Rusty Heart (VII)
(Published: 06.20.2013 - Beta: Obiki Doragon)
As he fought against the last few standing opponents in front of the building where Motoko was supposed to be, Shirou reinforced his hearing. It would do him no good to enter a building that could be filled with more enemies without making an effort to ascertain Motoko's presence beforehand.
The conversation he eavesdropped was comforting to a degree because it dispelled Shirou's fear about Motoko's wellbeing that was partially caused by the unnaturally wicked atmosphere of the Aoyama compound, but it also upset him a great deal due to the callousness of Motoko's relatives.
Yes, perhaps Shirou had been wrong in choosing violence as a course of action since Motoko was not in immediate danger, but right there and then he didn't feel guilty about smacking these people around a bit. Maybe in the morning he'd regret it, but probably not. Some people just didn't learn without a good beating.
He was snapped out of his musing when another man came running out of the building. He was dressed slightly different from the others. Whereas all the people he fought on his way up wore a simple white uwagi over a black hakama, this person was wearing a finely decorated kamishimo, the traditional clothing of samurais, over an entirely black outfit.
It probably reflected his higher status in the clan's hierarchy, Shirou reasoned, which in a group that prided itself in their ability with the sword certainly meant a higher level of skill as well.
The redhead found confirmation of his suspicions in the split second it took to the newcomer to register his presence, unsheathe his own weapon had unleash a flurry of attacks that couldn't be compared to those of his previous opponents. The speed, the strength and the skill behind each blow was on an entirely different level and Shirou was actually forced to parry and deflect when he would have otherwise resorted to simply dodging.
The Magus had to grimly acknowledge that the words spoken by the man he interrogated earlier where not an empty threat. With his stamina already at its lowest Shirou would soon have been overwhelmed if he didn't have more the one ace in his sleeve.
"Trace on."
Prana flooded his body, restoring his physical energy. It was a common trick for a Magus to exchange Prana for stamina, but having been forced to employ Magecraft against a single mundane swordsman was a testament to his opponent skill, though if Shirou had been in a better shape it wouldn't have been too much of an issue.
With his strength renewed Shirou made short work of his opponent, parrying a vicious downward blow with the length of Shisui and then planting a Reinforced kick in the man's stomach. The strength behind Shirou's attack caused the hapless man to gasp out in shock, sending him flying backwards and through the wall, robbing him of his consciousness on the way.
Well, Shirou mused, there suddenly was a perfectly viable entrance that couldn't have been booby trapped. Not that it mattered much when walking in the lion's den, but there was no reason to waste a perfectly good 'Dynamic Entry' by waking in normally through the door. After all, if experience though him one thing it was that first impressions counted a lot, especially on the battlefield.
With a slow, calculated pace he walked to the makeshift entrance and unceremoniously let himself in. Not at all unexpectedly he found himself surrounded by mean looking swordsmen in the same outfit as the last man he fought.
That was probably not a good thing.
Scanning the room his gaze found Tsuruko, who was doing the a very poor effort to hide her amusement and by her side a surprised looking Motoko, who appeared closer to shocked than surprised by his sudden entrance. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were strangely flushed, but she seemed to be otherwise in good shape both physically and mentally, not that he had expected anything else.
The firmness in her voice during the conversation he kept listening during the fight was that of a person who made a clear cut choice and wasn't afraid to live with the consequences. She had most certainly grown.
Not that such knowledge improved the situation in the slightest, not for him at least. In fact it made his position much worse as he had in fact staged a rescue operation when there was no one to rescue at all. He didn't feel guilty about it at all, of course, for even if he was in the wrong with his actions, being by Motoko's side in this moment was the right thing to do.
Truly, he was a living contradiction.
But he was in the wrong, that much was undeniable, and as someone in the wrong there was but one thing that that he could do.
Lowering the still sheathed Shisui to the side he a deep breath, straightening his back even further. In response to his movement, the gathered fighters narrowed their eyes and tightened their grips around their weapons even more.
Shirou fixed each and every one of them in the eyes as he exhaled slowly and then…
"I APOLOGIZE FOR THE INTRUSION," he declared loudly enough to almost be a shout, bowing as much as he could and trying to sound as honest and apologetic as possible.
The dropping of all signs of hostility in his body language was so sudden and unanticipated that it gave the entire audience a moment of pause. A few almost lost their balance and fell flat on their faces while the rest glanced at each other skeptically, no doubt wondering the same thing: 'Is this guy actually serious?'
A small slap was heard as Tsuruko inelegantly slammed her hand on her mouth, forcibly trying to swallow a fit of laughter that was threatening to erupt unbidden. The effectiveness of her attempt was somewhat lost due to the tears of mirth at the corner of her eyes and the shaking of her shoulders.
She should have known, of course.
Though she has been greatly surprised by Motoko's tale of Shirou's fighting prowess, she never once thought that the polite boy she had befriended almost a decade before and found mostly unchanged after so many years was just a façade. Emiya Shirou was a good man at heart.
A good man with a core of sharp steel, no doubt, but a good man nonetheless. Therefore it shouldn't have been surprising that he apologized for his trespassing and the damage he caused, but it still was absolutely hilarious. Who in their right mind would fight their way through an army of trained swordsmen and apologize for the disturbance immediately thereafter?
It was all the more amusing now that he was glaring at her. It almost caused her to lose it completely and break down laughing. Only the supposed seriousness of the situation gave her enough reasons to restrain herself, that and the fact that even some of the instructor and the elders were eyeing her with arched eyebrows.
She coughed in her hand and restored her composure, if only barely. Her eyes were still tinged with amusement and the corner of her lips was quirked slightly upward. Truly, the hardship of being the clan's heir was, more often than not, maintaining the proper appearance rather than constantly surpassing her limits.
Motoko was truly and completely shocked.
She couldn't understand what Emiya of all people was doing in Kyoto and what could have possessed him to attack her family. Her former family, she inwardly corrected herself.
It didn't make much sense, did it? Moreover it looked like Tsuruko knew this was going to happen, both because of her evident amusement and for her words before the meeting. There was no way she didn't know this would happen.
… In fact she was probably behind the entire situation. It was precisely her style to goad people into doing what she wanted. What had she done or said to cause Emiya, arguably the most peaceful and calm man she ever met, take up arms and storm the Aoyama compound? And for what purpose did that serve? Did she think he could change the council's decision somehow? Preposterous didn't begin to cover that notion.
Strong as he was Emiya had no claims on her nor any sway over the internal matters of the clan. In fact the only connection he had with the Aoyama at all was the sword he had in his hands and…
'Oh, no; aneue, what were you thinking?'
"Emiya-san," Motoko spoke, "what are you doing here?"
"Ah," he scratched his head sheepishly, "I heard you were in bit of a tight spot and thought you could use some support. The guards at the entrance weren't inclined to let me through so I had to be a tad forceful. Sorry about that."
"Emiya Shirou," her father spoke as he stood. It didn't take a genius to figure out who the current holder of Shisui was. Aoyama Hisashi was an impressively tall man for a Japanese man and his figure was absolutely imposing, much like his aura. "Or is it Urashima Keitaro?"
A sharp intake of breath from all of the gathered followed Hisashi question. It was no wonder considering what the Urashima name meant for the Aoyama. After so many centuries, was history about to repeat itself?
The last time a single Urashima had stood against the entirety of the Aoyama might, Kyoto had been almost burned to the ground and the clan almost driven into extinction. Motoko wasn't thinking that such an event could be repeated, of course. Similar as the settings could be the factors involved where much different, but in the minds of the Aoyama that tale was a dark reminder of what a single man could do.
"Emiya will do," the redhead replied with a court nod, not missing the shift in the atmosphere at the mention of his birth name. "I'm not yet really used to being an Urashima and the name Emiya has more significance for me."
"Very well," Hisashi acknowledged. "It seems that Tsuruko's judgment of your character wasn't mistaken. I don't suppose you went through all the trouble of fighting our apprentices just to return Shisui."
"Not at all," the redhead agreed. "I came to ask you to reconsider your decision in regards of Motoko's banishment."
"On what grounds," Hisashi asked through narrowed eyes, "and with what right? You don't belong with this family Emiya-san, and your trespassing and aggression certainly don't give you any moral ground to make a request before this council. Return Shisui and we shall forget these transgressions."
Emiya walked past the blades pointed at him, all the way to Motoko's side, and sat unceremoniously sat on the ground by her side, opposite to Tsuruko.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, this sword belongs to Motoko as far as I can understand. I've merely gained temporary custody of it by winning a duel. Now, if Motoko was still part of your family you might actually have a claim over it, but since she isn't you don't."
"And yet you're in this place," Hisashi continued unfazed by Emiya's remarks, "surrounded by the finest swordsmen of this clan. Despite your already proven ability, how difficult do you think it would be to pry it off your hands?"
"Well," Emiya rubbed his chin in mock pondering. "There lots of yours and just one of mine. I can make it more difficult than you probably imagine but it shouldn't be too hard for you to accomplish," he smirked, "but it would be quite hypocritical of you to do so. For all of her faults and misjudgments, Motoko challenged me to a duel putting Shisui on the line. Are you saying that you have even less honor than the family member you banished?"
Far from being offended by such a remark, Hisashi had an amused smirk of his own. "Ah, so you aren't a complete dimwit. What is that you want in exchange of Shisui then? Name your price."
"Heritage for a heritage, return Motoko her own heritage and I will return yours."
"Preposterous," another elder stood on his feet." Hisashi, certainly you don't intend to give in to the demands of this whelp after he violated our home."
"Oh? And what would you do Gosho? Sully our honor and reclaim Shisui by having him beaten up by a higher number of our people?"
"He has attacked us first," Gosho protested. "Honor has nothing to do with defending ourselves."
"You have always been a fool," Hisashi hissed. "Honor has everything to do with everything. It's how we live. It's more than just appearance and if you have forgotten than then perhaps you should join Motoko in her banishment."
"Then challenge him," Gosho protested, anger and embarrassment flashing through his eyes. "He at least owes us as to acquiesce to an honor duel."
"I certainly have an obligation to concede as much," Emiya agreed, unfazed, "though you still have to make a wager of some sort. I came here for a reason and I have something you want."
"Are you suggesting wagering Motoko's readmission to the family and Shisui on the outcome of the duel? Hm, A sword for a family is hardly an equivalent exchange, Emiya-san."
"I suppose it is," he agreed. "I'll sweeten the deal then. If I lose, I'll return Shisui and if I win, I will return it all the same if Motoko were to lose the intended duel against Tsuruko."
"Unacceptable," Gosho returned with a vengeance. "The decision of this council isn't negotiable. One cannot simply dishonor this family and be left unpunished. Even if that wasn't the case no one would accept Motoko as their student at this point. She would have to surpass Tsuruko without the support of any of the instructors."
"Are you saying," Emiya licked his lips predatorily, "that if she surpassed Tsuruko without being taught by any of the instructors you would accept her back into the family? I'm willing to bet on that, you know?"
"Emiya-san," Motoko hissed. "What are you saying?"
Surpassing Tsuruko was already something she wasn't sure she could do, even with years of training before her. Doing so without proper guidance was an impossible endeavor. To an outsider, banishment might not be that much of a deal, but she always prided herself of her lineage and the profound history of her clan. Making the choice of giving it up hadn't been an easy one and she didn't to lose the last remnants of it.
"Only the techniques of the Shinmei-ryu are accepted in a formal duel for the title," Gosho explained with an condescending tone. "Are you suggesting that Motoko can learn them well enough to surpass the current heir without being taught by any of our teachers?"
"Absolutely," the redhead confidently, "In three years I can make her strong enough to beat even Tsuruko."
"Do you believe that just because you've bested Motoko do you consider yourself good enough? What a fool. It's impossible!"
"Are you willing to bet on that?" Emiya prompted, his smile was that of a hunter that had his prey right where he wanted.
"Gosho-" Hisashi began.
"Of course I do!" the now red-faced man shouted.
"- you fool," Hisashi continued, changing his interrupted warning with for a groan of resignation.
"Then we have a deal," Emiya smiled beatifically, clapping his hands once as if to seal the agreement. "I wage Shisui in exchange for Motoko's opportunity to challenge Tsuruko after three years under my tutelage and without any support from any of your instructors."
"What? No, that's not what I- YOU!" Gosho bellowed as soon as realization dawned upon him. "You tricked me, boy."
"Eh, so I did," the redhead shrugged shamelessly, "but what does it matter? Are you planning to go back on your word? That would be a most dishonorable thing to do." Motoko could almost hear the 'tsk-tsk' in his voice and she would have been amused by it if he was digging an even deeper grave for her.
"You… You…," the elder growled but then he schooled his features. "It's irrelevant. Either way this goes there's no possible way Motoko is ever going to surpass Tsuruko and for that matter neither you are."
"I beg your pardon?" Emiya blinked.
It was Gosho's smile that turned predatory this time.
"You wanted a duel and you shall have it," the elder gloated, "against the heir herself. Consider yourself honored, boy."
A collective, sharp intake of breath followed the elder's declaration. The only who didn't react in the same way were the elders, Tsuruko, Emiya-san and Motoko herself. In fact the latter's reaction was more along the lines of:
"What! No! Esteemed elder, please reconsider your decision."
"Be silent, child," Gosho replied mercilessly. "Your word within this council bears now as much weight at that outsider's. The decision has been made. Tsuruko, you shall face this man in duel with live blades until he either surrenders, he's disarmed or he dies."
"No!" Motoko whirled to look at the redhead. "Emiya-san you must refuse. Tsuruko-nee, please say something against this foolishness."
Still sitting seiza on her spot, Tsuruko slowly opened her eyes, which she had closed in contemplation, and directed her gaze to a casually sitting Emiya. "I… really want to fight Shirou-kun."
"Eh," the aforementioned man replied with his eyes closed in a way reminiscent of his soon-to-be opponent. "I'm not really looking forward to it, if I have to be honest," he slowly opened them and returned Tsuruko's stare, "but I'm not going to turn my back on my convictions. If that's how it has to be, let's do it."
To Motoko's further horror Tsuruko's thin smile changed to one of pleased eagerness. She really did want to fight against Emiya-san and not in a mock battle either. She knew her sister well, even if she wasn't aiming to actually kill him she wouldn't hold back anything if he could match her skill. There was no way they wouldn't get injured in this fight.
She was snapped out of her dark thoughts when both her sister and Emiya-san stood to their feet and went for the exit of the building.
"Aneue, please stop! Emiya-san, you don't have to do this for my sake," she tried in a last desperate plea. She couldn't live with herself if either of them were to be harmed over her.
"Sorry, Motoko." he answered without turning back, his tone sincerely apologetic. "When it comes to down to doing what I think is right, I'm a very selfish person. I won't change my mind even if the person I'm trying to help doesn't want to be helped at all," he half-turned, giving her a wry smile. "That's just how I am."
How long had it been, Tsuruko wondered as she walked out of the building with Shirou in tow, since the last time she crossed blades in a real fight against an opponent of skills unknown? Was it months, years? She almost couldn't recall the last foe who gave her a challenge.
Shirou called himself a selfish person and he was probably correct, but the same could be said for her.
Had she allowed him and the others to meet with Motoko, her sister would have talked them out taking any initiative but Tsuruko purposely kept them away to force Shirou into making a move and reach a point of no return that would have undoubtedly lead to this situation.
She did so for her sister's benefit, no doubt, but also because she really wanted to see how strong Shirou actually was. He had to be far above skill level of an instructor of the Shinmei-ryu, since he made short work of one of them after fighting his way through most if not all of the apprentices.
How good was he? How much of a challenge could he put up? Was he stronger than her? What style would he use?
Her heart was already beating at an accelerated rate at the prospect of crossing blades with him. She didn't know where his confidence about Motoko's chances to surpass her in the family style without tutors came from but she didn't particularly care as of that moment.
If he were to win she would make sure to help Motoko behind the council's back. She wasn't a teacher, therefore she wasn't included in the terms of the duel, but she still answered them. If they explicitly forbade her to help Motoko she would have to comply. It was a risky bet, of course, which could result in Motoko regaining everything or losing what little she had but ultimately the former far outweighed the latter therefore it was worth it.
As she pondered this once more, they walked through a small path among the woods, which lead to the secluded dojo where the secret techniques of her family where passed down to those who had proven themselves both capable and worthy. Sliding the door opened the sliding doors and walked inside, taking her place in the middle of the wide room and waited for his opponent to take position a few steps away.
While Shirou removed the tattered cloth that covered Shisui, clearly his weapon of choice for this battle, Gosho approached her.
"Tsuruko, see that you beat some humility into this arrogant outsider; and don't try to fool me, I know what's your opinion in regard of your sister's fate. If you were to lose on purpose the duel would be moot. Give everything you have short of using that."
"Of course, esteemed elder," she answered slowly with a respectful tone and a polite smile, but as she turned to look at him her eyes had a steely edge to them. "However, if were ever to insinuate again that I would do anything but my very best in a formal duel, you would be the next to be at the receiving end of an official challenge."
For all of his foolishness and arrogance, the man was a Master swordsman who lived through many difficult battles therefore he didn't turn his gaze away from hers in fear, but he took a careful step back and gave a respectful nod of acknowledgement.
While this exchange passed, the instructors and Motoko joined them to observe upon the duel, taking position along the perimeter of the room..
"Is this outcome to your satisfaction, Tsuruko-nee?" Shirou asked as the white cloth fell to the ground.
"You have certainly surpassed my expectations," she replied evenly. "I was fully prepared to challenge you myself on similar terms but you managed to achieve the same result without having to do a single thing on my part, but I cannot say I'm satisfied yet."
"I see," he smiled. "I suppose that I have to rectify that."
A slow hiss of steel announced Shisui's release from its sheath. Motoko's gaze followed the familiar length of the blade all the way to the hands that held it and then further up to meet the eyes of the man who wielded it.
TH-THUMP!
Ah, Tsuruko shivered, that look in the eyes of her opponents never failed to make her heart beat faster. Unwavering resolve, steel-like determination, the eyes of a man or a woman set on their goal without seeing anything else; the contemplation of defeat not even remotely hinted in them.
It just made her blood boil beneath her composed façade.
Smiling softly she unsheathed her own sword, one of the many nameless weapons she owned and assumed the standard guard of the Shinmei-ryu with the blade held almost vertically in front of her with both hands. It was a very common stance, all things considered, as Shirou himself had adopted the very similar one.
She blinked. His stance wasn't merely similar. The small nuances of his center of balance and the slightly lower inclination of the blade compared to a normal stance that only an experienced sword user could detect at a glance were the same as hers.
It didn't just look like the guard from the Shinmei-ryu. It was the guard from the Shinmei-ryu.
She narrowed her eyes. Was he skilled enough to have learned the basics of their style just by fighting against Motoko once? That did him credit but what was he trying to accomplish? Certainly.., certainly he wasn't trying to say he would fight using only what little he had grasped in the past few weeks? Was he so confident with himself that he actually thought he could not only learn but teach it?
If she didn't know how overly-polite and unnecessarily humble he usually was, Tsuruko would have thought she was trying to insult her. Just what game was he trying to play?
None of the onlookers had missed this particular development either and more than a few eyebrows were raised in curiosity, among which that of Hisashi, the current clan head himself. Gosho, on the other hand, seemed to have taken it as another personal insult if his increased seething was any indication. That man was far too quick in jumping to conclusions and even quicker to be offended.
Hisashi stepped up to the two challengers with the intention to act as a referee.
"Are you both ready?" he asked eyeing them in turn, but without making any comment about Emiya's choice of apparent fighting style. "Well, then: hajime!"
Motoko had no power to stop the events unfolding in front of her. She didn't have the ability or the authority to put an end to the senseless battle that was about to take place.
Why? Why did Emiya-san felt he had to step in to help her? Her decision was made and though it pained her to have been banished she didn't regret her choice, only the mistakes that led her to making it.
And yet, even understanding this, Emiya thought he had to fight for her risking injury and perhaps even death to grant her just a slim possibility to fulfill her lifelong wish of taking over the family technique. Why go to such lengths to help her? She hadn't done anything to deserve it. In fact her banishment was perhaps the most appropriate punishment for the shame she had brought on herself and her family.
Why did he feel the need to risk himself for her? He called himself selfish, but it made no sense. Nothing made sense at all.
And so she could only watch as the two opponents circled each other slowly examining one another in search for a weakness. Having found none, they slowly stepped toward each other, blades shifting in preparation of the coming clash.
It was Tsuruko who made the first move, so fast that Motoko would have missed it if she had blinked. Blow after blow Tsuruko pressed her offense against Emiya, the clashing of steel echoing loudly into the silent night.
No one uttered a word. No one dared to say anything, enraptured and shocked at the display. Not so much at Tsuruko, though, as her sister's ability was a known quantity to all of the presents. Tsuruko's ability was sublime, no doubt, her form was flawless, even a rookie could tell, but it was notunparalleled.
Ten steps into the battle. Ten blows against his opponent.
Her technique was flawless, her resolve unwavering, she was more rested than he was she had more years of experience on her back. By all means, she should have had all of the advantages. By logic, the upper hand should have been hers all along. And yet none of it mattered in the face of her opponent's ability.
None of her strikes was simply parried, not once she had pressed him into putting up an actual defense. All of her blows were forced to slide against the length of Shisui, as he twisted and turned his body to nullify the momentum and strength of her attacks in what was the core of the Shinmei-ryu style when it came to defend.
Such refined skill, such amazing proficiency. How could anyone have grasped the true essence of a style after being exposed to it sporadically and over the span of just a scant few weeks? Even being a hardened warrior with years actual sword-fighting experience could not explain such a feat.
How was he doing it? How had he mastered the basics of Shinmei-ryu?
Such questions should have been at the forefront of Tsuruko's mind. Confusion and curiosity should have been the predominating feeling for her in light of this confrontation.
But they weren't.
With each step taken her excitement increased. With every blow deflected her blood sang louder. With all of her attention focused in keeping up with her opponent she didn't even realized how fast her heart was beating.
Sublime.
There was no other way to describe Tsuruko in Shirou's mind as of that moment. The way she moved, the way her blade swung and the how her silky black hair whipped around, following her in her motions were an imagine of beauty that any painter would have died to put on a canvas.
It only served to make him feel little more disgusted with himself.
How many years had she spent in polishing her skill? How much effort had she put in improving to such levels? It was awe-inspiring just to think about it just as it was absolutely meaningless against him.
All it took was a single glance and the fruits of Tsuruko's efforts were already recorded flawlessly inside him. His to use and his to abuse at will.
Tsuruko couldn't win. No matter how strong she was, no matter how much she could still, so long as she wielded a bladed weapon he would not lose against her.
It was a simple concept, really. To be able to grasp and reproduce every detail of a technique after seeing it once, or even just by looking at the blade with such technique had been performed with, meant that he could predict and counter with absolute proficiency. The only way he could be defeated was if his opponent was so much faster and stronger that he couldn't keep up but against someone such as him, who had means to push himself past the human limits, no normal human could hope to compete.
He hadn't realized this in the course of the Holy Grail War because his opponents were so far beyond the scope of humanity that it was difficult to put into words. In the face of their borderline divine ability his talent paled as it barely allowed him to match them for brief moments and only by almost destroying his body in the process.
In this situation however his greatest restriction was yet again winning without causing any serious harm, both to Tsuruko's body and pride. Admittedly the latter was probably going to be more difficult than the former.
He was snapped out of his sulking and self-recrimination when Tsuruko all but disappeared from his line of sight. It was only because of his grasp of the Shinmei-ryu that his body reacted faster than his mind ever could, and more importantly faster than the blade coming to behead him from the side.
With a loud clang both blades met and for the first time since the beginning of the duel, the two fighters stopped moving, pushing with all of their strength in an attempt to overcome the other.
"How did you?" Tsuruko asked mere inches from his face, excitement and eagerness showing on her visage. "How have you managed to learn the Shinmei-ryu? It's not possible that you have grasped it only by watching Motoko in the past few weeks. Who taught you?"
"In this world, no one understands swords as I do, Tsuruko-nee. My teacher is right here."
Perhaps, Tsuruko considered, Shirou was a prodigy with blades as much as he was with bow and arrows, but to hearing his confidence in his voice about his grasp of the her technique was insulting to say the least.
"Your aptitude is praiseworthy, Shirou, but there's more to the Shinmei-ryu than just a polished form. Here, let me give you a demonstration."
She jumped backward, putting some meters of distance between them, moving her blade to the side in preparation of the next blow.
"Shinmei-ryu," she announced, "Zanganken!"
The sword swung and its arc was continued by a blade of ki that roared its fury as it sailed toward its target. It was much different from Motoko's performance of the same technique. As Shirou himself had pointed out, Motoko's technique was tainted by her fears, a flaw that Tsuruko didn't have.
The blade of ki that she sent toward Shirou was much sharper, much wider and definitely faster than what her younger sister was able to produce. Of course she didn't expect that the redhead would be caught by it. Superior as it was, it was still a technique he had seen performed at least once if not more. It would make short work of an unskilled and unprepared fighter, no doubt, but against someone with polished skills and average experience it would serve only as a distraction at best.
Just as thought, Shirou stepped out of the path of the attack, letting it sail past him and forcing the onlooker to jump out of its course as well. The technique slammed against the wall of the Dojo, shattering it to piece and continuing into the woods outside.
"More propriety damage," Shirou grimaced looking at the hole in the wall.
"Oh don't worry about that," she smiled. "It's not an uncommon occurrence around here. This building is structured not to break down easily."
"Are you saying that I shouldn't hold back?"
"Do your worst," she confirmed with a smile,
"Oh, well then, if you say so," he nodded and then raised the sword vertically above his head. Tsuruko stiffened. That stance…
"Shinmei-ryu," Shirou declared this time, "Zanganken Ni-no-tachi!"
The resulting wave of ki that flew toward Tsuruko was incomparable to the one she used just moments before. The second step of the Zanganken was a much more technique than the first. It wasn't just a matter of power, or speed or even just spirit. It was a matter of synchronizing two consecutive ki releases with different oscillations unleashed in a single swing of the blade.
It wasn't something that could be learned just by looking at it nor mastered without practice, yet there was no denying that the furious blade of compressed spirit coming at her was nothing short of perfect.
"Zanganken Ni-no-tachi!" she mirrored, sending her own attack to crash against Shirou's, nullifying both. As soon as both technique were dispelled her eyes searched angrily for her sister, much like any other present barring Shirou had done.
"Motoko!" Gosho bellowed. "How dare you teach our secrets to an outsider? Have you no shame at all?"
"I- It wasn't me," she stuttered, looking as shocked as everyone else. "I never taught him anything."
"Didn't I just tell you," all eyes returned to the speaker and source of the current widespread shock, "that I understand blades better than anyone else it this world?"
As he spoke he held Shisui to the side, parallel to the ground. As if in agreement with his words, the blade hummed like a diapason giving the onlookers even more reasons to be shocked.
"The Resonance of Steel?" Tsuruko asked dumfounded. "You don't mean to tell me that you can…"
"My teacher is right here with me," he confirmed gripping Shisui tighter. "This time I'm going to be on the offensive, Tsuruko-nee. Ready or not… HERE I COME!"
Tsuruko didn't have time to ponder the sheer absurdity of her recent realization. All of her attention was focused in holding back the barrage of blows that Shirou rained upon her after closing the distance in the blink of an eye.
She was keeping up with him, she realized, because he was using the style she was intimately familiar with. The speed and the viciousness of his blows would have crippled immediately if she didn't know where they were coming from.
However, even if their skill and speed were alike, Shirou had naturally a much greater body mass. Being a woman, against an opponent of equal ability was a disadvantage and yet…
… yet she wasn't afraid of losing at all.
Her body twisted, burned and ached. Keeping up with the onslaught was no small feat and it tool all of her experience not to be completely overwhelmed. Even then she was slowly but surely losing ground. Has she been less hard pressed she would have noticed the change. Had she not been so utterly inferior she would have just acknowledged her loss and be done with it.
But she didn't.
Unable to think anything at all but reacting all she could do was abandon herself to her instinct, not even noticing how deep she was falling until it was too late to pull back. The only thing that passed through her mind was her wish to fight. To fight! TO FIGHT!"
TH-THUMP!
It was in rare moments such as this that Shirou realized that as marvelous as Noble Phantasms were, they had a severe limitation that normal but uncommon blades didn't have.
Being the crystallized Mysteries that they were, Noble Phantasms contained a set of skill that bordered on the divine. By virtue of his talent, Shirou was able to replicate those as well, by putting a strain on his body that would kill most. This wasn't their greater limitations, however, as far as Shirou was concerned.
The problem with Noble Phantasms was that they had a single user, perhaps two, in the course of their history and they hardly used it in the same way. Upon recording their techniques, it was obvious that Shirou couldn't replicate them perfectly. Talented as he was, he was only human.
Blades like Shisui didn't have such limitations. Besides having only human skills recorded within it, which put less of a strain on Shirou's body, it had been used for centuries by several different individuals who mastered the same techniques over and over again. With dozens of different outlooks for every individual secret now recorded within himself, both from Shisui and from every other blade he had set his eyes upon that night, Shirou had now a grasp of their techniques superior to any other user of the same style, both alive and death.
Truthfully, he felt a bit guilty about it, though he had no qualms in making use of it to help someone else.
With that knowledge he was sure of his victory. Against a single human, no matter how skilled, he wouldn't lose any straight up battle with blades. Truthfully, a barehanded fighter with experience against armed opponent would give him a much harder time.
He was pondering that with a tiny portion of his mind when his conviction started to crumble.
He had a spit second of forewarning. In an instant the repulsive atmosphere that surrounded the Aoyama compound, to which he had barely got used to, spiked as if he was suddenly right in front of its source.
He didn't notice how it happened, but one moment he was pushing back Tsuruko and a fraction of second later he had to jerk his head away from the path of the blade that would have gorged his left eye out.
Out of precaution he took several steps back, but Tsuruko didn't follow. She stood her ground, sword at the ready. Her eyes were hidden by her hairs.
Which were slowly…. turning red.
"Kurenai Sekishu," the swordswoman whispered. "To think, that you would be able to push me this far, Shirou."
"Tsuruko, that's enough!" one of the elders intervened. "Stop it, right now! If you continue-"
"I'm sorry father," she cut him off. Her hands trembled but her grip around the sword didn't slacken. "I'm not sure I can hold back now. My blood won't stop boiling," she looked up at Shirou, locking with his her eyes with blackened sclera and golden irises, "until my enemy is dead!"
"Well, crap," Shirou managed to say a moment before Tsuruko almost flew at him, smashing her sword against Shisui so fast the her moment carried them both through the already semi-destroyed wall and out into the clearing.
The Magus had yet to touché the ground again that Tsuruko disappeared from his sight once more with blinding speed.
'Crimson Red Vermilion,'he realized while airborne. 'So that's how it is.'
Further contemplations about the implications had to be postponed, as he had to deflect three more strikes that sent him flying even further until he was managed to touch the ground with his feet and skid to an halt with his back against the wall of another building. He had no time to regain his balance and move out of the way that Tsuruko was yet again on him, clashing her sword against his and forcing him to hold his ground.
She was losing herself to the pleasure. Tsuruko knew this very well; however she couldn't bring herself to care. That was the problem with giving in to her ancestry. It was not unlike a drug, addictive to the point that just one taste made it was difficult to give it up. She more disciplined than most of her family members and differently from the majority of them she could go back from this condition on her own, though it was more and more difficult every time she triggered it, but not before what caused her to fall into this state had been reduced to a pulp.
Normally she wouldn't do it except in a life or death situation, but she hadn't expected to be so utterly overwhelmed by her opponent and her own excitement. Perhaps she was already close to the point of no return and Shirou's unexpected skills pushed her over the edge before she could reign herself in.
And now, her blood boiled; a sensation similar to be on the verge of a nerve wracking orgasm. There was just no going back from it, no way to interrupt the process until the climax was reached and her opponent's blood painted her body entirely. In normal condition this bestial ruthlessness would horrify her, but the gift of her ancestry came with the curse of ripping her humanity away from her and filling her soul with unbidden bloodlust. Her conscious mind was aware of the wrongness of it all but this thought failed to connect with any feeling beside the need to kill.
She would regret it later on, when her enemy was dead at her feet and she returned to her normal condition, if she returned to her normal condition. However right now she couldn't bring herself to care. In this state she found it even amusing that she was about to fall prey to the same fate that befell her father and her mother, and she was looking forward to cut apart the rest of her clan once done with Shirou.
"To think that you would be able to keep up with me even like this," she whispered into his ear while she pushed his body against the wall with the help of her demonic strength. "What exactly are you, Emiya Shirou?"
"…"
"Ah?"
"I am….the bone of my sword."
The situation was not good at all. Suddenly all thoughts of having used unnecessary force to deal with Motoko's situation were wiped out of his mind, his small sense of guilt over stealing the Aoyama's techniques was quick forgotten and the person he had to save had changed as well.
Before his eyes Tsuruko was changing. Her long raven hair was turning almost completely red and her smile was stretching in wide feral opening that went from ear to ear. There was a little doubt in Shirou's mind about the reason for such a change.
She was a hybrid, a human with demonic or divine blood, and considering the nefarious appearance of her change there no mistaking that it was the former in this case.
Inwardly he winced. Tsuruko seemed to have a small measure of control over her blood, enough to retain part of her conscience but she was rapidly slipping, and it was all because of him.
Damn it. How many times would his attempts to save someone cause more unrest than give any actual help? And more importantly, how was he going to prevent Tsuruko's from losing herself completely?
He wasn't an Equalize and none of the weapons at his disposal had any exorcising ability but….
Of course, the Aoyama were clan of demon-hunting swordsman who had mixed themselves with their enemy in order to gain an edge over them. By all reasons they had to have a method to subdue and control those who had lost themselves to their blood, a technique with the purpose of sealing the evil within a person without causing harm. There was one recorded within Shisui that he could use, however it was easier to be said than done.
For all intents and purposes he was already at his limit, as far as his skills were concerned. Tsuruko in her Crimson Red Vermilion state far surpassed what he could achieve on his own with the use of Reinforcement. His next plateau of abilities involved Tracing one or more Noble Phantasms but that would not only reveal his Magecraft, which was a relatively minor issue at the moment, but also inflict more damage than Tsuruko could handle in spite of her enhancements.
It was in such moments that he realized how distant he still was from his goals and it nauseated him to no end that once again he had to seek help in the person he disliked the most.
"I am….the bone of my sword."
The old mantra echoed in his ears. Deep inside his soul the gargantuan gears of Unlimited Blade Works started turning. The second verse of the chant 'Iron is my blood and glass is my Heart' was almost on his lips, but he stopped it forcefully. Going down that road wouldn't help Tsuruko right now. He had to shift to a different 'Gear 'almost identical to his own but at the same time fundamentally different.
Pain surged from his left arm, as if thousands swords were digging their ways through his torso. Pulling at a power that was not yet entirely under his control, he stifled a groan. No, pulling wasn't the right word right now. What he did was taking down a mental defense so ingrained that it had become subconscious and let the resulting breakdown run its course.
It was a dangerous line to thread on, but there was no other way to do this.
"Steel is my body and fire is my blood!"
There is a mechanism instilled in every sentient mortal being; an alarm made to go off when faced with a predator several step higher on the food chain. It's a warning to flee, to run with all of one's might without looking back hoping to be just a little faster than the beast giving chase.
For centuries, when confronted with impossible odds, it was the Aoyama who caused this feeling upon their enemies by accessing their cursed heritage. Now, for the second time in their history and for the first in a living man's memory it was an Aoyama who was on the receiving end of that feeling, hearing that alarm blaring inside her head.
She felt the change before she saw it.
Pressure could be one way to definite it. Sentence of death would be another.
In spite of her bloodlust, regardless of her demonic-driven condition, Aoyama Tsuruko couldn't suppress the shiver of fear that climbed up her spine as Emiya Shirou's skin darkened and his hair turned completely white.
The feeling of impending doom increased tenfold when her gaze locked with once warm, golden eyes now turned cold and steely grey.
"Steel is my body and fire is my blood!"
London
It was an ordinary day for Tohsaka Rin. As ordinary as it could be for a Magus under the tutelage of one of the last living Sorcerers could be anyway.
As she moved through the grandiose corridors of the underground structure of the Clock Tower, alight as if it was a sunny day on the surface, her fellow Magi gave her a wide berth. Her name and talent was very well known in the community as was her legendary temper. No one wanted to interact with her unless strictly needed, much like they did with her mentor.
Therefore no one went to her help when she stumbled by herself, dropping her books and falling to her knees as if she was in great pain.
Clenching her teeth she looked at the back of her right hand. There, etched upon the skin, though barely visible, was a familiar marking in a circular shape.
"That idiot," she hissed through clenched teeth. "Does he really want to die young? I'm so going to smack him over the head, that moron."
She stood back up unsteadily, picked her book and left without even acknowledging at the whispering witnesses. She had flight to Japan to book.
Pain, he was used to it.
For years his erroneous practice of Magecraft made him stick the equivalent of a scalding iron rod down his spine. His tolerance for pain was ungodly, to say the least, but even then being eaten from the inside out from a power that was his and at the same time didn't belong to him at all could not be compared to anything in this world.
The tireless working of Avalon wouldn't allow him to die but it did nothing to soothe the soul shattering pain he was subjected to.
A lesser man's brain would have turned into mush, but Emiya Shirou had long since learned how to live with it. It didn't make it any easier to bear, but it wouldn't hinder him either.
He didn't have to shake Tsuruko off by himself. She disengaged immediately and backed off of several dozen meters. Her maniacal grin had turned into a frown and her forehead was marred by sweat.
"Shinmei-ryu," he announced stepping forward, "Raimeiken Ni-no-tachi"
Shisui swung and lightning bolts erupted from the blade, soaring upward and toward Tsuruko. The Raimeiken was a technique which was more show than actual substance as it's destructive power at the second step was much inferior to even that of the first level of the Zanganken, but in addition to its electric proprieties it was the most suited technique to subdue opponents without outright killing them.
"Raimeiken Ni-no-tachi," Tsuruko returned, countering his attack with her own. The twin lightening met and crashed against each other, intertwining and then rising toward the sky, but it was far from over.
Tsuruko had little time to relax; Before the two techniques had exhausted each other, another lightning bolt burst from the thunderstorm generated by the other two. Her efforts to dodge at the last moment were almost entirely unsuccessful as the technique brushed against her side, numbing her arm.
Whatever suspicions she had about Shirou learning the Shinmei-ryu from Motoko was quickly dispelled as the younger Aoyama didn't have access to that technique yet. Tsuruko didn't have much time to speculate further, as he suddenly appeared before her, crossing the several dozen meters between them in the blink of an eye.
The sloppy swing she managed to perform never got close to hit him. He ducked under the blow and kicked her stomach. The impact was similar to being run over by a speeding truck and she went flying backward, air forced out of her lungs, rolling on the ground several times before she could regain her balance and step back on her feet. She expected him to be on her again, but he hadn't given chase.
Instead, much to her and everyone surprise he sheathed Shisui. For a brief fleeting moment she thought he wanted to give up, perhaps in a foolish attempt to avoid harming her. Of course, such silly notion was soon destroyed when he leaned slightly forward without releasing his hold of Shisui's hilt.
What was he up to…?
Oh!
Aoyama Hisashi, as one born with inhuman blood, was a person who had a grasp of the world the existed beneath that in which normal people lived. Demons, ghosts and sprits while no longer common still existed and such knowledge gave him the arrogant, in hindsight, thought that he knew the truth depths of the supernatural realms.
Such notion was shattered to pieces in the span of a few short moments. Putting aside his inability to wrap his mind around Emiya's knowledge of the Shinmei-ryu it remained the fact that he was keeping up with a Tsuruko who was undergoing her Kurenai Sekishu.
Even worse, after being apparently cornered he had done something to himself that was reminiscent of the Ancestry Return the Aoyama used, but its magnitude was far greater and its nature completely different. By all means the Urashima bloodline was very well known to them but even their peculiar traits didn't justify this transformation, or the power that rolled off him in waves.
Further puzzlement was added when in the middle of the battle Emiya sheathed Shisui again. He didn't he was about to give up now that he had the upper hand. What was he up to…?
"A… battōjutsu?" an equally stunned Gosho wondered aloud by Hisashi's side. "But there's no technique in our family that uses that-"
"No," Hisashi cut him off. "There was one, but it was lost with founder. It was lost…"
"You cannot mean…"
Tsuruko dashed forward with all she had. She knew it was foolish to get close to…,whatever Shirou actually was, but she knew painfully even in her frenzied condition that she had no other opportunity than to take him down before he could perform that technique.
A ranged attack would have served no purpose as he could dodge them easily from that distance. Her only hope was to close the gap and kill him before he had a chance to-
"Shinmei-ryu kessen ougi (God's Cry School Decisive Secret Technique):" Shirou announced, crushing Tsuruko's hopes for victory, "Shin Zanmaken(True Evil-cutting Sword)!"
Faster than a bullet, faster than any human being could hope to follow, Shisui snapped out from its sheath. With the acceleration granted by the ki accumulated within its scabbard it swung with blinding speed sending a wide blade hurling toward Tsuruko. It was too wide and too fast to dodge and she wouldn't dare to parry. In a split second reaction she swung her own sword without even announcing her technique, pouring all of her tainted ki in that desperate attack.
It was extremely difficult to put her exclusively demonic ki into an attack, but by doing so even a normal Zanganken was several times stronger than the Zanganken Shirou had performed, no matter how exceptionally powerful it was. She was sure that between the two hers would prevail and continue toward her opponent.
Such delusions were crushed mercilessly before she could even blink.
A second wave of ki from Shirou reached and slammed into the first before they met with Tsuruko's. With wide eyes she realized that he had used the sheath in fashion of a blade to send another attack in support of his first, melding them both in a single technique that was several magnitudes more powerful than the first one alone.
Now there was no doubt that Tsuruko's tainted ki release was only equal to that of Shirou's combined attack. Nevertheless, a battōjutsu had a longer recovery time she could capitalize on to deal a fatal blow. Like this she could still win.
'WHAT?'
She hadn't even formulated that thought entirely that another wave of ki came in support of the first two, much faster and much stronger than the earlier two combined. A return swing of the scabbard had released the pent up ki stored within the sheath, a three-fold release of purifying ki, each faster and stronger than the previous. When Tsuruko's attack finally met the combined might of Shirou's, it splashed against it harmlessly, like a shot from a water gun meeting a full blow landslide.
All Tsuruko could was watch with wide eyes as the mountain of energy drew closer until it finally slammed on her and everything disappeared in an ocean of white.
A dream, there couldn't be any other explanation for what Motoko was seeing.
First Emiya had used techniques from the Shinmei-ryu even her wasn't proficient with, all but claiming that he learned them from Shisui itself.
Then her sister had transformed in a way all too reminiscent of her father's, though she seemed far more in control of her actions that he ever was.
Then, when apparently cornered, Emiya had undergone a change of his own, proceeding to overwhelm a Tsuruko empowered by the bloodline cultivated to triumph over demons and spirits, and it wasn't all. Much to everyone shock Emiya had performed flawlessly an exorcising technique that was mentioned only in the tales passed down within the family.
It stood to no surprise how Motoko, much like everyone else, had fallen to her knees in stunned disbelief. What she had witnessed with her own two eyes went far beyond what she thought possible for a human, any human to accomplish.
Dumbfounded she watched as the Shin Zanmaken made short work her sister's power, overwhelming her with its purifying properties and making her fall on her knees, completely unhurt but forcefully returned to her normal condition.
Emiya closed the distance walking at a leisure pace, him as well reverting to his usual skin and hair tone. Tsuruko almost didn't pay him any attention, too busy to stare at her own hands in silent shock. Slowly, Emiya placed Shisui's blade against Tsuruko's neck. Only then did the swordswoman look up at him.
"This is my victory," he declared in a whisper that sounded like a shotgun in the engulfing silence that fell upon the compound.
"Hai," Tsuruko confirmed with an awestruck voice.
Emiya didn't say anything else but spun, sheathing his sword as he did so. With long but slow strides he walked up to Motoko, passing both Gosho and Hisashi without regarding them with a single glance, stepping past the missing wall and into the dojo until he was towering upon her sitting form.
"Can you stand?" he asked. Motoko could only shake her head in response.
"I see," he sighed.
"What…" Hisashi spoke, seemingly having found his voice again and turning to address the redhead swordsman, "What are you?"
"Unlike you I'm a full-fledged human being," he replied, sounding somewhere between tired and amused. "Though, I suppose that doesn't always apply to me."
"Uh," was Hisashi eloquent reply, the man didn't know how to deal with Emiya's strange sense of humor.
"Then as agreed" Emiya turned to stare at Motoko once more. He reached out with his hand, grabbing the still shell-shocked girl by the scruff of her hakama as if she were a small kitten, at which she gave a small, started squeal, and plopped her unceremoniously on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes "this woman is mine."
Without waiting for any acknowledgment behind the dumbstruck elders and the rest of the instructors in his wake before anyone could gather their wits and mount any protest or demand any form of explanation.
Tsuruko sat on the ground, her brain unable to grasp entirely the series of events that had taken place that night.
In truth the outcome had been more or less what she envisioned when she decided to bait Shirou into'rescuing'Motoko but she hadn't foreseen just how he'd get to do it.
The feeling of shame for losing control of her blood was the most preponderant emotion but she wasn't a stranger to curiosity and a strange sense of admiration. Without even knowing it, Shirou had changed something within the Aoyama.
Over three hundred years after the fire that consumed Kyoto, a man from the same clan who had driven the Aoyama to near extinction had once again shattered their convictions on their beliefs and strengths and he had done so by using nothing but the Aoyama's own techniques, taking one of their most promising students under his wing.
It would be a long time, she knew, before the elders could make head or tails of it all, but there was no doubt in Tsuruko's mind that this night had been only the opening salvo of something much bigger and much more important, for both the Aoyama and the Urashima.
Where this would ultimately lead, she couldn't begin to fathom and while a part of her was terrified by the darkness contained in the Pandora's box that had just started to inch open, another part of her could only look forward to the small spark of hope that was said to lay at the bottom of it.
Would it be enough, she wondered, to save not only Motoko but the rest of the Aoyama as well?
"E-Emiya-san," Motoko squeaked as the redhead made its way through the woods. "Emiya-san, please, let me go."
Shirou stopped and let Motoko gently down on the ground. The girl stood on her own two feet, shaking a bit.
"Sorry," he chuckled, "I didn't want to man-handle you like that, but I had to leave before they started asking me some uncomfortable questions."
"I get that but… Emiya-san, please answer me, who are you really? How have you done all of that?"
"Everyone has their secrets, Motoko," he replied apologetically. "The only thing I can honestly tell you is the same thing I told your sister earlier: in this world there's no one who understand swords as I do."
"I understand," she sighed. "I have no right to question your abilities and your motivations after all the trouble I have already put you through, but please answer me this at the very least. Did you mean it, what you said back then? Do you really believe I can surpass my sister?"
"I think," Shirou licked his lips, "that your talent with the sword is far superior to Tsuruko's and she knows this as well. Of course all the talent in the world is useless unless properly honed. Right now Tsuruko is way out of your league and don't even think that she's just going to stand still and wait for you to catch up with her. Three years from now she going to be much stronger. Even with the same time at your disposal you'll be hard pressed to surpass her."
"Then… will you teach me?" she asked demurely. "Will you really teach me how to become stronger than my sister?"
"That's what I said I'll do," Shirou smiled. "I warn you, though: it's going to be an infernal training. Are you sure about it?"
"I have decided to walk the path of the swords, Emiya-san. I will not waste the opportunity you have given me today," she bowed as deeply as she could. "Please, grant me the honor of teaching me, Emiya-sensei!"
"If that's what you want then it will be my honor to teach you," he bowed just as deeply.
Their moment was interrupted by the sound of the voices coming from the dojo. "Looks like the surprise effect it's over. Can you run on your own?" he asked.
Motoko looked at her legs that were still shaking a little. "I'll try but-" she was interrupted when she had to catch Shisui in mid-air.
"That's yours," he told her flatly. "It wanted to get back to you for a while now."
"I missed you, Shisui," she whispered to the sword cradled in her bosom as if she was talking to a child.
"Hold on tight, we're going to run."
"Eh? But I can't- Kya!"
He slid an arm behind her shoulder and the other under her legs, lifting her effortlessly, breaking into a run once more.
Motoko could only hold herself for dear life ignoring the intense heat steaming from her face as she was held against Emiya's broad chest.
"It… it stopped," Kitsune noticed.
"What stopped?" Naru asked turning back to look at her friend. She had just managed to convince them to keep looking for Motoko in spite of the strange situation.
"The noises," Shinobu said in a whisper, sounding almost afraid to be heard by something hiding it the now silent night. "It's all quiet now."
Naru looked up to the flight of stairs opening up before them. They were right. The distant clashing of steel and the sounds of explosions had suddenly interrupted. No matter how much she strained her hearing she didn't hear anything.
"That's a good sign, isn't it?" Kitsune asked. "I mean, they must have stopped fighting right?"
"I guess," Naru agreed. "Do you think that… hey, do you hear that?"
"What? What is it?"
Silently they stood and listened. For a moment they heard nothing but soon a sound reached their ears. It was distant at first, but it was drawing progressively close. It sounded like someone walking down the flight of stairs, or rather jumping down several steps at once.
In silent agreement they all huddled together, backing away from the ominous darkness of the forest. The sound kept getting closer and closer just as they backed further away until a figure all but leaped at them from the woods landing in a crouch.
"KYAAAAAHHHH," Naru, Shinobu, Kitsune, and Motoko all shouted at the top of their lungs. Wait, Motoko?
"Motoko? Motoko!"
"Naru-senpai? What are you all doing here?"
"Oh no," Kitsune cut in, pointing at the raven haired girl being held bridal style by their kanrinin, "Shirou, you really did kidnap her."
"I didn't do anything of the sort. She's coming with her family's permission," he protested vehemently and then narrowed his eyes at them. "Besides, you have followed me, again."
"Well, what did you expect us to do?" Naru interjected. "You just disappeared in the middle of the night during a crisis, then we found out you broke in here. Of course we had to follow you. A-anyway, why are you holding Motoko like that? Get your filthy hands off her, you pervert."
"Oh god… Oh god, oh god, oh god…" Kitsune babbled caught between shocked and amused. "You two are engaged!"
"What!" The other girls shouted while Shirou deadpanned.
"Of course," she explained, "Her sister said that Motoko was going to get married but then Shirou came and beat them all up. He must have proven his strength or something and they decided to have him marry her. Look at them. Don't they look just like newlyweds?"
"EEEEMIIIIYAAAA," Naru growled, stepping threateningly toward them.
"Auuuuuh," Shinobu moaned with tears filled eyes. "Emiya-san and Motoko-senpai are…"
"Oh, this is just like something out of a novel. The dashing hero saving the damsel from the castle where she's kept captive and-"
"It's not like that!" Shirou and Motoko protested at once, red-faced.
"The arranged marriage has been called off," Motoko continued. "Everything is solved for the time being."
"Seriously, why do you always come up with the most ludicrous explanations for everything?" Shirou sighed. "Never mind, let's just get go back to the inn before they decide to rethink the whole thing."
"So there's no marriage then?" Kitsune cocked her head. "That's just so boring."
"Well, I'm sorry for spoiling your entertainment. Now, are you all just going to stand around here or you coming back with us?" Without waiting for an answer he ran past them in a slow jog, continuing to hold Motoko's light frame in his arms. "If you're coming I suggest you start moving. Permission or not, I have stepped on more than a few toes tonight. I'm not sure how they'd react to a group of intruders."
He shouted it at them and he didn't have to look back to know they started running after him as fast as their legs could carry them.
He soon passed the gates, where the guards still laid unconscious and from that into the quiet streets of Kyoto at night. The fresh breeze of the summer air void of the nefarious aura of the Aoyama compound was a invigorating experience for the dead tired redhead.
"E-Emiya-san, I think I can walk by myself just fine now." Motoko told him embarrassedly.
"It's okay," he told her, not loud enough for the girls a few steps back to hear. "Starting tomorrow you'll walk the path of the sword again and I won't give you any quarter. So, just for tonight, be simply a woman and let yourself be held."
"yes." Motoko replied without saying anything else, for whatever escaped her mouth would come out as nothing but a squeak. So she did exactly what her new teacher told her, and allowed him to carry her wherever he was going.
Leaning her head against his torso she thought, for the first time in her life, that it honestly wasn't so bad to be born a woman.
She fell asleep in his arms without even noticing. In her slumber she dreamed of an odd place: a vast expanse filled with nothing but blades in every direction she turned to look. Though it was strange and unfamiliar she didn't feel like she was alone. She had the strangest feeling that if she had to remain there forever, under the eternally setting sun, she wouldn't really mind.
Location: ?
Deep in the darkness, far, far beneath the surface of the world, it stirred awake. The proximity of a familiar presence caught its attention and woke it from its slumber for a mere moment.
It couldn't reach to the presence, chained as it was, but there was no doubt in its mind that it hadn't been just a mere fluke.
For centuries it had waited and now the time was finally coming. It would be freed again and the world would be bathed in fire once more.
Rusty Heart: End
AN: I don't know how you readers feel about this chapter but in my eyes it's totally crap. The narration feels chunky and the dialogues forced. I wrote and rewrote it times and times again but I didn't manage to achieve the result I had envisioned.
I took many liberties with the whole "Archer's Arm" thing but I don't think I broke any law of the Nasuverse. Even the change in Shirou's appearance is in line with canon since spiritual interferences do affect one's appearance.
One thing I wanted to stress out is the concept that having a shit-load of Noble Phantasms at his beck and call doesn't make automatically everything easy. In FSN there was no chance but to go all out to survive, but most situation can't be solved with a sword to the face. Being a hero is more than taking the bad guys out and that's where Shirou is going to find himself hard-pressed in making things better without making them worse.
That being said, this is going to be the last chapter for a while. I want to focus on Path of the King, which is my main project.
See ya.