Howdy all. Through a long while in a hotel for work and an entire job change, I've come back with another chapter. Yes I know it's taking longer. I guess that's just how it's going to be. I'd like to thank everyone for reading and sticking through with my inconsistency. Some of the delay came from researching a bunch of things upcoming in this chapter. Unfortunately, much like Gray/Svin/Flat when I started writing them, there isn't a significant amount of concrete information and even things that should be "canon" have been reworked by Nasu.
Weird stuff, but I shall persevere. Quick shoutout to ALL the new people reading. While I love you faithful readers, new people deserve love too and this is their chapter.
As always, remember to thank my ever-faithful beta Talndir and enjoy the work below :)
It was a rather unfortunate pitfall of the human brain that memories returned after they were needed. He hadn't remembered when he needed to, but he had met Lorelei Barthmoleoi once before. She had briefly congratulated him after he had won in the Magus Tournament qualifiers. The brevity of their conversation and the rapidity of notable events which followed obviously did nothing to cement her in his mind.
If he had remembered she was the Vice Director of the Tower, he might have minded his manners more. Not because he desired getting into her good graces. He had already been the lapdog of a controlling female Lord, he didn't need to experience that twice. No, being liked wasn't why he hoped for a redo. If he had been more respectful and their exchange had been amicable, he could have missed the headache Rin gave him for his mistake.
For over an hour she lamented his stupidity and for an hour after that she went over each and every Lord, their department and a general description so he wouldn't "make an ass" out of himself, and, by extension, her.
She went all out explaining Clock Tower history and about the thirteen Lords who held domains over thirteen departments. Expectedly, it wasn't as simple as the numbers seemed. One Lord — Ephronet Meluastea — held control of two departments, Archaeology and Mineralogy. Spiritual Evocation, on the other hand, had two separate Lords, one of which acted as a stand-in proxy for when the other grew bored.
Aware of the Lords, he considered which of them might have paid that random student. His biggest suspect was Lorelei herself, though his only evidence was that she was nearby when it happened. None of the Lords had much of a motive and as far as he knew, Kiritsugu hadn't done anything to them in the past. It made no sense tying a Lord to someone as insignificant as himself.
Still, his insignificance was only due to his anonymity. Lorelei Barthomeloi had already been soured to him, El-Melloi the Second was lukewarm and he had plans to kill another that he didn't even know. Killing a Lord wasn't likely to do any favours to preserving his anonymity, though if he did it well enough, it wouldn't harm it either.
After spending the better part of a day and night thinking, he had decided that he would follow through with Lev's request. Or, rather, that he would consider going through with it. Before he finalized his decision, he had to do some research and discover who exactly Marisbury Animusphere was. His main reason for even considering it was tied to the uncertainty of the other option. There was likely a reason only one of Kiritsugu's many informants was interested in tracking Touko, either impossibility or high risk. It would likely be better to go after her himself, lest he give the wrong impression by sending hitmen, assassins and spies to track her down on his behalf.
A tug against his front brought him back to reality just long enough to recognize a face rapidly approaching his own. A soft pressure pressed against his lips only long enough for him to recognize he was being kissed.
He blinked a few times as Rin withdrew, released his tie, huffed in annoyance and turned to continue walking. "You really need to start paying more attention. Next time I won't be so nice."
Baffled, he snapped back into his body and looked around to ensure nobody had seen the exchange while he moved with some haste to catch up. Thankfully, they were in a vacant hallway. "There's been a lot to think about recently," he excused.
"Like that task of yours?"
"How did you know?"
Even though he couldn't see, he could almost hear her eyes rolling. "Well if that wasn't already an admittance, you haven't asked me for money yet."
Made aware of the logic, even he could admit it was obvious. "You don't seem upset," he noted.
"Your head gets thick whenever you set your mind into doing something. I've already yelled at you about this, so there's no point shouting and screaming anymore because it won't do any good." Shirou couldn't tell whether to be relieved that he wasn't going to be lectured or annoyed at the less than subtle insult.
He didn't have much time to consider as they reached the El-Melloi classroom and entered. Oddly, only Gray was present and the girl was in the middle of setting down a book. Earlier in the morning, Rin had been called for a meeting in the evening with the Lord to discuss matters Shirou wasn't informed of. As her bodyguard, he had tagged along, though he wasn't entirely sure he was necessary. Explaining that she was here to see the Lord, Rin excused herself by stepping through the door to his office, leaving Gray and Shirou alone.
Deciding to sit after spending most of the day standing, he settled into a chair and relaxed for a moment. Noting the fact Gray hadn't stopped watching him since he entered, he leaned forward and asked, "Did you want to have that talk now?"
The girl stiffed, looked toward both doors, then focused on him. "Are you sure?"
"Why not? They're busy in there," he motioned toward the office.
"Well," she hesitated, then dipped her head. "It's about that thing."
Brow twitching, he grew alert in an instant. His voice unconsciously lowered a few decibels to stay quiet. "What about it?"
"Ever since the War I've been having dreams. About it and about Saber." Her head tipped up just enough for him to catch the edge of her eye. "About you," she finished.
He thought for a moment, then leaned closer to speak more directly. "Maybe your time near Saber made a connection somewhere."
The girl cast her head to look elsewhere. "It did, but I didn't expect it to last this long. It's been months." He wasn't sure what to say but thankfully she carried on. "Remember before? You showed it to me and it stopped bothering you." He could already predict what she was going to ask. "Maybe these dreams would stop if you showed it to me again."
In the middle of the El-Melloi classroom? He wasn't sure that was the best decision. A muffled, sleepy voice from Gray's coat piped up. "It really sounds like you're talking about his penis."
Swatting her coat and eliciting an annoyed cry of pain, Gray hid her face. "I'm sorry about him."
The tension of the conversation waning, Shirou tried to ensure it was what she wanted. "You know what it is, what if it does the opposite and makes your connection stronger?"
Seconds ticked on as she thought it over thoroughly. "Doing something is better than waiting for it to go away. If that happens, I'll deal with it."
Shirou tightened his jaw. Over a year ago, the two had held a private conversation when they were mostly strangers and he was Blade. In order to stop Avalon from freaking out, he had been forced to show the sheath to her and allow the two to touch. In order to get that far, he'd had to spill everything - who he really was and that he planned to fake his own death to return to his home and other life. He hadn't told her where that home was nor that he would be involved in the Fifth Grail War, which had in hindsight been a poor decision. If he had, there was a high chance Gray wouldn't have been willing to go to Fuyuki and Reines wouldn't have died.
After spilling his own secrets, Gray revealed her own past and the reason why Avalon reacted as it had with her. To say it was a depressing tale would be an understatement. Then, he pitied her. After thinking it over, he admired her resolve. Despite it all, she had made the best of the hand she was dealt.
"Even if you aren't, I'm worried for you." He didn't need to look closely to see her deflate. Looking over his shoulders, he projected a large executioner sword in place under the doorknobs of each door. Since both opened into the room, neither could be used. "But if you think this will help, I won't stop you."
Brightening, she shuffled to the edge of her seat while Shirou reached toward his chest and sought inwards. Locating the gleaming glow in the depths of his mind, a weight settled into his hand. Drawing it outwards, it eventually required a second hand for support. Opening his eyes, the flawless sheath rested in his grasp. Against its polished surface, he could see the reflection of Gray's face from underneath her hood.
The gold accents of Avalon coloured the hair of the reflection, creating a splitting image of Saber. He hadn't openly told neither the servant herself nor Gray, but he couldn't deny that he was always smitten with their beauty. Considering Gray despised her appearance because of the very same beauty, he'd likely never admit it aloud.
Extending her hands, she wrapped them around the artifact and took it close to her chest like a child, then admired it up close. She was silent, but he could tell by the gradual fall of her expression that whatever she expected to happen, wasn't happening. Close to a minute passed by where she examined it from end to end, tried holding it close and far and then eventually handed it back. "Nothing," she huffed.
Replacing the scabbard back inside his own body, he asked, "Nothing at all?"
She shook her head. "Maybe I'm missing a key component. Maybe my dreams are the key."
Following her thoughts, he furrowed his brow. "Saber is dead, you won't be able to show it to her."
She looked at him directly with her face set firm. "She is, but that's exactly why I can."
"What do you mean?"
"We can go to where she's buried."
Shirou thought for a second. There was a memorial for King Arthur a decent drive away. "Glastonbury Abbey?"
The girl shook her head and turned as serious as he had ever seen her. "Blackmore Cemetery." Her voice was as cold as the name as if a life's worth of bitter resentment clung to each syllable.
From behind him, he heard the click of a door, a clunk as it wedged against his sword and a loud bang as something on the other side collided with the door itself. Quickly dematerializing his wedges and standing, he moved toward the office door as it listed open. Inside, Rin rubbed at her forehead with an annoyed scowl. "You blocked the door?"
"Gray and I were having a discussion," he admitted before apologizing.
"Quite the important conversation if you had to seal everyone out," she growled while walking past him. "If you weren't Shirou Emiya I'd be suspicious of what you two were doing. Instead, I'm just jealous."
As she walked past toward the entrance, he blinked a few times in confusion. "What does that mean?"
"You're so innocent, Shirou." Nodding respectfully toward Gray, the Tohsaka reached the entrance and opened the door. "Let's get going, I need you to carry some books for me from the library."
"Wait," Gray called out before they had fully exited. "Shirou, would you mind coming with me to that place one day?"
Caught in an awkward moment, he could feel Rin's glare boring through the back of his skull. "I'll let you know when I'm free."
Nodding, she allowed him to leave, sending him into the ire of another, irate woman.
… … …
… … …
In recent years, technological advancements had done wonders in bettering discreet camera technology. Smaller, longer-lasting and with greater image quality than anything Kiritsugu could have dreamed of. Had the man been alive and working, he would have found it easier than ever to take advantage of magi and their Luddite pride. After her meeting with Lord El Melloi, he and Rin went into town to purchase supplies.
Acquiring cameras was merely one part of his first step. Along with cameras, he purchased hair dye, coloured contacts and a new, inconspicuous change of clothing. Rin, who helped him pick out a pair of glasses, had wondered why he would go through all the effort when magecraft could craft a disguise in seconds.
His answer was simple: Magi would always be able to sense magecraft. Whether it be big or small, using it in any capacity ran the risk of him being discovered regardless of how well he tried concealing it. Being found out was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. To say it would cause complications was an understatement.
After getting himself ready in the house he had cleared days prior, he stepped from the bathroom to Rin's snickering. Taking it as a compliment to his disguise, he set out on his true objective: gathering information on Marisbury Animusphere.
His plan was simple, at least in theory. He would head to the Astromancy department as a nameless student and try to learn what he could. It wasn't a matter of tailing him and trying to determine where he lived as he already knew that. He was trying to determine what kind of person this man was. If his death was warranted.
Early the following morning, he slung a bag with astrology, planetology and divinity books Rin had picked out over his shoulder and set off for "class." Aware of what he needed to do, she graciously gave him the day off, only asking that he "make the right decision."
Under his new guise, he felt more nostalgic than ever. Especially sitting in a classroom in which he didn't understand anything being taught and knew nobody sitting around him. Between classes and during breaks, he was able to speak with and listen in on his supposed peers and learn a few points about Marisbury.
It didn't take talking to the other students for him to discover Marisbury was a man. Interestingly, he was a man far different than the one painted into portraits in the Animusphere mansion. This man had pale gold eyes, stark white hair and a face that harboured a sense of unspoken sadness.
He conducted himself formally but spoke of the taught subject with obvious fervour and passion. From what his students revealed, he was a simple man dedicated to astromancy in all forms. There was nothing notable about him in any other sense. Plain, vanilla, basic. All words used to describe the man. It was almost too innocuous to be accurate.
After spending so much time concocting his disguise and plan, it seemed as if it would all go to waste. Pushing up his false glasses, Shirou leaned onto the auditorium table while his potential target rattled on about the fierce division and rivalry of heliocentrism and geocentrism. Appearing interested in the subject matter to others, he was actually wondering why Lev would have wanted him dead.
Was it simple greed? Would killing Marisbury somehow elevate Lev's position? That would have made sense, had Lev been even a minor part of the Astromancy Department. Was there some personal rivalry between the two that he wasn't aware of? He wouldn't be able to answer that without talking directly to either party. Speaking with Lev would reveal his uncertainty and risked consequences. However, as a potential student of Marisbury…
Eventually, the class ended. Shirou wasn't any wiser in the realm of astromancy, but he had done some needed thinking. While the class cleared out, Marisbury got to work cleaning one of the dated chalkboards of all his sketches and writing. Truly, the greatest mystery of the Clock Tower had to be why they hadn't updated to whiteboards. Picking up his own supplies, Shirou watched as his classmates cleared the room, slowly leaving him alone with his target.
As the last few shuffled out, Shirou walked down the auditorium steps toward the man's desk. Back toward him, Shirou cleared his throat to garner the man's attention. He'd be altering his voice and speaking with a deliberate British accent. Hopefully, his practice would pay off. "Sir? Could I speak with you for a minute?"
Without turning his head or stopping his cleaning, he hummed, "I suppose so," before finishing up and turning to face Shirou directly. Appraising his face, he grew thoughtful. "I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name."
"Liam," Shirou seamlessly declared. Awkwardly outstretching one hand, the two men shook. "I know it might be brash, but I wanted to ask you a question about the Holy Grail War." Some time ago, he had asked Bazett how she had landed herself a position as a master in the Grail War. She explained that, since the Fourth War, the Tower had adopted a lottery system that would "randomly" choose one willing participant to act as a master on their behalf. The alleged randomness happened to be heavily influenced by bribes, though those that performed the bribing would likely consider it a form of lobbying. Marisbury had, in fact, been selected as the master of the Fifth War, only to back out at the last minute.
The man furrowed his brow and almost grew concerned while still retaining a soft grin. "Didn't that trivial trial end some time ago?" He questioned aloud. "What about it?"
"Well, everyone's been talking about it since the winner of the Fifth War has come to the Clock Tower." He hesitated to take a half breath. "I guess I was wondering why you backed out so suddenly." It was a risky question, but one that was relevant. Shirou Emiya seemed to be a name in everyone's mouth and it made logical sense that someone would look deeper than his aliases.
Clearing up his desk, Marisbury offered another odd look. "It isn't often that students take such interest in the Grail War." Inhaling deeply while neatly tidying his station, he released a drawn-out sigh. "As with all things, the promise of the Grail was too good to be true. I distanced myself immediately upon discovery."
He already knew how, but he had to play the part. "What do you mean, sir? You already have to fight to the death for a single wish, isn't that bad enough?"
Opening drawers, placing bits and bobs within and closing them, the man thought at length. "Are you familiar with the tale of Pandora's box?"
Shirou nodded. "A box that unleashes curses upon mankind," he summarised. "You're saying the Grail is the same?"
"It's just a theory," Marisbury hastily covered up. Shirou imagined that he wasn't in a position to make negative statements against Clock Tower sanctioned events. "Only the participants could confirm my findings. I suppose, were you so inclined, you could speak with the winner of the War to discover more."
Shirou did his best to appear fearful though wasn't certain how convincing he was. "No way I could talk to him, he's the Magus Killer's Son, he'll probably kill me or something!" Saying the words left a bad taste in his mouth.
Chuckling to himself, the man picked up a leather-bound tome and tucked it under his arm. The conversation was winding down and his opportunity was closing. He could always try again another day but each time increased the risk. "You won't know until you speak with them." The man abruptly seemed to fall into deep thought mid-step. "Do you know their name?" Responding with his actual name, he made sure to stress his English accent, slightly butchering it along the way. "I hadn't considered that. Who better than…" Murmuring to himself, he trailed off, then snapped back into his own body jarringly. "Apologies, I have somewhere I need to be. I hope I answered your questions."
Nodding his head, the Lord walked up the stairs toward the entrance, leaving Shirou with more questions than answers.
As Marisbury left, Shirou couldn't escape a gnawing feeling that he teetered over the edge of a cliff. He wasn't seeing something crucial and his instincts were trying to point it out before he fell.
He needed more information, but would seeking it send him down a rabbit hole?
… … …
Dabbing beneath his nose with his fingertips, Shirou pulled back to find blood. It was one of many signs - the others being a massive headache, partial blindness and dizziness - that he had pushed himself too far. Stabilizing himself against the wall, he took a few deep breaths with his eyes closed and tried to ground himself.
Obviously, trying to retrieve and catalogue the vital signature of every student in the Tower was far beyond his current capabilities. Still, he was getting more accustomed to tracing living things, something that had always been difficult for him. Be it plants or people, trying to trace anything beyond a single person or himself was a trial. His hypothesis for the cause focused primarily on the dynamic nature of living things.
In objects or matter that were inanimate or dead, the state of its composition was unchanging. A cement block would always be a cement block with a definitive structure to its makeup.
When it came to living objects, they were always changing. Muscles moved, blood pumped, nerves sent electrical signals and cells were born and died constantly. There were over thirty trillion cells in the human body and each one was handling, processing and working with their own sets of information. Even with years of training and testing, he had only recently been able to gather heart rates from individual people. It was one small step in the right direction. He didn't mind the fact that trying to trace more than one or two people threatened to boil his brain, it was an improvement nonetheless.
Symptoms abating, he took another deep breath and closed his eyes to return to the world within his mind. Until he could trace thousands of people, he would start small and work on classrooms or individual people. It was the same way he had learned in the first place.
He had spent the past three days working on information gathering. He discovered Marisbury had a house within London that was far closer than the Animusphere manor that the man lived out of while working. Setting up cameras to survey the discovered residence and the expected route back and forth, Shirou found several points he could take advantage of.
Finishing his day as a guard, the trio made their way back toward the dorms only to stumble across a gathering crowd in one of the halls. Composed of mostly women, they swarmed a tall man in the centre whose head peeked above and locked eyes with Shirou's own entourage.
"Of course he'd be interested in us," he murmured under his breath.
Extending one hand over his head in greeting, the man waved. "Shirou Emiya, how fortuitous I happened across you." The man had a thick accent made comprehensive by slowed, deliberate pronunciation. To say he was overdressed would be underselling it. Head to toe in a brilliant, pristine white suit, the man had features straight from a modelling magazine. Long, golden blonde hair the same colour as the golden accents on the man's suit fell to mid-back. His extravagance went so far as to include a flowing cape tied to a golden pauldron on his right shoulder. Sticking out of the pauldron itself were complementary, poofy white feathers. Perhaps recognizing that white and gold were a little too pompous, he also wore a blue silk lavalliere that was the same shade as his eyes.
As others followed the stranger's gaze and noted Shirou, several of the crowd broke off or sank away to clear the space between. "That's Kirschtaria Wodime, he's one of Lord Animusphere's top students," Illya summarized as a quiet aside. He was curious as to where she would have gathered such information but decided not to pursue the issue. There would be a better time.
Staying defensive, Shirou narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses and addressed the man. "Why is that?"
With a soft chuckle, Wodime squeezed through the crowd to get closer. Standing before him, he placed one hand over his chest and bowed his head. "I apologize for the audience, they assembled around me once I stopped to help direct one of the students."
Unsure of what to say he went with, "Apology accepted?"
Straightening, he appeared unfazed. "My Lord wishes to speak with you. Would you be open to having dinner and meeting with him tonight?"
The last thing Shirou wanted to do was to have dinner with aristocrats, especially one he was planning on killing. "What is this about?"
"I have no idea," he replied bluntly. The speed of his response was far too suspicious. It was a lie, but there was no way to call him out on it. "I would assume something important."
Huffing, he looked between Kirschtaria and the two girls ahead of him who seemed interested in moving beyond the encounter. "Fine, I'll accept the invitation. Do I get a time and address?"
The man smiled and Shirou wondered if it had been the first time he had done so. It appeared so unnatural. With a nod, the man reached into his suit, withdrew a slip of paper and handed it over. "I would speak with you further but unfortunately I have business that needs attending to elsewhere." Expressing his farewell, he walked away with most of his former crowd.
Continuing along their way, Rin grumbled in annoyance. "Why is it that everyone seems interested in you?"
Illya snickered. "Jealous, Tohsaka?"
"Annoyed," she corrected. "Hardly a day goes by that we aren't interrupted or stopped while walking the Clock Tower. I could never be jealous, for I already know Shirou is mine."
Coughing awkwardly, Shirou absently looked around himself to see if anyone was listening. "Isn't calling me yours like that a little forward in public?"
"Shut up, bodyguard."
Shirou thought over Kirschtaria's words for a second. "There wasn't any mention that this would be a private conversation. Who's to say I couldn't bring my own guests?"
"Sounds like fancy dinner night to me," Illya chimed in. "Do you think the Lord will have food that's as good as Shirou's?"
Turning her head to glare at Shirou from the side, he felt that there would be a lecture in his future. "What if he wanted it to be private after all?"
"He'll have to deal with it," Shirou stated bluntly. "Like you said, I've been pulled in every direction but behind you so it's time I stop pushing you back in the queue."
Making an odd noise, Rin faced forward. "You big idiot," she murmured.
… … …
The working home of the Animusphere family was no lesser than its larger counterpart. Despite being far smaller, it still retained its sense of regality and wealth. To get there, Shirou had taken the car Bazett rented prior to their arrival. The Enforcer had been conned into renting it out for an entire month to save on cost, even though she only needed it for a day.
Deciding to dress for the occasion, the group had put on their best. For Shirou, that meant his normal working suit, forgoing the sunglasses. The girls, however, definitely surprised him, especially since Illya had a dress at all. Considering she was in an entirely new body, she wouldn't have had much, if any, time to prepare a new outfit. The only explanation he could think of was Taylor, especially when he considered their dresses followed a similar style. In the future, he would need to have a long discussion with the man. The outfit the tailor undoubtedly designed took advantage of her new figure, keeping the material as form-fitting as possible without restricting her movement. Hugging her midsection like a corset, the sharp waterfall skirted dress ended abruptly under her arms. The skirt only went so high to be above the knee in the front while sitting just above the ankle in the back.
Rin's dress followed a similar style in crimson and black. Two major differences were that the overall skirt length was far shorter and the dress covered one shoulder and the attached arm with a sleeve held tight by thumb holes. Both girls wore heels but only Rin wore stockings. Ending at mid-thigh, the shortness of her skirt was such that the garter's suspenders were clearly visible from most angles.
For the first time, Shirou reflected on all of Rin's outfits and realized her strange quirk. Did she have some type of phobia against fully covering her legs? The only time he had ever seen her wear pants was specifically for sleeping. Otherwise, she always wore skirts and they were always both short and accompanied with thigh highs of some variety, even in the coldest winters.
Perhaps it had something to do with temperature regulation. It was the only assumption he could come up with that made sense.
Offering a hand to assist both girls exit the car, the trio approached the ajar front doors of the Animusphere manor. Greeted by a maidenly woman, they were escorted to a dining hall that seated two people, a man and a girl, already.
The girl he'd seen in portraits of the Animusphere mansion and the man was Marisbury himself. Based only on appearance and assumed age, the woman was Marisbury's daughter. Quite young, Shirou placed her around the age of thirteen. Noting their arrival, Marisbury stood from his chair and extended his arms. "Greetings, Mr. Emiya," he paused to note two other people, "and company," he added. "My name is Marisbury Animusphere."
Shirou's party went through introductions shortly after. Interestingly, the young girl — despite being given the opportunity — failed to do the same. Eventually, after asking deliberately and as politely as he could, Shirou coaxed out the name Olga Marie. "I hope you don't mind. There wasn't any mention that this meeting would be private," he excused.
Marisbury shook his head. "No, of course not. I hadn't expected it, but I can surely accommodate. Please, relax and sit down." He gestured to chairs, though only one seat had the appropriate cutlery and tableware before it. Before sitting himself, Shirou pulled out chairs for his guests.
Attendants entered the room shortly after to set the table for the two girls while Shirou tried to work out an angle. Eventually, he decided to just ask. "So what is this about?"
Marisbury stiffened, blinked, then smiled. "Business matters can wait until after dinner, can they not? I prefer to make requests upon my guests once they're well fed."
While not an answer, it had given him something. Marisbury intended to ask for something from him and it was large enough favour to require extensive hospitality. Regardless, he wouldn't turn down a fine meal prepared for him. Discarding the notion of business, he moved into table conversation. Learning more about one another and trading stories, food eventually arrived.
There were four courses total if one included an aperitif as a course, which Shirou did. The shrimp cocktail starter was simple but appropriate as it led up to an extensive main - beef wellington cooked medium-rare, steamed vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and a healthy side of onion gravy. The final course, dessert, was a neat slice of lemon blueberry cheesecake.
Marisbury hadn't lied about feeding him well. He was definitely stuffed and wasn't ashamed to admit he had eaten too much. He also hadn't lied about holding off business until after eating, either. Clearing his throat, his face grew strained and serious. "The matter I have to discuss is of extreme importance. I'm unaware of how close you are with your guests, but perhaps it would be best if they waited in the reading room."
"We're staying," Rin replied before Shirou could even think.
Illya was right behind to follow up. "Anything you can tell Shirou, you can tell us. As heads of each of our respective families, we swear to keep whatever might be discussed a secret."
Shirou had expected them to act as such. Both girls were capable in their own right and he had brought them along so they could be just as informed as he was. Each one had taken a shift in their personality to be purely business-oriented. It was a change he would secretly call highness mode in his own mind. "It's just as they've said," he shrugged. "Being transparent, both girls are confidants of mine, so even if you asked them to leave, I'd likely tell them regardless."
Obviously making decisions in his mind, it took some time for Marisbury to respond. "Very well, then I suppose I have no choice." Inhaling deeply, he clasped both hands upon the table. "There's no better way than to be blunt, so that is what I'll be: I'm seeking to employ people to be masters."
At first, Shirou had thought he misheard. Replaying the words in his head, he blurted out "What?" along with Illya and Rin. The Tohsaka recovered faster than the rest and asked a question shared by them all. "You can't mean masters as in masters of servants."
"The exact same," he proclaimed bluntly.
Shirou furrowed his brow and leaned forward. Of all the things he had been expecting, that hadn't even crossed his mind. "For what purpose?"
"To preserve the human order and ensure it does not face extinction."
The answers came to him far too easily for how convoluted they were. Shirou failed to see the huge leap in thought and lifted one hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. "Could you be a little more clear?"
"In order to combat extinction, we require overwhelming power to quickly and efficiently deal with the problem. You know as well as I do that servants eclipse even the greatest magi of our time, so what better solution is there?" He hadn't moved an inch in his seat, staring at Shirou with unflinching conviction.
"That's impossible," Rin decried. "Not only is there already a system in place for keeping humanity safe, finding the mana to support those servants can't be done."
"The Counter Force is insufficient and inflicts far too much collateral damage when salvation is truly necessary. Besides, there are matters of importance even they cannot touch. If one were to rewrite the past, the Counter Force would be helpless." Shirou winced as a subtle pain shot through his spine, though he wasn't sure why. "If we are capable of controlling servants, we can limit the damage so that only those who pose a risk are eliminated."
Illya shook her head. "You're treating servants like machines that follow every direction. They're still people with their own sense of will. Rin's servant hardly ever listened to her."
Marisbury sat up straighter, then looked toward Rin. "You were a master as well?"
Shirou knew what was coming but was too slow to stop it. "As was I," Illya proclaimed proudly. "We're both members of the founding families responsible for the Grail War system after all." He hadn't expected her to lay down each and every one of their cards, but they certainly had been.
Marisbury snapped alight. "You're all masters and responsible for creating the Grail War? Then I couldn't find better prospects! My offer extends to all of you."
Shirou threw out his hands to stop the man. "Hold on, you're getting ahead of yourself. Assuming this is even possible, what are you expecting of us?"
"After establishing the procedure, I expect you to summon servants and act as their masters. When a situation arises that requires intervention, you will resolve the situation however you see fit."
Illya latched on to something important. "You don't have the summoning process established yet?" Shaking his head, Illya huffed. "I see why you're interested in us now. You want us to create a system just like our ancestors did."
The man nodded. "Precisely, though that isn't the only issue I face. I also need to obtain capital, far more than I had expected." He admitted the latter part rather sheepishly, as if ashamed of the fact he lacked funding.
"In order for the Grail to work, it also requires a will of its own, a personality," Illya informed. "The homunculus I'm based on, Justeaze Lizrich von Einzbern, melded her own magic circuits with those engraved into Fuyuki's leylines. She lives on within the Grail and has since the First War."
"I see," Marisbury intoned. "If that is the case, is it possible to offer myself?"
Shirou was taken aback by how quickly the man had offered his own life. Were his convictions simply that strong or was something else at play? After taking a breath and giving it some time, Illya nodded. "It's possible, I think. Due to your anatomy being different, we would need to alter the ritual somewhat but that isn't the biggest problem."
Making a confused noise, Rin took over as if sharing one mind with Illya. Holding up one hand, she lifted a finger while speaking. "Tohsaka, von Einzbern and Matou — or Makiri. Three families collaborated to create the Holy Grail War. The Tohsaka estate offered their land and its leylines."
On cue, Illya leapt in. "The Einzberns offered the vessel necessary to stabilize the process and act as a physical representation of the Holy Grail."
"The Matou created the formalcraft and circuitry structure within the leylines. The original creator, Zolgen Makiri, was recently exorcised and his workshop was burned."
Marisbury leaned forward to rest the lower half of his hand on clasped hands. Even Shirou could see the disappointment in his features. "So all is lost?"
Illya shook her head. "The memories of three hundred years ago are still passed down through me. If we had a way of accessing them or bringing them to surface with a reminder, I'm certain we could work something out."
Furrowing his brow, Marisbury thought for what felt like minutes. "I believe I've heard that name before, Zolgen. Rufleas mentioned it in passing."
The name was fresh in his mind following Rin's lecture. Lord of the Department of Spiritual Evocation, he had one of the most arbitrarily difficult names Shirou had ever heard: Rufleus Nuada-Re Eulyphis. Apparently, all members of that family shared confusingly complex names. "When they were younger, Zolgen was a scholar in the Clock Tower so if there are any pieces of his work within this Rufleas' library, it might help us decipher his methodology."
"I'll see what I can uncover." Nodding assuredly, the man seemed pleased. "I presume by your interest that you're accepting my offer?"
"Slow your roll," Illya shot down immediately. "We won't lift a finger unless Shirou agrees to this."
Why was he always the one responsible for making such large decisions? Grumbling in his own mind, he rolled the idea around. "If I were to accept this, I would require a tremendous favour from you."
"Ah, negotiations. I'm nothing if not diplomatic."
"You need to disappear," he came out bluntly.
Blinking, the man's head took on a tilt while he asked, "Pardon?"
He didn't like the idea of discussing his business before Illya — especially when it pertained to her — but he couldn't rightly ask her to leave. "In exchange for information I need, I've been tasked with assassinating you." Marisbury's eyes widened until he realized he was still alive. "It works in my favour that you already plan on offering yourself to complete your own Grail system." Because he hadn't fully accepted Lev's offer, he hadn't signed a Geass. Until he went back, he could speak freely.
The man's face softened. His daughter's on the other hand turned flabbergasted. "I understand. So this favour would have me disappear and never return, presumably dead to the world." Pausing to take a drink of water, Marisbury closed his eyes in thought. For such a decision, Shirou noted that Marisbury appeared unnaturally accepting of throwing his life as he knew it away. Though, it lined up with his willingness to become a Grail. Perhaps he had already been contemplating a state of reclusion for some time.
Illya had already laid out their entire deck, so throwing down the aces in his sleeve couldn't have done much more damage. Still, the entire situation had a chance of backfiring horribly. If Marisbury declined, he'd make an enemy of an ally and lose an easy opportunity of claiming information he desperately needed. Not to mention the fact the man could easily out him to the Mage's Association.
"I can't expect a name or reason for this assassination request, can I?"
Shirou shook his head. "I can only speculate the reason myself."
Humming, the man took a deep breath. "Very well. In exchange for all of your assistance in my goal, I will disappear from the living world, up until I forfeit my life for good." Leaning back and placing one hand under his mouth, the man hummed and looked toward his daughter. "With Olga so young, leadership of Chaldea will need to fall to Professor Lev. At least, until she's old enough."
It was like a string had snapped. Shirou's head recoiled and immediately he asked for Marisbury to clarify. "Professor Lev, as in, head of the Department of Archaeology?" It wasn't as if that was a common name, but he needed to be certain.
Marisbury lowered his hand, then nodded. "The same, yes. He acts as my second in command." Whether he was good at solving puzzles or Shirou's face betrayed him, Marisbury's eyes widened. "It's him, isn't it? He asked you to kill me so that he'd be elevated to director." Blinking rapidly, he leaned back into the chair, stunned with the deduction.
Allowing a moment for the man to settle with the information, Shirou took a deep breath. "I had been trying to figure out his motive but that certainly clears it up."
A noise against the table jarred cutlery and tableware as Olga slammed her hands down and stood upright. "I can't believe such a thing, you're trying to deceive us!"
Marisbury tried to calm his daughter down as she continued slandering him as a deceitful liar. Despite his best efforts, Marisbury failed, prompting Shirou to lift his hands in surrender and shake his head. "She has a right to be suspicious," he agreed. "Neither of you have any reason to trust me."
"Exactly, and we have even less reason after you admitted to being an assassin for hire!" Glaring daggers at him specifically, Shirou sighed.
Not only would it be ineffective, but it would have been hypocritical to respond by claiming he avoided killing. The words had leapt to mind, however, meaning he paused to think of something else. "Whether you choose to believe me or not doesn't matter." Sharpening his eyes, he darkened his tone. "Just be aware that I need the information Lev offers one way or another." Without looking, he could feel the shocked stare of Rin at his side. He knew saying such a thing placed her as an accomplice.
He might as well have been handling a live grenade. If he failed to convince them, he'd be in a horrible position. Thankfully, it seemed as if Marisbury was thoroughly considering everything. Deep in thought, he even placed his mouth within one hand.
In the meantime, Shirou had prepared a contingency. Blueprints of swords awaited their projection. It wasn't desirable, but if forced, he had nothing else.
"Our family is in no position to pay you off," Marisbury eventually began. "That is to say, we couldn't postpone or erase your contract."
Not good. Shirou could already see where the man was heading. His contingency went into effect, with two blades hovering overhead in the back of the room. Quick, relatively quiet and easy.
"However, I'd still like to work with you."
Surprised, Shirou hurriedly dematerialized his weapons and blinked a few times. His daughter, almost as shocked as Shirou, stared in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
"I am," he intoned. "I have no interest in tempting fate and losing, so I won't risk dismissing a warning from my would-be murderer. Despite being unable to offer the information you seek, I can still follow through in our previous arrangement, albeit with one alteration."
It was obvious what the alteration was. In the end, someone would still need to die it seemed. "You want me to kill Lev instead."
… … …
Rin sat in the passenger seat with her arms crossed angrily. "You're insane, you know that?" Huffing as he settled into the driver's seat, Shirou started the car.
"What do you mean?" Illya asked. "Going for dinner with one of the most influential magus families and telling them you planned to kill them isn't normally what we do on Friday?"
Catching on, Shirou shrugged. "Seems more like Tuesday, you're right."
"I hate you both," Rin shot back. "What if he hadn't been so accommodating? What if he had gotten upset and decided to turn us in?" He opened his mouth but she answered for him. "You would've killed them both right there, and then what?" She turned her head to face him. "I saw those swords."
"I was just being prepared."
"That isn't the problem," she snapped back without hesitation. "When did you become so comfortable with killing people?"
The question caught him unaware and for a moment, he was stumped. Giving the question genuine thought, the memories of himself that weren't even his own flickered by. How many lives had he lived through Archer's memories? How many times did he have to see other versions of himself that held an impossible, idyllic ideology of selflessness struggle against the obvious solution?
"This is what you forgot."
The words that were simultaneously his own but not brought a stabbing pain behind his left eye that forced him to close it. The smell of burning corpses lingered in his nose as the haunting memory of the Fuyuki Fire returned in full. He hadn't forgotten, he hadn't. He had only been given purpose the others had lacked. Purpose strong enough to move past his survivor's guilt.
He wasn't himself.
No, that was wrong; they weren't himself.
Wrong again. He wasn't them.
"After I saw the consequences of trying to toe through life without any conflict." A lacklustre answer delivered dryly. In all honesty, he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he had concluded it himself. Whether it had been the nagging, regrettable truth he had come to realize after his exchange with Archer, or the harrowing experience of helplessly watching his family die around him.
Obviously, Rin believed it to be the latter as she sent a passing glance toward Illya. Pursing her lips, she couldn't find an easy argument and released an angry sigh. "Just be careful, alright? It's one thing to walk with death and another to hold the scythe. Don't lose yourself."
The deeper he delved into Archer's memories, the fuzzier the lines grew that separated their lives and personalities. Maybe Rin was onto something. Would there come a point where he wouldn't be able to tell whose life he was living? As preposterous as it sounded, it seemed to be becoming a genuine concern as days passed.
Too late to respond, Shirou drove back to the Tower in silence, running things over in his head and settling on the next step.
The day after, Shirou made another trip to Rocks Road so that he could sign Lev's Geass and formally accept the job to kill Marisbury. After that, he arranged the "murder" to take place nine days later. As planned, the man disappeared unceremoniously and his family reported it to the public as an assassination. Vowing to investigate internally, Olga Marie claimed her position as head of the Animusphere family, but due to her age she wasn't permitted to take over the Astromancy department. Instead, Kirschtaria Wodime would act as de facto head until she was of age. It was similar to the situation between Reines and Waver. In fact, it was identical. In the end, both Animusphere members were fine with the outcome. It had, after all, been heavily discussed. Marisbury elected to remain "dead" despite Shirou's reason for his disappearance being removed. He explained it worked in his favour regardless, so Shirou left it at that and accepted the potential responsibility for two seperate murders.
Lev was also happy to hear the news. Four days later, Shirou received another letter, this time stuck to Rin's dormitory door. As it had done before, it requested Shirou's presence so that Lev could discuss his end of the agreement. Unlike the first meeting, Shirou was explicitly told to arrive in the night, alone. A reason wasn't given, but he could assume that it was to decrease any potential suspicion some might have seeing him return a second time immediately after an influential magus' death.
The following day, Shirou made another journey to Rocks Road where he met with Professor Lev. "If I'm being honest, I was beginning to think you would turn down the offer. Then you surprised me by signing the Geass."
Shirou set his brow. "I needed to investigate the target. I'm not interested in killing just any random person."
"A murderer with morals, hm? Definitely something unexpected considering your legacy."
Shirou could feel his eye twitch unconsciously. "Regardless, it's been done. Where's my information?"
Sighing dramatically, the man stood from his desk and walked toward him. "Such impatience. Here I thought we could parlay and discuss our future together, or perhaps how Marisbury reacted after seeing his incoming demise."
Shirou furrowed his brow. Was it more than just a position as head of Marisbury's organization? The comment made it seem as if there was something personal to it all. "Forgot I'm under contractual obligation not to discuss anything? There weren't any exclusions for you in the Geass."
Lev raised a palm to his forehead and clicked his tongue. "That's right, damn. I would have loved to hear details." Reaching into his coat, he withdrew another sealed envelope, this one blank. "As agreed upon, this will lead you to Touko Aozaki."
Tentatively reaching out, he pinched the letter between two fingers but held short of pulling it away. "Mentioning her name, I assume you put up a bounded field to keep eavesdroppers away?"
The man smiled. "Correct."
Wordlessly, the boy projected a sword and fired it toward the side of the man's head. Striking the temple, it carried enough velocity to pierce straight through to the hilt before his body even hit the ground.
Collapsing in a heap, Shirou let out a shaky breath. What he had done would send ripples throughout the Clock Tower, that much was as obvious as the blood pooling onto the floor. Two magi being murdered so close to one another had a chance of further heightening the already ridiculous security measures at the Tower. He'd also be the prime suspect on account of his recent appearance and known history.
Thankfully, nobody had seen him leave and both Rin and Illya could act as his alibi. Still, leaving the body with such a clue as a sword hole wouldn't work well for him. Projecting Riesenarm, Shirou positioned it in the space above Lev and dropped the unwieldy weapon from a short height.
A sickening wet crunch followed as the man's skull and upper body became more of a paste. The scene that remained as the weapon dematerialized was grim and violent to say the least. Looking down, he noted a smattering of blood that had stained his coat. It had been a good idea to wear a projection. Dematerializing it, he checked his watch just to note the time: eleven forty nine. Activating the watch with some mana, it changed shape and spread outwards to clad his body in his working suit. It cost far less mana to use Taylor's suit than to project his own, a welcome benefit. Slipping through the door, he spotted a sliding window and by extension, his exit.
… … …
It had all gone roughly as expected. The news of a brutal murder spread through the entire Clock Tower the very next morning. There was a surprisingly large list of suspects from what Shirou could gather by eavesdropping. Though, while Lev had many enemies, none were slighted enough to go as far as murdering the man.
Closing his eyes and sighing, he leaned fully against the wall adjacent the Modern Magecraft Theories classroom. He hated that killing had gotten easier. He hadn't even lost sleep or hesitated for the briefest of moments. Were his morals warping? Had he grown desensitized? Was his subconscious subtly telling him Lev had deserved it for organizing an assassination himself?
Whatever the case, the fact that killing another person hadn't been all that great a burden on his mind wasn't comforting.
The door at his side opened and students began filing out. Upon noticing his presence, many put extra effort into leaving faster. Eventually, Rin and Illya stepped out. "Lord El Melloi the Second specifically asked us to get you to talk with him."
It wasn't all that surprising. From what he gathered, Waver had grown to become something of a detective in the world of magecraft. It stood to reason he might have suspicions of his own or interest in a murder. "I guess I'll see you at your next class. It shouldn't take me too long." Nodding to one another, Shirou waited until the classroom emptied before entering, where Waver stood leaning against his desk with both arms crossed over his chest.
"Close the door behind you," he instructed immediately. Doing as directed, Shirou took a few steps down to get closer.
"What's th-"
"Did you kill Marisbury Animusphere and Professor Lev?" The accusation was sudden and more abrupt than he had expected. The responses he had prepped in advance fell apart all at once.
He wouldn't risk lying to Waver. They were familiar with one another, sure, but of all people, he would be perceptive enough to pick up on his tells. "This is because of my father, isn't it?" Scowling, Shirou did his best to fool himself into getting genuinely upset. "Just because he was The Magus Killer I must take up the same title, is that it?"
His illusion worked as intended. Waver stood from his desk and lifted both hands as if to wave away the offence. "The circumstances are just odd."
"A series of coincidences."
"I don't believe in coincidence," Waver fired back quickly. "Besides that, even the blind could see the correlation. You arrive and in just two weeks, two influential magi either go missing or are found dead." Shaking his head, the man's face tightened at the edges. "Unfortunately, I can't ignore your lineage. Especially when, given the circumstances, you're the prime suspect. Even looking at all the angles my conclusion remains the same."
Shirou could almost feel the opening the man's words gave him. "Isn't that exactly the problem?"
Waver seemed confused. After mulling it over for a few seconds, he eventually said only, "Elaborate."
"It all would be incredibly suspicious. As you've said, anybody with half a brain would paint me as guilty. If someone wanted to set me up, it would be easy. It could even be some type of revenge. Get back at The Magus Killer's son while elevating their own position."
Waver narrowed his eyes and examined Shirou's face for some time. Eventually, he hummed. "Are you aware of any magi who would harbour such hostility?"
The boy shrugged. "I was never made aware of everything Kiritsugu did. The list would probably be too long anyway." Both statements were true. In all honesty, he had no idea who might hold the knife about to stab his back.
The man huffed through his nose. "If anything of note comes to you, let me know as soon as you can. I can already foresee being tasked with investigating this by the other Lords." Turning to the side, the man pinched the bridge of his nose. "I shouldn't have to mention it, but don't leave London, at least for a couple of weeks." Releasing his nose, he eyed Shirou directly. "You're still a suspect until this is settled, after all."
Of course, why had he expected to get off so easily? It was just his luck that he'd get Touko's whereabouts but be unable to go. "I already had a trip back to Japan scheduled in the next few days," he covered.
Waver narrowed his eyes challengingly. "Is the reasoning of sufficient importance to wager your innocence in two separate murder trials?"
"Yes," Shirou stated without hesitation. He considered claiming that it had to do with saving a life, but reasoned that would incite more questions he'd need to weasel out of.
Examining him for a moment, Waver hummed thoughtfully. "What's the minimum amount of time you'll need?"
"I can probably get everything done in two days." It was honestly a guess. For all he knew, he'd be round trip in one.
"I'll give you three under specific conditions." It was a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand, Shirou was glad to receive more time than he thought he might need. On the other, he worried about what these conditions would be. "First and foremost, you will go alone and neither Rin nor Illya will be able to leave London. If you fail to return, they will need to be questioned so that we might find where you ran off to. Secondly, failure to return in time will be considered an admission to guilt and the appropriate forces will be dispatched to bring you in."
Expecting a third involving some sort of tracking, Shirou was relieved when the conditions ended there. Nodding firmly, the boy tried to keep that relief from being visible. "I'll be sure to return, thank you for accommodating me."
Sighing, the man waved his hand palm down as if shooing away an animal. "Yes, yes, now leave so I can deal with this headache."
He didn't need to be told twice. Leaving without complaint, Shirou finally let out a pent-up breath as the classroom door clicked closed. Feeling a shudder creep its way up his neck, the boy whipped his head over his shoulder to find a pair of pale blue eyes glaring back at him.
Despite being discovered, the eyes failed to retreat. If the familiar anger and eyes hadn't been enough, the blond hair settled their identity as one Svin Glascheit. "You smell like blood and guilt."
Shirou might have been impressed that such a thing could even be detected by smell if it wasn't so incriminating and accurate."So like most magi then?"
Svin shook his head, remaining a pair of floating eyes from around the corner. "Gray smells fluffy, soft. Others might smell of blood, but not guilt."
Shirou set his jaw. "You're still upset about this? Did you hear anything I said in that fight?"
"Did you hear that I'd never forgive you?" Hardly visible, Shirou could see the man's nose react and face twist into disgust. "Wonder what you're guilty of."
After speaking, he slipped away behind the corner and out of sight, leaving Shirou alone in the hallway. Watching the spot for a moment, a sneeze caught him by surprise and violently released. Sniffling, he decided to return to his job.
While walking and during the long waits outside of classrooms across campus, Shirou planned and plotted. If his memory served, there hadn't been any discussion between Waver and himself of when he'd be leaving, giving some limited freedom. With three days as a set amount of time, he'd have the best luck leaving on a Friday evening and returning the following Monday. That gave him a few days to prepare and line up a plane but he would need to act quickly.
In the time before he departed, he could go to the library and do some studying. Learning what type of magecraft he could expect would prevent him from being surprised and he might even be able to work out some counters.
He couldn't shake the distinct feeling that meeting Touko, like the rest of his life, would be far from easy.
… … …
… … …
Hashima Island.
For a magus, it was definitely a fantastic hiding place. Remote enough without being restrictive and overall reasonably unexpected. Shirou definitely hadn't thought of it. He didn't even know the island existed at all until he had done some investigating.
Taking time off with Rin's permission, he booked a flight immediately back to Japan. Working on Waver's timeline meant he would need to be quick. Unfortunately, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything would be far from simple. On the mainland, he chartered a private vessel to ferry him to the island and wait offshore for his return. Agreeing for the right price, Shirou reached the island with minimal headache.
Landing on a concrete pier disconnected off the main island, Shirou admired the stark, concrete structures looming along the island.
The floating dock did little to provide a vantage point considering it was just slightly lower than the main island itself. Still, the abandoned atmosphere was jarring enough without the sense of danger swirling around him. The ground below was a collection of loose gravel and rocky chunks. Basements of long-gone buildings created pitfalls that one could easily trip into. Slightly off to the side in the direction of the ominous residential complexes were stone pillars assembled in a line. Purpose unknown, their existence felt alien but offered a sense of wonderment at their past use.
Adjusting his sunglasses, he started walking toward the residential buildings on the northern end. He had come prepared for a fight. While not his intention, it was better to be safe when hunting the alleged most powerful magus of the modern-day. His mystic eye killers and the combat suit made for him by Bazett were the basics. Beyond that, he had projected various types of grenades for when he got desperate.
All in all, he still felt underprepared, though there was little else he could do beyond renting out a barge and stockpiling it with weaponry. Touko was, as often as he heard, one of the most powerful magi currently known. Despite not being a magician, she was capable of rivalling them.
Crossing a rickety gangway connecting the floating dock and the main island, Shirou absently wondered if the old, dry planks would even support his weight. Thankfully, they did, and he was able to step onto the main island with a crunch. Underfoot, chunks of ruined material merged with the ground. Concrete, glass and garbage, all made travel a loud and sometimes tumultuous experience. Only walking a few dozen steps, Shirou had nearly rolled his ankle twice.
Despite the ruined exterior, the island itself was strangely peaceful. No engines, no conversation, nothing. All he could hear was the gentle salty breeze and the lapping of rough ocean water against the island's seawall.
The serenity was jarringly out of place with his surroundings. Ahead, the half-crumbled remains of a few shacks sat before a clumped couple of towering multi-story buildings. The hollow darkness visible through the balconies was worrying. From any one of those rooms, he could have been watched. For all he knew, he was staring directly at Touko.
On his left, a large, rocky ridgeline formed a sort of secondary level to the island. Another multi-level building had been erected on top of the ridge, looming over the dock and himself. This perch served as the highest point to place a lighthouse as well.
Behind him, the ruins of smaller buildings sat collapsed under the weight of time and erosion. Evidence of the coal mine that fueled the island's initial immigration sat buried somewhere under the very same rubble. It was unfortunate that he had business to deal with, otherwise, he would have taken some time to explore the island and take in the sights. Even while walking, he could picture in his mind what the sights looked like when they were new.
Ahead, concrete pillars created a type of monument or art display. Being so close to the floating dock, it was showcased rather prominently. Jutting from the ground like large, un-seated staples, Shirou wondered if they were meant to symbolize anything or if they were simply markers for a walkway.
Passing under them, he managed to get halfway through before a gnawing feeling ebbed its way into the back of his mind. Something didn't feel right and his instincts were telling him to be on his guard.
Passing another pillar, the minor worry rapidly turned to an imminent sense of danger. Reinforcing his legs, he leapt forward and rolled on his shoulder while something whistled behind him into the ground and exploded. The pressure wave of the blast was enough to strike his back as he rose, knocking the wind from his lungs and propelling him from a half-standing position onto his front. Quickly lifting himself up and getting his feet grounded again, he bolted forward, expecting another attack.
He was right, but this one was far closer. Leading his movements and predicting his speed, it grazed his shoulder as it passed. Striking one of the concrete structures, he was sprayed with debris as the monolith crumbled to the ground. If two shots had been enough to dial in, he needed to become unpredictable, quickly. "Time Alter, Double Accel!"
It also gave him time to identify his enemy and form a plan. Guessing the direction based on the sound and trajectory of the projectile, his eyes led him to the ridgeline where he could see his bombarder atop a building. From what he could tell at such a distance, it was an automated ballista made of magecraft. Unmanned, it fired golden bolts much like the one rapidly heading where he had been just moments ago.
There were two possibilities. Either it was part of an automated defence system, or Lev had warned Touko of his arrival in advance and she was controlling it herself. Personally, he was hoping for the former. At least in that case, he would be able to state his intentions without them being shot down instantly. Sprinting onwards, the warped sound of an explosion reached him as Time Alter modified the pitch. Straight ahead, a short distance away, a few squat buildings and trees would offer cover and concealment from the artillery. The timing would be convenient, as his body was screaming from the strain of Time Alter. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to keep it up the entire way, he'd need to jump.
Dropping Time Alter while running, Shirou put all his strength into his legs and leapt as hard as he could. Putting all his strength into his legs, he found it underwhelming as his time re-aligned with the normal stream. At the least, the jump saved his life, as a bolt whizzed beneath and struck the ground just below his feet. The explosion, being extremely close, lashed at his lower body. It felt less like the heat of a true explosive blast and more like he had skimmed the edge of a tornado filled with razor blades.
While the jump had been underpowered due to the lack of Time Alter, the blast itself had blown him forward with quite the force. Instead of on the ground before the small buildings, he was sent beyond into the small outcropping of trees. Striking one with his shoulder, he was sent tumbling painfully through the brush onto the cool, shaded ground.
Lying still for a moment to suck in a few lungfuls of air, he noted that he wasn't being bombarded any further. Not that he was in a spot or condition to move quickly anyway. Grunting and grumbling as he pulled himself up from the bed of broken branches, he carefully waded deeper in to preserve his concealment. As far as he could tell, so long as the ballista couldn't see him, he was safe. Checking his condition as he trudged through some bushes, he noted a few weeping cuts on the back of his neck and one that had managed to slice through his armour on the back of his forearm. Even an indirect attack had gone through his defences, meaning taking one directly was bound to be fatal. On a positive note, Avalon was slowly working at sealing the wounds. They weren't cursed, yet.
Stopping abruptly, Shirou mulled over his thoughts. Touko had already established an automated defence at the entrance, who was to say she hadn't trapped the entire island? Peering around, he placed one hand on the nearest tree, closed his eyes and activated his tracing.
It took him a total of two seconds to find over a dozen scattered around his immediate vicinity. He wasn't able to decipher what they did, but he was aware that there were different types. Something that gave him pause was the jarring, seemingly random placement of the traps. His only possible conclusion was that he could only see a fraction of all the traps.
An idea came to mind while struggling to think of a way onward. Projecting a set of chains with thin blades on the end, Shirou manipulated them like snakes along the ground. As he planned, they set off some of the traps, resulting in a mixed bag of effects. Vortexes of various elements, gravity wells, displacement fields, basic explosions and even a literal falling anvil straight from a cartoon.
The mind behind such traps was obviously keen, or was it childish? Keener still that they had expected such a diffusal tactic. Despite clearing out a good number, some traps still remained, meaning they didn't share a triggering mechanism. While the risk had been lowered, it was still undeniably present. Mulling over options, he eventually settled on something stupid as per usual.
Queuing a number of hollow weapons, the boy cautiously stepped into a more open area still hidden from the ballista behind him and began using his projections as a method of transportation. Creating weapons underfoot as he stepped down, he was only given an instant to push himself up before the projection gave way and shattered into dust. Using such a technique, he could run above the ground without risk of stepping into a trap.
Skipping the worst, he took the risk and dropped back to solid ground, nearing the concrete residential buildings. Taking in the decrepit, abandoned structures, he noted a swarm of bugs crowding a hole in one of the buildings' walls.
With so many corners and crevices for one to hide, Shirou quickly concluded that trying to find Touko would be a headache if nothing else. He would need to trace the entire region and use his newfound skills to locate a heartbeat or some other sign of life. Laying one hand on the outside of a wall, he closed his eyes.
Then something lashed across his back and sent searing hot pain through his entire body.
Reeling from the impact and the pain, Shirou whipped around to find a glittering cloud of mayflies behind him. Swarming, motes of light assembled and produced beams of pale blue light that flew out wildly as the swarm writhed. Ducking beneath a low pile of rubble, the beams chipped away at his cover just overhead.
Projecting and breaking a weapon, he fired it at the swarm and watched as the weapon passed straight through harmlessly. Evidently, the flies didn't have enough mass to set it off. Slinking back toward cover, it took him a moment to work out a solution.
Reversing the direction of the broken blade, he set it up vertically behind the swarm and created a second, basic weapon. Firing the second into the first, both weapons and the mayflies were enveloped in an explosion that cracked through the abandoned buildings and over the water just beyond the seawall.
If she hadn't already been aware he was there, she was now. Peeking out from his cover, he ensured the swarm had been dealt with before standing.
Calm once more, he resumed his original task and placed a hand on the wall of the nearest building. Tracing the structures around him, the structureless cacophony of long-abandoned buildings filled the space of his mind. Disorganized and chaotic as it was, it wasn't nearly as taxing as he had expected. The training and stress testing he had been doing at the Tower was obviously doing something. His theory was further reinforced by the heartbeat he detected in the middle of the largest building on the island.
While he had established Touko's location, there were a number of problems associated with talking to her. First and foremost was the sheer number of traps and magecraft set up throughout the building. Secondly, with Touko in the middle floor, he'd have to travel an equal distance from any easy access to reach her. In short, he would need to traverse an equal number of traps.
Alternatively, he had the option of bringing down the entire building, though there was the risk that it would injure her, destroy her work or both. He had come specifically to ask for her work, so it would make no sense to destroy any of it if he could help it.
He needed a way to communicate with her, to tell her that he wasn't there to cause any harm. Opening his eyes, he turned and walked in the direction of the building's entrance. Weighing his options, he realized that he could send a message. If he modified a sword to have engravings, he could direct it through the building to Touko for her to read.
It'd take some time to modify a weapon in such a way, but he had plenty of that. Approaching the main entrance, he noticed a small glint just as his instincts screamed aloud.
Twisting back the way he came, an arm shot past where he had just been standing, grabbing at empty air once before swinging in his direction. Hopping further back, the arm slowly retracted to its owner.
Off-white and made of plastic and fibreglass, Shirou concluded the arm's owner to be a mannequin of some variety. Wondering what sort of creation it was, the sound of chattering limbs drug him to the present. Wrapping both hands around his favoured blades as they appeared, the creation clamoured into sight.
It was something out of a horror movie. A mannequin with a mostly featureless face, glowing blue eyes half-hidden behind red hair and six, elongated limbs. Laying eyes on it sent a wave of nausea through him that brought with it a sense of dizziness.
Crawling along the ground like a spider, it locked onto him and pointed its foremost set of arms at him. Stretching out at a breakneck speed, Shirou moved to favour one side and fully block an incoming hand. The dizziness made him half stumble, meaning he hadn't moved far enough. That, coupled with the other hand's abrupt, unpredicted curve, meant he was struck on the shoulder and blown twisting back right over a walkway rockwall.
Landing on his back, the boy growled at the pain radiating from his shoulder. Queuing up blades to keep the creature busy as he gathered himself, his circuits shorted and sent a wave of pain throughout his entire body.
It was like his magecraft simply refused to work like his system was rebooting or had encountered an error. Panicking, Shirou scrambled backwards as the mannequin clambered over his only barrier. One hand poised and ready, the mannequin's limb shot toward him. With one hand, he intercepted the appendage with a sword. Colliding, it was less like fibreglass or plastic and more like solid steel. Rebounding, the impact was just enough to alter the arm's course. Skimming past his ear, it struck craggy soil behind him.
In a last-ditch effort, he threw the same weapon he had just used at the mannequin's face, hoping it would move to defend itself. Thankfully, it did, by extending its other free arm to strike the weapon itself downward. Distracted, Shirou gained a moment to scutter back along the ground and escape. Getting his feet underneath himself, he broke into a sprint for the nearest building. He wasn't certain of the mannequin's speed, but he wasn't going to take any more chances.
Turning the corner behind a ruined building, Shirou caught his breath while listening to the clatter of mannequin parts from where he came. Closing his eyes, the imagery of a gun's hammer striking down tried to reactivate his circuits. Shorting, he tried twice more, chanting "trace on" in a vain attempt to self-hypnotize. When nothing worked, he hastily looked down to the last weapon in his hand.
Since he had become a magus, he had never been wholly unable to trace or project something. It felt so wrong, so unnatural, to be entirely without the one skill he possessed. He was a dog with no teeth, a car with no gas and the thought deepened the panic he had only brushed with moments prior.
What did he have, and what were his options? It wasn't only tracing that was gone. Reinforcement and Time Alter were out too. Patting his coat, he recalled he still had one smoke and two high explosive grenades though both were unlikely to do anything against the mannequin. His suit itself, while conventionally armoured, wasn't nearly as effective without mana. Peering down at the weapon in his hand, the weight of his predicament cemented itself. He was holding the only true weapon he had left.
Without it, he was as good as dead. Even with it, going head-to-head with the mannequin wasn't an option. It had enough strength and speed to be a genuine danger, especially considering its innate, magecraft blocking ability.
Peering back in the direction he came, he shot down the idea of leading the mannequin through the minefield. The traps that might have worked against the mannequin had already been set off and that assumed they didn't have any way to identify friend or foe. Not only that, but he would only be guessing where potential traps would be.
Lying low and waiting for his magecraft to return seemed to be his best, if not only, option. But how long would that take? Seconds, minutes or maybe even hours?
Breaking from the corner, he ducked lower to stay behind the half-collapsed wall. Halfway around, the concrete in front of his face blew outwards and a hand shot through, grabbing wildly at empty space. Staying quiet, he laid on the ground and crawled forward. Overhead, another arm broke through and struggled to find him. Crawling, he felt something grip his ankle and yank him backwards. Dragged along the dirt, he peered back while violently kicking out the caught leg.
The mannequin had him and its hand was squeezing like a vice around his ankle. Twisting and sitting up despite the odd angle, he hacked at the arm's wrist joint. Instead of a rebounding clack, he found a different, softer noise and was surprised as the mannequin released him. While the arms withdrew through their entry holes, Shirou hurriedly scrambled back, anticipating the next move.
The wall behind him exploded outwards as an off-white figure burst through and tangled in the overgrown foliage. Flipping over and pushing himself back upright, it was back to sprinting. This time, at least, he had more options. Jumping over the walkway half-wall, it was three quick turns into the main apartment building the mannequin had first exited.
He was running straight into the belly of the beast, with no time to admire the abandoned ruin. Dealing with traps seemed easier than the mannequin. At least, in his head, it seemed that way.
"I'll admit I'm mildly impressed," an echoing female voice complimented. Disembodied, he could only assume it was Touko watching him from within the building. "When Lev warned me about you, I hadn't expected him to be serious. If you're struggling with that puppet though, I have no need to be concerned."
Between breaths, mid-sprint, he called back. "I don't want to hurt you, I need you to make me a puppet."
The woman laughed. A sinister, malicious laugh that held no humour. "A likely story. Anyone would want a second chance at life, that's why they designated me after all."
Peering over his shoulder, he caught sight of the mannequin entering as he rounded the corner right into a pile of debris. The roof overhead had given way, taking some of the wall with it and creating a pile at navel level. "Just call this damned thing off and let's talk!"
"If you want to talk, you have to prove you're worth my time."
Vaulting the rubble, Shirou stopped abruptly as his mental map of the building clued him into a trap directly ahead. Behind him, the clatter of limbs echoed through the building. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, almost literally. Trying to reason whether the mannequin or the trap would be easier to deal with, the former rounded the corner and was within sight.
It was fast, but not faster than he anticipated. Lunging, Shirou dropped to the ground behind the pile of rubble. Reaching down to grab at him as it soared overhead, Shirou used his only weapon as a guard, allowing the mannequin to tear it from his grip as it carried past. Holding the last of Shirou's weapons in hand, it landed on top of the very trap he had been so worried about.
In an instant, an invisible force slammed against the mannequin and forced it to the ground. Crushed into the ruined floor, the sheer pressure cracked the tiled floor and ground the mannequin into the concrete below that. Struggling to move, Shirou took the opportunity to skirt around the trapped mannequin and continue in the direction of the stairwell.
Given some breathing room, he took a moment to examine his surroundings and consult his mental map. At the very least, his disconnection from his circuits hadn't wiped what he already examined. Still, every now and then he tried - and failed - to reactivate his circuits.
The interior of the building hadn't been spared from the forces of nature that battered its exterior. Inside the paint on the ceiling and walls had peeled away, cluttering the floor with flakes. The walls themselves were intact, supporting the building's weight solidly. Inside rooms, of which doors had rotted away or fallen apart, there was various furniture and accommodations one would think likely to see from the sixties or seventies. Soft, both literally and visually, brown and tan furniture, sometimes spaced with polypropylene or foam moulding.
All of it — beyond the plastic that merely yellowed — was rotten and degraded to the point of being nothing more than piles of indecipherable mulch and fabric. On occasion, within these piles, electronics would sit lopsided, joining its former stand-in decay. Televisions, radios and telephones and even other appliances could be seen. All of it, including beds or bedding, seemed haphazardly strewn about the room they resided within. Whether it was a result of the tides and wind or by tourists or thieves, Shirou couldn't be certain.
Some of the rooms he passed were totally empty, however. While not befitting of its title as an abandoned island, there was some warning for those willing to heed it and vacate before being forced to leave everything behind.
On the first floor, there were three separate stairwells that led up to the other floors. Of them, only two weren't totally demolished and only one from the ground floor. Situated at the far end of the building, he had to traipse the cluttered, semi-destroyed halls, careful to avoid traps as he did. This single option upwards also ended at the third floor, where debris from the roof had barricaded any further ascent. From there, he'd need to travel back through the halls to the other staircase. After that, he'd need to repeat the process once more as that staircase only went so far as the fourth.
If he had access to his armoury, the process would be simplified. He could bore straight through the floor to his destination. Trying to activate his circuits once more, he twitched as mana failed to flow properly. If he had anything at all, he'd be in a better position. If the mannequin broke free of its trap, he'd be stuck trying to beat it in a race through a trapped hallway and he didn't like his odds.
Sourly moping, he cursed his lack of foresight and vowed to always keep a holdout on him at all times in the future. Perhaps Kiritsugu was onto something in that regard.
Moving with purpose as the sounds of scraping and struggling died away behind him, he paused for a moment to pick up a handful of loose concrete. If he couldn't project anything to use, he'd have to take advantage of his environment. With newfound projectiles, he was able to test traps in his path by flinging stones at them. Those that activated were rendered harmless. Those that failed to trigger were ones which he needed to spend extra time with and see if he could manoeuvre around. Thankfully, it seemed as if there weren't any traps that he couldn't see. Or, rather, that there weren't any he couldn't see that couldn't also be set off by throwing rocks. Unfortunately, his luck ran out just before the entrance to the other staircase.
A trap that encompassed the entire width of the hallway. Not wanting to risk going against the unknown, he began looking for alternatives. Testing his circuits, he found them still inoperable. Grumbling, he looked around and took a closer look through some of the rooms. Each of them led to small balconies. Giving a quick glance over the building's tracing, he came to a simple conclusion.
"This is stupid, why didn't I think of this before?" Asking no one in particular, he turned and moved through a room toward the other side. The room itself was in miserable condition. Near nonexistent flooring eroded down to bare concrete, antiquated appliances left behind and destroyed by age and time. A CRT television set from the sixties sat intact, albeit covered in a thick layer of dust. Passing the ruined room by, he stepped over a pile of broken glass onto the balcony. Peeking outwards, he could see into an overgrown courtyard of sorts nestled in the middle of buildings shaped into a U. The outermost layer of concrete had sloughed off in places, revealing the rebar below.
Still, the core structure was plenty sturdy. Ringing the outside of the balcony he stood upon and every other, was a metal hand railing that Shirou gave a quick shaking to test the stability of. Holding strong, he carefully clambered on top of it and gripped the next balcony's floor overhead. From that point, it was a simple matter of pulling himself up however he could.
Clambering the railing, he repeated the process once more to reach the fifth floor. Like the balcony he had left below, this one featured an array of broken glass. Exclusive to this one were the rotten, soggy remains of a couple of children's toys. Holding still for a moment, Shirou paused simply to listen.
From below, he could hear the distant, clacking sounds of the mannequin's limbs. Either the creature had managed to free itself or the trap had run its course and released it. Regardless, the threat had returned and would quickly be upon him. If he had been able to work out the balconies as a form of easy access, the mannequin could likely do the same with greater speed. The imagery of that thing climbing the outside walls of the building like a demented spider was troubling.
He'd need to convince Touko quickly. But would she even listen?
Walking through the destroyed room into the hall, he looked both ways and consulted his mental map once more. According to it, there were two smaller traps between him and the room Touko would be in on the left. One was based on runes like those prior but the other was a literal tripwire. There was no magic associated with it, surprisingly. Considering it was the final trap before anyone could reach her, he briefly wondered if she lost faith in her magecraft-based traps. If someone had managed to dodge them all as he had, perhaps something simple would throw them off, after all.
It was a short, cautious walk around and over both traps respectively where he turned into the room. Inside, he found the room reasonably tidied. The rubble and age had been cleaned away and functional furniture had been hauled in. That wasn't to say it wasn't markedly aged, but it was in usable condition. A single cot, a work table and a dresser to name a few pieces. Lying on the bed, presumably asleep, was none other than Touko Aozaki herself, unclothed beneath a thin bedsheet.
Blinking a few times, he tentatively stepped into the room, expecting the woman to bolt upright at any moment. "Hello," he called out, uncertain she was asleep at all. "Like I said before I'm not here to hurt you, I just wanted to ask for your help." Holding up both of his empty hands, he cautiously continued into the room.
Responseless, he pressed on. She genuinely seemed asleep as far as his eyes could tell. Was she merely a deep sleeper or was this some type of trance in order to actualize her magecraft? Plagued with uncertainty, he looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of something orange and a flash of light.
Guarding his face, something hot and unseen collided with his forearms and launched him off his feet. By the time he reopened his eyes, he was already looking at the outside of the balcony and falling quickly. He hadn't a clue on what exactly had hit him, but he knew for certain that it had scorched his reinforced suit away on his forearms. The air rushing past the fresh wounds as he fell stung sharply, but it was only for the briefest moment as his back impacted hard branches, scratchy foliage and finally the ground.
The wind was knocked from his lungs, his vision came in blotchy spots shrouded by black hazing and an immobilizing pain coursed and reverberated through his every pore. It hurt to gasp for breath, but his body demanded it uncontrollably. Lying, wincing in his landing spot, Shirou battled against unconsciousness.
What staved the darkness off was his racing mind. Occupying his thoughts to keep his brain from shutting down, he questioned what had just happened, what had been most injured and what he would need to do.
Firstly, standing up.
Though, his body explicitly told him such a thing wasn't even remotely possible. Despite trying, everything refused to move. Whether it was from the jolting, stammered pain echoing through him via his heaving lungs or the fact that something had genuinely broken in the fall, he wasn't sure.
His legs disobeying his mind felt similar to when he had severed his spine, but the pain told him it had been spared.
"And as I said, you still need to prove yourself," a woman's voice taunted. Blinking several times to try and clear up his blotchy, star-studded vision, he saw the blurred image of a figure with pale orange hair at the edge of the balcony he had just been flung from. Wearing a navy peacoat belted at the waist, her ensemble was brightened by a mostly unbuttoned white undershirt and tan slacks.
Groaning and still half in a daze, his body finally obeyed and he threw one arm over his chest to begin struggling with the simple act of rolling onto his side. His body hadn't been reinforced due to the mannequin and he was certainly feeling it. A fall from such a height could have killed him outright. The only reason he had even survived with relatively minor damage was due to the overgrown brush breaking the worst of his fall.
Managing to shift onto his side, it was a concerted effort just to position his hand so that he could begin trying to extricate himself from the brush. Still struggling to gasp in oxygen, he managed to lift his upper half and position himself on his hands and knees.
He was steadily growing to hate the feeling of being winded. If it continued happening to him, he'd contemplate tearing out his diaphragm and letting Avalon grow it back just to teach it a lesson. Though, that wasn't likely to do anything. If nothing else, he was still bitter over his lack of magecraft. Why couldn't his life be easy for once?
Gritting his teeth and tightening his chest to hold his breath, he more or less forced his body to stop working against him. Just as his vision started to collapse, his lungs stabilized and he was able to breathe normally. With the most pressing issue resolved, he focused on what would be the next hurdle: the sound of mannequin parts from behind him.
Moving as quickly as he could, which was limited to geriatric speeds, Shirou turned to prepare himself, finding the mannequin standing motionless a short distance away. "I'll at least give you a fighting chance. Up on your feet," Touko taunted from above him.
Relieved, he painfully shifted and planted one foot on the ground. Legs wobbling, he could just barely recognize the positioning and movement of his lower limbs. He'd obviously suffered damage to his spine, but hopefully, Avalon would hold him together.
"There, you're on your feet."
As Touko finished speaking, the mannequin aimed two of its hands and each began to stretch toward him.
He wouldn't be able to move fast enough to avoid them both. Maybe he'd be able to survive one, but then what? He was already heavily injured, if he fell down again, he wasn't likely to get back up. If he could only project weapons to defend himself, or use his Reality Marble to knit his body back together.
Closing his eyes, he offered a silent prayer and tried to activate his circuits one more time.
The hammer of a gun snapped down in his mind and the crack of igniting primer sent a coursing power through his body. A breath of fresh air, a cold drink in the desert, there were so many ways to describe the sensation of his circuits as they smouldered beneath his clothing. His aching body was partially soothed as the mana filling his gaps numbed his nerves and stiffened the muscles that failed to obey.
In an instant, he went from near-infirm to stiff and sore. Only after being without it, did he truly begin to appreciate having magecraft to protect himself and force his body into obeying his demands.
Weapons flitted through his mind as he haphazardly picked the largest he could find to fire upwards from the ground. Giant greatswords designed for men ten times his size formed a wall between the mannequin's extending arms and himself. Clanging together, he was given another few seconds to take a breath.
Trying to play nice wasn't working and it didn't seem as if Touko was interested at all in talking unless he showed her he meant business. With magecraft restored, and no reservations to be had, he could finally turn the tables.
His research in the Clock Tower had told him some basics on puppets and their makeup. While far from an expert, or even a novice, he gathered the most rudimentary of core concepts. Puppets were familiars and familiars required magic circuits to operate. To that end, the mannequin, a puppet, was nothing more than a miniature magus. Circuits given a form of life.
His eyes locked onto the puppet and only one weapon made sense with that information in mind. Extending one arm, mana fueled its construction and a smooth, contoured handle filled his grasp. He didn't need to bother with aiming, he could manipulate the projectile as it travelled. To that end, why bother pointing it at all? Shifting his arm, the weapon pointed directly upwards into the sky.
Squeezing the trigger, the rifle-sized cartridge kicked hard. Thankfully, reinforcement handled and absorbed most of the force, leaving him with the singular goal of guiding the bullet. Altering its course, Shirou manipulated it sharply back down towards the ground so that he could strike the puppet dead centre in the back. That way, even if the conceptual effect didn't work, it would still cause damage.
Upon impact, the puppet collapsed in the middle of moving around the sword wall he created onto the ground and began writhing in what he could only call pain. Dematerializing the wall of swords and reloading the Contender just in case, Shirou examined the puppet's last moments. Twisting and contorting its limbs, both forward-facing arms shot out toward him in a final attack. Sluggish as its body was wracked by foreign magecraft, they were easy to sidestep.
Eventually, after a few moments, the twitching and shifting stopped and the creature collapsed in a sad heap. Ensuring it was fully incapacitated — or dead, whichever term worked best — he lowered the gun and looked upwards. Leaning over the balcony he had been blown off of, Shirou spotted Touko from behind a hazy cloud of cigarette smoke.
"Are you willing to talk now?" He called out with a wince as the force of his voice brought a sharp pain. Would she ever stop giving him the runaround?
Even from such a distance, he could hear a distinct, single-syllable laugh before she used magecraft to amplify her voice that told him far too much. "You destroy one of my toys and consider yourself worthy? You truly undervalue my time and attention."
Gritting his teeth, Shirou readied himself. With another round already within his gun, the boy stuffed the weapon into a pocket of his outfit as a backup. Using it on Touko would be a last resort if he had no other option. "I value your time enough to come all this way just to talk with you." He knew his words were arbitrary but there was no harm in trying. At worst, he'd simply continue the meaningless back and forth and give his body time to recover. "Please, I need your help, you're the only one who has what I need."
The woman chuckled again. "Of course I have what you need, every magus wishes for eternal life. I wouldn't have been designated if my work wasn't worth having."
Shirou opened his mouth to reply but was silenced by a sharp whistle. From within the building on a lower floor, a golden blur launched outward into the courtyard to land in the trees ahead. Rising from the leap, Shirou cursed his rotten luck.
"Let's see how you handle something stronger, shall we?"
Ahead, some one hundred feet, stood a large golden werewolf, the largest he'd seen. The beast of legend was almost becoming a common rival to him. For being so reportedly rare according to the Clock Tower's books, they seemed uncannily frequent as an opponent. He wondered if he would eventually meet every living member of the species.
At the very least, their commonality meant he couldn't be surprised. Speed and power in spades, more than he could likely handle. If he wanted any chance at all, he'd need to keep them at range.
Opening his hands while snapping both arms ahead, a bow appeared in his grasp and a sword arrow followed in its nock. The mere action of locking his limbs in place was enough to produce a shark inhale as pain took his breath away. Gritting his teeth and drawing the string, Shirou could barely see his target through the stars appearing in his eyes. Thankfully, all he needed to aim for was the big, bright blurry beast before him. Firing, the arrow exploded from its perch and honed on its target. Unable to avoid being struck due to the speed, the best it could do was avoid impact at center-mass.
Striking the side of the wolf's hip, a shrieking metal-on-metal noise echoed between the buildings as the arrow deflected and carried on to the building. The broken arrow, impacting solid concrete, exploded violently, throwing chunks in every direction. Shirou had half expected such a reaction, which is why he already had another sword prepared from his armoury. A weaker arrow first had the potential of luring his opponent into a false sense of security.
"I am the bone of my sword," he chanted between his teeth while redrawing the string. Using Caladbolg would be a good medium to test the werewolf's durability. Fueling it with less mana would keep its lethality down but leave the power at a notable enough level.
Arrow completed in its perch, the bowstring smoothly slipped from his fingers and the spiral projectile snapped onwards. The recoil from his bow was almost as bad as the act of drawing it back. Shaking within his grasp, he nearly dropped it as his joints struggled with the pain.
Shutting his eyes, he barely had the time to do that before his weapon closed the distance and activated against his target. All at once, blinding light erupted with enough intensity to shine through his eyelids. Air rushed past him over his shoulders to fill the vacant space as oxygen rushed to fuel the explosion.
He teetered forward to the point of falling onto his face only to be blown backwards twice as hard as the then expanding air blew back at him. All the while, splinters of wood, dirt, gravel and clay struck his body as the landscape was torn from its place. Each piece might as well have been a bullet as the relatively minor bits sent pangs of agony across a far wider patch.
Once the air settled from its turmoil, he drew in a sharp breath and opened his eyes. Just in time to see a flash of gold as it came upwards from below.
Snapping his head back and twisting his body backwards on instinct alone, he couldn't avoid the elongated claws on the end of the werewolf's digits. Slashing against and through his armour, searing pain radiated from his torso. Not only from the wolf's claws but the act of moving so fast as well.
Luckily, his face had been spared from the attack, but that did little to ease his mind. Such an attack had been able to take on servants, why hadn't it worked against the werewolf?
He couldn't deliberate upon the question, as after the first strike a continuation of feral blows rained down on him. Using the shaft of the bow to guard as best he could, it proved less than ideal. Each attack left behind chips and gouges due to the claws, leading to less effectiveness overall. Not only that, the vibrations from each attack were gradually locking up his muscles, slowing him down. The damaged weapon allowed the wolf's claws to reach through and nip at his clothing. Tearing it seamlessly, it failed to go through his underlayer, sparing him from a number of nicks and cuts.
Catching and holding the bow with one hooked claw, the wolf reared its head forward, chomped onto the shaft and flung its entire body backwards. Tearing the weapon from his hands, Shirou funnelled mana into his suit and defended himself from the potential follow-up with his arms. Carrying through with the motion, the wolf fell backwards, planting its arms in the ground to catch itself. Kicking up its legs and forcing its arms out, the werewolf used both legs and slammed against Shirou's guard, pressing both the boy's arms against his chest with the impact.
Blown off his feet, he tumbled through branches and got caught up in trees. Thankfully unwinded, but still coughing from the renewed full-body pain, he outstretched both arms to slow and then stop himself in a half upright position, graciously caught by the shrubbery. Had he landed on the ground again, Shirou reasoned it would have been over. Standing from where he was wouldn't be too difficult, once his body started functioning again without pain that was.
"It seems all you are is a collection of magecraft parlour tricks after all," the woman chided from above. "How disappointing." She wasn't exactly wrong. Her mannequin had shown him how reliant he was on projections. While he had barely managed to scrape by, he had felt directionless all the while. While he'd be a fool to doubt its effectiveness, he still needed a plan for if the worst happened as it had some time ago.
Refocusing on the matter at hand, he tried to work out why Caladbolg hadn't worked and his next strategy. He was certain it hadn't missed. The blast had caught the werewolf for sure. His only conclusion was that there was some type of magecraft resistance at work, particularly strong resistance at that.
Sucking in a breath, Shirou winced and clutched at his chest. His suit had spared him from the worst but even so, the force had re-numbed his upper body. Taking a direct blow was likely to cripple him if not put him out of commission outright.
Range proved ineffective, but was there any more merit in moving to melee? He was far too injured and besides, those weapons were also formed by magecraft, so there wouldn't be any difference in terms of effectiveness unless he used something extraordinarily powerful. Going so far as to bring out a noble phantasm risked killing the werewolf before he could yield, which was less than ideal. Though, if that's what it would take to extend Illya's life, perhaps it was necessary.
With a concerted effort, he hauled himself onto his feet once more. It was fine, surely. All he needed to do was battle a werewolf that was stronger than him and capable of hurting him regardless of how well his defence was. He was only barely standing on two feet, it would be easy.
Although, why would he listen to the false words of someone who had already lied to him? Who was to say dealing with this werewolf would prove himself for Touko anyway? It didn't. Frustrated, he thought back to the copy of Touko he had seen on the bed. It was a long shot, but he was determined to start making his own decisions.
"Time Alter-"
A sword formed at arm's reach and pointed toward the werewolf. Extending his right hand, his fingers lingered before the tip of the pommel. He wasn't one to bank on hopes and prayers, but he was definitely hoping his actions would play out as he expected.
"Double Stagnate!"
The sword twitched and its tip pointed upwards ever so slightly as his fingers grazed the cool metal and his eyes closed to blink.
A violent ripple coursed its way through his body, originating at his fingertip and making its way through his torso, his feet and into the ground. Each inch of skin it travelled across felt as if it was passed by the tip of a blowtorch, leaving behind the sensation that his skin had been ruptured from the inside out. Opening his eyes, the barest remains of a trail remained by way of superheated air.
Tracking its path and squinting to see better, he could just barely make out a coin-sized hole. In terms of scale, it was minuscule. But when it was placed between a person's eyes it became terrifying.
Immediately, the woman slumped over and collapsed out of sight. Facing forward, the werewolf flinched and looked over its shoulder. Not willing to take the moment for granted, Shirou projected another sword identical to the one he just used and extended his hand in the same manner, directing it to the werewolf.
Though, even that was pushing himself too far. Even without firing another weapon, nausea had begun to radiate from his stomach and a rapidly collapsing tunnel dominated the fringes of his vision. He still wasn't used to dumping that much mana for a single attack it seemed. "Give up, or you'll follow," he threatened. With the mix of pain and fading consciousness, he wasn't certain how convincing his threat was.
The werewolf, through the haze of Shirou's eyes, faced forward and noted the same weapon pointed at it. Slowly, the beast raised its hands and unexpectedly, it began to change.
It wasn't the violent, disturbing bodily change the werewolves he was used to went through. There was no cracking or snapping of bone as it readjusted its shape and reconfigured itself. Instead, it was a gradual, steady change as if their body was clay being moulded by unseen hands. When they were finished, a distinctly alarmed-looking child stood ahead.
Pale, ivory-coloured hair and emerald green eyes, wearing an out-of-place white winter coat and black trimmings elsewhere to conceal as much skin as possible. They couldn't have been more than fourteen by Shirou's estimate. Strangely, a visual trace was telling him that such a fact wasn't possible, that what stood before him simultaneously wasn't human and was far older than its appearance led on. "I hope you have a plan for what comes next because we're both dead if you don't."
Before he could ask what the child meant, a loud fleshy noise echoed out through the plaza from the balcony overhead. Shortly afterwards, something poured up and over the balcony. It was indecipherable in shape, coloured black and red with teeth and eyes innumerable.
It was like some creature straight out of a book about nightmares from other worlds and the fluid-like movement as it swarmed down the side of the building only aided in that assessment. With more than a little panic, Shirou took a step back and allowed the weapon he had made to dematerialize. "What the hell is that?" he blurted out.
Taking the fading weapon as a sign of an end to hostility, the child turned his back to Shirou and leapt along the ground so that they could be closer to his side. Settling with the hasty allegiance, Shirou tried to work out what he could do. With his vision returning, he could begin projecting more weapons and what better way to start.
Remaking the inhumanly large swords, Shirou projected a half dozen and experimentally erected another make-shift wall directly in the creature's path. Expectedly, the creature swarmed through and around the weapons, acting like a viscous liquid more than a solid being. "Going to need something else, quickly!"
The panic in the wolf-child's voice was not missed. It was obvious they were just as horrified by this thing as he was. "If you know about this thing, why don't you know how to stop it?" Shirou growled, trying to work out a tactic. Would he be fast enough to outrun it? No, he could barely stand. Running was off the table. It couldn't be that easy anyway, the wolf-child would have done so had that been possible.
He'd need to take it head-on, but what did he possibly have that would be effective? Projecting a bow with an arrow and breaking the latter, Shirou fired and struck his target dead on. Despite erupting in a cloud of smoke and crackling magic, the abomination carried through unphased.
"I know I've never seen it not capture something. It's a demon that drags its target back to wherever it comes from."
Shirou latched onto the word demon. Searching his armoury, he found a sparse few weapons designed to take on demons. Dematerializing the bow to open up his hands, the boy got to work. Recognizing the name of one specifically, he projected a half dozen to sit between the fingers of his hands. Black keys, a weapon favoured by Executors. Not so much blades as they were edged words, he knew enough about them to understand that they provided an edge against demons and vampires.
Borrowing the skills to wield such awkward weapons from their original user via Archer's memories — one Kirei Kotomine — Shirou flung both handfuls toward his target, striking various parts along its body.
It stopped abruptly as if it had been pinned in place. Through the many mouths spread across its body, the abomination screeched and howled in pain as it trashed against its sudden bindings. So the wolf-child had been correct. It was-
"Not dead," the child beside him commented absently.
"I can see," Shirou hissed back, trying to decide what else, if anything, he could use. Beyond more black keys, there was but a single other weapon that had anti-demonic properties that caught his eye. The reason it did so was because it was a noble phantasm. Not only that, but it carried a high mana cost to project in the first place. If it failed, he'd be unable to project any of his other heavy-hitters for some time. Still, did he have any better options?
With it being an arrow, he needed to project his bow once again. Doing so, the noble phantasm took its place against the string. To call it unwieldy would have been an understatement. Despite knowing it was expected to be used as an arrow, Shirou doubted the possibility of such a thing.
It was the strangest arrow he had witnessed yet, with a hilariously lopsided two-blade broadhead of gleaming orange bronze and an extra-long shaft of a foreign material. The longest side of the broadhead stretched backwards nearly a foot only to end in a sharpened barb. The short end, on the other hand, had a small barb and ended where the shaft began as expected. Etched into its surface, revealing smooth white metal beneath the bronze surface, were elegant flowing designs. He had never seen an arrowhead so intricately detailed, but when you had the same amount of surface area as some small swords, it started making sense. The shaft itself was totally alien as well. Neither wood nor any composite fibre, it was metal as well. Despite being metal, it was lighter and structurally stronger than any other material he had seen.
The longer he looked at the arrow, the more his confidence in firing it grew and the more his arms struggled to support it. With vanes almost stiff enough to be solid with an extreme, turbine-like curve to support a spin, the aerodynamics were further aided by smooth reliefs worked into the arrowhead itself. There had been a lot of effort put into designing the weapon, maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he initially thought.
Lifting the bow, struggling at the awkward weight for a moment, and drawing the string, the weapon's name lingered on the tip of Shirou's tongue. Merely thinking of it elicited a soft hum from the arrow. Lining up the abomination, it was an active struggle to keep the unwieldy weight steady. He had prepared just in time, as the last black key gave out and the abomination surged onwards once more.
Inhaling sharply, the name slipped from his mouth in time with the release of the bowstring. "Brahmastra!"
The trailing edges of the arrow exploded in crackling, fiery orange energy. Exiting his bow, the arrow immediately launched into a rapid spin, swirling the energy into a pointed cone directed at the abomination. Striking the creature in but a moment, the arrow defied gravity and remained suspended in the air as the conical energy drilled against the demon. Screeching in agony as it was attacked, the demon struggled to fight back against the weapon. Through the haze of orange, Shirou could see that large portions of the creatures' body sloughed off and disappeared, shredded apart by the arrow's energy.
In only a few seconds, the arrow abided by the laws of nature and continued onwards, embedding itself in a wall of the building behind its former target. Nothing remained of the abomination that had been, although the foliage where it had been was scorched to the bare ground.
Dematerializing the used arrow, Shirou let out a steady breath of relief. Though, he couldn't let his guard fall completely. Side-eying the wolf-child beside him, Shirou tensed his legs to prepare a move away. "Are we done fighting?" The child stiffened, turned and lifted both hands up to head level in surrender.
"It depends on what she says now, though." Nodding their head toward the building, Shirou glanced back up to the balcony and saw something peculiar. Touko Aozai, alive and well, although wearing a new change of clothing - this time an oversized, orange overcoat and black pants. They were in the process of adjusting a pair of glasses on their face, a pair they had just bent down to pick off what Shirou could only guess to be her own corpse. When they were just right, the bridge snapped and the two halves fell from the balcony to the ground below.
Immediately, her expression grew angry and a gloved hand crawled along her face, gripping onto her hair and concealing her eyes. "Not only do you kill one of my puppets, but you break my mystic eye killers as well?"
A shiver worked its way through Shirou's entire body accompanied by a feeling of dread. It was no different to when he stood before servants and if he went off his instincts, there was no difference at all. The reason became apparent when her hand lifted from her face and she locked eyes with him. With a flash of pale blue, a crack split across his sunglasses, spidered outwards and shattered in less than a second. Unfortunately, he couldn't even blink. His entire body instantly froze in place, wholly paralyzed to the point where he couldn't even breathe and could just barely blink. Even his heart was struggling to beat against the vice-like grip on his body.
It was familiar, though he had never experienced the sensation to such a degree. Illya's mystic eyes could replicate a milder effect but with how often she practised binding him, he was rather resistant to it. This, however, was on an entirely different level. Though of course it was, it shattered the very article designed to prevent their effects.
"For a boy who merely wanted to talk, you're growing very expensive." At his side, the wolf-child wordlessly fled. It must have been for good reason, as Touko leapt up and stood on the edge of the balcony. He could still project and fire weaponry, but from such a distance without abusing Time Alter, she'd be able to react long before it'd be a threat.
Watching amidst the struggle of cycling oxygen, an array of yellow crystalline motes appeared and assembled behind Touko. Quickly, they bonded together to create a sprawling array of leaf-like wings extending from her back. He knew it was bad, but his eyes told him each leaf was a magic crest. There were over two dozen, a truly insane number of crests for one person to be capable of using.
As a test, he projected a dozen haphazard weapons and shotgunned them all at once as a test. Unexpectedly, after only moving a few feet, the weapons froze in mid-air against Shirou's orders. None of the other mystic eyes he encountered had been capable of freezing his projections. Weaponless, what did he have left?
"Parlour tricks, nothing more," the woman glowered. Reaching one hand into her coat, she withdrew a half-crumpled packet of cigarettes. Going through the tedious process of lighting and taking a puff, she used the lit end of the cigarette to draw in the air. Behind her, the leafy lattice aligned and began to glow. Below the woman, spanning the outer walls of the building, an array of magic circles appeared, spreading outwards gradually under the flaming runes.
He'd been beaten from the start. Since he'd been defenestrated, Touko had been capable of ending him at a moment's notice. If he had been capable of moving any part of his body, he'd have chuckled grimly at the whole situation. It was bitter to think he had been nothing more than a piece of entertainment from the very beginning.
Casually, as if throwing away trash, the woman flicked the remains of her cigarette forward into the runes. Colliding, the runes themselves, the wings upon her back and the circles lining the building's walls grew brighter and began to unleash a hail of magecraft of so many different varieties it was impossible to even determine what was being used.
Without even activating Time Alter, it felt as if the world was moving slower. He was staring death in the face but still felt at ease. Was it because he was accepting of such a fate?
Or, perhaps, it was because there was still one last thing he could do. He didn't need to move, all he needed was a simple thought to draw it from his armoury. The only downside was that it would take the remainder of his mana to draw forth.
Closing his eyes, a gentle, flickering purple light was already there in his mind. Drawing from his circuits, the purple orb grew, becoming the dominating image within his mind's eye. Flashing white, it rapidly blossomed, expanded and flared to take on the image of a splendid flower.
Opening his eyes, the flower bloomed ahead into a seven-petal array. Stacking onto its face were an additional seven hazy pink layers, occupying the space between him and the incoming onslaught of magecraft.
Rho Aias, the last hold-out defence of Archer.
In a moment, the onslaught collided with the outermost layer of the flower and produced a dazzling array of sparks and streaks as the conflicting magecraft reacted with one another. The initial blast blew away the smallest, outermost layer of the flower and with its departure, a violent pain washed through Shirou's body. As it did, the barrage only intensified and the second layer quickly wore away and shattered as well. As it had with the first, pain flashed across his body. This time, a lasting, burning pain spawned within his left shoulder, tracing the line where his arm had once been severed.
Battering his defence, the assault grew further in intensity. Like a monsoon of hail upon a tin roof, the wailing magecraft began to ring in his ears and the brightness stung his eyes. Showing no signs of slowing, the third barrier exploded violently and the burning of his shoulder intensified. Holding firm, it felt as if someone was actively holding a blowtorch against the surface of his skin. Considering the alternative — being dead — he was grateful.
The cacophony of conflict held at an incessant din as the edges of his vision closed in around him. Having been incapable of breathing, the oxygen deprivation was finally getting to him.
If he passed out, would Rho Aias remain? If it survived the onslaught and he was unconscious, would Touko simply kill him? Questioning his mortality, the heat in his shoulder spread throughout his entire body. For all he was aware, he might have been suspended in a vat of acid. The pain was certainly equivalent to such a thing. Vision fading further, all he could see through the hazy darkness was a bright white light. Even the ringing in his ears was fading away.
Staring into the darkness, sound ebbed away and weightlessness took over. Echoing it to himself, three words bounced around his mind.
"I'm sorry, Illya."
… … …
… … …
Clasping the case closed, the woman let loose a low whistle. Inside, filled quite full, were tightly banded five-hundred euro bricks. The fact they weren't in her desired currency of pounds was of little concern. Having a five-hundred euro bill meant more money could be crammed into a smaller space. She hadn't been aware of what six and a half million euros had looked like prior to meeting her employer, but she had gained a good estimate.
"Lotta cash for one guy, must have really pissed you off, eh?" Lifting her head and quirking an eyebrow, she was met with a silent, chilling glower from amber eyes. Shrinking, the woman flashed her palms in mock surrender. "My bad, sorry. No need to sicc the dogs on me," she chuckled nervously. When the icy stare failed to change, a sense of anxiety snaked around her neck. "I'm just a lowly assassin after all, what do I know about aristocrats and all that? Just point me at a target and fork over cash, right?" Continuing her nervous laughter, the staring eyes remained unflinching.
It felt as if she was a child again, standing before her mentors as they broke down and scrutinized her performance in the trials. She hated it, but getting on the bad side of someone willing to hire an assassin wasn't an idea conducive to living a long life. "Welp, guess I'll head off and get to work." Gripping the handle of the briefcase, the woman slid it from the table and was caught by surprise by the weight.
Colliding with the ground, the woman awkwardly remained standing while her fear and anxiety turned to embarrassment. "Briefcase full of money sure is heavier than they make it seem in the movies," she passed off, readjusting her grip and compensating for the rather hefty weight beneath the handle.
Aiming to make a speedy getaway after such a miserable first impression before an employer, she walked out of the door while only mildly struggling with her payment. Passing the doorway, a touch upon her shoulder gathered her attention.
Behind her, a formally dressed butler, following every stereotype there was mind you, cleared his throat. "The family wishes to extend to you a courtesy."
Blinking, then peering back into the room, the woman found the pair of eyes absent. "Tromaktikós," she muttered under her breath. Shifting back to the butler, she tilted her head. "What kind of courtesy?"
"A plane has been chartered for you whenever you are ready to depart." Like a magician upon a stage, the butler flourished one hand and procured an unsealed envelope. "The associated codewords and instructions are within."
Setting the heavy briefcase down with a soft huff, the woman collected the envelope and endeavoured to find a pocket to store it in. Concluding she had none of use, she stuffed it into the waistband of her pants, finding it stuck firmly by the tightness of her belt. Happy, she recollected the briefcase and offered her thanks while leaving.
Outside the mansion, she met the chilly spring air and shivered as it trailed along her bare skin. When she wasn't using her magecraft, her attire was ill-suited to such a northern environment. She could only hope Britain would have better, sunnier weather. Dragging her laden suitcase along, she opened the door of her rental jalopy and plopped her payment package on the passenger seat.
Huffing, she eventually worked her way over to the driver seat and coaxed the rust-bucket to life.
Grumbling, she began driving back to the hovel of a hotel she rented for the trip. "A job like that could set us up for life," she mimicked. "Instead of taking on a pile of small fries, go after the big fish, you can do it," she continued. Bitterly, her face soured and an equally annoyed word left her mouth: "Malaka."
… … …
… … …
His eyes creaked open, fluttered as they adjusted to the light and refocused as his brain began to work through what had happened. He was alive, which was a good thing. He had also been moved to a bed, which was where a sense of panicked shame set in.
Someone had stripped him of his clothes and he had been sleeping nude for an indeterminate amount of time. Looking around, he recognized the room he had first encountered Touko in and noted a streak of blood moving from the balcony out of the room's doorway. Based on the blackish, dry appearance, he had been unconscious for longer than ten hours. Wishing to ensure he hadn't been experimented on, Shirou threw the bed sheet off himself and performed a visual inspection.
No incisions or strangeness that he could detect. Still, he was on guard. Activating his magic circuits, a static shock raced through his entire body. Strange as it was, it didn't seem to be an issue and it didn't prevent him from projecting a pair of pants. Until he could find his clothes, he could at least retain his decency. Visually alright, he stood up from the bed and tested his physical status by bending each joint and performing some quick stretches.
Motor skills were fine and there wasn't any pain associated with movement. Avalon, or perhaps something else, had repaired whatever damage he had sustained against Touko's barrage.
Thinking of Avalon, the boy closed his eyes and looked inward, thankful that the golden glow of the sheath remained. At least that hadn't been taken from him. Opening his eyes, he quickly scanned the room for anything else that might have been of note. Unfortunately, there wasn't.
Deciding there was nowhere else to go beyond following the trail of blood, Shirou stepped out into the hall and found a snaking path that manoeuvred its way specifically around the existing traps. Convenient, if nothing else. Following a rather twisted bread-crumb trail, it eventually terminated going straight into a wall. Cautiously, Shirou extended a hand to touch the wall but found that his hand merely passed through, rippling as if it was a pool of still water.
Stepping through, he entered a room separated from the ruin of the rest of the building. Seemingly an office space for administrative work, several desks had been piled into one corner of the room to make space for an advanced workshop. Mannequin parts, alchemical implements, jars of various fluids and crates of reagents Shirou couldn't even begin to name were haphazardly strewn about with no care or worry of clutter. Merely standing in the room brought an itch to clean and tidy.
At the far end of the room, the trail of blood came to an end. Lying on the table, was a body in the process of being sawn apart. Wielding an antiquated amputation saw, Touko mutilated her own corpse with silent determination.
Familiar with mutilated bodies and grotesque imagery, Shirou wasn't all that fazed. Clearing his throat to gather her attention, the woman paused her work with an annoyed huff and turned to face him. Blood soaked through the front and rolled sleeves of her used-to-be white shirt. With an unsullied part of her forearm, she adjusted a hastily-taped pair of glasses to sit better upon her face. "You should have been awake an hour ago," she scoffed. With her head, she nodded toward a half-crushed, half-empty pack of cigarettes. "Get me one of those. I'd do it myself, but…" She trailed on, flashing her blood-soaked hands.
Shirou furrowed his brow. "Hold on, what's happening, why are-"
"Cigarette," the woman ordered with a tone as cold and venomous as Lorelei.
He stood silent for a moment, grit his teeth, then decided it wasn't worth a battle when he could finally get answers. Collecting the pack and drawing a smoke, he offered the butt to Touko, who leaned toward his hand to draw it from his fingers. Perched in her lips, she murmured, "Ain't gonna light itself," while looking at him expectantly.
He peered down at the pack of cigarettes but found no obvious way to light it. Looking back up, he opened his mouth and was cut off before he could speak.
"I'm just messing with you." Snapping her fingers behind her back, flinging droplets of blood across the room, a flame ignited at her fingertip. Using that flame, she began filling the room with an absolutely vile-smelling smoke, more so than was typical. "I know you can't use other magecraft."
Flinching somewhat at her words, his confusion only deepened. "How-"
"When you were unconscious," she began with a sigh. Turning, the woman placed her saw back in its groove. "I took the liberty of doing some research." Resuming her work amputating an arm, she declared his name, stilting the syllables in time with the strokes of her saw. "The son of the infamous Magus Killer. Even if I hadn't known your name before you got here, I'd have figured out your family from the magic crest on your back. You don't forget something as unique as time dilation." The arm was severed, falling from its joint onto the ground. The woman lifted her head, exhaled a plume of smoke and turned to look him in the eyes over her shoulder. "Though, I suppose I'll never forget it." Stepping to the side, she gripped the severed head of her own body and held it up for him to see. "You could say it was drilled into my skull."
"What other choice-"
"I don't answer rhetorical questions," she snapped back. Cut off so many times, Shirou absently wondered why he even bothered. Setting her head back on the table, she continued. "There's an unlimited number of choices anyone can make at any given moment. For instance, we could have killed one another a great number of times if we truly had the mind to." With a small move of one hand, magic circles illuminated themselves both above and below Shirou. Thankfully, they faded away as quickly as they appeared. "But we now hold a mutual interest in one another."
Had the matter at hand not been so serious, he might have tried passing a joke, commenting that she was too old for him. Instead, he went with, "So you're willing to hear out my request?"
The woman laughed, once. "You kill one of my puppets, use my valuable time and have the gall to ask for something from me? You've got balls, kid." The woman crossed both arms over her chest and leaned her hips back against the bloodied table. "You have thirty seconds."
Caught by surprise, Shirou mentally stumbled for a moment until he could line up the words. "I need you to make a puppet body for my sister." The simplest explanation of his wishes that he could think of. Pausing, he noted that Touko's expression failed to change and elected to give more details. "She's a homunculus, and her body wasn't designed to last as long as it has. To save her life, I need a new one for her and you're the best puppet maker ever known." Maybe the less than subtle compliment would aid him?
"Time's up," she noted with a small hum. "An allegedly noble cause, seeking a new body for a dying sister." Turning, the woman viciously began hacking at the last attached limb. "The idea makes me sick."
Taken aback, Shirou redoubled his efforts. "I'll pay whatever you want but I won't leave without it."
The woman abruptly stopped sawing through bone and lifted her head. A pit formed in his stomach as he wondered if he had said something wrong. "Even your own life?" Slowly twisting her head to peer back at him with her head lopsided, Shirou's worry deepened.
Gritting his teeth he gave the question genuine thought. He had never considered a direct trade of lives before. It had always been a test of his ability to protect her in the past. He put his life on the line for her, yes, but if he had done nothing, she would have undoubtedly been killed. To that end, there had always been a chance they would each walk away unscathed.
But to forfeit his own life — and by extension their time together — to extend her life. It was a situation he hadn't ever considered. Though, if he weighed their individual value, their individual sins. "If that's what it took," he nodded.
Touko made a small noise. "You actually thought it over logically and arrived at a selfless decision," she stated aloud. Moving her head back to her work, she took the last drag on her cigarette and unceremoniously spat it out onto the blood-soaked floor where it sizzled once.
"Thought it over logically?" he repeated. "Are you just guessing?"
"Your face reads like a book- no, not quite." She interrupted herself with a small wave of the saw before resuming cutting. "It reads more like a fireworks display or skywriting. I've never met someone so transparent."
"As often as I've heard it, I still don't know whether to take that as a compliment or insult."
"You can't help what can't be helped." With a wooden thunk, the limb shifted from its torso. "Finally," she huffed. "It isn't often I can salvage anything from these, but I could hardly let it go to waste when it's so intact."
The woman picked up the severed limb, stacked it with the others, then moved the torso a slight distance away and lit the body on fire with a flick and flourish of two fingers. From what Shirou could see, the torso appeared as if it had burst from the inside out. Nothing but shattered bone and chewed flesh. He didn't blame her for getting rid of it. "So wha-"
"You've offered your request, now it's time to offer mine." Once again being cut off, Shirou felt deflated but listened regardless. "How old are you?"
Blinking, the boy struggled with the odd question. He didn't know exactly, but he typically went with "Eighteen."
"Acceptable," the woman claimed. "Then as payment for destroying one of my puppets and in exchange for a new one, you'll give up the rest of your living years to me." She turned, crossed both blood-soaked arms over her chest and flicked a strand of hair from her face. "Are the terms acceptable?"
Furrowing his brow, his confusion grew deeper. "What do you mean?"
"I'm in the business of collecting magic crests, but not in the typical sense. The details go above you, but through a process, I'm capable of utilizing the magic crests of other magi as my own. In order to do so, I need them alive, hence why I need your living years."
Shirou blanched. "So you want to keep me in a jar?"
The woman sighed and rolled her eyes in the same motion. "No, you fool. You'll live comfortably but in total recluse from the world. All of your needs will be tended, though you'll have to deal with the pain associated with the use of magecraft when your crest is called upon."
The explanation gave some sense to him. He'd be stored like a house pet or piece of decorative art, but he'd also have to deal with the pain of Time Alter whenever Touko needed it. "There's nothing else you want?"
The woman brought a hand up to her face, likely so she could grip her chin. Before she could, she remembered that her hand was covered in blood and awkwardly re-crossed her arms. "There's only one other task I have, though it is far more difficult than devoting your life to me. Then again, it seems to be your specialty."
Harder than giving up some sixty-odd years of his life to sit in a room? His specialty? He was almost certain she wanted him to kill someone, just like Lev. In the world of magus politics, it seemed rather common. "I take it you want me to assassinate someone?"
"Your intuition is truly as sharp as a feather," she deadpanned. "Obviously, but this isn't just someone you can barge into the workshop of and ask to talk to." The thinly veiled insult didn't go missed.
"I'd never see my sister again if I took your first offer, so I'd rather keep my own freedom by taking the second, even if it ends up being harder or getting me killed. At least I'd have a little longer with her."
Touko's expression soured as if she had bit into a lemon. "I'm going to be sick if you don't stop saying sister with such determination and joy. In fact, never mention any familial bond around me again or I'll treat you no different than this puppet behind me."
Nodding once, Touko took a deep breath before resuming.
"Have you ever heard of the Fifth Magic or the magician known as Blue?"
As I said before and you can see now, I have truly do have big plans for what comes after the Fifth War... Whenever I eventually get around to them, haha.
Sorry again for how late these chapters come in. Definitely no promises at all for the next chapter. I have lots more research to do and some characters to work on so who knows how long it'll take.
Also, I'd really like to hear your input. I was wondering if I should go back to my first chapter and do some proofing/rewriting to modernize and freshen things up. I know for a fact I've been inconsistent in a few terms and words though some of that was in part of my own idiocy and some of it was due to Type-Moon not even knowing what they want to settle on. Either way, tell me if you think that would be a good idea and I'll spend some time refreshing the old chapters.
It'd be the FIRST time I've EVER looked at them since I first put them out since I have a pretty strict policy of not going over my work. (I hate reading my own writing, hence Talndir)
Remember as always to favourite, follow and leave a review :)
