted in an odd emotion while more tears dripped onto his face. Suddenly, she sniffled and partially shook her head. "No, werewolves don't- the curse doesn't work like that, you big dummy." She weakly laughed at the absurdity of his question, tears trailing down her face as they began to flow freely. Shirou, on the other hand, was relieved. Ever since that black werewolf had grabbed onto him, the thought had been bubbling in the back of his mind.
The sound of a car engine from behind distracted the two of them. Weakly turning his head, Shirou watched from an angle as Kiritsugu and Illya both leapt out of the vehicle. Since when did they own a car?
The albino was shouting his name, tearing up much more readily than Rin - who was busy wiping her face to appear professional. The Tohsaka made a discreet sniffle and wiped her eyes with her sleeve before standing. Illya had sprinted toward him while the black-haired girl stormed toward the old man with obvious fury.
Shirou's vision was dominated by white and red as his sister wrapped both arms around his neck, forcing his body to bend and causing him more pain. "I'm so glad you're alright, I was so worried when you left the ho-" Illya stopped dead as her eyes landed on his leg, pupils visibly contracting in astonishment. She started panicking over the sight but before Shirou could try to calm her down, everything faded to black.
… … …
… … …
… … …
Rin sat at the foot of his futon, hair down and body draped in yellowish pyjamas featuring cute little cat faces. Illya was tucked up beneath her own futon, something which had been moved into his room since the night he was injured. Even Sakura was in his room, sitting on her knees at his other side in a pink nightgown, carefully replacing the bandages covering his body. They were all preparing for bed, offering Shirou a few more minutes of company and ensuring he was comfortable.
While most normal men would enjoy being pampered by three gorgeous women, Shirou hated every second of it. Beyond the fact that he didn't like the thought of women in his room, they constantly tried to feed, water and bathe him like some sort of pet. He could do all of that on his own, he didn't need their help with anything. Even if his legs weren't working and most of his joints refused to bend, he would figure something out if he had enough time to think. Besides, he had gotten hurt two days ago, did he really need to be watched over like a child or a convict?
"Are you listening?" came a rather aggravated pout from the Tohsaka. "I thought you wanted to understand how stupid you really are." Sakura snapped her head like a whip, giving her sister a glare that spoke volumes. Rin grumbled, "I mean, how to better use your power."
"I don't think he should use that ever again," Illya commented, boring holes in the side of her brother's head. She had been by his side like some sort of cancerous growth since the incident.
"Illya, you can't deny Shirou the strongest weapon in his arsenal because he let himself get carried away once. If he can be taught how to control it, a situation like that won't ever happen again," Rin commented, giving the two Emiya children a challenging glare. "As I was saying, you were able to create a miniature reality marble within the limits of your own body. A reality marble is the actualization of one's inner world, their creation, use and abilities are undocumented due to simple lack of research possibilities. Only Dead Apostles have been documented to possess them."
"And heroic spirits," Shirou added, lifting up his shoulder to provide Sakura access to those bandages. As much healing as Illya could do, the homunculus had a limit and the hell that his body had gone through far exceeded that. She had almost drained her reserves keeping him alive on the trip back home. The sword flesh covering his body had taken hours to fully subside and due to the depth of invasion, Illya had to regenerate his entire leg hundreds of times before it would actually retain any healing. While she could put all the pieces of his body back where they belonged, she couldn't make it all work as intended or alleviate the soreness such an action brought on.
Rin nodded. "In order for you to gain control over your reality marble, you'll have to get a better understanding of your inner world, whatever that might be. This means learning exactly how you see yourself, and describing your life experiences through an appropriate aria." Rin picked up a notepad and a pen, clicking it audibly before giving Shirou an odd look. "What did you say to activate your reality marble?"
Shirou furrowed his brow. Was it really wise to give up his secrets like this? Then again, Rin was readily disobeying the Mage's Association by harbouring him and Kiritsugu in Fuyuki. She was probably one of the most trustworthy people sitting around him right now. "I am the bone of my sword," he recalled. Without his circuits activated, his speech was just a simple string of harmless words.
Writing the sentence down, Rin gave him a waiting look. After a few seconds of awkward silence passed, she set the pen down on the pad with a thwack. "That's it? All that power from a single line?"
Shirou furrowed his brow, taking the trouble to sit up in his bed. "I wouldn't call what happened to me as power." Having his body torn to shreds from the inside out seemed to be more of a downside than anything. Although, he did know the second line. For whatever reason, his mind had given him that much information.
I am the bone of my sword, steel is my body and fire is my heart.
Rin blanched as if he had just told her the moon was a lie, face suddenly turning to annoyance. "If you're being serious, I must be a really bad teacher. Shirou, you were able to take on two werewolves and an enforcer on your own. I've seen you fight and while you're good, you're nothing compared to someone like Bazett."
"She's right you know," came a strong Irish voice from the door. Leaning in the doorway was Bazett in her typical suit. "You said the enforcer was named Elizabeth Velum, right?" Rin offered a nod, curious to see what the woman would say. "That little lass was a firecracker for sure. She was much faster than I could ever be and she wittled her opponents down by leaving cuts and scars on them even if they fully blocked her attacks. The longer a fight went on, the weaker an enemy would get from all the bleeding cuts." Bazett pushed her shoulder off the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest. "If I was a gambling woman - which I am - I'd bet you only lived because whatever your skin turned into kept you from bleeding out. It might have even sliced her up as she tried to attack as well, who knows." The enforcer shrugged, turning partway into the hall. "Either way, she's dead now and good riddance." Everyone seemed shocked at the comment besides Rin, who quietly mumbled that she would have to agree.
… … …
… … …
More days passed by uneventfully. Kiritsugu finally returned from his mission and was glad to be back. After the freelancers and enforcers were dealt with, the old man went through the laborious process of relocating their bodies so their paths wouldn't be traced right back to Fuyuki. If they were discovered to have died in Fuyuki, they would be swarmed with magi from the Tower. Both father and son agreed that three people had been more than enough.
On the fifth day, Shirou regained the use of his body and could actually walk around the house and go to school, although he still had to take things slowly. The wounds from both his fight and his blade flesh had all healed and it was only a matter of moving his body around to get all the soreness out.
Quite a lot without Shirou's interaction had taken place over the past week. First and foremost, Sakura had practically moved into his home. She only returned to her own home once every three days for supposed "personal reasons". But Shirou understood the meaning behind the lie - she needed to go through training with those foul worms or else they would devour her from the inside out.
At least she wasn't suffering as much as she could be. Shirou had long intended to figure out a way to help her, but with all that had happened, his time had been extremely limited. Unfortunately, his schedule didn't seem to be getting any more open. In fact, it was getting tighter as the days went on. Rin was training him in both reality marbles, magecraft and magi etiquette. Kiritsugu and Bazett were restarting his physical training and there was someone else in his home who also took up a large chunk of his time.
Missy, the woman he had rescued from the serial killer, had unexpectedly been taking over the majority of household duties. She had actually taken it upon herself as a way to repay her "debt" toward Shirou for saving her life. While Shirou didn't believe that she had any sort of payment to make, he had to admit that it was nice having someone to help around the house while he was unable to do it himself. She had yet to regain her memories and according to Kiritsugu, nobody was looking for a woman of her description.
At the least, Missy's personality had developed since her first arrival. Rather than being a shy, reserved girl similar to Aoi and Sakura, Missy turned out to be an outgoing woman who could hold engaging conversation for hours when prompted. She was a closeted extrovert, someone who had to be pulled out of their shell. She also developed a fierce interest in botany, specifically with flowers and colourful plant arrangements. Deciding it was better than sitting around the house with idle hands, Shirou had given her some spending money and allowed her to buy whatever she so desired. As her mind only seemed to shroud important personal details rather than life skills, Missy was also allowed to leave the house whenever she liked once it was established that she wouldn't get lost.
Missy was strangely complacent with knowing nothing about herself. Kiritsugu had intended to make Rin manually unlock her memories through magecraft, but after asking the woman some non-magical questions about her memories, it was clear to see that she preferred being oblivious to her past.
Shirou couldn't understand it himself, he would have wanted to know of his past family regardless of what it cost. With the event so far in the past, unlocking his own memories through magecraft was impossible. Everybody had their own wishes and desires, however, and Kiritsugu eventually relented.
Last but not least, final exams were looming just around the corner. With all Shirou's downtime, he was incredibly unprepared and his confidence in schoolwork was at an all-time low. Shirou had a feeling that he would lose this year's challenge to Rin and that thought was enough to frighten him immensely.
Settling onto his knees, Shirou let out an exhausted sigh and rested his head on the dining table. "Maybe training that hard wasn't such a good idea," he complained idly to nobody in particular. His words were poorly coded due to Missy's presence in the kitchen.
A snort preceded the soft clatter of china. "If you ever go too far, we could set you up outside the house as a real-to-life statue." Kiritsugu thanked Missy, who had set coffee and tea in front of the father and son respectively. Lifting his head to offer the old man a glare, Shirou returned a sarcastic laugh drier than a desert.
"You seem to be much better at least. If you continue to improve, you might even be healthy enough to accept a gift I've been holding onto." Kiritsugu lifted his cup from the plate, taking a noisy sip of scalding liquid.
"As long as this gift doesn't wind up killing me, I'll take it." Rather than deny the claim, Kiritsugu only smiled and set his cup down. Shirou couldn't help but feel dread over the reaction. The old man only held his silence when he wasn't confident in his answer. Settling his head back down on the table, Shirou groaned. "I have the feeling that whatever it is will hurt."
… … …
… … …
… … …
Time Alter: Double Accel!
Merely thinking the words and activating his circuits made the world almost stop. Shirou realized that time hadn't stopped, it was simply moving at half speed. Or, rather, he was moving twice as fast. The slightest motion of his arm sent a wave of pain through his entire body. It was far from the agony he'd experienced with blades for skin, but it certainly wasn't pleasant.
Both arms shot up, making two light jabs at the suit-clad woman ahead of him. Shirou could feel the sharp impact jarring through his arms even though it appeared so harmless. He watched as Bazett tried to defend herself futile after his attack had landed, body groaning forward as the pain hit home. Merely the thought of wanting to return to normal brought the world back from its slow-motion state. Both Shirou and Bazett let out a sharp gasp. The former from the sheer shock of being thrust in and out of Time Alter, and the latter from the two blows delivered to her abdomen.
Like a bad mirror, both collapsed on one knee, griping at the pain running through their bodies. Shirou turned his head to look at his father. "This is what you have to deal with each time you use this?"
"You taught him that?" Bazett growled like an animal, clutching her stomach while struggling to stand.
The old man shrugged, looking toward Bazett and answering her first. "Taught, gave, it's rather hard to describe the passing of a magical crest with such mundane words." He turned his head to Shirou, crossing both arms over his chest dramatically. "You learn to live with it. An ability that comes with a cost."
Turning his head to give Bazett an odd look, the strangest sensation in his life took hold. The entire world around him began speeding up at an exponential rate. Bazett had snapped upright and Kiritsugu moved in front of him in the blink of an eye. They were speaking, but their voices were so distorted by the pitch and so loud that he couldn't understand a word. Just as suddenly, both had disappeared and left him alone in the backyard. The wind felt like a galeforce against his body and he could actually feel his skin tanning in the sun. He could still move normally in this state, and he took the time to look over his body with concern. Nothing seemed wrong for the moment, but what was going on with time? A brief glance toward the sun revealed the bright orange ball to be steadily lowering toward the horizon.
As if he had broken through a wall, time snapped to its correct course and everything came to him at once. Sound and sensation awkwardly snapped to how they were supposed to be. Shirou took a moment to look himself and the area over one again. What had just happened?
Since nobody was there to answer his question, Shirou cautiously walked toward the house and found everyone, besides Missy, leisurely sitting in the dining room. As he poked his head in, Kiritsugu made a hum. Without even waiting for the boy to ask, the old man began explaining. "What you experienced was a side effect following the initial execution of our family's magic." Shirou opened his mouth to ask for more explanation but Kiritsugu resumed before he could get a word in edgewise. "Gaia aims to correct your timeline by inversely affecting your body. You'll continue to experience this effect for some time until your body and Gaia acclimate themselves to one another's effects. Depending on how often you use the crest, you should gain mastery within a year, maybe two. Only then will the effects disappear entirely."
Shirou made a curious noise, scratching an itch on his head. "Sounds like you had that whole speech planned out."
"Of course he did. You were out there for two hours," Bazett commented, lazily leaning on the table with her elbow as she watched the news on TV.
"Two hours?" Shirou repeated, looking at the Clock on the wall. "That means I'll have to start dinner right now and I still need to get my homework done!"
The two adults shifted to shoot him a vacant stare, then shrugged eerily in tandem. It was shocking how similar the two were in personality. Although Bazett had a little more charm from her Irish side and could be significantly more energetic depending on the day, she still retained a sense of cold professionalism at her core.
With an exasperated huff of breath, Shirou turned around. "I'll get started after a shower."
… … …
Shirou twisted and turned as he looked himself over in the mirror. With his head peering over his shoulder, he ran his fingers over the new, sensitive skin of his back. Just like the old man himself, the Emiya crest was embedded dead center between his shoulder blades. Currently covered by a thick layer of scar tissue and swelling where the circuits from a non-blood related magus lied.
With the snap of a pistol hammer, grid-like blue lines an inch wide spread across his beige skin in every direction. The ends crept over his shoulders, wrapped around his chest and even shot up to the base of his neck. Unlike the rest of the ribbon-like circuitry, which ended in sharpened points, the end on his neck suspiciously resembled a sword. Three diamonds of varying size and orientation to make up the hilt, crossguard and blade. Perhaps that was his body's own way of acclimating the foreign circuitry.
The transfer process had been conducted over a few hours a little under a week ago, two weeks after his encounter with the enforcer. Rin had been the one to conduct the process and she had stated such a transplant would be impossible, that it would kill the boy. A foreign body connecting straight into the host's magic circuits would wreak havoc on Shirou, supposedly.
If that havoc was agonizing pain, Shirou had certainly felt that. He had a feeling that Rin had meant something along the lines of spontaneous death, however. In order to transfer a family crest as rapidly as Kiritsugu desired, the Emiya crest essentially had to be torn out by force and jammed into Shirou with the same brutal method.
The first major problem with that plan was that Shirou's wounds closed themselves up faster than Rin could work. That meant she had to occasionally recut the still-healing flesh to get deep enough. Once Rin finished moving most of Kiritsugu's crest, Illya sealed both of their wounds and the two had to remain in the same room for a few more hours in a meticulously crafted environment that would better aid the odds of acceptance.
Even though the wound was healed, the area still felt as if it were on fire. Shirou chalked it up to the "acclimation" process of his body and the foreign circuits. Once Rin and Illya had left them alone in the room, Kiritsugu explained that this process would succeed and that it was only because of Avalon. The sheath would - theoretically - keep Shirou alive as it fixed any possible shorts that might have occurred during the placement process. Without Avalon, the old man would have never even attempted such a procedure.
Shirou couldn't help but shiver as the feeling of that day returned to him. With struggling contortion, he itched the offending spot on his back. With the Emiya crest and his mangled mess of trash-tier circuits, the total had increased to a respectable fifty-three. Shirou found it amusing that while he had only inherited fifteen circuits, his reserves nearly doubled. The Emiya lineage was quite young but the crest circuits were of surprisingly decent quality, twenty units of energy each.
Shirou's still remained a drop in a puddle compared to lake-like and Illya's ocean-scale reserves. But mana reserves meant nothing when it came to combat potential. The old man was a blatant example of that fact. Speaking of, the old man handled the entire crest-transfer process significantly better than Shirou. Even though he had his entire back sliced up like deli meat, he had walked around as if nothing was wrong. Five circuits had been left within him so that he could still enact the miracle himself, just at a less efficient rate.
The crest had been Kiritsugu's hinted gift for the Clock Tower, offered early so Shirou could gain some experience with Time Alter and reduce the severity of its side effects. Shirou could see the miracle's potential immediately and he couldn't express enough gratitude.
A knock on the bathroom door diverted his attention. From the other side, Illya wailed his name like a starved cat. "I'm so hungry and you haven't even started making dinner yet."
With a laugh, Shirou quickly put on some fresh clothes and opened the door. Illya was standing there, holding her stomach dramatically with the biggest pout he had ever seen. Patting her head, the boy smiled. "I'll get started soon, shouldn't take much longer than an hour." That estimated wait period definitely didn't seem to satisfy her, and she only whined harder. Chuckling, Shirou ruffled her hair and purposely threw some in front of her face. "If you went and got Missy to help me, I might be able to cut that to forty-five minutes."
Her face lit up and without a second thought, the homunculus took off down the hallway. Regardless of what time or day, the allure of food could drive Illya to do a scary number of things. Laughing at the absurdity of it all, Shirou moved to start preparing dinner.
… … …
… … …
… … …
"Your plane is waiting for you at the airport," Kiritsugu relayed, turning away from the landline after depositing the receiver. Today had been the last day of school and Shirou rushed home to make sure everything was ready. He had actually run all the way home, leaving Illya and Rin in the dust just in case things happened ahead of schedule.
Unfortunately, and like most things in life, it had actually been late. Shirou had been forced to wait even though all he needed for his trip was accounted for. "Let me guess, you called in another favour?" The old man nodded, settling back down at the table. "Sooner or later, you're going to run out and you won't have any to use when you need them."
The Magus Killer shrugged, rolling his shoulder in discomfort. If he was in similar shape to Shirou himself, the scarring on his back was likely still healing. "What cannot be achieved through favours can usually be bought with money."
Shirou's face scrunched up in confusion. "Do I want to know where all this money comes from?"
Kiritsugu shook his head, "Probably not. In fact, it's better if you don't."
Before Shirou could comment further on the matter, he heard the front door slide open followed by the angry shouting of his name. Like distant thunder, the rage-fueled steps of a Tohsaka on a warpath boomed through the house. Thankfully the door to the dining room was left open otherwise Rin might have thrown it off its rail. Standing in the doorway, she glowered at the boy like he had just tried to murder her. "Did you think you were going to be able to leave without saying goodbye?"
Shirou groaned, throwing his head back in lamentation. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a smile spread across the old man's face. "Tohsaka, I need to leave soon, I don't have time f-"
"You're not getting out of this, Shirou," came the equally annoyed voice of Illya. Sliding into view the two totally blocked the exit. While the dining room had two exits, Shirou doubted he could make it out of either before they would block him off. His sister was already toying with her trademark blue strings. Running wasn't an option, he was stuck.
Shirou narrowed his eyes, hammer of a gun firing off a fictional bullet within his mind. Just because he couldn't run, didn't mean he couldn't fight. "You want to bet?"
… … …
There were points in his life where Shirou could precisely determine what he disliked; this was one of those times. With his arms, legs and most of his body wrapped up in Engel Note, he was rooted in place, at the mercy of his tormentors who were threatening him with goodbyes
"You only won because I'm still sore from fighting those werewolves," Shirou huffed, looking up at the two women looming above him. Rin was gently rubbing her smoking knuckles while Illya readied more strands of Engel Note just in case.
Rin gave a look that clearly revealed how much she believed him. "Sure, but we still won. Now sit there and wait for Sakura."
Shirou's face split into surprise. "Sakura is coming?"
Rin bent down and flicked his head, reinforced finger equivalent to a punch. "Of course she is you, idiot! Did you really expect to leave us all for months without saying anything?" She stood back up and crossed both arms over her chest, maintaining the sharp glare of a disciplinary instructor.
Unable to rub his forehead, Shirou shut one eye to try and will the pain away. He hadn't expected anything if he were being honest. On top of that, he disliked goodbyes. There was such a strange finality to farewells like he would never come back, and the thought made him uneasy. "Fine, not like I have a choice in this either way."
Illya poked him on the nose, giggling. "Not at all. You're staying tied up because we both know how sneaky you are."
With an annoyed groan, the sight of burgundy poked into the hallway. Judging by the robe, the messy hair and the stretching, Bazett had just woken up - at four in the afternoon. "What the hell's going on here? Sounds like someone trying t'crush a mosquit-oh, you were fighting Shirou." The Irish woman gave a lazy, sleep-addled half-smile before scratching the back of her head.
"Did you seriously just roll out of bed?" Shirou asked, astonished that someone could sleep so late and appear so casual about it.
The woman sighed and looked more embarrassed than angry. "I was up all night finishing my gift, I only got t'sleep a couple hours ago." With Bazett living in the same house, Shirou had noticed that her accent was significantly more apparent after waking like she actively repressed it when fully aware.
"You wanted to give me a gift before I go?" Shirou asked with genuine surprise. The woman had always seemed so cold that the prospect actually caught him off guard.
Now was the time for Bazett to look angry, placing one hand dramatically on her hip. "Did you forget I'm going with ya, you bleedin' eejit?" The woman lazily rolled her eyes while giving her head a shake. "And of course I made you a gift. Couldn't have you strolling about looking like you are."
"I really did forget about you," Shirou admitted with some chagrin, deflating what little he still could while being tied up like a hog. "But what's wrong with how I'm dressed?"
"You are thick, aren't you?" the woman asked rhetorically. "How did you think you were going to hide your identity?" Shirou opened his mouth to explain what he and Rin had planned for that, but Bazett continued. "Whatever your plan was, it was stupid. This is much better and since you'll have to put it on in a couple hours anyway, I'll tell you what it is: a custom-tailored suit engraved with runes by yours truly." With obvious pride, the woman placed one hand on her chest and put on a shut-eyed, smug smirk.
From down the hall, the sound of an opening door signalled Sakura's arrival. Stepping around the corner with some haste, she spotted Shirou and immediately looked confused. "Why is Senpai tied up?"
Rin offered a short greeting look before facing Shirou once more. "He was trying to run off on us without saying goodbye so Illya tied him down until you could get here."
A sharp whistle from the dining room took everyone's attention. Stepping from the doorway, a neutral-looking Kiritsugu asserted his control over the situation. "Let's not waste the pilot's time. I'm going to pull the car up and anyone who wants to see Shirou off is welcome to come along."
Taking a step toward the door, Shirou stopped him with a question. "Since when did we own a car?"
Kiritsugu turned and offered a smile. "We always have, I've just left it parked nearby and never had a use for it. We also own a motorbike, but that's something for another day." Shirou found that comment odd. The '93 Yamaha Vmax that Saber had used in the Fourth War had been blown to bits by the initial explosion of the Great Fire. Had the old man purchased another one since then?
A question for another time, he supposed. The thread binding his body exploded in a puff of blue sparks and Shirou made a noise of strain as he stood. "You still don't hold back your punches, Tohsaka."
"Sometimes all it takes to get your head on track is a strong jab to the chest," she smirked, holding up the fist she had used just moments ago.
Shirou cracked his knuckles on both hands. "I wonder if the magi at the Clock Tower will work the same way." The bland look he got out of Rin was priceless and the comment even made Bazett laugh.
"You're going to fit in just fine with that attitude," the Irish woman continued chuckling as she walked back into her room.
… … …
… … …
Fuyuki didn't have an airport within its city limits and the nearest international airport was hours away. But neither of these facts mattered because they weren't going to any of the known international airports. They were actually using a private airport nestled between Misaki and Fuyuki. That way, their plane would be harder to track and the entire journey could remain subtle. After loading their bags into the plane, everyone stood on the tarmac to say their goodbyes as the plane warmed its engines.
Since everyone had wanted to say farewell and the car only seated five, Illya had to sit on Shirou's lap - an awkward experience to say the least. He could have sworn that she was sticking her tongue out at Rin and Sakura through the entire trip and he could see they were actually getting jealous. Shirou and his father shared a brief hug and a stern nod that expressed the old man's faith. Illya and Sakura shared a much tighter embrace, both telling him to come home safe, and then he got to Rin.
She had this smug look on her face and Shirou couldn't quite figure out why. "Did you forget that you still owe me from our bet?" Cursing mentally, Shirou put on a dumb disposition and tried to ask what bet she referred to. By the way the Tohsaka rolled her eyes, she didn't believe him for a second. "I got higher grades than you this year, which means you owe me an undeniable request." The girl took one large step forward, throwing her hands behind her back with the cheekiest grin Shirou had ever witnessed. He leaned back as the awkward nature of the exchange reached him, cluelessly asking what her request was.
"A kiss," she mumbled, moving forward all at once. Before Shirou could open his mouth to state any sort of rejection, she had wrapped both arms around the back of his neck and tugged his head down with surprising strength. A short noise was all he could get out before her lips had already pressed against his and a remarkable sensation sparked through his body. His eyes shut on reflex but the rest of his body awkwardly locked in place. The heat of her rosy cheeks was practically pouring onto his face and with it came the intoxicating scent of fine, earthen wine and vanilla.
The kiss barely lasted more than two seconds but it felt like minutes. Neither of the two had actually broken away themselves. Rather, Bazett had grabbed his arm and yanked him back toward the plane. "For Christ's sake he's not going off to war, he'll be back in a couple months. Now get on the damn plane before you get caught up in the fight that's going to break out."
Stumbling as control over his body returned to him, he glanced between Bazett and Rin with blatant confusion. A fight was going to break out right here? Shirou caught a glimpse of Sakura and finally understood what she had meant. With her cheeks as bright as her shirt, Rin left him with some comforting words. "Come home safe or else!"
The violet-haired Matou was practically steaming with anger, scowling at her sister with death in her normally reserved eyes. Gathering his footing, Shirou actually jumped into the plane ahead of Bazett, wanting to leave here before either of the girls decided to turn their attention to him.
Once the two were seated and the door sealed, it wasn't much more than fifteen minutes before they were taking off down the runway and climbing into the sky. In a little over half an hour, the plane had reached its determined altitude and both passengers were allowed to stand. According to Bazett, before they could discuss their first order of business in Britain, he would have to put on the outfit she made.
Shirou wanted to ask why, but the look of insistence on her face as she handed him the opaque clothing bag left no room for argument. Grumbling, Shirou took the bag and visited the bathroom to put it on.
He carefully set the bag on the small counter so he could unzip it to view its contents. He had expected something simple, a heavy coat and some sort of mask. He definitely hadn't expected this incredibly intricate ensemble before him. The outfit began with a black unitard which featured tight metal bands about one inch thick on the legs and arms. The entire article was laden with defence-focused runes intricately engraved just upon the surface. Even taking into account how thin the material was; when fully powered it was equivalent to steel in defensive strength. The only downside Shirou could see was that it would drain an extreme amount of mana to achieve such a level of protection. A secondary set of runes was engraved on the chest. Shirou barely recognized it as a type of disguise sigil. It was likely to prevent normal people from seeing him while he wore the outfit. It would be tedious to try and explain the getup to every passerby.
The next portion of his new uniform covered his chest. While much thicker and heavier, the black material was pliable and could bend in Shirou's hand, making a leather-like squeak as it did. It was a polymer material Shirou had never seen before. Considering that it ended at his shoulders, this piece was more of a vest, but it was still well made regardless. Reaching deeper into the bag, he withdrew the only piece that offered the outfit any real colour. It was a thin scarf in bright crimson. It actually included a little card with instructions on how he was to wrap it around his head. According to the diagram, it would cover most of his face like he was some sort of assassin.
The last piece he could see in the bag was a hefty hooded cape in black. It was long enough to reach the back of his knees and wide enough to conceal most of his arms if he so desired. Draping it over his head, Shirou felt something strike his chest. It was some sort of two-point harness connection in matte black metal. Clicking the other end into the harness, Shirou realized that the entire piece actually connected into the vest of the outfit. Another click settled the piece in place and subsequently pushed a circular portion in center outward.
As a test, Shirou pressed the harness button inward and the harness assembly popped out and ejected the other clasp in one motion. It was a quick-release system, likely for use in the off chance that it got caught on something.
Rebuckling the cape and setting it in his chest, Shirou threw the hood over his head and looked himself over in the mirror. It was like he was some other person entirely. The hood shrouded his hair and eyebrows which rendered his default look into a menacing visage. In the mirror, a steely cold man stared back at him. Imitating an angry expression beneath his hood, the visage only grew in intensity.
If the objective was to force everyone he met away, this outfit would surely accomplish that. After fully dressing, Shirou realized that he lacked both gloves and shoes. A better search of the bag provided to him revealed two black leather gloves settled in the bottom. Carefully withdrawing them, Shirou felt a sense of familiarity. When he moved to put them on, a piece of carefully folded paper caught his eye. Carefully, the boy removed it and began reading his father's neat handwriting.
… … ...
Shirou
I might not have been the most active father figure, but it was to protect you and Illya. You obviously know how disliked our family name is, but you likely underestimate how vengeful magi of the Clock Tower really are.
I do not know what Rin has told you of the Clock Tower, but it is run by families of noble magi known as "lords". These lords are incredibly powerful and could compete against low-ranking heroic spirits in terms of power. The most threatening of all is the current Vice Director of the Clock Tower: Lorelei Barthomeloi. I do not over exaggerate by saying she would kill a magus for not recognizing her on sight, so avoid her at all costs.
The only lord you can speak with in moderate confidence is the current Archibald head. Following the Fourth War, the only other surviving master took over the family of another master who I had killed. This man, Waver Velvet, is the sole reason you were permitted to attend the Clock Tower. He is the only person in the Tower who knows of your true identity and where I currently reside. If you encounter problems which you believe to be out of your control, inform him immediately.
While my knowledge of those attending the Clock Tower is limited, should someone of the Edelfelt family be attending, keep them at a distance. While they hold no real power in the Clock Tower, they are a mercenary-type family bordering on the line of freelancing. I have no doubts that they hold an assassination contract with my name on it. I won't go into extensive details here.
Shirou reached the end of the note and was surprised to see even more on the backside.
These gloves are the only thing which I can offer to you that I know you will accept and use. They are the very same gloves I crafted myself more than eight years ago, although they've undergone slight modifications. They have been restored to their former glory and Bazett has taken the time to touch up my dated runecraft. While you could have simply projected their old form, it's never a bad thing to receive an upgrade.
A rented car is waiting for you at the airport and if you find the school dormitory rooms insufficient or lacking in privacy, a home in your fake name has been rented for the following months. Your mentor knows the address, speak to her if you wish to move.
Stay safe
… … …
Shirou couldn't help but smile warmly at his father's note. It was touching to think that the Magus Killer cared so deeply about him. While he supposed it had always been known, it was nice to see it in writing. Shirou set the note on the counter and was surprised to watch it spontaneously combust. The paper burnt away, not even leaving ashes behind.
With that strange occurrence over, Shirou slipped on the gloves and flexed his fingers appraisingly. Even though they were made of leather, it felt as if he wasn't wearing anything at all. A quick trace of the rune enchantments revealed their true hidden effects. There were two enchantments on each glove. One was to elevate defence much like the rest of his outfit. The other was a combination rune which would increase the speed of his fists upon activation. While the increase was marginal compared to Time Alter, cheap, easy improvements were far from unwelcome.
Shirou was astonished at how much effort had been put into a new outfit, but he realized that the ensemble still lacked footwear. Had they forgotten or was he just expected to use his normal shoes?
As ready as he could be, Shirou stepped out of the bathroom to a pleased-looking Bazett. "Not bad, not bad. You almost look scary enough to stay away from." Standing from her seat, the woman moved toward him, pulling on the hood of his cape and tucking the scarf within. She even shook the vest to put it in place like a preening mother. "Did you figure out a new name for yourself?"
Shirou put up with the woman's ministrations, feeling like some sort of display mannequin. "We decided that a nickname would work better. Rin figured that the more basic, the better as there would be less to look into."
Bazett looked up into his eyes with the blandest look he had ever seen her muster. "I asked for the name, not the story behind it."
Shirou awkwardly chuckled, reaching up and scratching his head through the hood. "Officially I'm registered in the Clock Tower as Haruto Takahashi, a blend of simple common names. The nickname we've gone with is Blade."
Bazett made a hum, likely thinking the name over. "It's not the worst name I've ever heard. Little bit on the nose though, don't you think?" The woman took a few steps back to her seat, reaching beneath for something hidden below.
Shirou could only shrug. "It's what I am, might as well embrace it." Bazett made a noise of resigned agreement, standing tall with a pair of boots in her hand.
"I got these custom made and I didn't want them tearing open the bag so I had to bring them separately," she explained. With a gentle toss, the boots were flung in his direction, landing on the floor of the plane with a considerable thump. They were made of hardened black leather at their base, with thin steel plating over the toe and along the back of the ankle. This was the only piece of his outfit which wasn't embedded with defence-bolstering runes. Whether that was because Shirou hardly used his legs in combat or if it was purely to increase his running speed was unknown. Stepping in and lacing up, Shirou found them rather comfortable. After thanking the Irish woman as much as he could, the two settled in for the multi-stop, half-day flight. If the estimate was correct, they would arrive around one in the morning at the local time, so getting some rest would be important so they wouldn't miss a day.
… … …
… … …
The two landed in an absolute downpour. Rain was falling in such an extreme amount that the entire airport looked like more of a lake than a place for aircraft. Even though it fascinated Shirou, Bazett claimed that it was a regular occurrence in the UK. Before leaving the dry safety of the plane, they made a quick action plan to sprint toward the rented vehicle in the airport parking lot.
Sprinting across the airstrip with their bags held over their heads, the two were soaked within the first few seconds. When they reached the car, both of them were absolutely drenched in frigid rain. Turning the car on to get some heat, Bazett shivered and gripped the wheel tightly. "After living here for twenty-one years you'd think I'd remember to bring a damned umbrella," the woman huffed, throwing strands of sopping burgundy hair from her face.
Shirou was just trying not to freeze. That rain was ice cold and wearing skin-tight spandex made it that much worse. Rubbing his arms, he began shivering autonomously.
Bazett began driving to London within a few minutes, just enough for the car engine and interior heat up. Like they had in Japan, they had utilized a lesser known airport so their journey couldn't be tracked as easily. Shirou wondered why Bazett drove on the left side of the road. As far as he knew, everywhere besides Japan drove on the right. Bazett assured him that this was correct and that Britain also operated backwards. Confused, Shirou put his faith in the woman and assumed she knew better than him.
Within the hour, the bright lights and foreign architecture of London was all around him. He couldn't say it was ugly. It had a certain, simplistic, utilitarian aspect that he found endearing. The cold stone walls with white trim were monotonous and imposing but there was a deep sense of architectural pride within regardless. As they drove further into the city, the dated architecture broke away into more modern chic. London was almost orb shaped, with a large crack in the form of a river splitting the city and leading into the sea. The River Thames sat just off the road, close enough that Shirou could see the brightly illuminated bridges spanning the waterway. He had passed a couple of these bridges now and each one was beautifully designed in Victorian style. These bridges were masterful works of art when compared to the child-like drawings of the residential buildings seen on his way in. If Shirou's estimations were correct, they were in the part of London known as Kensington.
"Thankfully, the Clock Tower doesn't sleep so we'll be able to get you admitted and dry these clothes. Well, I'll be able to dry my clothes anyway. You can just project your outfit."
Shirou turned his head, giving her a strange look. "You're coming in with me? Won't that make you some sort of fugitive if I ever get found out?"
Bazett shrugged, keeping her eyes concentrated on driving. "You're not the only one who has a disguise. While mine isn't quite as fancy, I'll only have to wear it on occasion." Settling his head on the window of the car, Shirou spotted the looming sight of the Clock Tower in the distance. A large tower with an eerily illuminated clock face. Bazett turned the corner and the prestigious looking parliamentary-like facade came into view.
This would be where he lived for the next couple of months, it seemed like it would be hard to get around. The grandeur made Shirou feel rather insignificant and the sheer scale already seemed overwhelming. At such an hour, the student parking lot was empty so finding a spot close to the entrance wasn't difficult.
Pulling into place and shutting the vehicle off, Bazett turned to him and offered the barest hint of a smirk. "Welcome to the Clock Tower, kid. Try not to get yourself blown up."
Howdy all, sort of an important note this time so rather than skip it, take a few seconds to read it or skim over it.
I'll be taking a little break from writing.
Now that I've got your attention, yes, I'll be going on a brief hiatus of a week or so, mostly just so that I can recompile my thoughts and rejuvenate my passion for writing the fic again. I've been having a lot of difficulty in just trying to formulate my thoughts so a little break might be all that I need. I'm also pausing to give a rest to my Beta, as they are being constantly tied up with their own real-life things and after going through a hundred thousand words, they deserve the respite.
I'm NOT abandoning the story, I'll come back to it - but there might be a period of two or even three weeks before the next chapter comes up.
So to all of you, hope you enjoy things so far and if you have any complaints or words of inspiration, you're more than welcome to message me privately to let me know or make a review to have your opinion be public!
As always, favourite, follow and leave a review if you wish!
