Arthur stood with feet spread wide, holding his nephew's sword parallel to the floor. Galatine and its duplicate gleamed, the king's variant a muted silver, the magus' a fiery grey. Both Shirou and Arthur looked placid, but there was an undercurrent of tension to their expressions, a tightening about Arthur's eyes and a slight twist to Shirou's mouth the only indication of their respective disquiets. For an instant, neither combatant so much as twitched, servant and master each contemplating the other.
In the next, Arthur leapt forward at supranatural speed, an arc of silver light trailing behind him, and brought Galatine down in a two-handed slash. Steel met steel as Shirou brought his sword up to meet his servant's, sending pain shooting through the boy's reinforced limbs. The two struggled for a second, but Arthur overpowered his master, the proper sword pushing its twin inexorably downward as sparks flew from where the blades intersected. The magus grimaced and disengaged, ducking low as he kicked forward, tossing his copy of the sword to one hand to retain his balance. Arthur pivoted and swung in response, nearly severing Shirou's leg as the magus aborted his kick millimeters from the downward swipe. Shirou turned the king's momentum against him as he jumped and slashed in one motion, catching Arthur by surprise and scoring the servant's armor. Shirou paused in shock at his success and was punished for it by a spray of red, Arthur recovering from his momentary incapacitation to trace a line in blood across the boy's forearm.
Focus! Shirou thought with a scowl, turning away two blows coming in quick succession from his left and right. He retaliated with a series of diagonal slashes, hoping but not believing that the cross-motion would disorient Arthur enough to land a hit. To his expectation, the servant weaved through the swipes without so much as a scratch, his immediate riposte forcing Shirou to twist sharply to his right. The magus brought his sword along the course of his spin and aimed for Arthur's right flank with a horizontal slice, but Arthur had already brought Galatine to meet the strike, and the two weapons crashed together with a sharp clang. Shirou allowed the weapons to slide off of one another, immediately launching into another flurry of slashes, but was forced to abort his maneuver when Arthur retaliated with twin slices of his own, a seamless transition between a horizontal strike and a downward lunge leaving Shirou with a shallow gash trailing down his already bloodied torso. Arthur did not escape entirely unscathed, however, and sported a cross-shaped scar on his breastplate.
Shirou circled the king as he continually feinted, probing for holes in Arthur's near-immaculate defense. Suddenly, the magus dashed forth, placing himself inside Arthur's guard and fending off the king's immediate counter-swing with the duplicate Galatine. Shirou dropped the sword to one hand and jumped slightly, throwing a right hook at the king's heretofore unblemished visage. The king reeled back, slightly staggered, and the magus pressed his advantage, striking a deep cut down the vertical length of Arthur's breastplate as his reward. Three long slashes to Shirou's back forced a retreat from the boy, but he nicked the servant's arm on his reversed path through Arthur's guard, a slight flinch from the king functioning well as cover for the magus' return to normal range.
The two leapt away from one another, the servant looking at the master with a complex mixture of surprise and approval in his gaze. A slight smile found itself to Arthur's face, prompting a reciprocal grin on Shirou's.
"I see that you were entirely truthful as regards your inherited skill," Arthur remarked, eyes tracking Shirou's duplicated sword.
"You thought I was lying?" asked Shirou, shifting his weight between his right leg and his left.
"Given your penchant for heroism, I would have been a fool to believe you."
He's got me there, the magus thought, faking a strike to the king's right thigh while swinging at the servant's shoulder. Arthur easily parried the feint and followup slash at his midsection, then lashed out with a kick to Shirou's chest, sending the magus flying. Shirou felt a rib creak as he desperately plunged his sword into the floor, tearing up the mat but halting his flight. He took a shallow breath as Arthur rushed him once again, batting away the oncoming Galatine as he struggled back to his feet. On one knee, Shirou deflected a series of bludgeoning strikes aimed at forcing him down once more, pushing them off kilter and rising to a standing position. Blood dripped from his forearms, their outer coating of skin partially carved off by the diverted edge of Galatine, but he pressed onward, dealing Arthur a series of scratches to the servant's sides.
Shirou grimaced. This isn't working; I can't get through his armor.
He lost a short contest of strength to the king – the price for his failure a shallow cut to the left side of his torso – and let out a pained grunt.
It's time to use it.
With a thought, grey fire sprouted on the sides of Shirou's Galatine, the flames roaring forth until they formed a single, flickering coating along the weapon's edge. He didn't hesitate to watch, instead redoubling his attacks on Arthur, who took a moment to stare at the blade before frenetically parrying his master's onslaught. Shirou varied his strikes but focused in on the king's right arm, looping his furious slashes and thrusts into a targeted pattern of weak slices and anemic pokes, and finally succeeded, dredging a deep cut through Arthur's metallic armguard. The servant leapt back instantly, tossing his weapon to his left hand while in the air, and the two stared as grey flame spread around the edges of the wound. With a hiss, the fire interlinked itself, and the flame-mesh delved into the cut, burning brightly as sparks flew from the sizzling wound.
Arthur narrowed his eyes, and spoke through clenched teeth.
"Prepare yourself."
"Prepare myself for what?" Shirou questioned, before Arthur jumped to the ceiling in a blink of blue and silver, ripping the mat beneath his feet to pieces with the force of his jump. Infinitesimally later, the servant pushed off and dived with Galatine outstretched, the silver blade splitting the air with a clap of thunder. Shirou rapidly brought his weapon forth and deflected the servant just enough to survive the strike, but he felt his arm wrench unnaturally, barely keeping hold of his sword in the face of sudden agony.
"Damn it...!" Shirou let out through his pain, holding back a scream through force of will alone as the king rolled back to his feet.
The magus had no time to contemplate his plight further as Arthur blurred, striking at all sides with strength and speed a magnitude greater than he'd shown prior. Shirou fell back on the desperate defensive, barely sliding otherwise fatal slashes to the side as he crouched low, granting less space for the rain of silver. Blow after blow walloped his body as Shirou turned Arthur's slashes into bludgeoning strikes, ripostes forgotten in the daze of survival. A series of glancing shots to the leg brought Shirou to his knees, but the magus refused to cede the fight, drawing prana to his limbs even as his servant sought to turn them to dust. His spine began to burn in tune with his muscles as the constant bruising turned to a haze of pain, and the magus was able to dissociate slightly, just enough to call further upon the wellspring of power invoked in the blade he'd traced. An impossibly complicated web of light wrote itself on his form before flashing off to null, tethered too weakly to remain.
His eyes burned blue, and through the hail of strikes, he built an opening in the steel pouring from Arthur. Shirou began corkscrewing his deflections, twisting Arthur's thrusts and slices to the side while feebly striking just away from the king's neck. The servant varied his attacks in turn, leaving a slight opening at the base of his skull as he blocked the magus' minor offense. Shirou poured prana into his arms and aimed directly for the hole in the wall of steel, but a perfect dodge from Arthur brought the boy's efforts to naught. The magus growled, jumping to his feet in the split second between Arthur's leap and the resumption of combat, and began a combination defense and offense, an outstretched series of pendulum swipes disorienting the king for a fraction of time.
Shirou stole the opportunity and drove forward, crouching low as he darted forward toward Arthur's waist, prompting the king to tense. At the moment Shirou thrust outward, Arthur hurdled the magus, trailing his sword below him and opening a bloody gash on Shirou's back. The magus spun, barely blocking a followup aimed at his spine, but received twin slashes far into the meat of his thighs as the price for his relative languidity. One last desperate lunge was parried by Arthur, the azure bled from the boy's eyes, and Shirou started to fall, though he caught himself by stabbing his fiery blade point-first into the mat below. Instantly, the edge of Galatine appeared below his chin.
"Do you yield?" asked Arthur, his placid expression at odds with the sword poised to slit his master's throat.
Shirou closed his eyes, allowed the fire along his sword to dissipate, and brought a small, rueful smile to his face.
"I yield."
Arthur withdrew Galatine, taking its pristine edge from Shirou's neck and storing it in the aether. The king offered his hand to Shirou, who took it, gingerly rising to his feet with the help of his servant. He turned his copy of Gawain's sword over in his hands, its steel and ceramic blade marred by innumerable scratches and pockmarks. The magus' gaze stayed on the weapon as he spoke.
"You don't need to say it; I wasn't really a match for you when you started taking things seriously. I was a fool to think I could stand by your side, and I'm an even bigger fool for being unable to shake that thought."
Shirou closed his eyes once more as a scrabbling sound came from the doorway. Arthur remained silent.
"Tell me: did I even stand a chance? Did I at least make you work for it? I know you're only even more opposed to my participation after this, but when I fight by your side, regardless, will I really just slow you down?"
The boy fell into an expectant silence, his eyes still closed and his lips still turned to a melancholy smile.
"On the contrary, I believe you demonstrated just the opposite."
Shirou's eyes shot open.
"Shirou, you engaged in a sustained swordfight with a Saber-class servant. Moreover, you matched me – nearly blow-for-blow – until both you and I brought forth the power of our respective trumps. It is true that you are not my equal, nor close to it, but you have proven yourself anything but a liability."
Arthur motioned to Galatine, its hilt still clutched in Shirou's grip.
"You fought nearly as well as that blade's first wielder ever did," the king elaborated, staring past his defeated master. "Indeed, Gawain was my superior in swordsmanship all those years ago; that I am currently his better is a function of the grail alone. He, and Lancelot..."
A melancholy look spread over Arthur's face, but he shook his head, and it passed.
"Gawain's skill aside, you possess might and potential well beyond that shown in our duel."
What potential? wondered Shirou, but he bit back the question and let Arthur explain.
"Perhaps you do not realize its value, but you wield the same ability as I. Just as I can summon swords from my legend–" the king's gauntlet glowed grey, and Treildfigen appeared in his hands, "you hold the power to call forth an entire menagerie of weapons."
The king paused to send Treildfigen away, simultaneously glancing to the door. With a decisive nod, Arthur continued.
"With each blade comes a different ability. Whether it be purifying the corrupt—" Arthur brought Pysguread to his hands, "or slaying monsters—" Ywain's claw-blade found its way into the king's grip, "the swords of my knights have strength independent of their physical form. You yourself experienced this when bringing Bedivere's spear to bear against Lancer: the mystical power of a noble phantasm exists within the weapon itself. What others hold in strength, you hold in adaptability."
The king looked at Shirou, an expectant expression gracing his regal face. The magus scratched the back of his neck and gave a weak grin.
"I suppose that means I should actually take the time to figure out exactly what each blade I've traced does, then," Shirou remarked, finally letting Galatine go. "Since I'm absolutely drained, both physically and mentally, that sounds like a plan for the next while."
He heard a scoff from the doorway, and turned to see a distinctly annoyed Rin Tohsaka.
"Actually, Emiya, we're going to have a long discussion about trusting allies, using magecraft, and keeping secrets," she said, unamused. Rin made her way into the room, glancing at the destroyed flooring before focusing a glower back on her classmate. "We can start with the distinctly not-Excalibur noble phantasm you just dismissed."
Shirou gulped.
Rin gingerly sat on one of the untorn mats, eyeing the destruction surrounding her with clear distaste. Shirou sat across from her, fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably. Rin's gaze bore into him, and he looked to Arthur for help, but the king gave an enigmatic smile and summarily ignored his master.
What does she know? What does she suspect? thought Shirou, his nerves extant as much for the upcoming dance of words as for Rin's current disapproval. Might as well start by asking what's with her presence, I think.
"So—," he began, coughing as his voice came out slightly higher pitched than he'd prefer. "So, when did you get here, Rin?"
Rin scowled. "Early enough to see you almost get yourself killed, again. How about you explain that to me?"
"It was an attempt to prove my worth to my servant."
"Your worth? You mean your suitability for joining in on fights between servants, courting death in your pigheaded desire for heroics," Rin caustically corrected.
"What's the expression? Oh, right, 'to be a magus is to walk with death'," Shirou shot back, affecting anger in hopes of teasing out Rin's knowledge. "For someone who seems to pride herself on her magical prowess, you sure seem to have problems with that core tenet of the creed."
"'Walking with death' doesn't mean jumping off the nearest cliff, you utter moron," she responded in kind. "Teasing out the deeper mysteries of the universe is neither simple nor safe, though considering your lack of talent, it might be different for you."
Just a bit more, Shirou thought, choosing his next words carefully.
"My acumen for projection managed to impress my servant; it's a bit hard to do that without any talent."
"Your ability to summon–" Rin began, cutting herself off with a look of dawning realization. Her anger melted away, and she smirked. "Oh, I see your game. Clever. I think it's time that you explain your own abilities, Shirou."
Her tone was honey-sweet, and, despite himself, a scowl flickered across Shirou's face. Damn it, he thought, reevaluating the situation. It was worth a try, but still, damn it. She obviously heard the end of our fight, but how much did she actually see?
"Well, Shirou?" Rin prompted, smug satisfaction curling about the edge of her words.
Arthur talked about creating a wide variety of weapons, so that's definitely out there. But was she there to learn that I gained the skill of their past wielders, or to watch me almost get possessed by Gawain?
"Shirou, start talking," she prompted again, her voice turning frosty.
It all comes back to whether I can reveal my one possible advantage against Archer to Archer's master, really. I'd be happy to talk about the acquired skill, but–
"Emiya," Rin spat out, cutting off his train of thought, "explain what just happened, or I will make you."
It's a matter of trust, then, and if so, I guess I already know my answer, Shirou thought, smiling lightly and opening his mouth to speak.
"Rin, what do you know about divine fire?"
"What?" she responded, obviously taken aback at the seeming non-sequitur. "What does fire have to do with your magecraft?"
Her eyes narrowed again. "Were you lying to me about only being able to perform projection and analysis?"
Shirou's eyes widened, and he shook his head.
"No, no, I wasn't lying about my lack of proficiency with most magecraft. It's just...there's more to my projection than recreating legendary weapons."
"Not going to hide that anymore, I see," snarked Rin.
"In my defense, I'd only just confirmed it when you barged in on me holding Excalibur. It was a spur of the moment bit of damage control."
"Damage control?" she returned disdainfully. "We're allies, Shirou. Misleading me about your abilities could get both of us killed."
"Well, about that...," he hedged. "Before I explain further, I need to know where Archer is."
"Why?"
"Look, just trust me on this, okay? It's important."
"Fine," Rin said, rolling her eyes. "If you must know, he's out scouting for wherever Assassin and his master are lurking. He's currently–" she concentrated, narrowing her eyes, "checking around Ryuudou temple."
"Alright," said Shirou, a tinge of relief whispering over his face. He turned to his servant. "Arthur, do you mind explaining what divine fire is?"
"I see that you have indeed decided to trust Ms. Tohsaka," the king noted, a pleased smile making an appearance on his visage. "I respect your ideals on their lonesome, though I respect them infinitely more when you attempt to live up to them."
"And the explanation?" Shirou asked, sidestepping the faint blush blooming from the explicit praise.
"Of course," Arthur replied, angling his head from Shirou toward both of the magi. "I am no expert, and what magecraft I know is primarily focused on the intricacies of shapeshifting, but I shall relate that which I learned at the feet of Merlin."
Does that mean he can turn into an animal, right now? pondered Shirou, but he remained quiet, waiting for Arthur's explication.
"Divine fire is a synthesis of magical flame and something indescribably supernal. It is an emanation of the root and what entity or entities may associate with such, twined with arcane fire into a purifying entity unlike any other. This holy flame is both weapon and shield, capable of visiting utter disintegration and protection unparalleled, and it is one of few things that can permanently incapacitate spirits such as I."
"I brought it up," Shirou added, tracing his favored longsword, "because I can summon it."
The male magus twitched his hand and the blade lit up in pale flame. Deep within himself, Shirou felt the echo of a dead man, but it was faint, well unlike Gawain's overwhelming presence. Rin stared into the fire, unmoving, as Shirou held the blade still. She reached out a hand, but hesitated and drew it back.
"How exactly...," she trailed off, seemingly unable to tear her gaze from the flickering blaze surrounding the weapon.
"I don't know, and before you ask, I can only coat weapons in it, to my knowledge."
Rin finally moved her stare from the flames to Shirou's eyes, prompting Shirou to dissolve the blade and its fiery cladding back to aether. She visibly collected herself as Shirou spoke further.
"Interesting as the fire is on its own, that's not the only strange thing about my projection. You see–" Shirou stopped as Rin held up her left hand, rubbing her temple with her right.
"Shirou, give me a second to process what you just told me. You can invoke some kind of divine magecraft, and that's a really big deal," she emphasized, grimacing. "Even among the more supernaturally inclined members of the Catholic Church – the most centralized repository of information of practical theology on the entire planet – the actual ability to use divine thaumaturgy is rare to the point of near-incredibility."
That makes telling her about my near-possession even more immediately important, Shirou thought, opening his mouth to interject. "Rin, that makes what I–"
"God, even without considering what this means to the Church, what would the Clock Tower make of this? You'd be slapped in restraints and kept for study for the rest of your life," she rambled, barreling through Shirou's attempt at speech. "First summoning legendary weapons, now using magecraft connected directly to the root? Damn it, Shirou."
As Rin sighed, Shirou transmitted a simple message to Arthur. "I have to ask her whether she plans to turn me in; depending on her answer, we may find ourselves in combat. Get ready."
"Understood," replied the king, who surreptitiously moved to put Rin's neck in sword range. "Let us both hope she is reasonable."
God, I certainly hope she is. I don't want...ugh, never mind. Here goes.
"Rin," Shirou said, catching his classmate's attention. "What exactly do you plan to do with this information? Are you going to try to capture me?"
She smiled somewhat wistfully as she answered. "No. If I weren't your friend–" a faint hint of red appeared on her cheeks –"I'd do it in a heartbeat, or at least I like to think I would. However, you're too close to me, both strategically and personally, to just hand over to a bunch of other magi. We'll have to try to use whatever connection you have to the root on our own."
Shirou breathed a sigh of relief as Rin fell silent. "Good. That's...good."
The two of them sat in silence for a time, before he spoke up again.
"You know, the reason I wanted to make sure Archer wasn't here for this was because neither Arthur nor I trust him."
"Oh?" Rin questioned. "Why not? He's acerbic, I admit, but I have yet to see him do anything overly suspicious."
"Arthur really has lost his memories of the previous war, but we think Archer hasn't," Shirou explained. "Maybe we're being overly cautious, but unlike with you, I don't gain enough from trusting him with my secrets to make the risk worthwhile."
And the big secret in question is a means of potentially defeating Archer, Shirou reflected, expecting his friend to grasp such without him having to vocalize it.
So," Rin said, arching her back. "Any other ridiculous powers associated with your projecting that you want to reveal?"
Shirou scratched the back of his neck. "Actually, yeah. I get the skills of the past wielders of those legendary weapons when I trace them. Past that, when I combine everything, I'm pretty sure I end up partially possessed by the heroic spirit whose weapon I hold."
Rin put her head in her hands.
"Once again, damn it, Shirou."
A neat 5 minutes of questioning later, Rin was vocally unsatisfied, but accepting of Shirou's lack of complete knowledge. Over the course of her interrogation, her annoyance had melted through, burned away by her obvious curiosity. Shirou caught the female magus' half-hearted attempts at disguising her interest, but decided to humor her rather than antagonize the irascible girl.
"So, Shirou, do you know why you have these powers?" Rin asked, folding her arms under her chest. "We've established what you can do, but do you have even the slightest of ideas as to what's letting you perform all these thaumaturgical absurdities?"
Rin's not going to love this, but the best I've got are suspicions, pondered Shirou.
"Unfortunately, I've never been great at magical theory," he replied, "so all I have are guesses."
"And those guesses are...?" Rin questioned, opening her arms and gesturing for elaboration.
"I think I'm performing the process of incarnating a heroic spirit, but inside my own body. The divine fire is probably acting as a conduit to the root and the throne of heroes next to it, and when you mix that with my gaining the skills of past legendary wielders, copies of the spirits just kinda seep through. It's the same general way the grail works, I'd assume, though I don't have the first clue about how that thing actually functions."
"While I wouldn't phrase it quite so simply, you're more or less correct about the grail, to my understanding," Rin said, placing her chin in her hand. "Furthermore, I agree with your thoughts on the mechanism behind the process of incarnation, but that still doesn't really answer my question."
"How so?" Shirou asked, peeling off the bits of shirt still left on his torso.
Rin stared for a second, a hint of red dusting her cheeks, then blinked, refocusing on her counterpart's face. "You evidently have no idea how you can summon divine fire and trace legendary weaponry in the first place. Without that knowledge, all we have is the 'what', not the 'why'."
She remembered my term for it, Shirou thought, amused, as he took his hands from his still-healing chest. But she's right. I'm no closer to figuring this out than I was before, though the hill and sea I keep seeing almost certainly have something to do with it.
"Yeah," he said, rolling his shoulders. "If it helps, I've been getting visions of a silver sea surrounding a green hill, the latter stabbed by all the bladed weapons I've seen and am able to summon." He paused. "Oh, and to answer the obvious, I'm not sure what prompts the visions or what they mean."
Rin frowned. "It doesn't sound like any magecraft I know of; maybe it's a visualization aid of some sort?"
The female magus groaned. "I'm probably going to have to grab even more books from my house to study up on this, aren't I?"
"You don't have to–," Shirou tried to offer.
"I'm doing this just as much for the sake of personal gain as I am to help you, Shirou," preempted Rin.
"-help," he finished lamely, taking a second to process Rin's words. "Wait, what personal gain?"
Rin shook her head, a combination of mirth and pity apparent in her soft smirk.
"Only you," she said, sighing fondly. "Shirou, in your own words, the divine fire is likely acting as a path to the root. You know, the same path that the grail was created to find? The path that all magi seek through the course of their lives?"
"Oh right, that," Shirou muttered, slightly abashed.
Rin put her hand on her chin as she spoke, simultaneously closing her eyes in contemplation. "It would be nice to win the grail war, both for personal reasons and to find a much quicker path to the root. However, because you seem to have your own – presumably traceable – connection, it's of less importance."
"Personal reasons?" Shirou wondered aloud.
She gave a bitter smile. "You're not the only one whose father fought in the previous grail war. I would really prefer not to talk about it."
Hopefully I can get the story later, he thought, nodding in assent to his classmate's unspoken request.
"Well," Rin said, standing up from the mat, "I suppose you'd like to go back to cataloguing your abilities. I'll go see if any of the books I brought with me can help us figure you out."
"I appreciate it," said Shirou, who remained seating. "If you need anything from me, don't hesitate to ask, alright?"
She snorted and began to walk out of the room. "I doubt you'll be of any help, but in the event that I require something from you, I'll be sure to let you know."
As the female magus reached the door, Shirou called out to her.
"Hey, Rin?"
"Yes?" she responded, pausing at but not turning from the doorway.
"Thank you."
He caught her answering nod as she left, then turned to his watchful servant.
"Arthur, I think it would be helpful if you went and patrolled the area, but it's up to you. Let me know if anything comes up, regardless."
The king gave a small smile. "I believe I will take you up on that suggestion," he said, before etherealizing and walking through the nearest wall.
"Shirou?" came Arthur's thought-voice, emanating from just beyond the room.
"What is it?" the magus responded.
"I am proud of you."
Shirou gave a grin, but wiped it from his face as he retreated inwards. It's time to see exactly what I can do, he thought, running over the arsenal of weapons that came instantly to mind. I guess I'll start with the weapons I got from Arthur, and go from there.
The magus began delving into himself, and he saw an array of weapons before him. Here was Rhilltawdd, the virtuous sword of Balin that slew his brother Balan, and there lay Teyrnolfod, the weapon of Lucan, of undying loyalty till battle's end. Ysgrumelfa – the scimitar that struck the questing beast – sat next to Fwrhylin, the berserker-weapon of Sagramore. Treildfigen and Maircllewr, Arondight and Setarfoad; Wyneidraich and Pysguread, Clyfodran and Galatine: all these weapons formed in his head, resting on the black nothing that stood between his mind and the worlds within and without.
Shirou saw their strengths, and he saw their weaknesses. He saw their knighted wielders slay those arrayed against Camelot and aid the lost and the weary. He saw battle after battle, strike after strike, and he knew their power as he knew himself. From Rhiltawdd's blade of black-constraining white to Fwrhylin's explosive-laden edge, from Ysgrumelfa's pelt-clad hilt to Teyrnolfod's thrice-colored pommel, Shirou knew their use, and he knew their past wielders.
As he concentrated, he saw more weapons than the Arthurian twelve: there were Kanshou and Bakuya, and there were Gwdynawr and Gae Bolg, the lances of Bedivere and Cú Chullain. Here was Excalibur, and–
There was a hill of green, and a sky of deep blue. A sea of silver touched the horizon, its waves sharper than water and its body quicker than the oceans of Earth. White gears turned above, flanking a glowing sheath peering down ceaselessly on the world below. Stabbed in the hill was a blade of unwrought diamond, not shaped into but rather formed in its final condition. A strand of pale fire burned in it, casting prismatic shadows on the blades arranged along the hill itself.
As Shirou looked on, a wave crested, and within it, he saw a veritable storm of swords. A pulse from the hill brought his attention to the blade at its top, as the strand of fire expanded further, and further still. Tendrils of flame danced around the edges of his sight, but the magus kept watch, seeing another letter carve itself into the hilt of the hilltop sword before a rush of red-orange and white ejected him.
Unconsciously, he whispered two words.
"Trace on."
The vision fractured with a jolt, and Shirou felt a surge of prana exit his circuits into the air around him. Slowly, in bursts of blue-violet light, the aether was teased and wrought into the blades of his vision, diminished but undeniably duplicated. They hovered about his form, each burning brightly with colored fire sourced from the primeval. They're beautiful, Shirou pondered, passing his hand through the flames lighting the weapons of his mind. And I brought them here.
He banished the weapons with a thought, and the room fell back into artificial light. Shirou noticed that the windows showed darkness.
"I should probably–" he started speaking to himself, but was interrupted by a yell and a slammed door.
"Shirou, I'm home!"
A short pause.
"You'd better have my cake!" Taiga continued, the sound of her voice growing louder as she entered further into the house.
Oh god, I forgot about– he winced, but was interrupted by another yell, this one higher pitched.
"Big brother, we're here!"
An even shorter pause.
"Hey, who're you?!" came Illya's voice.
Shirou slammed a palm to his forehead and reluctantly stood.
Oh no.
AN: There's something to be said for allowing Shirou to fight evenly against servants. There's a lot more to be said for not making the 17 year old an overly powerful being equal in ability to lesser divinities. Not yet.
I hadn't planned on Rin and Shirou having this conversation, not until quite a bit further in, but heck, sometimes I just write and don't want to delete what I've written. Indeed, the outline of this chapter was a whole lot shorter than this.
Don't really like the last bit, should hopefully be fixed in the dread rewrite I keep mentioning. Still kept it here as is instead of further personal editing because I was getting annoyed by seeing 5700+ unpublished words.
I do appreciate the criticism of my characterization (or lack thereof). I'm well aware that it's lacking, but it's a bit tricky to deal with because of some stuff, including but not limited to: 1) the variant of third person perspective I'm using (it's very cinematic, is a way to put it, with minimum narration), 2) the plot-focused way I'm writing the story, and 3) me just not being great at the whole characterization thing. I'd say more, but that'd make this not really an author's note so much as an author's sermon.
