Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't really want it, either. Not a big fan of Nasu's version of Arthurian and Western myth, especially Arturia and her gender-swapped ilk.


~The Fifth Cup: Prologue: Genesis~


"Trace on."

Shirou Emiya nocked the projected arrow in his bow, drew back the string, and let it fly. It thudded in the exact center of the target before dissipating into motes of blue light.

Hmm. Far too much distortion. Maybe a bit more prana this time? I still haven't tried doubly amplifying the head while weakening the body.

"Trace on."

He felt a slight twinge as phantom pain echoed softly down his back, the result of four years of improper magecraft rearing its head once more. His hand heated slightly.

Another arrow appeared in his hands before making its way to the bowstring, the grooved wood warping slightly as the boy injected energy into it. Its tip gleamed, the reinforcement enhancing its optical properties. Shirou adjusted the weight of the bow to compensate for the imbalance in mass, then shot the arrow forward, hitting the bullseye. The wooden shaft splintered, but the arrowhead drove farther forward, punching a hole straight through the target.

"Well, that should be enough for today," he said to himself, exiting the archery club room to a disquieting silence. He looked to both sides, but the hallways were empty.

Everyone must have left early, he thought.

Shirou trod forward, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor.

I hope that Taiga isn't also home early, he considered, the prospect of his self-proclaimed 'big sister' being forced to wait for food filling him with well-learned dread. Still, maybe Sakura's around, and she can probably tame Taiga until I get back.

He put in his locker combination, 5-32-29, and grabbed his backpack. Shirou hefted it over a shoulder and slightly reinforced his legs to compensate for the added weight, taking pains to not damage the bow he already had clasped to his back.

I really don't want to think about Taiga would do if I ruined this bow, too. I'm already on my fifth in the last two years, and there are only so many times I can bribe her with desserts.

Sighing, he trudged past the gym, before stopping abruptly at a metallic scent in the air. Is that...blood?, he thought, doubling back and looking into the gymnasium.

The gym was empty, as he'd expected, but the smell – definitely blood – grew stronger as he proceeded inwards. All of the sporting equipment was set in the corner as usual, and the various mats and goals used by the indoor sports clubs had been placed to the side. He looked to the door to the coach's office before grimacing. The door had been torn into fifths by some sort of clawed beast, the scratches and tears in the door fragments coated in a dark red. Cautiously, Shirou poked his head in, and had to fight down his lunch.

"Oh god," he muttered.

A lump of bile made its way into his mouth as he viewed the remnants of his gym instructor. His name had been Shinsuke Kawasaki. He was a 38 year old retired baseball player, though he'd never managed to make it to the top leagues of his sport. He'd been gruff but pleasant, more than happy to tell tales of his time as a professional athlete. Shirou stepped out into the gym proper, took a deep but shaky breath, and returned to consider the body once more.

Mr. Kawasaki had been butchered, then dissected. Shirou's teacher's head had been split open, four long gashes down the front of his face serving to render the dead man nearly unrecognizable. His pants and legs had been torn in the same manner, and the boy saw the bloodstains in the fabric grow as he observed. It appeared that the animal that had broken down the door had subsequently killed the gym teacher. However, while undoubtedly horrifying, the claw marks were not what drew Shirou's attention and disgust.

The skin on the dead man's chest had been flayed off, and his heart and lungs had been removed. His ribcage had been split, likely by some manner of knife, but it seemed that its wielder was not especially adept at the deed: Shirou could see fragments of bone in the bloody red tissue surrounding the former location of the organs. He fought down the slowly growing numbness and took out his phone to try to call the police, but was forced to drop the device as something flew past his hand and embedded itself in the wall.

Is that a pen? he wondered, quickly looking over the now stuck pen wriggling – why was it wriggling, Shirou rapidly questioned – as it tried to escape the doorframe.

He reached for his lost phone, but was forced to abandon the attempt as the pen broke free, missing again. Shioru grabbed his phone and turned, pocketing it before jumping out of the office, quickly unlatching the bow from his back.

This is really, really bad. It looks like some kind of ritual, which probably means magecraft.

Shirou slowly backed towards the gym entrance, drawing his bow as tinkling laughter filled the air. The sound was melodious but somehow cruel, a mocking tinge making its way into the sounds of merriment. From within the office stepped a figure, one that hadn't been there a second prior. She was beautiful,her pale complexion matched by a form-fitting black gown with white rabbit's fur at its edges, and her green eyes sparkled as she stepped forward, her long black hair glinting slightly in the increased light of the gymnasium proper. She twirled the pen that had attempted to impale itself in Shirou between her slender fingers, and a group of a dozen more writing utensils hovered behind her.

"Now who might you be, child?" the woman questioned, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Her voice was as lyrical as her laughter, and, like her merriment, her innocuous question was laced with mockery. Shirou was instantly put further on guard, preparing to project an arrow into his bow.

"What are you doing here? Who are you?" Shirou asked, not expecting an answer but stalling for time nonetheless. He continued his slow retreat to the gym doors.

The woman looked amused as she walked –no, floated, Shirou realized, watching her form closely – towards him, her small army of pens trailing.

"Do you really think I'd answer that second question?" She smiled at him, attempting to gauge his reaction. "As for the first, what do you think I was doing?"

Shirou was still a few meters from the doors, but thought he'd be able to reach them in a second or two.

"So you killed that man?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Another second...!

"Of course I did," she replied, before she made a sudden motion with the hand not manipulating the pen. The opened doors behind him slammed shut. He started, but moved to aim the bow at her head, drawing back the string.

She smirked at him. "Did you think I'd let you leave after seeing this? I don't really need your prana, but I could use more, and I'm at least supposed to keep this sort of thing secret."

She waved her arm lazily, and the pens she'd collected moved closer. Shirou began to sweat, rapidly coming up with and discarding plans for escape.

She probably doesn't realize that I'm also a magus, he thought, which means I might be able to surprise or incapacitate her. He held himself still, controlling his breathing and preparing for the strain to come.

"Now, hold still, and this won't hurt too much," the woman stated, preparing to shoot the pens like bullets at Shirou's form. As she began to fire, he muttered his trigger phrase.

"Trace on."

Immediately, a projected arrow was nocked in his bow, and was shot within milliseconds at her head. Fire screamed down his spine as he reinforced his legs and back, spinning and kicking the doors open before dashing out of the gym, his back pelted by the pens. Shirou kept his body reinforced as he ran, twisting through the corridors of the highschool as he sought the front exit. He heard a rush of air behind him and ducked, narrowly avoiding a desk sent flying over his head, then turned, catching sight of the double-glass doors of the school entrance.

As he heard something resembling a stampede behind him, he came to a quick decision. Shirou pumped more prana into reinforcing his body, his muscles screaming at him, and he reached the doors and jumped through, coming to a roll in the shattered glass. Before he could escape, he saw the woman once more, this time with a frightening scowl and various desks and chairs galloping behind her. She pointed her hand at him and said something in a language he didn't know. He tried to dodge, but was too slow to avoid the angry red dart aimed at his left arm.

Shirou grit his teeth and tried not to scream as his left shoulder was hit through by whatever the woman had sent at him, though it was his right shoulder that felt the impact and now sported a hole. It had gone straight through his reinforcement, confirming to him that he was utterly outmatched. Still, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Trace on!" he yelled.

He quickly grabbed his bow from his back, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and drew back the bowstring with the arrow he'd nocked. Shirou fired at the pen that came his way, his inhuman aim allowing him to knock it from the sky, before continuing to trade fire with the woman, striking her pens as they shot towards him. The exchange had only lasted five seconds, but Shirou could tell that he wasn't going to be able to continue much longer, primarily due to the herd of furniture charging at his position.

From behind him, he heard a feminine gasp, a rush of air, and, in front of him, saw something sparkling that hit the woman and exploded. Suddenly, the barrage stopped. The smoke from the explosion cleared to reveal the woman, still obviously angered, but no longer focused on him. Shirou turned slightly to see what was going on, then froze.

I don't believe it...

Behind him stood Rin Tohsaka, the most popular girl in school, her pale right hand outstretched and containing three shining rubies. She was dressed in an immaculate red turtleneck and black skirt, and she had her dark hair done up in twin ponytails. In her other hand she clutched a brown sack, a short glimpse into its depths revealing an assortment of similarly glowing gems. As timely as Rin's actions were, however, the man stood next to her held greater interest to the male magus.

The man was dressed in tight-fitting black body armor, covered over by a deep red coat. His skin was tanned and his hair white, both almost but not quite resembling the effects of far too much exposure to the sun, and his grey eyes were tight in anger, whether at Shirou, Rin, or the woman before him a point unknown. However, it wasn't his appearance that drew Shirou's greatest interest, but the swords he held in his hands. One black and one white, the two were of Chinese design, crafted with obvious care.

Their names are Kanshou and Bakuya, thought Shirou. Why do I know that?

To Shirou's relief, the strange weapons were pointed not at him but at the woman who had been attacking him. Focusing his attention on the woman once more, he noticed that her horde of furniture had stopped. She had an ugly twist to her lips, but seemed to be keeping herself under control.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she yelled at the two interlopers. "I'm trying to silence a witness to the grail war!"

"I'm stopping you from murdering an innocent student," Rin calmly replied, "and my friend here is helping me."

The woman's lips quirked. "He's a magus. Not exactly an innocent."

Rin's calm demeanor shattered in an instant, and she whirled directly to Shirou, performing some sort of analytical technique before her eyes widened. All the while, the swordsman companion of Rin kept his eyes on the woman, covering her.

"Emiya, what the hell did you do?" Rin yelled at him.

Shirou jumped slightly at her tone, and picked his words carefully.

"I was on my home from an archery club meeting when I smelled blood. I found Mr. Kawasaki dead in his office, and then this woman attacked me." Shirou winced, rubbing his injured shoulder, the hole through it already starting to heal. "I've been running from her ever since."

"And the part where you're actually a magus?" Rin growled.

Shirou winced again, this time from the force of Rin's glare more than physical discomfort.

"Would you believe me if I said that I had no idea what you were talking about?" Shirou asked, hoping against but expecting another outburst.

He wasn't wrong.

"Shirou Emiya, once I've dealt with this woman, we are going to have words," hissed Rin, turning her attention back to the woman. The older female in the area looked somewhat amused from the banter, but focused on Rin and her companion.

He hasn't spoken a word, Shirou noted absently, considering Rin's odd follower. In fact, I don't think he's moved.

Inching his body away from both the irascible young magus and the deadly woman, Shirou tried to continue on his way home. Three glares from Rin, the woman, and, surprising Shirou, Rin's companion, put an end to his halfhearted escape attempt.

"I'll most certainly be getting the full story out of Emiya later—" Shirou flinched at the vehemence in Rin's voice "—but I want to know what yet another magus, one unknown to me entirely, is doing in this city."

Rin ended the statement with a raised voice. The woman only smiled.

"Wait." Rin followed the word by scrunching her face, an expression Shirou found somewhat adorable, and then stared very forcefully at the woman. "You're no magus. At least, not a normal one."

The woman said nothing.

"You're the source of the field around the school, aren't you? And the source of prana that my friend," Rin gestured at her blade-wielding companion, "was detecting."

The woman continued her silence, her grin widening slightly.

"You're a servant." Rin stated with certainty.

A what?

"The question, then, is which class you happen to be a member of." Rin continued her musing aloud, never taking an eye off of the woman. Shirou considered making another break for it, but decided against the idea.

"You're not wielding a blade or polearm, so you can't be Saber or Lancer. You're in control of yourself, so you're obviously not Berserker. You don't have a bow and your ranged attacks didn't instantly kill Emiya, so you're not Archer." Rin began to pace. "So that leaves Assassin, Rider, and Caster. Would you mind telling me which you are?"

The woman smirked.

"What fun would that be? You're obviously the master of tall, dark, and gloomy over there," she pointed to Rin's companion, "who at least looks like a Saber to me, even if my knowledge of Eastern heroes is a bit lacking. Why would I tell you anything?"

Rin frowned then sighed, turning her attention to Shirou, who was about to make another escape attempt.

"Emiya, we'll talk later." There was an emphasis on the third word that Shirou was not a fan of. "For now, get out of here. This woman is far too strong for you, and I don't want to see you die."

Rin's face flushed slightly with that last sentence, but it cleared as she spun back to the woman, who no longer sported a smile.

"Oh? I think I'd like to play with him a bit longer. Since he's a magus, he'd be a big help to me." The woman batted her eyelashes at Shirou, who was slowly walking backwards, before turning back to Rin, a glint in her eyes. "But if you insist..."

Suddenly, the previously immobile horde of desks and chairs began rumbling, the wood stretching, twining, and merging with the other pieces of furniture. The mass of wood and metal slowly took a roughly humanoid shape, clawed metal fingers bursting from the ends of its wooden arms. The wooden monstrosity leapt in front of the woman, hiding her from sight.

"...I'll be happy to deal with you first."

The beast leapt forward at the same time Rin's armor-clad companion did, both obscured from view by Rin's toss and detonation of her explosive jewelry. Shirou turned, injected prana into his circuits, and ran.


Shirou reached the edge of his house's bounded field, placed his hands on his knees, and gasped for air. After taking a few deep breaths, he sighed, and walked forward. He took off his bow and backpack and placed them next to the door, stretching slightly to recover from the strain of his sprint. He'd managed to run from the entrance to the school to his house, but not before having to dodge a squirrel, two dogs, a cat, and one particularly inquisitive pigeon. He thought he might have been followed, but he had to trust that Rin and her mysterious companion – Saber, that woman called him, recalled Shirou – would defeat that woman.

He took another deep breath, and fished in his pockets for his house key. He placed it in the lock when he heard a familiar laugh. Slowly, fearfully, he turned around, a twinge in the back of his mind confirming what the laugh suggested.

The alert from the bounded field was definitely too late, he thought as he beheld the same woman from earlier.

Despite the fight she must have had with Rin and her friend, the woman looked entirely unharmed, her outfit not even rumpled. Her eyes were far less placid than when they'd met earlier, and despite the laugh, her lips were turned to a severe frown.

Fortunately, it seems she didn't bring anything with her this time, he considered, not that it helps all that much.

He'd already dropped his bow, and the woman did not seem willing to allow him to pick it up. His best option would be to make his way to his workshop in the backyard shed, the one in front not chosen due to its prior use by his father.

"I'm surprised to see you so pristine," Shirou said. The woman didn't respond.

As he attempted to subtly move around the woman, she shifted her body so that he was once again pressed up against the front door.

It seems as though I'll have to try something else this time.

He checked his circuits, trying to gauge whether he could project enough swords and arrows to cover his dash. Unfortunately, it seemed that his reinforced run from school had left him with far less than he'd need to project enough to cover the full trip.

That plan no longer a possibility, he considered the shed in front. It had been his father's workshop, he knew, but what was more important was that it was unlit, the lights within having been unhooked from the power grid two years after his father's death.

If I can get there, maybe I can use the darkness to stage a surprise attack, he mused. It's incredibly risky, but I don't think I have much choice.

"Speechless, are you? No pleading? No bargaining?" questioned the woman, a smile again on her face. Unlike their first meeting, the smile she sported held no indulgence or superiority. Instead, it looked almost sadistic, as though she'd enjoy causing Shirou pain and was disappointed she wouldn't hear him beg first.

"Oh well." She raised an arm, and Shirou made his move.

"Trace on!"

At the moment the words left his lips, Shirou reinforced his knee and slammed it into the woman in front of him, simultaneously projecting two wooden training swords in his hands, which he slashed downward towards where he kneed the woman. She was far more solid than Shirou expected, moving a shorter distance than he'd expected of her. Nevertheless, there was an opening, and he raced through the small gap in her guard, a whistling sound and a sharp jerk of his hair indicating that he'd barely dodged something aimed at his head. He threw the training swords at the woman before projecting another set which he again threw, aiming not to incapacitate but to blind.

He managed three more repetitions before he heard her laugh again, was hit by something, and felt a rib give out.

"You're a very strange magus...Emiya, was it? Yes, Emiya."

He didn't risk a look back as he stumbled forward, perhaps five meters from the shed, switching to arrows instead of swords as his handheld ammunition of choice.

"I'm sure your prana will be equally fascinating!"

Something slammed into his back, rocketing him towards the shed. He barely had time to reinforce his body as he slammed through the front of the building, splintering the wooden door and landing with countless cuts over his body. Heedless of the blood slowly dripping down to the floor of the shed, Shirou projected a sharp dagger into his hand, desperately hoping that the woman would enter after him and not level the building from afar.

His pleas were answered as the woman floated in after him serenely. As soon as she crossed the boundary, he leapt, attempting to decapitate the woman. To his horror, though he'd managed to slice her, his weapon only penetrated perhaps a millimeter in. The woman laughed that laugh of hers and grabbed Shirou by the throat, causing him to drop the slightly bloodied dagger.

"Oh? No distracting questions this time?" she mocked.

Shirou couldn't see the woman's expression in the shadows of the building, but he got the impression that she was smiling again. He stared at the already healing line on her neck.

"I figured I'd allow you to hit me once, in honor of your perseverance; I'm not normally a fan of giving gifts, but I can at least respect your tenacity."

The woman's fingers turned painfully tight.

"That doesn't mean that I won't very much enjoy seeing you gone."

He gasped, clasping his arms against hers and struggling to remove her fingers from his throat, but he realized that, even after reinforcement, he couldn't manage an inch of slack. She squeezed further.

"Die, Shirou Emiya."

His neck hurt. It hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced, more even than forming his own makeshift magic circuits from his spine. He wanted the pain to stop.

"Ghrk!" came out of his mouth, but he'd intended to plead, pride and resourcefulness spent.

I don't want to die!

He heard a thrumming from within him, and his vision grew black.


The sky was blindingly blue, and shimmering white gears turned on the horizon. Where there might have been a sun floated a sheath, shaped differently than Sol but no less radiant. The sky looked down on a hill of lush greenery, empty of all but a twin pair of falchions. Those are the swords that Rin's Servant was using, Kanshou and Bakuya, Shirou realized. Below the hill was a silver sea, stretching to the edges of the world.

Piercing the top of the hill was a blade. The sword's appearance was not especially notable, at least on initial inspection. It was plain, forged of iron with no obvious decoration on its hilt; but for a soft thrumming in tune with its owner's heartbeat, one could easily mistake it for the mundane work of an amateur blacksmith. As Shirou watched, the blade freed itself from the hill. Slowly, the sword began to rotate, faster and faster, pulsing inversely in time with his fading heartbeat. The magus saw it catch fire, shooting the flames to the scabbard in the sky. In turn, the sheath glowed brighter, its luminescence washing over him until everything turned white.

"I..."

His vision faded in again as he opened his eyes, staring at the shocked woman before him. Her hand unclenched slightly from his neck, leaving him a chance to draw in a deep breath. The ground around him was glowing silver, marking out the form of a magic circle Shirou hadn't noticed, while the droplets of blood he had spilled glowed as well, a deep blue.

He heard a sound like an unsheathing sword. In the center of the circle, just behind him and the woman suspending him in the air by his throat, the outline of a humanoid figure began to take shape, its indistinct form wreathed in an aura of silver.

"I ask..."

The figure took detail slowly. First came the armor stretching from boots to faulds, encircling the figure's waist. Shirou thought the dimensions were masculine, but wasn't quite sure. He hissed as his right hand began to burn, symbols lighting into his flesh.

"I ask of you..."

A cuirass formed above an iron hauberk, confirming Shirou's estimation of a male. The cuirass was forged of the same steel as the rest of the figure, though it was covered in a blue fabric, one that trailed around the figure to form a cape. The pauldrons, vambrace, and gauntlets took form next. Though all were composed of the steel common to the figure, the gauntlets seemed inlaid with gold, and the right hand seemed to be grasping at air.

"I ask of you, are you..."

Finally the head of the figure formed, independent of any armor. The man had blond hair, cropped short, and a trimmed beard of a slightly darker shade. His eyes were a deep blue, and his expression gave no indication of his mental state. On his head was a crown of gold, inlaid not with gems but rather with silver alloy. He spoke.

"I ask of you, are you my master?"

The woman holding Shirou audibly gasped and dropped the young magus to the ground. Her eyes were wide, and Shirou couldn't decipher the expression on her face. Her lips opened.

"Arthur?"


AN: Forgive my lack of knowledge of armor in the mid-first-millenium of Wales, please. If you've got comments on stuff, I'm always happy to read them, but I'd appreciate it if you held off on any criticism relating to adherence to canon; I don't really care about that.