Fate Stay Night – Unlimited Boob Works
Chapter 4
Issei stared, unable to believe his eyes. There, on the tatami floor, was a magic circle. It was large – its circumference spread across several of the mats. It hadn't been there before, but it was there now, and its intense blue light was so bright that it lit up the entire room.
A dagger lay on the floor in its midst - this no doubt was the source of the noise he had heard. At first it skittered about aimlessly, but then it settled, rolling along the circle's edge as if fixed to a track. Gradually its path grew narrower, in a tightening spiral, until it made its way to the circle's center. Soundlessly it rose, hovering over the floor like a compass needle, turning this way and that, as if hunting for north.
It seemed to settle in the direction of Issei.
"Me?" he asked, putting his hand to his chest.
As if to answer, the dagger tilted side to side, then flew at him, sticking in the ground at his feet, making him jump.
A tongue of fire leapt up, drawing itself out into a wispy, feathered shape.
"A phoenix quill . . . Most useful, and very hard to come by . . ."
Whose words were these? They weren't his. Issei heard them, but they weren't his own. They were spoken by a voice – a female voice.
The feathered flame alighted upon the circle.
"Ah – Enochian – the language of the Angels . . ."
Without any hand to hold it, the quill seemed to move of itself. Instead of writing the words, wherever it landed, the ink grew pliant, becoming liquid again, slithering like snakes, so that the words changed their form, until they assumed their final shape.
The circle's glow deepened, growing until it filled the entire room.
And then she appeared.
Amid the glow of the circle's light, she was just as he'd remembered – the long, flowing dark robes, the gentle sweep of her blue hair. Her hood was down, and she tossed her head to the side, at once in the throes of giving birth and of being born, as some unknown power created her out of the nothingness. From the point of her ears to the tips of her black gloved fingers to the single lock of braided hair, she was just as he remembered.
And then the spell was complete.
"YOU FOOL!"
Issei recoiled from the dagger placed at his throat.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I –"
"Why in summoning me you've – I've KILLED one Master before – and I'd do it again –"
"I only wanted to see him again –"
"WHAT DID YOU SAY!?"
"I said I only wanted to see YOU again!"
"Ah – wonderful! Just what I needed! Another idiot to lust after me, and after my power. After the things I can do, and the things he imagines I can do for him . . ."
Issei put his hand to his throat, making sure it hadn't been cut.
"I – only wanted to see you again –"
"As if that will be enough –"
"I only wanted to see your face . . ."
In defiance of him, she flipped up her hood, covering the top of her face with her veil.
"I'll be using you, you know."
"I don't care . . ."
"I only want it so I can summon him."
Issei took a deep breath.
"I – won't pretend that my thoughts have all been pure . . . but the truth is, I wanted to see BOTH of you again. Souichirou was like a big brother to me, and –"
She drew back her hand to strike him, but seeing his tears, she hesitated.
"You poor boy . . ."
Using her gloved hand, she wiped his cheek.
"If that's the truth – if that's your wish – then I will do everything in my power to grant it. But come – we've much to do."
"Hmph – it looks like my blood was the Catalyst. How fitting . . ."
"But that's impossible. The mats were replaced."
"Oh it doesn't go away, boy. You can replace all the rugs, and turn over a cushion or two, but it's still there – festering beneath the floor. Anyhow, it's a good thing my blood didn't get over here. If these mats had been replaced too, I wouldn't have been able to perform my little trick. There you have it – the world's first self-summoning Servant – what, you aren't impressed?" she chuckled. "I used that circle to summon Assassin. I never thought I'd be summoned with it myself."
Issei started at her, trying to follow along. Caster put her black gloved finger to her chin, and considered.
"Ah, now this is beginning to make sense. So much power . . . it's left over from the previous Grail War – the previous two Grail Wars, I should say. This might make things easier than I had thought. I wonder . . ."
Taking out a wand, she went over to the circle again. Holding her hands over it, she adjusted the shape of the words. Once again, the circle began to glow.
Issei watched in amazement, his glasses catching the blue glare, as the light deepened. But then it faded again.
"Hmm, as expected. It appears someone else has already summoned the Assassin. Souichiro isn't suited for any other class, and it was a long shot anyway – he isn't really a Heroic Spirit either. For that, we'll need the Grail. But for now, we'll have to proceed another way."
Outside, the air was cold, bitterly freezing. But that was the least of Issei's concerns.
"Aren't you worried that someone will be coming? With all that light – not to mention the noise. What will my father say?"
"Ah, not to worry. They're all asleep. A taste of my magic herbs has seen to that."
Issei regarded her dubiously.
"What – I said not to worry, boy. They're just asleep. What kind of guest would I be if I brought harm to my host? No, they'll sleep on until morning, and not disturb us."
"Now, for our first order of business – we're going to need power – magical power, and a lot of it, too. Ah, the ley lines converge so wonderfully around this place", she said, breathing in an essence that Issei could not detect, though he marveled at its effect on her. Even with the upper half of her face covered, her mouth and chin seemed to grow lovelier with each breath.
"It's a start, but we're going to need more – hmm, during the last war, that one girl put up a blood fort. I suppose we could do something like that, too . . ."
Issei looked at her doubtfully. He didn't know what a blood fort was, but he didn't like the sound of it one bit.
". . . then again, with the lines already here, and criss-crossed so nicely – I have another idea. I remember reading a paper from one Archimedes – I believe I still have the sketch –" Reaching into her sleeve, she produced an old, yellowed scroll. "Very talented, if a bit eccentric. I remember thinking something like this might come in handy one day, if only it could be adapted to magical power. We'll just need a source of energy to get it started –"
"You mean like a battery?" Issei asked. "Shiro would probably be very good at this sort of thing . . ."
"It won't do to involve anyone else. Here, I'll get started on the machinery – while you go and get the source of our power . . ."
Issei wondered at the way her voice trailed off. But the sight of her in the moonlight was too much to resist.
"Just tell me what you want me to do."
"Do you see those two bulls over there?"
He was about to tell her that there were no bulls, and that no such animals were allowed on the temple grounds, when, following her gaze, he caught sight of two wild bulls, grazing in the nearby bushes.
Issei stared at them in disbelief. Where had they come from? They were like no animals he had ever seen – their hides were a glowing orange, as if possessed of a living flame. It burned so brightly it lit up the grass all around them. He looked at them doubtfully, then over to Caster, who had already set about putting together a strange machine from a series of bronze pieces she'd produced from somewhere – no doubt from some magical means. Without so much as looking up she reached out and handed him a pair of wooden collars, their joints fastened by iron rings.
"You go and yoke the bulls, while I get things ready here . . ."
Issei looked at the two collars doubtfully, but there was nothing he could do. Carefully he approached the nearest bull.
"Good, it doesn't seem to notice me."
The strange, glowing animal snorted lazily, and continued to graze.
"Now, if I just approach it from the back, I can take this collar, and –"
As soon as the collar met with its neck, the bull suddenly became a different animal altogether. Turning with a snort of wild rage, it opened its mouth, and let forth a blast of reddish flame.
"A – H – H – H – H – H – H – H !"
"Oh – did I forget to mention – they breathe fire!"
A short while later, a slightly scorched, and very angry looking Issei made his way up to the front of the temple, holding the reins of the bulls as they ran along in front of him.
Upon seeing him, Caster doubled over with laughter.
"Oh – ho – ho – you mustn't be angry with me boy, for having a little bit of fun. I dare say, that alone was worth being summoned again!"
Taking the reins from him, the bulls at once grew docile and compliant, waiting patiently while she yoked each of them to the two arms of the strange machine. With a clap she set them trotting, each running on opposite sides of a circle, while the arms of the machine turned over their heads like a propeller. After several passes, its bronze body began to glow, evidently drawing power from within the earth.
"That should take care of our power – at least for now. For our next order of business, we'll need some protection. Here, take these, and sow them in that field over there. They're dragon's teeth mind you, so be careful you don't drop them!"
Issei received the brown leather bag doubtfully, but upon examination, he found what she said seemed to be true. Inside were a dozen long, thick teeth. They looked like they very well could have come from a dragon, and he shuddered at the thought of what manner of beast must have once possessed them.
Just holding the bag made him uncomfortable, and he was glad to upend it and get rid of the contents. But his relief soon turned to a new kind of terror. Wherever one of the teeth landed, a strange, skeletal creature sprang up, growing instantly from the soil. What were they? Bones from the cemetery? They seemed to have no gratitude toward Issei for loosing them, but rather turned on him in unison, so that he fell over backwards, scrambling to get away.
"Ah, the Spartoi – that Immortal Band who fought with such ferocious precision that the clashing of their interwoven spears was said to be like the gnashing of the teeth of a dragon. If THEY had been at Thermopolae, no doubt it would not have fallen . . ."
"That's fascinating –" Issei said, once again running for his life, "but I could use a bit of help here!"
Caster sighed.
"Must I do EVERYTHING myself?"
Taking up her wand, she let out a shout.
"Spartoi! Phalanx!"
At her words, the strange skeletal soldiers at once left off chasing Issei, and drew themselves up into orderly ranks.
"Cataphracti!"
Following this new command, they set off, each marching to its own post.
"Not bad. There are twelve – that's enough for the cardinal directions, plus each of the major and minor declinations – that's not a bad perimeter . . ."
As Issei stood watching, panting and gasping, Caster began to laugh again.
"Ah, now this reminds me of old times. You look a lot like he did, when we first met. He was hopeless, completely hopeless, and utterly forlorn. He wanted the fleece – but he couldn't get it. The songs all sing of his deeds, and his mighty band. They've forgotten it was me – I was the one who devised the ointment to quench the fire of the bulls, so that they could be tamed. And I was the one who figured out how to defeat the Spartoi, that Immortal Band. And it was I who defeated the dragon of Colchis . . . the tasks were all impossible, but I found ways to make the impossible possible – for that's what love makes a woman do – when she's in love – or thinks she is. And we were happy together, for a time . . . But then, one day, he found an ointment that quenched his fire for me . . ."
Issei looked at her wonderingly. Her look of haughty confidence had given way to one of sadness – a deep, unspeakable, unknowable sadness.
"Come, boy, don't go getting all misty eyed on account of me. You've done well – we have a source of power, and our perimeter is in place. That's enough for one night. Soon our real work can begin . . ."
Shiro yawned, and stretched himself awake. He was lying in his futon, in his room at the Emiya estate. The tatami mats beneath his back were beginning to be a bit worn, and were in need of replacing, but he didn't care. He'd fallen asleep on the concrete floor of his workshop so many times that even the worn out straw mats felt like heaven. Besides, there was a kind of comfort to their thinness and familiarity, and so he snuggled down further into them.
Or he would have, when he realized his legs were stuck.
"Am I tangled in the blankets or something?" he wondered, as he tried to extricate himself. But a gentle heaviness prevented him.
For the moment, the soft warmth felt so dreamy and pleasant that he didn't care. But by and by, his back began to ache. He tried to ignore it, but slowly the dull pain went from uncomfortable to annoying to downright unbearable. He moved to turn, only to discover that he was really and truly stuck.
"Wha - ?" he asked, still half awake, as he lifted the covers to see the cause of his predicament.
"Argh . . ."
There beneath the blankets was Illya. Her arm was clutching the top of his pajamas, and she had one leg draped over his, intertwined like a pretzel. He tried to sit up, but as if to put an end to any thoughts of escape, she put her head atop his chest, and let out a long sigh.
And then, as if to celebrate her victory, she began to snore.
"That's it, I'm making her move!" he thought, but Illya only clutched him tighter.
"Big . . . brother . . ."
Shiro sighed too, and laid back down.
This was not an unusual occurrence.
Ever since the Fifth Holy Grail War had ended, and she'd come to stay at Emiya house, Illya had made a habit of sneaking into his bed at night. In her previous form this had been a bit embarrassing, and at most mildly inappropriate, but now –
Illya sighed again and snuggled closer, pressing his arm with the gentle warmth of her bosom.
Shiro gulped and tried to think of something – anything else.
"She's so soft . . ."
Looking down, he caught sight of her pale neck peeking out between the white folds of her parted hair. Seeing the blue sling that held her right arm, he frowned.
He'd searched the wound, or where a wound should have been, several times, but still could find no trace of a bullet or fragment of any kind. The only clue lay in Illya's magic circuits.
They were a mess.
"Trace on . . ."
The jumbled tangle spread out like a maze before him. It reminded Shiro of a field trip his class had taken to a park that had been set up to memorialize the Fuyuki Earthquake.
Fuyuki City it seemed had more than its share of natural disasters. In addition to the fire of ten – now eleven years ago – before that, the city had been the site of a terrible earthquake. Most of the damage had been cleared up, to the point that now one could barely tell that there had ever been an earthquake, but one small section had been carefully preserved, exactly as it had been.
Here, the fault line could be clearly seen. The streets, sidewalks, rail lines – all had an abrupt break in them where the whole landscape had shifted. Looking at Illya's shoulder, it was the same. It was as if a map had been printed on the border where two pages met, and all the streets were offset.
Looking at two of the lines that seemed to go together, Shiro took them, and with a small burst of his magical power, welded them back together. The operation seemed satisfactory enough, but just to be sure, he took a ball of magical energy, and starting on one side, sent it across to the other. The pulse bridged the gap easily, and he watched it travel away into the distance, until it was lost from view. Then he took up another pair of circuits, and joined them too.
He'd started in the middle, without any thought of direction or location. Looking around, he saw the error of his approach. It would been better to start at one side, and work his way to the other, working systematically, by regions and quadrants.
"I guess it won't do any good to complain about it now", he thought, taking up another pair of circuits and welding them together. The whole operation reminded him vaguely of soldering paths on a circuit board. A large, magical, Illya shaped circuit board.
Shiro sighed.
"That's two out of what? A hundred? A thousand?"
The magical pathways spread out like a forest all around him.
He sighed again.
This was going to take a while.
As Shiro worked, he could feel his own magic circuits, stretching out all the way back to his core, where they were joined to Avalon, the magic scabbard of Excalibur that his father had placed in him the night he saved him from the fire. At the other end lay Illya. Evidently she was having some sort of dream.
The sidewalk spread out before her, and as she walked, hints of light seemed to scatter and dance at her feet. It was nothing more than bits of quartz that had been mixed in with the concrete, so that as she walked they caught the glow of the streetlamps, but to her youthful eyes, they shimmered like diamonds.
It was a fine, brisk January evening, and the air was cold, but crisp, and refreshing. Her Father and Mother walked on either side of her, each holding one of her hands in their own. As she walked, she made a kind of game of swinging back and forth between the two of them. Every third step she'd jump, pretending to avoid a group of faeries that she imagined were attacking her ankles.
"One, two – "
"Ack! You're too heavy!" Irisviel complained. "You're making my back hurt!"
"Whee!" Illya shouted, altogether oblivious to her suffering.
"Yep, that sounds like her", Shiro sighed, remembering one of his own recent experiences. Illya had shouted,
"Carry me, big brother!" (Of course loud enough for everyone to hear)
And then she'd jumped on him, piggy back.
Kiritsugu's other hand was weighted down with a collection of shopping bags, and together with his daughter's Tarzan impersonation, he quite literally had his hands full.
But he didn't seem to mind. And for all her fussing, Irisviel didn't seem to, either. There was something in the way she'd said the word "heavy" that caused her and Kiritsugu to exchange a look.
Shiro didn't know what it meant, but he didn't have to know to understand the look on his Father's face.
"He looks so happy . . ."
Evidently it had been something of a banner day for the Emiya and Einzbern household. Illya had a doctor's appointment – apparently she had quite a lot of them – but instead of making a house call, her Father had decided to take her to the doctor's office, and that meant taking her into town.
"Herr Emiya", the doctor greeted them warmly. "You are welcome anytime, but you know if you need anything I will gladly come and visit you at the Einzbern Estate."
"I know, and I appreciate it, but today is just a checkup, and the weather is fair, so I thought it would be nice for her and her mother to get out of the house for a bit."
"As you wish. For the skin grafts, I can tell you the latest round is healing nicely. I looked at each of the sites and they are doing fine. Her ears are still a bit inflamed, but that is not so unusual at this age. The tubes could come out, but I would like to leave them a little longer. She is a bit old for this, but with everything else, I think it is best."
"If that is what you think, then I'll agree."
The nurse in the front office looked at Illya pityingly, trying to imagine what sort of terrible accident had caused a child of her age to need so many skin grafts. She gave her a lollipop, and they were on their way.
The doctor had his practice in an office that was adjacent to a large shopping mall. The building fascinated Illya. It had a bay window that wrapped around the corner of the top floor, and she made it her goal to find some way to get to the top of it and look out. In his own mind, Shiro wondered if the window might not have been just for decoration, and not truly functional, but these were Illya's memories, and he decided not to let his own thoughts intrude.
Besides, she wouldn't have listened to him anyway.
In addition to the various shops and boutiques, the mall also had an eye doctor. Illya looked at the cases in the front window with a mixture of longing and relief. She didn't really want to wear glasses, but there was one pair with purple frames that she thought was very cute looking.
The mall also contained a salon on the second floor. Illya had never been very fond of haircuts. At home these usually consisted of Leysritt fussing at Sella to be sure she got the ends straight, while Sella fussed at her to quit fidgeting and sit still. But being on the second floor meant she was one step closer to her goal, so she sat still while the stylist washed her hair.
The bowl of the sink had a cutout that she thought was very funny looking, and not at all comfortable against her neck, but the scalp massage felt SOO good, she decided she didn't care. After that she dutifully sat, trying not cringe as she felt the cold line of the scissors, then waited with her mother under the hair dryers. They had picked seats on opposite sides so that they could watch one another, and they took turns laughing at how silly they each looked.
When at last they emerged, Illya gasped. Irisviel had always been a very beautiful woman. Looking at her, she couldn't believe that anyone or anything could be so pretty. Her own hair was only a couple of inches shorter, but it was so soft and smooth that she couldn't stop touching it.
"Hmm", Irisviel said with concern. "It's still a tiny bit damp. We'd better do something indoors for a bit.
Hearing this, Illya seized her chance. The escalator, from what she could tell from the map of the mall with its "You Are Here" sticker, was in the middle of the store, right next to the lawn and garden section.
"But I don't NEED a new lawn mower", Kiritsugu protested as she seized his hand, and began to pull.
In response, Illya turned to face him. Setting her feet, she leaned back, and tugged with all her might.
Kiritsugu looked at Iris questioningly, but she had no idea either as to what could be causing this sudden strange behavior.
"All right – all right! You could have just asked if you wanted to ride the escalator that badly – "
Slowly, methodically, the mechanical stairway made the climb from the second to the third story. Illya watched as the floor drained away, seeming to lower before them as they rose. Another couple of inches, and her destination came within sight. Seeing her prize, she bolted.
"Hey, get back here!
"What on earth has gotten into her?" Irisviel asked as the two of them puffed their way up the rest of the stairs.
"I don't know. Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine. I'm not THAT delicate . . ." she groused, gathering her purse and her hat as they stepped off.
"Ah ha! So THAT's what you were up to . . ."
There, in the corner, was Illya.
The building's designers evidently had some idea that the window might be of interest. The entire inner wall was carpeted, and slanted so that one could stand or lean up against it in order to look out. There was a small bench and for shorter or younger guests, a low step wrapped around the inside, affording a better view. It was here that Illya went. Placing one foot on either side with all the ceremony of an Empress celebrating her conquest of two hemispheres, she looked out over her domain.
The effect was magical. Outside, the stars twinkled overhead, while down below the city lights had come on. Being January, it was already dark, even though it was not yet late. There wasn't much traffic in the lot, but the occasional car with its passing headlights was fun to watch, while in the background the lights would go skimming by on the high speed expressway, giving a totally different sense of scale and the passing of time.
The view wasn't perfect. There was a joint between the two panes of glass, covered by a post. But by leaning ever so slightly to one side, Illya found she could look entirely out of the left window, which faced to the northwest, while leaning over to the right let her look out to the other side, towards the northeast, and she spent several minutes rocking back and forth, looking out one side and then the other, while Irisviel sat on the bench with her arms folded and her legs crossed, tapping one foot aimlessly.
"You know, if you wanted to see so badly, you could have just asked", Irisviel said, when at last she had finished looking out.
"Oh, let her be. She came up with a plan, and followed it. That shows intelligence. And independence."
"You spoil her", Iris fussed, pretending to be mad at him. "Do you even remember which door we came in?"
"Well, I – "
"Or where you parked the car?"
"Look, I –"
Just then, Illya and her mother both stopped.
"Oh – wow . . ."
There, in the intersection of two aisles, some enterprising designer had set up a display. It consisted of two mannequins, surrounded on either side by several boxes. The taller one wore a long, dark purple coat. The front was double breasted, fastening with a series of buttons that ran the full length down either side, giving a very slim and elegant silhouette, while the shoulders were covered by a short attached cape.
The shorter mannequin wore a similar outfit – the coat was almost identical, but more petite, in a young junior's size. Both wore matching hats, also in purple, and the shorter of the two had a pair of mittens, while the taller one wore a pair of slender gloves.
Illya stared at the two figures longingly.
"You should try it on", Kiritsugu said to Irisviel.
Apparently the display had had the same effect on her, as she was also staring longingly.
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly – "
She protested shyly as he slid the garment off the rack. Slipping it from its hanger, he eyed it critically. It was made of wool, so it would be very warm, but blended with cashmere to make it soft.
"I still have my white one –"
Irisviel continued her protests.
"You can have another – " Kiritsugu answered her, slipping the coat over her shoulders.
"Look, I really – ohh . . . that does feel good . . ."
She pulled the lapels close around her, snuggling in their warmth. It had a pleasing weight to it – not so much as to feel heavy, but substantial, and comforting on a cold winter's day.
Illya gleefully held her arms out for her father to help her into the smaller coat, giggling as he patted her shoulders. It was a bit long, with the bottom coming halfway down to her ankles, and the sleeves covered half of her fingers, but apart from this, it was a perfect fit.
"It's a bit big . . ." Irisviel said questioningly.
"She'll grow into it."
Something in his answer made her heart melt. Taking advantage of the opening, Illya helpfully held up the matching purple hat.
"Oh, honey –"
"What? You have to have the full set – " Kiritsugu said, chuckling as he studied the display. As someone accustomed to laying an ambush himself, he couldn't help but admire the effectiveness of the trap. Everything needed to make up the two outfits – the coats, hats, gloves, scarves, and shoes – was all located dangerously close by.
Illya looked up at him mischievously, so to answer her he pressed a matching purple hat on her head, making her giggle again when it covered her eyes.
"Here", he said, holding out a pair of boots, made of black dress leather, and styled so that they could be worn turned down at the knee, or rolled up over the thigh.
"I still have my white ones."
"They wouldn't go at all."
Grudgingly, Irisviel sat on one of the display boxes and let Kiritsugu help her out of her old boots and into the new ones, after which he helped Illya find a pair of matching purple snow boots in her size.
"They have gloves –"
"I still have the ones you gave me . . . But Illya could probably use a new set of mittens . . ."
"Will there be anything else, sir?" the attendant asked as the cash register rang, printing out a rather long receipt.
Kiritsugu glanced over to where Illya and her mother were taking turns looking out the corner window. With their matching coats, Illya looked like a miniature version of Irisviel as she pointed with her mittenned fingers and explained the window's significance.
"Ah ha – I DO see . . ." Iris said, weaving from side to side to follow Illya and her explanation.
"Shall I have them gift wrapped?"
Kiritsugu smiled.
"That won't be necessary."
"Very good."
"You *spoil* her," Irisviel said again as they walked to the car, with Illya swinging back and forth between the two of them. Kiritsugu held her hand with his left, while from his right a collection of shopping bags dangled, containing Illya and Iris' old coats and shoes, carefully folded to be put away for safe keeping.
"I spoil *you* too."
"That – may be true . . ." Iris answered coquettishly. "Hey! Since we're heading back, how about *I* drive?"
"No!" Kiritsugu answered firmly.
"Aw," she pouted. "But I've been practicing . . ."
"That's what scares me!"
Illya stared at her hand, studying the motion of her fingers. She'd slipped her arm from its sling, which now lay coiled lifelessly as it hung down from her shoulder. Shiro lay beside her, snoring lightly.
She bent her fingers one at a time, then closed them into a fist. It was the same fist she'd made only a few days before in the homunculus room in the basement of the Einzbern Castle But now . . .
"When did I lose my resolve?"
She thought to herself.
"And over what? Just because something didn't go as planned? Because of some minor setback?"
She closed her hand, and then opened it again. She was still staring at it when Shiro spoke.
"Did – all of that really happen . . ?"
Turning, she saw he was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow.
" . . . So you saw?"
"Yeah . . ." he said, rolling onto his back again, and sinking down into the covers. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry –"
"It's okay. I don't mind . . ."
Shiro put his hands behind his head, ignoring Illya's gaze as he stared intently at the ceiling.
"What's wrong? I'm not mad."
"It's not that", he said, with a slight blush. "It's just . . . I guess I never thought of Dad acting like that . . ."
"Oh, is that it?" Illya covered her mouth to conceal a slight giggle.
"I mean, I can still remember, when he picked me up from the hospital – I remember looking at him and thinking, 'There's no way this guy can take care of himself! Much less me –"
Shiro broke off with a laugh, and for a moment they both laughed together.
"Father used to be like that all the time. He was always the one to pick out all of my clothes. And Mom's too – he picked out all of our outfits –"
"Really?"
Shiro thought of his father, with his wrinkled shirt and worn out coat, and tried to imagine him shopping for women's clothing, but found he couldn't picture it.
"Yeah! When I was little, Dad used to take Mom and I out a lot! Well, okay – maybe not a lot . . . He was always so busy . . . But still, it was nice. We were a family . . ."
"A family . . ."
Suddenly, Illya grabbed Shiro's face with both of her hands, and kissed him.
"Mmfh! Illya –"
In answer to his protests, she opened her mouth.
Shiro's hands arched out beside him, momentarily unsure of what to do, then found her waist.
Draping her leg over his lap, she kissed him harder.
The sound of the sliding door interrupted them.
"I'm glad to see you're feeling better!" Rin said cheerfully, smiling the fox eyed smile that terrified her classmates so much. She'd been sure to say it loud enough for the entire house to hear.
"I was just – thanking Shiro for helping me – with my arm –"
"Yes, I'm sure you were."
After a very late breakfast, which Rin made Shiro cook, and refused to let Sakura or anyone else help him with, they gathered again in the living room of the Emiya house.
"This changes things . . ." Rin said thoughtfully, as she sipped her tea. "But not altogether for the worse. There are problems, yes. But we have some advantages. We know who four of the seven Masters are – that's more than half. And we know the identities of their Servants.
'If I was going to rank our pieces in order of strength, then I would say that Saber is probably the strongest. She may be limited to fairly direct attacks, but those attacks are devastating.
'Having Archer and Assassin gives us options. With Archer we have the ability to attack at long range. And Assassin lets us attack in secret. Rider is something of a wild card.
'No offense", Rin said, turning to address the long, purple haired woman sitting next to Sakura at the corner of the table. "It's just, I really don't know that much about your powers or abilities."
"None taken", Rider answered with a small bow. Indeed, she seemed glad at the turn things had taken. Archer nodded, and even the usually stoic Saber smiled grimly, all of them apparently happy that the formalities had been dispensed with, and things were starting to look more and more like a proper war.
"Opposing us are Berserker, Caster, and Lancer. Berserker will be terribly strong, but he can be lead into a blind rage, and taken out. We'll have to act carefully, but we should be able to manage.
'Caster I can see being more of a problem. We have to figure out which heroic spirit this Caster is, and the identity of their Master. Perhaps knowing that will give us some clue as to how to proceed.
'Lancer will be a difficult battle, but with the pieces we have, we can dictate the terms, so we should win.
'It isn't very elegant, but my thought is that we use the other Servants to draw our enemies out, and then let Saber destroy them. My apologies for using you as something of a battering ram", Rin said.
Saber smiled.
"I figured you wouldn't mind. So there you have it. We'll draw the enemy out, and crush them, one by one. If any of them try to run, Archer can take them out at long range. If they try to hide, we'll assassinate them. It's brutal, and not very original, but it ought to work."
When she had finished speaking, the room sat in silence.
"Well, does anyone else have something they'd like to say? Those are just my thoughts. Illyasviel and Sakura – you're both Masters. I'd very much like to hear your ideas."
Illya remained sitting where she was, putting her two index fingers together and then pulling them apart absent mindedly.
Sakura turned away shyly.
"I mean – I'm okay with it – if Sempai's okay . . ."
Shiro frowned.
"I figured YOU wouldn't like it", Rin said, crossing her arms in a small pout, "and I'm NOT opposed to talking to the other Masters, but I think we had better be prepared for a fight.
'Really, our plans haven't changed. Our first order of business is still to figure out who the other Masters are, and the identities of their Servants. I was hoping that Emiya could be of some help in this regard. As an Assassin, Surveillance is no doubt one of his specialties. And as a Master who fought in the previous Grail War, his experience should be invaluable. That, and I'm hoping he can knock some sense into Shiro for us –" she added, sticking her tongue out at Shiro when she thought no one else was looking.
'Tell us, Illya, why haven't you summoned him? Does he not like taking a material form?"
Illya touched the tips of her fingers together, and turned to the side again.
"It's not that – it's just . . ."
"Are you still injured?" Rin asked, her voice softening with concern. "That was a terrible wound. Shiro said there was damage to your magic circuits. Are you having difficulty producing enough mana?"
"No, there's nothing wrong with my mana . . ."
"Did the bond not form correctly? Is something wrong with your pact?"
"Nothing's wrong –"
"Here, let me see your Command Seals –"
"NO!" Illya shrieked, holding her hand defensively.
"What is wrong with you!?"
"I can't!"
"CAN'T or WON'T!?"
"I JUST CAN'T!"
Illya shouted, shrinking behind Shiro for protection.
Rin sighed.
"This isn't good. If Illya can't summon her Servant, that puts us back on equal terms. Depending on who we're up against, it could even be worse . . ."
Rin looked over at Illya, as she continued to press herself against Shiro.
"It'll be getting dark soon. I don't like to do this, but under the circumstances, I think we have no choice. We had better'd go and see him . . ."
The path from the Emiya house to the old Fuyuki Church was by no means one that Shiro travelled frequently. He had only ever visited it on a few occasions. But such was the vividness of the events of the Fifth Holy Grail war, that even though he had only been there a handful of times, the weirdness of it all gave the whole experience a strange kind of familiarity. The fact that it was well after dark only added to the surreal feeling of the moment.
Rin went on ahead, as striking as ever in the blaze of her red coat. Sakura walked beside her, trailing a few steps behind.
Behind the two of them was Illya, her pale skin starkly white against the darkness of the night. She was bundled up in her mother's coat, along with a scarf and hat and gloves, but even so, it was late January, and the air was still very cold. Shiro walked beside her, his blue and white jacket echoing the blue and white t-shirt underneath.
Rin looked at him, and shook her head.
"Hopeless – that boy is absolutely hopeless . . ." she muttered.
Saber brought up the rear. As the only Servant without a proper Master, she couldn't dematerialize the way that Archer, Rider, and Kiritsugu could, and so had no other choice than to remain in her physical form. But she didn't seem to mind. Indeed, she had even donned her old yellow cloak – the same one she had worn on that other evening, on what now seemed like so many years ago, even though it had scarcely been twelve months. Shiro wondered if the occasion made her feel nostalgic.
"Do Servants get nostalgic? About their past lives?" he thought to himself.
"This is no good at all", Rin said, sighing again, all in a huff. "We should have split up. With all five of us together, we can't help but stand out. We couldn't be any more conspicuous even if we tried. If any of the other Masters are watching, they'll notice us for sure."
For the moment at least, her fears seemed to go unanswered. The walk to the Church was long and cold and torturously slow, but proceeded without incident. As they walked, Shiro couldn't help but wonder if he was really only remembering the events of that other evening, or if in fact they had somehow wandered back in time, and that same night existed as a kind of place in time, one they were destined to visit over and over again.
Whatever the case may have been, their walk had an end, even if perhaps the night did not. Presently the gated churchyard came into view.
"This is as far as I go", Saber said, in a tone of voice eerily reminiscent of that other evening.
Shiro nodded, then went on ahead.
"Ah, Rin –" the priest Kotomine said as the door creaked open. "I had figured that you would be coming to see me soon."
Evidently his words were true. The interior of the Church was usually dark, kept in a perpetual gloom, as if in a mourning watch, waiting for someone or something. But on that particular evening it was illuminated by the light of a single candle whose lone red light threw long shadows along the walls and across the floor. Rin glanced at her own shadow, as if to make sure that nothing was hiding in it, then made her way towards the altar.
The congregation of Fuyuki Church had always been small, catering mostly to foreigners, and a few local converts. What services there were usually took place in the newer annex building that had been set up some time ago. To find Kotomine here at this hour and the Sanctuary lit confirmed Rin's suspicions. The priest knew. As the one who presided over the Grail War, of course he would.
"And what's this?" Kotomine asked, as the door squeaked again. "Why, I see you've brought the boy with you. Shiro Emiya, you poor fool . . ." the old priest mused with a carnivorous smile.
He didn't have long to gloat, for before his smile could settle the door squeaked again.
"Illyasviel von Einzbern! Now this is a surprise. To what do I owe –"
He was unable to finish his remark before the door squeaked yet again.
". . . Sakura Matou . . ?"
Sakura hung her head timidly.
Kotomine arched an eyebrow.
"Four of the six Masters, gathered in one place – why this is practically an entire Grail War already –"
"What do you mean, six?" Rin asked. "What happened to the Seventh?"
"Nothing, yet. The Seventh Master has yet to summon their Servant, though I expect that will change soon –"
"You're the Seventh Master!" Shiro shouted, pointing accusingly.
Kotomine frowned, and held up his left hand, showing the utter absence of a Command Seal.
Shiro stared, but there could be no mistaking it. The back of his hand was smooth, without even a hint of the beginnings of a stigmata.
"And now, what can I do for you this evening –"
Kotomine asked, as Illya shrugged off her coat. Upon seeing her, he gasped. The length of her hair could be dismissed as a year's growth, as could perhaps the fact that she was an inch or two taller. But there was no mistaking the fullness of her breasts, the way they strained underneath her white dress with all the ripeness of youth trying to break free.
In spite of himself, Kotomine stared.
Rin put the tips of her fingers together, straining for words to explain a very delicate situation.
"Shiro . . . may have – done something to Illya . . ."
At this Kotomine's face grew long, as he he pursed his lips.
"Boy, the confessional is this way –"
"IT WASN'T LIKE THAT !"
The priest stared at Rin's sudden outburst.
Illya smiled demurely.
Kotomine stared at Rin, then at Shiro, then at Illya, and then back to Rin again. And then he began to laugh.
"It isn't funny!"
"Well, I can see at least one of you is relieved about it. Possibly two", he added, seeing Sakura's sullen expression. "Now, tell me everything."
" . . . After that, I used the power of the Blade Works to move Illya forward in time, past the point when the homunculus half of her dies," Shiro said, concluding his explanation.
Kotomine opened his mouth in surprise.
"Clever boy. I'd expect no less from the son of Kiritsugu Emiya."
Rin touched the tip of her finger to her mouth in thought.
"It was after that the Stigmata began to appear –"
Suddenly she gasped, and her eyes went wide.
"Do you think it's possible that Shiro triggered the Grail War to start early when he moved Illya forward in time?"
Kotomine looked up thoughtfully.
"It's . . . possible. Normally fifty or sixty years pass in between one grail war and the next. Illya certainly doesn't look old enough for that. This last time only ten years passed between the fourth Grail War and the fifth. Illya certainly does look more – ahem – mature than she did before, but even so, I don't think she looks as old as all of that."
Rin hung her head dejectedly.
"Well I guess we're back to square one then . . ."
"What happened next?"
"Well, we summoned our Servants, only Illya's summoning went badly, and she was injured –"
"Who is the identity of your Heroic Spirit?" Kotomine asked.
Illya looked away.
"Kiritsugu Emiya", Rin answered for her. "Only something went wrong, and –"
"Wait - YOU summoned Kiritsugu EMIYA!?"
"Yes, as an Assassin. But she doesn't have full control of him yet. He can't speak. There's something wrong with their pact. I was hoping you could – "
"Where is he!?" Kotomine demanded.
"I just told you, she doesn't have full control of him yet –"
"Summon him at once!"
Illya turned to the side, unable to meet his gaze.
"You expect me to believe that YOU, of all people – an Einzbern – one of the three GREAT FAMILIES – "
"She's injured –" Shiro said, putting his arm in front of her defensively.
"SUMMON YOUR SERVANT!"
"Illya CAN'T summon her Servant!" Rin shouted, holding her hands out to her sides in clenched fists. "Not here. Not on holy ground. YOU of all people ought to know that", she said, folding her arms.
Kotomine glared. But what she said was true.
"Very well. There is – one place . . ."
Behind the chapel stood an old church yard. It dated from the time when Fuyuki City was a port town, full of foreigners, who'd come to oversee their foreign interests. Inevitably, in the course of their business, some of them died while overseas, and not wanting their bodies to mix and mingle with the native dead, a cemetery had been set up for them, and consecrated with holy ground.
But even among the foreigners there were divisions. The occasional transgression could be forgiven, perhaps granted an indulgence, helped along by a timely offering or donation. But for the truly reprobate – the excommunicates, the atheists, the heretics – the damned – these could not be allowed to lie in the same ground as the bodies of the more venerable dead, and to this end, a heretics section had been set up towards the back.
As if to emphasize the point, the fence that ran along the back wall was ever so slightly crooked. The bars were somewhat irregular, the stones a bit cruder, and the vegetation, while still tended, was less closely kept.
As Shiro passed through the gate that clanged shut behind him, he could feel a certain change in atmospheres, and the distinct impression that he was now one step closer to hell.
Saber met him on the other side. Seeing her standing there, shrouded in her cloak, it made him sad to think that this was the one place in the entire church yard where she might be permitted. But it didn't seem to bother her – her green eyes shone as stern and defiant as ever.
Kotomine passed over with all the dignity and grace of one who had been given the solemn task of presiding over the quick and the dead. Illya followed after him, walking over to take her place beside Shiro. In the dark night, her white skin was ghostly. Sakura seemed to shrink, wilting like a graveside flower. Of them all, only Rin seemed not to suffer any morbid effect from the place.
If anything, as she passed through the gate, her haughtiness seemed to grow by several degrees, as if to express her utter contempt for the superstition of the place. She looked – if possible – even lovelier than before – downright radiant. It was enough to make Shiro wonder if maybe there wasn't some truth after all to Issei's theories, and that secretly she really was evil.
Kotomine folded his arms, and planted his foot.
"Now – summon your Servant!"
At his demand, Illya removed the bandage from her left hand, and held out her arm.
Rin gasped. Instead of the sign she expected and knew, the ugly slashes of a blade over a heart, this was something else. A single drop, over a forked roof, with two downward pointing triangles, and beneath them, something like an eye, wreathed with flames. It was the sign of order, descending into chaos.
As Illya uttered the words of the spell, the red mark began to glow. Suddenly, the night parted like a curtain, folding back upon itself. Black flames emerged from either side, surrounding the ghostly wraith. Once again, Shiro saw the familiar form, with its long dark coat, and waves of black hair.
Rin stared, wide eyed.
But Kotomine began to laugh.
"Hah, hah, hah – Now this is beginning to make sense. A man unable to speak – barely able to think – driven mad by his own remorse – and by his desperate, repeated attempts to see his daughter. This is no Assassin – this man is a Berserker . . ."