Chapter 3 – "The Perils Of Mortal Desire"
"Father, no!"
Illya shouted as Saber came bursting through the wall.
"Master!" she called, her skirt billowing behind her as she held Excalibur clutched low, chambered and ready to strike.
Upon seeing Kiritsugu, she froze.
But Kiritsugu did not hesitate.
Lowering the big pistol in his left hand, he fired.
The sound of the gunshot in the underground chamber was deafening, its thunderous report echoing down the hallway, then back again, reverberating off of the stones with a violence that made Shiro cover his ears, momentarily unable to do anything.
With a supernatural quickness that could only be possessed by a Servant, Saber held up the hilt of her sword, catching the bullet so that the slug flattened itself against the flat of the blade on impact.
For a moment she seemed stunned, but she quickly regained herself, darting behind a series of shelves to conceal herself from view. Undeterred, Kiritsugu used the other pistol in his right hand to fire off a volley of shots that ripped through the shelves and the volumes they contained, scattering their pages as he tracked her course, firing at where he estimated she might be.
"Isn't it wonderful?" Illya asked, looking over her shoulder at Shiro as he yanked her around the side of one of the book cases at the far end of the hall. "We finally get to see Father again!"
Shiro looked at her incredulously as she struggled, fighting against him as he held her back out of the line of fire.
"Yeah, but Dad always told me not to interrupt him while he was working – "
She gave him a pouting frown which he found difficult to resist. Her struggles only lessened when his arms wrapped around her waist, at which point she settled against him, pressing her back against his chest.
Kiritsugu, for his part, seemed undeterred. He paused for a moment to reload amidst the scattering of shells, their empty casings pinging on the stone floor all around him, then let the bolt slam shut, and continued to stalk down the hallway.
"He's hunting her!" Shiro thought, unable to believe his eyes. "Dad's what, an Archer?" he said, guessing at the class based on the projectile nature of his weaponry. "And yet he's hunting Saber – the strongest class of Servant!?"
It was ridiculous to even consider.
But it was true.
Holding up one of his pistols at the ready, Kiritsugu approached the nearest bookcase, cautiously angling around it.
Just then, something crashed through the roof.
Looking up, Shiro saw the lithe form of a girl drop down from the ceiling. She didn't descend so much as she seemed to pour to the ground, flowing down in a waterfall of lavender hair. Leaning forward, she touched the fingertips of one hand to the floor, arching her legs and back in a most unnatural angle.
"Rider . . ." Shiro breathed in recognition.
In each hand, Rider carried a long, ringed spike, the ends of which were joined together by a long chain. Over her face she wore a blindfold made of bands of woven leather. It was split down the middle so that it could be removed, but the two halves were joined together by a metal clasp that held them tightly shut, as if to warn that whatever lay beneath was dangerous.
Having her eyes covered didn't seem to have any effect on Rider's ability to see – or at least to sense – what was around her, for when Kiritsugu moved to raise one of his pistols, she lashed out with her chain, swinging it so that the sharp spike met with the barrel, knocking it away before he could fire.
He moved to raise the other pistol, but this too was deflected.
For a moment, a furious battle ensued.
Rider twirled, and lashed with her whip, making the chains dance all around her. Each time Kiritsugu was able to bat the sharp spikes away, using the pistols to shield his hands, but each time, she struck again.
At first, neither of them could gain an advantage. But slowly, Kiritsugu began to fall back, and lose ground. This didn't seem to do him any good. Rider's chain was a magical weapon, and she could make it expand or contract at will to whatever length she desired, so the distance had no effect on her ability to reach him. But as the distance between them grew, it took longer and longer for the chain to fly out, and return to her hand.
Seeing the danger, she moved forward to close the gap between them, but it was too late. Seizing on a momentary opportunity, Kiritsugu lowered the large pistol, and fired.
The blast sent her diving behind one of the bookcases. He tracked her, firing off several shots, and was about to put several more rounds through all the likely places where he thought Saber might be – just to let her know he hadn't forgotten about her, and to keep her from getting too comfortable – when a silver streak came hurtling down the hallway.
It came so close that it tore out the side of his coat, making Illya cry out at the sight of the hole that was left by its passing.
"Father!"
Looking down the hall, Shiro could see Archer silhouetted against the open doorway.
Kiritsugu shot Illya a warning look, as if to caution her against any further outburst, then retreated back down the hallway.
By now the air was wreathed with smoke, and heavy with the acrid smell of gunfire. As he pressed his back against the wall, the dark folds of his coat and the waves of his black hair seemed to blur, mixing together, until he became one with the shadows. As Shiro watched, he felt his own breathing slow, until even his heartbeat became a whisper.
"He's using time magic", he realized.
Looking closer, he could see everything about him was just as he'd remembered – the wrinkles of his coat, the un-ironed shirt, the messy waves of his dark hair, even the perpetual shadow of his unshaven chin.
But it was his eyes that caught Shiro's attention the most.
There was something in them – something that gleamed. Something familiar.
"He has no intention of giving up –"
Having reloaded his weapons, Kiritsugu pushed off, away from the wall.
Overhead, a rattling of chains told him that Rider was somewhere up in the rafters.
"He's outnumbered – three to one –"
Suddenly, Saber burst from her hiding place.
"It's impossible – anyone would tell him that it's impossible –"
Saber's sword sliced the air, answered by more gunshots.
"He's just like me –"
A clang as Excalibur met the crossed pistols, getting caught against their trigger guards.
"No – I'm just like him –"
Just then, Saber made a wild cut that slashed through the shelves, destroying their hiding place, so that he and Illya were forced to flee.
Rider dropped from the ceiling, lashing the ground with her chains, but that only confused matters more, as Kiritsugu fell back, letting her and Saber get in the way of one another.
Up the hall, Archer fired off another volley, and Rin used the occasion to sneak through the doorway behind him.
"What the HELL is going on here?" she hissed, making her way to them, her hand outstretched with an explosive gem clutched between each of her fingers. Sakura followed timidly after.
For an answer, Illya removed her purple coat, shoving it into Shiro's hands.
"I have to try to seal him", she said, stepping out into the walkway. "I have to complete the pact before it's too late."
As if to prove her point, Kiritsugu reached out with one of his pistols, and used the barrel to rake a case of alchemical equipment, causing the shelf and all its contents to crash to the floor. The mixing of the various chemicals caused several reactions, whose general result was an immediate and intense blaze, along with a noxious cloud of smoke.
As the flames spread, Archer had no choice but to fall back. Rider threw up her arm and shot out one of her chains, once again seeking refuge in the ceiling.
That left Kiritsugu once again with only one Servant to deal with. Turning to reacquire Saber, he caught sight of Rin and Sakura as they made their way across the hall.
Rin hurried, flitting between two of the bookcases. But when she caught sight of the dark Servant, Sakura froze.
She knew she ought to be running, but as her eyes met Kiritsugu's, in that instant she came to the same conclusion he did.
What better way to eliminate a Servant than to kill their Master?
Doe eyed she stared, watching the large pistol descend.
Kiritsugu waited until the bead at the end of the barrel was in line with the purple bow on Sakura's chest, then squeezed the trigger.
Seeing her Master's peril, Rider dove from the roof. Swinging in an arc, she caught Sakura around the waist, then tightened her grip on the chain, watching as the bullet bore down, then ripped past them –
– And buried itself into Illya.
"N – O – O – O – O – O !"
Shiro screamed, lunging forward to catch her.
But the sound of his voice was nothing like the wild howl that emanated from Kiritsugu. At the Servants call, dark flames erupted all around him. They alighted on everything – the books, their shelves, the walls, floor, and ceiling. Falling to his knees, it was as if all the despair in the whole world had been released, and now threatened to consume them.
Looking down at Illya in his arms, Shiro was shocked to see neither blood nor wound. There was no hole from where the bullet had struck. Instead, a storm seemed to be brewing beneath her skin, radiating out from her white shoulder in a rippling of dark clouds and lightenings.
"Don't move" he said as she tried to sit up.
Her right arm was now useless, but she bent forward and stretched out her left hand.
"Help me Shiro – " she gasped, leaning on him heavily for support. "We have to stop him – before it's too late –"
Shiro watched as the lines of the magic circuits in her face and neck flashed red as she uttered the words of the binding spell. At their sound, blue flames mixed in with the black. They danced in a circle around Kiritsugu, who now made no motion to resist.
As the seal formed, blood dripped from the back of her hand, the sign of the Grail etching its mark, before burning it shut. With the seal completed, so was their pact.
And then Illya collapsed.
As she slipped away, she could hear the sound of voices – shouting – but muffled – indistinct.
She could make out Leysritt and Sella, along with the Servant, Saber, and Sakura, that Matou girl. Out of all of them, Rin Tohsaka's seemed especially desperate.
"Funny that she of all people would worry about me", she thought with a small inward laugh.
As they wrapped a bandage around her shoulder, she reached out, and catching the end of it, wound it around the back of her hand.
And then she heard the familiar words,
"Trace on –"
"Is she all right?"
Rin's face brimmed with concern.
Shiro folded his arms and turned to the side.
"I – still don't understand what's wrong with her. I searched the wound, but there wasn't any kind of bullet or fragment of debris. She still can't use her arm yet. And they magic circuits in her shoulder are all a mess. But other than that, she appears to be okay."
"Good. Because I'm going to kill her – "
"Rin, wait!" Shiro shouted, but she slapped his arm away with the back of her hand as she stormed past.
"What the HELL were you thinking!"
Illya looked up weakly from her bed.
Shiro tried to stop her, but instead of accepting his sympathy, she sat up, and swinging her legs over the side, struggled to her feet.
"We had an alliance! We had an AGREEMENT! – "
Illya hung her head.
"But you broke it –"
"Rin –"
Once again Shiro tried to intervene, but Rin shoved him away.
"Pandora in the depths of hell wasn't as stupid as you! And I think I'd rather have an alliance with her, than put up with your stupid, back stabbing nonsense!"
Rin glared at her, enraged, as the redness in her face overtook the redness of her sweater.
Illya hung her head in silence. But her silence only seemed to enrage Rin even more.
"Well!? What do you have to say for yourself!?"
"I'm sorry . . ."
"You're sorry!? That's it!? You stupid, impudent little brat –"
" . . . Everything you say is true . . . I betrayed you, and your trust. I betrayed all of you. But I won't apologize."
"Won't apologize !?"
Rin's hand flew, and would have struck, had Shiro not caught it.
Illya looked up at her with tears in her eyes.
"I only wanted to see my father again."
Rin fell back as if Illya had stuck a dagger in her, nearly collapsing into Shiro's arms.
For a moment she glared. Then, turning, she gave Illya her back to look at.
"Maybe I ought to leave you and Shiro to one another . . . You're both equally stupid. And equally stubborn."
"Rin . . ."
Shiro pleaded.
Ignoring him, Rin placed her hands on her hips.
". . . Does it hurt?"
"It's excruciating."
Rin let out a long sigh.
"I am rather sorry about the state of your workshop . . ."
"It's all right. It was past time for a renovation. And besides, it will give Leysritt and Sella something to do."
"Saber sensed it first. You should have seen her – the King of Knights, running away yelling 'SHIIIRRROOO' like a jealous lover –"
"Ha ha, I think I would have LIKED to have seen THAT –" Illya said, wincing as she allowed Shiro to help her back into bed.
"Yes, I suppose you would. After that, Sakura and I summoned our Servants as quickly as we could. That is probably the first time anyone in the history of the Grail War has summoned a Servant using a magic circle drawn with cocktail punch and fruit juice!" Rin said, her voice trailing off in a laugh. Illya laughed with her.
" – I am rather sorry about the carpet though."
"Bah, don't worry about it", Illya said, groaning as she propped herself up on her pillows. "But I AM rather upset about my dress!"
Rin continued to laugh as Illya pouted.
"It isn't funny! I really LIKED that dress!"
And then they both laughed, and then Rin sighed again.
"Ahh . . . Well – now that THAT is over, I can actually say that I am rather glad. Out of all of the Servants, Assassin was one of the ones that I was most worried about. Now that we know who our Assassin is, that just leaves Lancer, Caster, and Berserker to figure out.
'Berserker could be a bit of a problem – especially depending on who the Master is – but it's actually Caster I'm the most concerned with . . ."
Issei stared at the electronically generated map of Fuyuki City. Using his finger to scroll around, he found the river, with the Fuyuki Bridge, along with Fuyuki Island, and Fuyuki Airport – all locally famous.
Widening his search, he saw the Gaikokujin, that in old times had been the Foreigner District, where Rin Tohsaka lived.
"I still don't trust her", he thought. "There's something a bit off about that Tohsaka girl."
As if to taunt him, a fleeting image of Rin Tohsaka with her mischievous, fox eyed smile wafted into his thoughts, at once both mocking and confirming his suspicions.
The Gaikokujin was also home to Shinji and Sakura Matou.
"Shinji . . ." Issei thought sadly, wondering when the two of them had drifted from being friends to mere acquaintances.
"Even when we were children, he did tend to think highly of himself, but still – he wasn't always like this . . . I wonder what happened?"
As for Sakura, Issei had long ago decided he would politely ignore the matter, and not ask Shiro any questions as to the nature of their relationship.
While it wasn't exactly common knowledge, Issei had been able to piece together from some of Shinji's comments, as well as a few of Shiro's own, that Sakura paid frequent, if not daily visits to the Emiya House, and was a regular presence, bordering on being a member of the Emiya household.
"It's none of my business", he thought, scrolling over to the fine old traditional neighborhood where Shiro lived.
After all, Shiro was an upstanding young man, both studious and industrious, and thoroughly honorable. Issei had no concerns about his motives – or about leaving him in Sakura's care – or about leaving her in his.
"Unlike that Tohsaka girl", he thought, thinking of Rin again, and wondering at his sudden chill.
To the south was the Einzbern Forrest, which had once been thought to be on its way to being a kind of Neo Gaikokujin, a new Foreign District for the new age, but so far only one family had moved in, and the rest of the land had remained undeveloped and vacant.
Off to the right, a giant green space loomed. It had no landmarks or place names – at its border, all of the streets seemed to end, their names bunched up like a wall along its edge.
On the other side, no roads were marked, and there was no grid or plotting – nothing to indicate what it might contain. The only marking was a symbol of a roof over a tower, along with the words "Ryudo Temple", floating in the emptiness.
That void was his home.
Issei sighed as he stared again at the screen, before putting his head down. From the computer, the cursor blinked back at him, a stark contrast to the blank white space all around. Beside it lay a sheaf of paper, lined, but otherwise empty, while the freshly filled fountain pen seemed like so much wishful thinking. He'd thought that if he wasn't motivated to type anything on the keyboard, perhaps the act of writing by hand would prove more inspirational.
It had not worked.
It was the same every year, and every year was the same. The teachers, in an effort to assert their power and insinuate themselves even further into their students' lives, had decided to assign as much homework as possible over the winter break. It was an act which Issei thought ought to be illegal, but such things were outside the powers of a mere student council president to change.
He had already completed the readings and the math studies, as well as the science lessons. Only the dreaded history report remained.
For his own report, Issei had been asked to write something on the history of Ryudo Temple. It wasn't that he disliked the old temple – he was actually very fond of it. It was just that every year, for as long as he could remember, he'd written some kind of report or done some kind of assignment on the place.
One of his earliest school memories was of giving a class presentation entitled, "The History Of Ryudo-Ji". That was the first time he'd ever spoken in front of a group of other students, and he was very nervous. But as it turned out, he was good at it. His mother no doubt still had the paper tucked away in some drawer somewhere, along with a photo of the first time he'd tried on his father's priest's uniform, which she'd be sure to use to embarrass him with one day, no doubt.
It had been the same every year since, all throughout elementary school, and then middle school, and into high school, and it would probably continue into college.
"I should really start keeping a file of them, and just put together the pieces to make a new one, instead of writing a whole new report year after year . . ."
Not a very scrupulous thing for a Class President to think. But he thought it none the less.
"I wonder what everyone else is doing . . ?"
Shiro, being hard working, had probably finished all of his own homework and was busy being taken advantage of. Shinji had no doubt pawned his report off on someone else. And Rin had most likely finished hers early, and was off doing whatever it is that popular people do with their time.
"Ugh – there's that Tohsaka girl again . . . " Issei thought.
Would he never be rid of her?
"She has Shiro bewitched – I'm sure of it. Perhaps I should learn how to conduct an exorcism, and free him of her, before it's too late."
He remembered reading of a certain young monk who'd become enamored of a young woman in town. They'd had an illicit affair – such things never turn out well, of course. In the end, unable to fulfill his love for her because of his vows, and unable to fulfill his vows because of his love for her, in desperation he'd taken his own life by lying down in the path of an oncoming train.
Suicide of course did nothing to excuse his bad karma.
"This is a matter that runs very deep", his master had sagely proclaimed. "It is the sin of many lifetimes."
Perhaps that was true. But Issei couldn't help thinking he could have had at least a little more sympathy for his poor disciple, who now lay smeared up and down the railroad tracks.
He didn't know if he really believed in the doctrine of reincarnation or not – perhaps mankind really did go through an endless cycle of lifetimes. Or perhaps all of those possible lifetimes were condensed into one – into this life. But either way, he was certain of one thing. No matter how many lives he did or didn't lead, this damn report wasn't going to write itself.
"Arrgh", he sighed, reaching for a tangerine.
He'd already eaten half the crate of them, and was no doubt headed for a terrible stomach ache, but he peeled and ate it anyway.
Such were the perils of mortal desire.
"Ahh, maybe I need a walk", he thought, getting to his feet.
The covered verandah that made its way around the outer wall was cold, being open to the air, so he threw on an old haori. Its austere black lines gave him a rather stately look which wouldn't offend the sensibilities of any visitors who might happen to be wandering the temple grounds, though at this time of year he doubted there would be any. It was late January, and all the world drowsed beneath a thin film of snow, as if life itself lay slumbering beneath a layer of mortal dust.
He rounded the front, where the covered incense burner stood beneath its own awning, and a line of Fuu dogs threatened to devour any unwary passers by. On the other side he could see the beginnings of the steep stair his mother had warned him about as a child, cautioning him not to play too near it. It had been an interesting upbringing, caught as it were between the rituals of bygone centuries, and the modern world that lay just beyond the foot of the temple steps.
For his part, Issei like the certainties of science. They were secure – so far as they went – and verifiable. But they had their limits. At the other end of the spectrum lay the supernatural, the province of divinity and miracles. Issei didn't really discount the presence of these things, either. He'd grown up around the temple all his life, and seen one or two things he considered genuinely unexplainable, neither by coincidence nor any other natural means.
But none of these rose to the level of what he would actually consider miraculous. None of them were life changingly paranormal. In the end, they were simply strange.
Turning a corner again, he found himself on the other side of the temple, where the forest leaned close. Here, the cemetery loomed.
Issei had no fear of the cemetery, not since he was a child. He'd grown up with it, and besides, to be afraid seemed to show a lack of respect for the dead. Half of the graves were empty anyway, being set up as memorials for wealthy patrons or for famous persons whose real graves were either unknown, or buried elsewhere.
It gave a certain cynicism to know that half of the monuments had nothing in them or under them – but still, the cemetery was quite large, and even at only half full, it was still a very large number of graves, and that gave the place a certain sense of gloom – especially these days.
"Brother . . ."
Issei breathed the word, stopping by the closed door.
Souichirou hadn't been his actual brother, of course. He'd stayed at the temple for three years, but the truth was, he'd barely known the man. Their relationship could hardly be called warm. But in some way, that was what he'd liked about him. There had never been any need for pretense between them – no false politenesses or long formalities. Souichiro neither cultivated nor resented his own isolation. And in some strange way, that made him seem closer to Issei, than even his real brother had been.
Souichirou wasn't the only visitor who'd been living on the temple grounds.
"Why am I suddenly remembering her?"
In the weeks leading up to everything that had happened, another guest had come to stay at Ryudo Temple. A strange, mysterious woman.
She was strange because of the unusual way that she had come to live with them, appearing suddenly one rainy evening, having fled from someone or something. She'd begun living at the temple under the pretense of needing a place to stay while her fiancé was saving up enough money to pay for their wedding. Issei considered this a pretense because even with his own limited knowledge of the world, he knew enough to know that it sounded like one. But it wasn't his place to ask, and he also knew the wisdom of not asking too many questions.
And she was mysterious because of the way that she hid her face.
Any time that she appeared, whether within the temple or without, she always wore a hood, not unlike that which would accompany nun's robe. And along with it, she wore a veil. It came down, covering her eyes in a perpetual shadow. Only her mouth and chin could be seen.
The reasons for this were unclear.
It may have been that she'd taken to wearing the veil as a courtesy to the monks of the temple grounds. Having a woman around was a bit of a distraction – especially one so beautiful as she. Even Issei had found himself thinking of her on one or two occasions, and so it may have been that she'd taken to covering herself to prevent distracting the monks from their vows.
Then again, she might have taken to wearing the veil for her own safety. Being a woman in the midst of so many men had to be uncomfortable at times, and while her hooded robe drew its share of curious looks, it protected her from drawing more vulgar stares – if not worse things.
Perhaps she wore the veil for religious reasons. She might have taken a vow – or maybe it was part of some Western cult – who knew what she might be mixed up with?
Whatever the case, Issei had only ever seen her without it once.
It was in the evening, when he had gone for a stroll to clear his head, much as he had done now. From around the corner, he'd heard the panel doors sliding open, then shut.
Thinking nothing of it, he'd continued on his way, fully expecting to see Souichirou standing on the verandah. Instead, he'd found her.
Standing in the moonlight, her hood was down, and her hair was down also – all but a single lock of it, which she wore on one side, plaited into a solitary braid. The rest was loose, and from between its pale, bluish strands, a pair of ears peeked out – a bit long, and pointed, almost elfin looking.
Was this the reason for her hood? This deformity? If one could call it such.
It startled him, coming upon her unexpectedly like this. There was nothing indecent about her attire. Apart from her hood, she was fully dressed. But he couldn't help but feeling he'd seen something he ought not to see, some angel or demon, some faerie or spirit thing. He expected her to be embarrassed, or to be angry with him.
But instead, she smiled at him.
It was only for an instant, but it was a moment that stayed with him, for hers was a beauty that gave truth to words like "entrancing" or "bewitching" – it seemed to come from some other time, from some unfallen world, that existed before and had very little to do with this present one.
It was only for an instant.
And then she'd replaced her veil.
Issei could tell from the police's line of questioning that they considered her the chief suspect in Souichirou's murder. Given the circumstances, he could hardly blame them. Her sudden appearance had been mysterious, and her disappearance had been just as sudden and just as mysterious. She'd gone missing at the same time Souichirou's body was found. In their position, no doubt he'd have thought the same thing. But in the end, he knew it wasn't true.
He'd seen the way that she looked at him, and he knew that she was utterly devoted to him, that she loved him too much. He could see this, even through her veil.
No, if she were gone, he was certain that she must be dead too.
"I . . . shouldn't linger here . . ."
Issei wondered just how long he'd been standing outside the door.
Long enough that his body had grown cold.
Long enough that his fingers had grown stiff.
When had he placed them on the handle of the door?
He didn't know, and moved to remove them, when he heard a rattling sound.
"That's . . . strange. No one should be in here – "
No one had been in there. Not since the night it had happened. Not since the night she and his brother had been –
It came again, the rattling noise, louder and more distinct.
Sliding open the panel door, he saw a strange blue light coming from the floor.
"A . . . magic circle . . ?"
It seemed ridiculous, but Issei could not think of any other way to describe it, or any other thing it might be.
There, on the ground, a circle of blue light was drawn, surrounded by strange writing and foreign symbols.
As he watched, the light deepened, growing in brilliance and intensity.
And then Issei saw one of those things he could not explain.