Fate/Stay Night, Carnival Phantasm, Fate EXTRA, Fate Extella, Fate Hollow Ataraxia, Fate Grand Order, Fate Zero, Fate Kaleid Prisma Illya, Fate Apocrypha, Fate Prototype, Fate: Today's Menu for the Emiya Family, Fate Requiem, Fate Strange/Fake, Fate School Life, Fate Unlimited Codes, Fate Capsule Servant, Fate: Lord El-Melloi II Case Files and Fate Type/Redline are the creations and intellectual properties of Type-Moon and Nasu Kinoko.
All other franchises and characters mentioned within this story are the intellectual properties of their respective copyright and trademark holders.
We Come to Kill Emiya Shirou.
The Holy Grail War.
A bloody battle between Magi for control over the Holy Grail, an omnipotent wish-granting artifact.
Saber, the brave sword wielding paladin.
Archer, master of long distance combat.
Lancer, agile warrior skilled with a polearm.
Rider, the horseback conqueror.
Caster, the astute mage and craftsman.
Assassin, a sneaky murderer cloaked in shadows.
Berserker, the brute running wild across the battlefield.
These seven Servants and the Masters holding their reins shall keep on fighting until only one of them is left standing. To this victor, all of the spoils.
Even now, as we speak, another fierce campaign for the Grail is taking place.
"However!" happily chirped the tiny, pale young girl of longer silver white hair, perfect, tiny white teeth glinting or at least giving the illusion of it. She winked one of her red eyes coquettishly and twirled around, the long skirt of her dark purple dress fluttering. "Recently, we were informed the rules of this Heaven's Feel contest have changed, to better adjust the standards of the Academy City Broadcasting Committee! Hence, we proudly present the Fifth Holy Grail, the final clash between Earth's greatest magi!" she exclaimed into the microphone held in her diminutive right hand. The studio's lights all came alive from all directions, and she took center stage with scenery-chewing gusto as the live audience exploded into clappings.
BROUGHT TO YOU BY LEXCORP JAPAN, LTD and THE MAHORA ACADEMY INSTITUTE OF ACADEMY CITY.
The little girl giggled, waving her free hand up. "Welcome, welcome! Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and assorted politically correct people not easily slotted into gender categories! I'm your hostess, Illyasviel von Einzbern!"
"I am your co-host, Kotomine Kirei," said a tall man in black priest's vestments standing beside her, quiet and solemn, his arms folded behind his back. He still seemed rather young and strong, with a head full of black hair and wide, straight shoulders more fitting a trained fighter or a construction worker. Despite that, he was not overly muscular, and the eyes on his angular, chiseled face were old and lifeless, slightly greenish like those of a dozing snake. "It is a honor," this man added with a deep, rich voice, a certainly interesting and commanding one.
"The Fifth Great War for the Holy Grail has just begun!" Illyasviel told the cameras, waving her small fist in a circle. "Relocated from the formerly scenic Fuyuki City and now coming at you live from the Mahora Academy Public Auditorium! Making its first public appearance in ten years, the Holy Grail that only appears once every sixty years!" she announced, sweeping her hand towards a gigantic screen displaying an ominous image of a towering, black entity of large and sinister red eyes oozing from a small shattered cup at the middle of the raging inferno of a ravaged metropolis, surrounded by blood crimson skies. "Who will become its owner at last? Me, obviously! But the fun's in seeing how we get there, right?!"
"Yayyy, Illya-chaaaaan...!" howled several greasy young men in school uniforms from the front rows, proudly waving their banners of the Illya Fan Club.
"Father Kotomine, we want your childreeeeeen...!" crooned several swooning pimply young women in school uniforms and the assorted spinster, shaking up their cartons with bishie drawings of Kirei, most commissioned from the Saotome Paru Arts Studio.
"Who will defeat all other teams and lay their hands on the glory of the Grail?" Illya continued, now pointing at the special stands where several teams of Masters and Servants from across the globe sat, each receiving wild cheers and thrown underwear from one section of the public or another. "Well, duh! I just said it'd be me and my Berserker! All the same, please join us on seeing who will be the runner ups, and how majestically are they murdered by Berserker and me! Please meet a few of our soon to be happy victims!"
The cameras first made a zooming close-up on a leanly muscular man of electric blue hair in dark blue tights, sitting by a blushing, attractive young woman of short red hair in a fine brown business suit and black tie. "That'll be us!" grinned the man, poking a thumb on his chest while the woman just looked down, embarrassed. "We've got this in the bag!"
Contestants 017: Cu Chulainn of Ulster (Lancer) and Bazett Fraga Mc Remitz.
The cameras next panned onto a placidly smiling, shapely, long haired young woman sitting and waving faintly, wearing a short, skimpy emerald green dress. She was so healthy and succulent, all curves in all the correct places. Full breasts and wide, firm hips, one second and a bad move away from making censor bars appear all over her cleavage.
By her side sat an inexpressive shorter girl, a fairly young one at that, even if her attire tried its best to say otherwise. She was pale and slim, with short light hair and strange, quiet but deep eyes that bore into your own gaze with a soft but unnerving intensity. She wore a skimpy black top that hugged her shapely torso very tightly, even smaller black bottoms, and tall black boots on her rather long, disturbingly curvy for her apparent-age, legs. Her arms, under her elbows, were covered in thick bandages, with a black glove only in her left hand, and there was a large collection of huge sheathed knives hanging all around her waist and hips.
"Good evening, everyone...!" the older lady said while her companion sniffed curiously at the microphone set before her. "I'm Reika, this is Jackie-chan, and I'd like to take this moment to promote my new escort service...!"
"You can't make that kind of publicity in live TV!" shouted a man's voice from offscreen.
Contestants 075: Jack the Ripper (Assassin) and Rikudou Reika.
Next, the cameras moved onto another person, of whom the audience only could see the lower half of a face, for the rest was hidden by a light purple hood matching the colour of their robes. Even so, the delicate lines of that fair skinned chin, the small and slightly pointy nose, and the mouth finely coated on purplish lipstick would assure anyone immediately that they had just found- or perhaps, been found by- a woman. Although one never knew for sure, right? It seemed a safe supposition regardless, especially given the conservative appearance of the mature gentleman in glasses and a black suit sitting by their right, his short black hair neatly combed and smoothed back.
"We won't allow anyone else to lay hands on the Holy Vessel," this woman, and now it was clear she was a woman indeed, told everyone. Sultry, slow, effortlessly sensual and almost husky. "Isn't that correct, Wataru-sama?"
The man gulped and gave a small nod. "That... Well, you should know better than anyone, Caster..."
Contestants 031: Medea of Colchis (Caster) and Akashi Wataru.
The cameras now were focusing on another beautiful woman. No, she was downright gorgeous, and anyone would have to admit it. Despite the large scar crossing her face, her curvaceous figure was perfectly flattered by her tight pants, tall boots, and the chest hugging shirt she wore under her half buttoned jacket, generously showing her abundant cleavage off. Her striking hot pink hair and full lips only made her even more attractive.
"Wahahaha, is there any doubt in anyone's mind?!" she claimed boisterously, slapping a hand down next to her microphone. "I'm the true King of Pirates! There's no treasure on this Earth that I cannot steal! This Grail is as good as mine already!"
"That's right, it's OURS from this point on!" boasted the person sitting with her, a slim, mostly handsome young man with a bad case of purple seaweed hair and clad in a high school uniform. "Everybody else should just go home weeping already!"
Contestants 065: Francis Drake (Rider) and Matou Shinji.
Warily, the cameras moved on to the stands where a monstrosity sat by himself. This man was truly gigantic, a mass of grotesque muscle wielding a massive slab of rock that was to the sword what the rock is to the bullet. It was easily twice as big as Illya herself. He definitely gave a matching sense of threat and undiluted power, and his eyes were brutal and red, and the thick, messy black locks of his long hair fell all around a granitic face of sharp angles chiseled into a furious snarl. Wearing only a skirt of armor plates and thick metal bands around his wrists and ankles, his flesh a dark shade of grayish, he looked more like an abomination made on mocking semblance of mankind than anything that ever was truly human at all.
Then there was a roar, not unlike that of a huge beast from long gone eras, something that might have haunted the nightmares of the first men and women in a young world, something that chilled Akashi, Bazett and Shinji to their very cores, and made Reika shriek while covering her ears. Illya just yawned petulantly and gave a small wave of hand and a smirk in his general direction.
Contestants 047: Heracles (Berserker) and Illyasviel von Einzbern.
In the next stand sat another woman who was, in her own way, even more beautiful than Caster and Rider, with a delicate and fair face that was nonetheless cold and devoid of feelings. Her eyes were large, round and light green, and her hair a pale shade of golden blonde, pulled back into a small bun. She wore a long dress of regal blue cloth, along with a metal chestplate and armored gauntlets and boots. Upon passing Berserker's thundering roar of challenge, she sharply turned aside, to look at the red haired, golden eyed young man in a casual white and blue shirt and blue jeans sitting by her left.
"Shirou!" she said. "I can't stand this anymore! This is but a mockery of a noble conflict between warring lords and artisans of warcraft! Besides, it's a terrible waste of time and resources best employed on quality programming! Let us burn the studio down! Ultimately, history shall prove us right!"
"Do you really wish for the alternative, that of burning a city to the ground again...?" the boy asked her, gesturing at her to keep her tone low. "Calm down, Saber, all things considered, this isn't so bad...!"
Contestants 002: Artoria Pendragon (Saber) and Emiya Shirou.
Only a few steps away from them, a dark haired, pigtailed young woman in a short black skirt and tight red sweater was all but jumping from her seat, pumping her fist up repeatedly. "Shut up, everyone, you make me sick!" she was shouting. "Archer and I will stomp y'all flat, posers! Don't forget whose royal state are y'all using, show some respect in my presence, you motherf-!"
"The cameras are on us now, Rin," dryly informed the man sitting by her side, arms folded and eyes closed in mild embarrassment. He was much taller and bigger than her, sporting a deeply tanned skin tone; his hair was cropped short and white. Black, fitting body armor covered him from his legs to the neck, with silver accents around the ribcage and broad chest. He also wore an open red coat over it, adding to his modern appearance, more akin to that of a television or videogame hero than a warrior drawn from the mists of time. "Just thought you'd like to know..."
Abruptly, she stiffened and gave a nervous girlish giggle, waving for the cameramen while blushing. "Ah! That's what I'd say if I were an uncouth, ill-mannered hooligan like the whole lot of them! But rest assured, fellow Mahora students! In the name of the long standing class and poise of our beloved school, I, the last of the Tohsakas, will make our academy proud...! Yes, Make Mahora Great Again!"
"Rin-saaaaan! Tohsaka-sempaaaaiiiiii!" happily chanted the lovestruck crowds, while Saber and Shirou could do nothing but sweatdropping.
Contestants 011: Nameless Hero (Archer) and Tohsaka Rin.
"Oh, that's right!" Illya snapped her fingers as the cameras just made a general pan all over the rest of the assembled contestants, earning them a lot of highly annoyed groans and grunts. "The use of Noble Phantasms is forbidden!"
"The what of what now?!" angrily shouted another young lady- she was twenty six, but she took good care of her lucks and could pass for a solid three or four years younger- of long dark gray hair pulled back into a ponytail, and sharp, angular glasses, sporting a gray suit that was even more expensive than Bazett's. By her side sat a smaller person, petite, slim, and fairly on the short side. Light pink hair sprouted healthy and messy from all over their scalp, with a long braid jutting from the back of their head. Mostly clad in tight black, with sleeves that concealed the whole of their arms until they met their gloves, and a very short skirt that, hovering over tall black stockings, revealed enough of the creamy flesh of those long legs as to make clear they were toned and firm, regardless of the person's wry appearance. A cape hung from their shoulders, and a long white sword was sheathed by their side.
The cameras seemed now strangely obsessed on panning up and down all over this person's body, over and over again, mostly centering on the legs. Eventually, the androgynously beautiful individual seemed to notice and waved their wave with a bashful giggle, tugging down on the skirt a bit.
Contestants 094: Astolfo of Mercia (Rider) and Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia.
Kirei rasped deeply, pulling out a small black book titled 'The Type-Moon Bible' and reading aloud from it. "Noble Phantasms are crystallized mysteries, powerful armaments created by using the human imagination as their core, and are the weapons and-slash-or abilities owned by Heroic Spirits to-"
"I knoooooow what's a Noble Phantasm, do you think I'm so stupid?!" Celenike spat fire. "I mean, what's the purpose of banning them like that?!"
Kirei shrugged his shoulders. "We can't let you destroy another city again. I mean, I would gladly let you to, if not because of all the later paperwork it would bring upon us afterwards. I still have nightmares from the last time..."
"Wow," Shirou blinked, impressed. "In a way, we are so alike...!"
"I think," Artoria said, "you actually aren't in the same wavelength at all."
"How are we supposed to decide this, then?" protested a thin young man of pale skin and messy silver hair, his unremarkable clothes all rumpled over and baggy. There were large, deep bags under his haunted gray eyes, as if he hadn't slept well for a long time now. By his right sat primly a gorgeous young lady with long white hair, and a fringe covering her icy blue eyes. She wore an ornate white gown and a white fur cape with gold designs and blue lining on it. She was absently caressing the small doll resting in her hands, a featureless little thing radiating a dangerous aura. "H-How do you want us to win if we can't just freeze everyone to death?!"
Contestants 201: Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova (Caster) and Kadoc Zemlupus.
"Let's see, now..." Illya hummed, reaching into a yellow box and rummaging around. "You'll fight by... by..."
Rin's eyebrow twitched. "What in the world are you doing there...?"
Illya smiled widely, pulling out a stick with a small cartel attached to it. "Ta-daaaa! COLLECTIBLE CARD DUEL GAME!-!-!"
Artoria's eyes shrank into solid black dots. "You've got to be talking in jest...!"
For her first round, Artoria stood at the middle of potent lights cast from above, facing another young woman, this one sporting light short hair that fell in bangs that hid most of her cute rather than gorgeous pale face. She wore a form hugging black ensemble of body armor that actually showed off a lot of her curvaceous, rather well-stacked physique, complete with tall boots.
In her hand she held a gigantic thick shield that looked like someone had taken a massive table apart and started carrying it around for protection. It was easily bigger than the young lady herself, and almost had touched the light projectors set over them.
"My Liege," the girl with the shield humbly said, lowering her head. "What an unfortunate twist of events."
"Truly," the Saber allowed, her tone grim and pondering. "Yet, while my heart grieves for you, I will not be able to hold back, my Knight. Repress your pain, and think of me as nothing but another enemy to be cut down now. I will do the same, for that is the duty of any soldier, and right now, we are both no less, no more than that."
The bustier girl bit on her lower lip, pulling a colorful card with her own image on it from her armor. She nodded. "It has been a pleasure, King of Knights. The greatest I could have asked for."
"Likewise, O Perfect Knight," Artoria agreed, pulling a self-styled card of her own out. "Now, let us just say... Adeat!"
"Adeat!" the Knight of the Shield repeated, and a moment later, twin flashes of light enveloped both of them...
"No! No!" Kirei said, stomping a foot down. "That's not the kind of cards you are supposed to be using for this!"
The orange haired, petite girl in the school uniform who had brought the Knight of the Shield along blinked. "Ah, no?"
"No!" Kirei said, pointing at where the Nameless Hero was kicking Cu Chulainn's ass in a game of Yu-Gi-Oh! "THAT is the sort of card game we are enforcing here!"
The orange haired girl clucked her tongue in disappointment. "Che! What a shame, not even a nice friendly match of strip poker...?"
Contestants 001: Galahad of Corbenic (Shielder) and Fujimaru Ritsuka.
Kirei looked up at the line above. "Huh. OverMaster really likes Fate: Harem Antics, doesn't he?"
Illya rummaged through the box again. "And now, for the next contest, let's see..."
She pulled out another icecream stick with a small cartel attached to it. "TENNIS!-!-! THE SPORT OF KINGS!"
"THAT'S HORSEMANSHIP!" Artoria protested.
"I thought that was sodomy?" Ritsuka blinked. "I mean, that's what I gathered from reading all those history books in school..."
Heracles howled and bellowed, waving his tree trunks of arms and shaking his positively tiny tennis racket in his hand, under the bright sun of Mahora's campus. His sturdy thick neck snapped across in all directions, looking for his foe. Everyone in the seats around the court shrunk back, except for Illya, who laughed her head off while kicking around and stuffing her mouth with popcorn from a large, striped paper glass.
Rin clenched her teeth in disgust. "Too much muscle..." she muttered, cringing at the way the Berserker's blue shirt threatened to rip at the seams from his granitic torso mass.
"Ah, but does such a thing as 'too much muscle' truly exist?" Drake waxed on philosophically. "Whether for a lover or a hired man, is it ever enough? I don't think so..."
"Who... Who's going to play against him?" Shirou gulped. "Lu Bu-san, right? It has to be, who else-"
"Ohhhh!" complained a woman's voice as someone walked out of the dressers and onto the court. "This skirt's way too short...!"
Shirou and the other men present- and Ritsuka, for some reason- turned around so fast their necks almost snapped, and except for the ever collected Kotomine, their jaws slacked down.
The adorable, lavender haired beauty who had just stepped into the open, racket in hand, squinted under the bright sun. The breeze briefly fluttered her pink miniskirt up, showing a teasing glimpse of white cotton panties, and the pointy-eared elvish creature of charm and pure cuteness gulped, eyeing the mildly confused demigod before her.
She grinned nervously and waved, twiddling her fingers. "Ah, ah, how are you doing, Herc...! It's been a while, hasn't- EEEEEEKKKKK!" she shrieked while ducking under Heracles' first brutal ball service, the ball zooming over her head and flying over to shatter the wall behind her to so many itsy bitsy pieces.
"CASTEEEEER!" Akashi-sensei cried, bolting up from his chair.
The busty, chocolate haired teenager sitting next to him grabbed him by an ear and pulled him down. "Forget it, Dad! She can look after herself, can't she...?"
"RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!" Heracles screamed madly, shattering his racket in his hand.
There was the loud cutting sound of a whistle, and Heracles looked in that direction, growling. "RARRR?"
"Foul, you are disqualificated!" shouted a very busty seventeen years old girl with long, slightly wavy blonde hair and angry purple eyes. She was wearing the traditional PE uniform of a white sports blouse and blue bloomers, plus a white visor cap labeled 'Mahora'. "Unlegal destruction of sports equipment endowered by the academy! Unsporstmanslike behaviorment and endangerioning of the public! Match given to contestant Caster! Plus, you probably used steroids too!"
The similarly dressed, much smaller, mousey brown haired girl with glasses and standing behind her holding a notepad gulped loudly. "It's 'Disqualified', 'Illegal', 'Endowed', 'Behavior' and 'Endangering', Haruka-chan. But you got 'Unsportsmanlike' mostly right, that's progress..."
"GGGRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAA!" Heracles began kicking down, causing earthquakes all over Mahora and reaching all the way to Honnouji.
"No, no, that's unfair!" Illya was throwing an identical tantrum, just on a much less seismic scale. "Berserker's never used steroids, that's all pure training, divine genes, and Mad Enhancement! I'm calling foul on your foul...!"
Medea looked out from between the fingers clenched onto her face. "Did I win? Really? I, I mean, yes, that always was the plan...!"
Akashi Yuuna snorted her way. "Lucky skank," the student mumbled.
Illya pulled out another icecream stick with a small cartel attached to it. "The Game of the Pirate!"
Astolfo blinked. "What's that? The one where you have to speak with 'Arrrrs' and 'Mateys' all day long? I'm afraid that kind of long term memory's beyond me..."
"No, you will see, the rules for this game are different," Kirei explained as Heracles grabbed Cu Chulainn and stuffed him into a barrel, only the head and feet poking out, much to Bazett's gasping horror. "You are supposed to stick swords into the pirate's barrel until one hits the wrong slot. Then the pirate flies out of the barrel and that player loses that turn. The game continues until only one player remains."
"Ah, I can do that!" the oh so pink Rider beamed. "I'm good at stabbing things!"
"I'm not a pirate, though!" Cu protested frantically, pointing his chin towards Drake. "Right there! The real pirate's right there!"
The busty Rider brought her hands together, rolled her eyes back, and said innocently, "I don't know what are you talking about, I'm actually Queen Elizabeth..."
"LIKE HELL YOU ARE!" the Lancer shouted as the Servants all took their places around him.
"There's no use in protesting," Artoria said, readying her sword. "Obey the rules of the game like a man, Lancer!" She then stabbed the barrel, nodding to herself as Lancer was not propelled up.
"I'm just saying I see no point on using a live pirate for this!" Cu raged at her. "Why don't we use a dummy or something like that?!"
"We thought you weren't a pirate to begin with?" Jack the Ripper said quietly, walking up to him and also stabbing the barrel with her largest knife. "Ahhh, this is good, Mum will be happy..."
"All the way in!" Nameless shouted, also driving one of his dual blades into the barrel.
"Start paying attention already, you assholes!" the Hound of Ulster roared.
Then a loud laugh thundered from above. "WA, HA HA HA!"
Cu Chulainn cringed. "Oh, no..."
The cameras focused on a man standing on the catwalk over the stage, with a girl no bigger than Illya hugging his leg, deeply tanned of skin, of eyes large, soulful and dark, and her smooth hair long and jet black. In stark contrast with this girl in a long white dress, the man was tall and golden blonde, his hair cropped short and spiky, his eyes red and snakelike in appearance, glinting with haughtiness and malice. He kept his arms folded before the ornate gold armor he was wearing, with a silky red cape attached to his back.
"Are you not a fighter, cowardly dog!?" mocked the golden man, his voice booming and overimposing, as nearly every female and even quite a few men in the audience began swooning at his mere commanding presence. Ratings shot up. "Are you squirming for mercy, whimpering pup?! For shame, Lancer! And here I was, thinking of honoring you with the touch of some of my treasures!"
Lancer's head angrily snapped in his direction, even as Astolfo stabbed him in the ass, or close enough at least. "Don't start with that now, freak!" he shouted at the golden Archer. "Dying standing on, I'll never mind, but being pierced through while stuck within a stinking barrel, that's not-!"
"It's more than what a mongrel like you deserves!" the blond sneered, haughtily moving a hand, and making small portals of glowing light appear all around his head and shoulders, taking aim down. "Step aside, the rest of you fools! This game takes too long, and the King's patience is at its end!"
"We're just starting!" Drake complained. "C'mon, I haven't even stabbed the pirate just once yet!"
"YOU'RE THE PIRATE, THOUGH!" Lancer shouted at her.
"Enough, I said!" the Golden King tightened his mighty fist, and everyone who could quickly cleared back. "GATE OF BABYLON!"
And so, sharp weapons of all manners and sorts flew from every portal, and rained all over the barrel, piercing and shredding and splitting and chopping, covering every bit of flesh left in the shattered container, mutilating and pulverizing relentlessly until all that remained of Lancer were a few glops and chunks shooting up from what had once been a barrel, now reduced to dropping splinters of stained wood. These glops stuck to the ceiling, and then began dripping down, while every other Servant just stared up in horror, except for Jack, who giggled and began dancing merrily under the pretty red rain.
Bazett pointed up furiously. "LANCER DIED! YOU AREN'T HUMAN!"
"Um..." Artoria gulped at last, "The use of Noble Phantasms was forbidden... And you aren't supposed to win that way, either!"
The Golden King chuckled, closing his eyes. "I am the Rules, though!"
"That doesn't explain or justify anything!" the Saber insisted.
"Mwa ha ha ha ha!" the Archer of Gold laughed, patting his child's head. "I am such a Rule Breaker!"
"That name's my copyright, trademark and intellectual property!" Medea said.
He just scoffed at her. "And your properties are mine, what is your point?!"
Medea sweatdropped. "... the first bully of mankind, alright..." she muttered darkly.
"We still can stab others in the butt, though, can't we?" Astolfo asked innocently, doing just that to Nameless while the latter was facepalming.
Contestants 012: Gilgamesh of Uruk (Archer) and Tine Chelc.
Illya pulled out another icecream stick with a small cartel attached to it. "The Game of the King!"
Jack smiled at Artoria. "This is the one where we put you in a barrel and stab you, right?"
Artoria glared. "Don't you dare..."
"That's a drinking game, though, Jackie-chan can't partake on it," Reika pointed out. "She's still a minor!"
"We're minors as well! For shame!" said a colorful book floating by a pale, doll-like little girl in a Victorian era dress, with a mass of frills and a looped skirt.
Contestants 074: Nursery Rhyme (Caster) and Alice (real full name unknown).
A young nun smiled sweetly, placing a hand on the light blue hair of a short little boy dressed in a formal dark blue suit with bowtie. "Oh, my. Well, I'm afraid we cannot abide for that either. My darling here is still so young, and so innocent..."
"Don't give me that, woman, you know how much I love some good drink!" the little boy protested in a deep grownup voice. "Why must you always deny me every pleasure, just because I deny yours!"
The nun laughed softly. "Forgive my poor boy, he can be quite a handful at times... so prone to making stories up, just like this..."
"I hate you so much and so deeply," he grouched, running a hand down his face.
Contestants 033: Hans Christian Andersen (Caster) and Sessyoin Kiara.
"Alright, then, that'll be enough!" growled a black haired mature man in uniform and glasses, storming into the studio along a squadron of policemen. "Come on with us! Anybody armed must go, too!"
"Commissioner Kosaka?" Kirei lifted an eyebrow. "To what do we owe this honor?"
"Don't play innocent with me, Padre!" the Police Commissioner of Academy City roared, as his men and women began rounding the Masters and Servants and cuffing them up. "We've seen everything! So far, this show has broken so many primetime laws and regulations, not to mention those concerning public morals and good taste, you'll be lucky if you're out by the next time this cup of yours or whatever it is shows up!"
"I see... The writer wrote himself into a corner, didn't he?" Kirei asked as he allowed Kosaka Daisuke to cuff him.
The commissioner scoffed. "So what if he did? The original ending to the actual animated sketch wasn't that much better. Put this man in the van!"
"Clear off. Come on," one of his men in blue said, guiding Kirei outside.
The lights of the studio began dying down. The voices became featureless presences in the darkness. There gasps. Confused screams.
"With whom?"
"Which one?"
"Oh... this one!"
"rrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
"Come on. Put him in the van too!" the Commissioner was ordering.
"Get a blanket," said someone, throwing a flashlight's beam over the dripping red splotches.
"We have no ambulance," another policeman was saying.
"Well, call one then!"
"Ahh."
There was a squeak.
"Ooh!"
"Mongrel!"
"Come on. Back. Riiight back. Come on!"
"Run along! Run along!"
"Pull that off! My, that's an offensive weapon, that is."
"You can't do this to me! I own most of this land!"
"Come on. Back with 'em. Back! Right! Come along!" a policewoman shouted.
"Everything? Everyone?" the Commissioner was asking, dusting his hands off on his pants.
Another squeak.
"... mommy..."
"Don't worry, everything will be okay, I've got experience with this..."
A camera began flickering back to life, slowly.
The shadowy figure of a man in uniform, vague and diffuse, approached it.
"All right, sonny. That's enough. Just pack that in!"
A large hand covered the lens.
A crash resounded.
"Christ!" the cameraman swore.
Then there was silence.
"Ah," Artoria's voice said fondly after a moment. "This brings me memories..."
End.
Taiga Dojo!
The young woman of short, light brown hair appeared at the middle of the wide Emiya Training Hall, in her hakama pants and robe. She slammed her wooden sword on the floor and let her roar out.
"Boys! Girls! Wassap, my homies! That's a New Age, hip and fab greeting!" she waved, in a way that was as hopelessly outdated as her words. "And so, the Taiga Dojo starts now! I'm your Sensei, the Tiger of Mahora, Fujimura Taiga!"
"And I'm her assistant, Student Number One!" Illya cheered, sliding into the scene in a PE white blouse and bloomers. "We're going to bring you to speed on everything you know to understand this setting, which is actually explaining the joke and thus pointless, but whatcha gonna do, right?!"
"Don't phrase it like that," Taiga chided, wagging a finger, "you'll give the other students the wrong idea! Actually, this miniseries is fairly easy to follow as long as you're fluent enough on Type-Moon! The cameos from other franchises shouldn't overtake the stories!"
The albino pouted. "That's what we once said about Unequally Rational and Emotional, though..."
"Shaddap!" the teacher ordered. "It won't get that bad this time! Just look back, in this episode, the only really meaty cameos we had were the dad from Oreimo, Haruka and Yukino from Mai HiME, and Yuuna and her dad from Mahou Sensei Negima!"
"You probably should explain why we keep saying 'Mahora' and not 'Fuyuki', Sensei," Illya opined.
Taiga laughed. "That little meaningless bit of lore? But everyone knows that! Ten years ago, when your dad and Saber blew Fuyuki City up, the whole place was left a burning wasteland! Who would be stupid enough as to rebuild there? NERV? So everyone just moved to Academy City, the intellectual epicenter of Japan, dominated by the Four Great Schools! Mahora! Honnouji! Ohtori! And CLAMP Gakuen! Mahora is the greatest, naturally, because I work there!"
"If you say so..." Illya shrugged. "Rin's family was supposed to own a lot of land around here too, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, that's basically so the author doesn't have to work his lazy ass around a way to explain why Rin keeps being called the landlady of the city. You know how it goes, it's all exciting and thrilling to rewrite and reinvent, until it becomes too much of a chore. The dumbass hack..."
Illya nodded. "And so, the Grail of Fuyuki, which clung onto life regardless, sweeped into the nearest available leylines, those of Mahora. That's the explanation why we can have a new Grail War here, but for the purposes of this comedy, that shouldn't have that much relevance."
"Right! As for Caster-san, she simply ran into another teacher this time! Instead of Kuzuki-kun, she was found by Akashi-kun, but other than that, not much has changed about her. This time her man's milder, and he's got a daughter from a previous late wife, but Caster-san will keep on being Caster-san. She was that way long before meeting either man."
"I'm curious," Illya said. "What would have happened if you had found her instead, Sensei?"
"Nothing, because I'm not gay."
"Oh, come on! You would have to let the plot unfold regardless!"
"No, I wouldn't have. I wouldn't sleep with Caster-san, ever, no matter what!"
"... well, I suppose Caster wouldn't ever want to sleep with you either, anyway."
"That's right," Taiga nodded. "Of course, who would ever want to- What are you implying with that?!"
"Next, in 'We Come to Kill Emiya Shirou'! The long expected beach volleyball chapter!" Illya chirped at the screen. "Come for the dead Oniichan, stay for the dead Lancer!"
"No, seriously, why wouldn't I be sexually attractive for her?!"
