That night, Shirou dreamed of brotherhood.
The first thing he saw was himself, a translucent specter in the world around him. The second things he saw were two boys, a smaller one with blond hair and a larger one with red, galloping through deep woods colored vermilion and goldenrod by the turning of the season. The children laughed as they ran, evidently racing one another to their destination. As the children passed and Shirou forcibly followed, he noticed the thinning of trees, the foliage ending in hills of green grass and white flowers. The children paid no mind to the flora crushed underfoot as they continued their race, their destination coming into view over the crest of the next hill.
It was a palatial estate, a motte-and-bailey styled castle held aloft on a tremendously large plateau, its sides ringed by stone walls with parapets spaced throughout. The keep itself was modest but grand, its lack of size made up for by the quality of its construction. The boys continued forward, dashing past a guardsman stationed by the gates more quickly than the grown man could react, entering into the sizeable bailey, well-trod grass giving way to stone underfoot. The two raced through, narrowly avoiding a patrolling guard, though the golden-haired boy seemed to be lagging slightly behind. Their track took them to the foot of the keep itself, and it seemed certain that the redhead would defeat the blond. But the redhead's speed decreased, his confidence in his victory his undoing, and the blond reached the door to the keep first after a final burst of speed.
They were greeted by two men, at the entrance. One was a knight clad in steel chain, his hair and beard a deeper red than the boy's, and the other a magician in robes, his black beard and keen blue eyes seeking the blond. Both sported smiles, the knight's far less mischievous than the magician's, and the former of the men greeted the children with a nod. As they turned to go in, the magician waved his staff and the blond transformed into a golden dog, who, scowling in concentration, turned into a golden stag, his antlers small as befit his age. A pleased smile from the magician, a swing of his staff, and the boy was human once more.
The dream dissolved and reformed.
Shirou now stood intangible in a courtyard, again next to the redhead and the blond. They had grown significantly, the redhead nearly twice his previous size and the blond not far behind. The former sported a small beard, while the latter's face possessed the beginning of a similar adornment. The redhead dressed in shining steel scale mail, and the blond in plate mail forged of the same alloy. They stood in a line with many others similarly dressed, the small wounds and perspiration sported by all indicating an earlier fight or contest. The line moved forward as the man in front shouted in frustration and turned, scowling, from a sword stuck in stone.
The stone seemed to be a plinth of marble, with words Shirou could not make out emblazoned on its side. The sword embedded in the stone was edged with a metal that looked but did not feel like gold, its light indigo interior bending to the outside as it reached the hilt, forming an empty crevice just above the crossguard. Golden metal formed that same guard, a groove splitting it vertically in two, its upper length engraved in letters of a language Shirou had never seen, and its grip was the same indigo of the blade. Its pommel featured a sun, two overlapping squares rotated ninety degrees from one another and a small elevated circle in the middle engraved on and extended from, respectively, the twice-depressed sphere of the component. Excalibur, Shirou realized, his knowledge of swords penetrating even this mystical dream, but at the same time, it wasn't, not yet.
Both the redhead and the blond waited in nervous silence, the redhead tapping his foot and the blond staring ahead stoically as the line before them shrank, none of the men managing to so much as budge the blade from its place of rest. Finally, the redhead reached the front of the line and, gritting his teeth, began to pull. At the sword's refusal to escape its confines, the redhead concentrated, straining his muscles but accomplishing not the slightest change. He turned to his blond companion, who, trembling, placed a hand on the blade. It erupted in golden light as he drew it forth without resistance, the runes on its hilt and blade glowing a brilliant white. The redhead turned to his companion with a complex look of jealously, respect, and understanding, the blond simultaneously lifting his sword-holding arm to the sky. The massed knights knelt before the new king, whose face was clad in unflinching resolve.
Once again, the dream dissolved, and once again, it reformed.
He stood transparent in a throne room, next to the blond and redhead for a third time. The blond sat armor-clad on a throne of silver birch twined with yew, his face now sporting a full beard. His redheaded companion stood just behind him, as did a man in light leather armor, a black beard streaked with silver on his face, and a clean-shaven man lacking an arm, his hair a light brown and his armor forged of iron. In front of the tableau stood a man garbed in well-woven cloth, his garments and general demeanor suggesting a degree of subservience to his movements. He held before them a lance wrapped in mottled green silk, its end sticking from the fabric and giving the appearance of a dripping fang, though no liquid fell from its tip. The golden-haired king on the throne bid the one-armed man forward, and he took the spear – Gwydnawr, whispered Shirou's mind, the nine-fold poison lance of Bedivere – as the four nodded in thanks to the man in cloth.
The doors to the throne room burst open, a messenger carrying a letter sealed with wax dashing through the entrance. The seated blond directed the black-bearded man to read the message, an action the latter performed before turning to the former. He showed his liege the letter, and both men frowned before the king directed the brown-haired warrior to read the scroll. The expression of said warrior tightened, and he marched out of the room, a definite purpose to his steps. The blond let the paper fall to the floor and sighed, his expression sad but resolute. Shirou saw the name 'King Lot' on the page, but could not make out the rest before it was picked up by the red-haired knight, who crushed it in his hands, his anger obvious.
The dream dissolved and did not reform. Two legendary weapons stabbed themselves into a hill of diamond.
Shirou awoke to the sound of Taiga Fujimura shouting. He yawned and arched his back, stretching his muscles, before looking over at his alarm clock. It read 7:13 AM.
Well, I guess I'll be skipping my morning exercises today, he thought sourly, standing up from his futon and turning off the currently ringing alarm clock. Better go see what Taiga's yelling about, then ask Arthur about that dream.
A tooth-brushing and change of clothes later, Shirou entered the kitchen to a staredown between his guardian and his servant. Taiga was dressed in her usual outfit, a green dress thrown somewhat haphazardly over a yellow shirt with black stripes. She was growling at a placid Arthur, himself dressed in one of Kiritsugu's old black suits.
"For the last time, explain who you are or I'm gonna–" Taiga spoke at a volume just short of a yell, cutting herself off as she noticed Shirou's presence. Her expression immediately shifted from irritation to eagerness. She turned to Shirou and spoke in a rush.
"Shirou! This guy refuses to say who he is or what he's doing here, and he keeps telling me to ask you."
She smiled disarmingly before continuing. "So who is he?"
Shirou rubbed his eyes. "Taiga, that's Saber, one of my dad's old co-workers. I met him yesterday afternoon and asked him to stay over."
"Arthur, whatever I say, agree with it. Taiga doesn't know about magecraft," he transmitted.
"So long as you do not claim anything absurd, I will be happy to do so," responded the king.
Taiga's eyes narrowed. "Shirou...what did I say about calling me Taiga?"
Shirou sighed. Of course, he thought.
"Call me sis!" Taiga said with an overly bright grin, her earlier annoyance seemingly forgotten.
"Is she always so excitable?" Arthur mentally asked his master.
"Unfortunately," the boy replied, using the same medium. "She teaches English at my school, and her classes are always an adventure."
Taiga turned back to Arthur, her smile back to a manageable level. "So, Saber, how exactly did you know Kiritsugu?"
Arthur paused.
"I met Mr. Emiya in Germany. He and I were contracted to recover an item, and we ended up partnered due to our complimentary skills."
"So what was this item?" Taiga asked, her brow furrowed.
"An antique goblet, said to possess mystical properties," Arthur expounded, skirting close to the truth. "It was being guarded by another group of mercenaries, hired by the thieves of the object to prevent those such as myself or Kiritsugu from obtaining it."
Taiga thought for a second, before continuing her minor inquisition.
"So what skills do you possess that made you such a fantastic complement to Kiritsugu?"
Arthur gave the impression of pondering the statement, though he spent the time contacting Shirou instead.
"I am not familiar with how your father performed his job. Would it be possible for you to answer this in my place?" Arthur requested.
"Sure," his master said.
Shirou cleared his throat, drawing Taiga's attention from his servant, then addressed her. "You know my dad often used guns, right? Preferably from long-range?"
Taiga nodded.
"Saber specializes in weapon-based close combat, specifically in the use of swords and other bladed weapons. He, along with a third partner who is also staying over, acted as a close and medium range team. They acted as decoys, keeping Kiritsugu as a trump card, as well as clearing out areas where gunfights were not feasible."
Taiga's eyes gleamed as she turned back to Arthur. "So you're good with swords, then? How about a spar?"
She basically ignored the entirety of my answer, Shirou thought morosely. Why do I even bother?
Arthur looked uncertain, turning his eyes to his master.
The magus gave his servant a shallow nod.
"I would be happy to spar with you," Arthur accepted, "however, I was told by Shirou that you are a teacher, so perhaps now is not the best time."
Taiga visibly deflated. "Oh, that's right. My job." She sighed, before perking up once more.
"You know, I only really took the job because I wanted to help Shirou break out of his shell. You wouldn't know it now, but he used to take everything so seriously. Hero of justice this, save the world that– superhero things, but without the fun. That's when I got Kiritsugu to talk with him about, y'know, the limitations that come with being human."
Shirou reddened. "Taiga, maybe this isn't the best time to talk about–"
Taiga smirked. "Well, it might not have been, but then you called me Taiga again." Shirou's mouth snapped shut.
She chuckled to herself, stopping somewhat abruptly.
"Where was I again?" she asked herself, before snapping her fingers in front of a mildly disturbed Arthur. "Ah, the intervention, that's it!"
"I did not insist on extreme formality in Camelot, but I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure of meeting anyone quite so...frenetic before," Arthur mused, broadcasting his thoughts to Shirou.
"Taiga is definitely unique, yes," Shirou replied. "I don't suppose you would consider refusing to listen to her explanation of how I learned the value of personal well-being?"
"I may not have been a good parent, to my eternal shame, but I was a father nonetheless. Indulging in the recitation and sharing of embarrassing stories is one of the few advantages that come with the position," Arthur said, a smile slipping onto his face.
"So, I asked Shirou what he wanted to do when he grew up, and he said–"
A barely-awake Rin clad in bright yellow pajamas chose that moment to stumble into the kitchen, followed shortly by a grumbling Archer. Taiga paused to take in the new arrivals, skimming over Archer to settle on the girl.
"Forget childhood memories for a second." Taiga's smile ratcheted up to its maximum intensity as her eyes narrowed. "Shirou, when did you plan on telling me you were dating Ms. Tohsaka?"
Rin failed to parse her teacher's words, entirely absorbed in a bleary hunt for caffeine. Shirou choked on air.
A blushing Shirou spent two minutes ushering the group out, whereupon they found themselves seated around the dining room table. Taiga's expression bordered on manic, Shirou's on depressive, and the two servants' somewhere between. Rin just looked tired, though she seemed to be bringing herself back to consciousness with the mug of instant coffee in front of her.
Taiga broke the silence. "I was about to explain how I fixed Shirou's hero complex, yeah? You still wanna hear about it?"
To Shirou's chagrin, Taiga had evidently not forgotten the prior conversation topic. To his horror, three nods greeted her second question, Rin apparently roused from her mildly catatonic state by the thought of getting to know more about her kind classmate. Arthur looked amused, and while Archer looked gleeful at the idea of Shirou's imminent embarrassment, there was a spark of genuine interest in the white-haired bowman's eyes.
Taiga discretely looked over at Shirou, who, sighing, gave a similarly discrete thumbs down. Before she could start pouting, he held up a hand.
I need to tell all of this to Arthur anyway, and it might help me with Rin, Shirou thought.
"I think it's better that I say it," the magus stated. Taiga sent an uncharacteristically gentle smile in his direction.
Before he began, Shirou mentally contacted his partner. "I think you might want to listen to this. It's a big part of why I refused to abandon you against Berserker last night, and why I'm not going to let you fight on your own if there's ever anything I can do to help."
"I believe that you may fundamentally misunderstand just how powerful a servant is, but I will at least consider your reasoning," Arthur replied.
Shirou took a deep breath. "I want to be a hero to realize a dream. It's not my place to say why my dad spent his whole life trying to save people, but that's what he did. He was a selective mercenary and assassin; he only killed people who threatened other human beings. He saved countless people, going through hell to achieve his dream of a world without conflict."
He paused, taking in the attentive views of his audience.
"But for every villain he killed, two more sprouted up. For every innocent person whose life he saved, another died. People cursed his name, seeing only the people he'd killed. He realized that his goal was impossible, and swore off it. But, when he told me about it...I said I'd do what he couldn't. I'd save everyone."
Archer appeared bored, though his act was belied by the fierce interest still present in his gaze, while Rin's eyes were wide, her fascination with Shirou's personality assuaged in a much more elaborate form than she'd expected. Arthur was looking at Shirou intently, an evaluative expression clouding his face, and Taiga looked proud, her lips curled in a fond smile. Shirou looked up towards the softly glowing chandelier hanging from the ceiling, considering his words slightly before resuming his story.
"He'd saved me from the fire, and I felt the need to pay it forward: to save others, like I had been saved. I owed it to him, the man who turned me from a shell of a human being, to do my very best to succeed where he failed." Shirou took another breath, this one far shakier than his previous. "Do you know what his reaction was? He said it was a wonderful dream, and that he wished he could leave it to me, but that he couldn't. He couldn't inflict this dream on another, not because it wasn't worth striving for, but because there was more to life than dreams, and this goal would consume everything. I didn't understand then, I told him that, and then said I would take the goal anyway. He laughed, and told me that as long as I promised to prioritize who I saved, he'd agree to pass his dream on, no matter how flawed or impossible. I accepted, and I was happy."
The reactions of the group of four mirrored their earlier expressions, with the exception of Archer. The servant had abandoned the pretense of apathy entirely, his eyes boring into Shirou's with a desperation alien to the man.
"What happened then?" asked the bowman, his voice ever so slightly hoarse. "What changed?"
Taiga spoke up, a note of pride in her voice. "I did."
Shirou gave a rueful smile. "Yes, she happened. More specifically, Taiga heard the dream I inherited and beat some common sense into my head."
He chuckled, some amount of catharsis inherent in the sonic gesture. "She went up to my dad, and I don't know exactly what she said–"
"It involved a lot of yelling," Taiga admitted.
"Alright, a lot of yelling– but it got through to him, and he talked with me about saving myself before saving other people. I was confused: obviously I'd save myself, because I couldn't keep saving people if I was dead. That wasn't what he meant, he said. He said I needed to save myself from that dream, that no goal was worth dedicating all of myself to. My dad said that he was wrong to pass on his dream, and that he had a better one for me."
Shirou closed his eyes, reminiscing for a moment before continuing.
"To save those I could save, to leave those I couldn't, and to live a life beyond my dream: that should be my goal. He said that I should remember that there was more to being alive than merely avoiding death, and that sometimes the best way to help others was to help myself first. Whether it was placing some lives before others, accepting that sometimes I shouldn't help out, or finding happiness in ways beyond dedicating my life to other people, he told me that, to him, I was more important than anyone else. He said that if he needed to pass on a dream, it should be this one, one that he never sought himself: that it isn't wrong to be selfish. That even if it's good to help other people, sacrificing yourself to save others isn't necessarily right. Being a hero doesn't mean losing yourself."
"So," Rin's voice was hesitant, "why do you spend all of your time helping others? Why do you still spend your time on repairing broken school equipment, or guiding your juniors, or…" She cut herself off with a frustrated huff, searching for and finding a more succinct question.
"Emiya, why do you insist on being so unreservedly helpful?"
Shirou rubbed at his neck. "I just like helping people, though I suppose it's a part of my desire to be a hero. What kind of hero doesn't aid people in need?"
"If you're talking superheroes, most of them don't bother with normal humans. You think you're liable to see Batman or Spider-Man spending an hour to fix a broken fridge in the teacher's lounge?" Taiga interjected, turning to her self-proclaimed younger brother. "You really should cut it out with the hero thing: you're a good person, and that's more than enough."
"I know that, but I owe it to my dad–" And to myself, Shirou added mentally – "to try to be more. Maybe I can't help everyone, and I don't plan to, but when my father rescued me from the fire, he didn't just save me and leave: he adopted me. I owe everything to him, and if the only way I can repay that is by taking on his role for someone else, I'll do it without hesitating. Helping other people is a pale imitation of saving their lives, but it's still my way of paying tribute to the man who saved me."
"And that tribute is why you refuse to abandon others in need?" Arthur asked, joining the conversation before contacting his master. "That is why you refuse to let me fight without aid?"
"Exactly," Shirou said, answering both the spoken and telepathized questions. He gave a relieved sigh at Arthur's nod, taking the acceptance of his reasoning for what it was.
That could have gone much worse, Shirou thought.
The group lapsed into silence, each member absorbed in their own thoughts. Arthur leaned back with a sigh, obviously content with his master's explanation. Archer looked pensive, Rin had her head resting on one palm, a faint hint of pink in her cheeks, and Taiga had a proud smile on her face.
Taiga broke first and slammed her palm on the table, jolting the others out of their musings. Her grin turned sharp. "Oh, right! I almost forgot."
She turned to face Shirou, who tried to brace himself. "I want to know when you and Rin got together!"
Shirou's breathing remained steady, though his face turned a light puce. Rin choked.
Five rolled omelets, twenty minutes, and two very uncomfortable denials later, Taiga managed to wrangle an explanation for Rin's presence out of the magi. Both claimed that the girl was interested in learning more of Saber and Archer's pasts and ended up staying over when the group lost track of time, though their hesitance prompted a further barrage of questions from the teacher.
Arthur had an aggrieved look on his face at Shirou's guardian's outburst. "They are indeed stating the truth, Ms. Fujimura," stated the king, an accompanying nod from Archer signaling his agreement.
Taiga let out a huff. "Alright, alright. I get it: nothing romantic happened," she said, as her voice dropped to a barely audible mumble. "I guess that means there's still a chance for her..."
"For whom, Taiga?" Shirou asked. Is she trying to set me up with someone? he thought.
"That's none of your business," Taiga replied, her eyes narrowing. "But if you want me to line up a date for you–"
"No, no, I'm good," her ward quickly responded, before attempting to derail the topic. "Isn't school starting in half an hour?"
"Arthur," Shirou directed, "would you mind getting Taiga to let me stay home for the day? We can cover it by claiming you want to tell me about my dad, but regardless, I think we need to figure out exactly what happened during that fight with Berserker."
"Of course," the king replied, "we should also take the opportunity to practice your swordsmanship, as you will often be fighting by my side."
As the mental communication terminated, Taiga took her phone from her purse and checked the time. "Oh crap, you're right! We need to get going!"
Arthur took a moment to interject. "Actually, I was hoping to keep Shirou here to continue our discussion on Kiritsugu. My partner and I–" he nodded to Archer, whose face remained blank, "may have to leave at any moment, so it would be nice to speak with Shirou while we have the opportunity."
"I'd like to stay and talk," Shirou stated, preempting Taiga's question. "My father was never entirely open about his work, as you know, so this is a pretty rare opportunity."
"I really shouldn't be okay with this," Taiga grumbled, "but there's no way I'm going to stop you from learning about your dad."
Maybe I misjudged her, Shirou thought. She hasn't even demanded any–
His train of thought was cut off by Taiga, who hadn't finished talking. "However, I'm going to need an incentive to allow my poor unofficial brother to miss his very important education. I think I'll be in the mood for cake tonight!"
The boy sighed and nodded his head, prompting a grin from Taiga, who turned to Rin.
"What about you?" asked the older woman.
"Me?" replied Rin, breaking out of her thoughts.
"Aren't you going to go to school?" Taiga expanded.
"Ms. Fujimura, I don't believe that any of the other teachers would appreciate me showing up out of uniform," Rin patiently responded. "I'll need to go home to get my school clothes."
Taiga began nodding, before pausing, a devious grin slithering onto her face. "And why are you wearing pajamas, anyway?"
Rin gave Taiga a withering look before answering. "Because I was asleep about half an hour ago."
"Oh, I'm sure you were. My question is why you have your pajamas here, in Shirou's house," Taiga elaborated, her grin stretching even wider.
Oh no, Shirou thought, as Rin's expression morphed to a combination of mortification and horror.
"W-well, you see, I–," Rin stuttered out, stopping when Taiga held up a hand.
"Look, just be certain you two use protection, okay?" she said, ignoring the furiously blushing teenagers next to her. "I've got to get going; bye!"
She exited the dining room, walking past an amused Arthur and a smirking Archer. Shirou heard the front door open, then slam closed behind his teacher.
Rin's face still contained a residual flush, but she'd composed herself during Taiga's march. "Will you and Saber will be training?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
"That's the plan," Shirou replied. "While we'll probably want privacy at some point, there's room for you to train as well, if you'd like."
"I'd be happy to take you up on that offer, but first–" Rin looked down at her clothes, "I'd like to change out of my sleepwear."
She and Archer walked out of the room, leaving her fellow magus alone with his servant. I should probably take this opportunity to ask about what I dreamt last night, Shirou thought.
"Hey, Saber," he said, turning to Arthur and motioning him to follow. They began the short stroll to the dojo.
"What is it?" asked the servant.
"Did you forget to mention that I would dream of your past?" Shirou questioned in turn, walking past the first floor bedrooms.
"I am not certain what you speak of," said the king, his brow creased. "Would it be possible for you to elaborate?"
"I believe I dreamt of the beginning of your reign," the magus transmitted, switching to mental communication.
"What exactly did you see?" queried Arthur, prompting Shirou to relay a summary of his visions.
Arthur frowned. "Those events did indeed occur, but I remain uncertain as to why you viewed my past. Perhaps it is a function of the grail, intended to strengthen the bond between master and servant?" he mused. "I suppose it does not matter much, though you should be made aware that the start of my kingship was not overly pleasant. Badon Hill was particularly bloody, and I fear that you will experience that battle when next you slumber."
Shirou gave a small smirk. "Better to see it in my dreams rather than in reality, no?"
Arthur let out a chuckle in response. "Indeed."
The two entered the dojo, taking in its furnishings. Along the far wall, multiple pairs of black dumbbells were stacked neatly next to a bench, a barbell held over the latter by a metal stand. To the right of the weight set stood a wooden weapons rack, a selection of training swords of various styles standing next to a few bows in serviceable condition. One length of the rack was painted a bright orange and stood currently empty, though the impression in the wood showed that a wooden sword was often present in the spot.
Shirou motioned towards the rack, implicitly offering for Arthur to take one of the swords. The monarch smiled and grabbed a longsword, tossing it from one gauntlet to the other to get a feel for its weight.
"This should do nicely," Arthur remarked, getting into a ready stance. "Will you be using any magecraft in our spar? I intend to rely on swordsmanship alone."
Shirou shook his head. "I think we should just see whether I'm any good with a sword first. We can try a real spar sometime later."
With a muttered "trace on", Shirou projected a replica of Arthur's chosen weapon.
The magus took up a position a few meters in front of Arthur. "Start on go?" he questioned, getting a nod in response.
"Ready, set, go!" Shirou yelled, dashing forward at an unmoving Arthur.
He brought his sword low before shifting his grip, turning it inwards at the last second in an attempt to corkscrew past Arthur's defense. The king countered by bring his own blade down at an obtuse angle, turning the momentum of Shirou's swing back on the magus. Shirou spun with the motion, aiming at Arthur's back after making a full rotation about the man, but his sword was again blocked by the servant, who dodged out of the way and, bringing his sword downwards, nearly knocked Shirou's out of his hands.
Dammit, Shirou thought, swiping at Arthur's legs and barely avoiding an answering downwards slash. I'm slower and weaker than he is, and that means I'm not going to win by taking him head-on. His reaction speed– Shirou blocked a thrust from Arthur, diverting it over his shoulder and twisting out of the way of the immediate followup slash – is also way too fast to get him with feints. I'll have to take some bigger risks.
Shirou feinted a leftwards thrust but thrust forward, Arthur rotating his blade to knock Shirou's out of the way before thrusting forward himself. Shirou leapt back, the tip of the sword only just avoiding his chest, and stood on the defensive. Arthur held up a hand and lowered his sword. "I commend your feinting, but you move your blade too little, Shirou. It is far too easy to make minor adjustments to my guard," the king commented. "I suggest that you try misdirecting your opponent earlier in your attack."
"A consequence of being self-taught, I suppose," Shirou said. "I often end up throwing projected weapons to distract my opponents, which usually makes the light feints work, but I suppose this is a duel with swords, not magecraft." He sighed and returned to a ready position.
"Ready to begin again?" he asked. Arthur nodded, then dashed forward, raising his sword high. Shirou guarded quickly, but the king swirled his blade ninety degrees and struck from the left, pulling back at the last instant. Shirou's blade was out of position, and the king took advantage with a sudden thrust, avoiding Shirou's desperate lunge and poking the magus' ribs.
"That was a good example of what I meant," the king said, his expression calm. "You need to chain feints, significantly varying your potential angles and methods of attack." He dropped the wooden sword, and his gauntlet flashed green, revealing the trident-like Wyneidraich. "This sword causes any limb struck by its blade to weaken. As such, I would prioritize my enemy's arms and legs when using it, likely attempting more thrusts than slashes. If I were to use this in our spar, I would have ended the feints with a thrust directed to your blade-wielding arm, rather than a more easily diverted thrust to the heart."
Shirou nodded. "Yeah, there's a reason that weapons rack has more than one type of blade on it. I practice with a wide variety of swords, so that I can use different weapons against different opponents." He walked over and picked up Arthur's discarded sword, allowing his version to dissipate.
"I'm most comfortable when wielding longswords like this, however," Shirou added, placing it back on the rack. "I think I'd like to try to figure out what happened during the battle with Berserker now."
"I would start by seeing if you are able to replicate a sword without the usage of your divine fire," Arthur transmitted, switching to mental communication.
"Good idea," Shirou responded. "I want to test something else, too, so I have the perfect weapon to try with."
Alright. Let's see if Excalibur lives up to its legend, Shirou thought, assuming that seeing it in a dream even works for this, of course.
He first concentrated on the runes along the blade's upper front, nestled between the doubled edge and its indigo interior. They came into view, one after the other, arcane runes sparking white as they trawled across the formless mass of his mind. The word spelled was written in supernatural tongue, but Shirou read it nevertheless, a fae variant of the celestial speech ordered into the word 'kingship'. The golden tip of the blade formed next, stretching from a sharp point to the fuller of reddened steel blue, the shimmering metal forming underneath the runes engraved on null. From this framework spouted an arc of gold, a sharp edge forming on its exterior as it traveled to the crossguard of the blade, splitting in two just before reaching the hilt. In the three fullers flowed the indigo metal – an unearthly material stronger than steel but lighter than air – though the indigo split just before the guard, forming an opening that would remain unfilled.
More runes seared themselves along the crossguard, the latter item forming into twin arches centered by a keystone. These runes were unlit, as yet unpowered, and Shirou could not understand their meaning. Nevertheless, the grip formed of the indigo material, three ridges spaced along its length to allow the blade to be wielded in both hands. The last ridge formed the edge of the grip, transitioning into two diamond etchings blazing themselves into being, surrounding a core resembling Sol. The pommel formed of golden metal beneath the designs, seamlessly integrating itself with the weapon.
Shirou saw it whole, as it was raised from stone, as it was placed in the same plinth by Merlin, whose very touch turned the claymore a fiery red. Shirou saw it come into the mage's possession, but he could see no more, the secrets of its forging anathema to even his mind. The blade's legacy shifted forwards, as he saw it cut a swathe across the armies of Lot and Urien. Shirou saw it taken by a lady garbed in white, and saw it sink into the waters. Unbidden, he thought of a glowing sheath, and he felt a jolt, then another. Another still, and he felt his body burn, a call from within resonating with the blade struggling to materialize without. He felt his mouth open, the words coming to his lips without conscious thought.
"Trace On!"
He felt one further lance of prana flow through him to the blade, an echo of King Arthur's form overlaying his own, and with a lurch he stood, brandishing the blade to the sky as it glowed a brilliant gold. Excalibur, Shirou thought, the blade of the rightful king. He stood proud, but something in him felt incomplete, as though this was not an achievement but a tragic failing, an act touching but not piercing some veiled truth. Nevertheless, the blade glowed, and Shirou smiled.
From the far side of the dojo, he heard a deep-throated laugh. It came from Arthur, who raised his own arm in salute, but it was the gasp and tumble of rocks that drew his attention to the entrance of the room. Rin stood with her mouth open, her naked awe and utter disbelief apparent on her face. Her arms lay limp against her white shirt covered by a red jacket, her hands reaching to the upper edge of her black pants. She struggled to form words, "How...what...you...that..." escaping her lips in place of coherent thought. Jewels of various quality and design spread below her in a sea of color.
An even louder sound brought Shirou's attention to just behind his classmate. Archer stood open-mouthed, just as his master, but it lasted for less than a second before the bowman slammed his palm against his face, muttering variants of the word 'idiot' to himself. No one reacted for another second, but Archer broke the silence, almost tentatively. His tanned face was resigned, and his eyes were tired. He opened his mouth and stated a truth.
"God damn it. You're King Arthur."
AN: I'd use Japanese superheroes like Goku or Astro Boy, but honestly, I feel like Taiga probably hoards western comics.
Bedivere's spear comes from a combination of two of his weapons from Culhwch and Olwen, a fascinating work that I'll be using more of in the future.
Sakura's absence is very much intentional.
I don't know swordfighting, so if what I wrote is stupid, well, uh...I got nothing. Sorry to any swordsmen/swordswomen out there!
Oh, and here's the obligatory "will rewrite in the future to clean up grammar and punctuation, at the very least" mention.
