Disclaimer: The works of Type-Moon and Jō Taketsuki are their own despite my most fervent wishes. This is a fan work and if anyone does pay me for it the only thing it will accomplish is to get me into trouble. This is being done purely for fun, constructive criticism is welcome, and flames will be ignored. Please be gentle though, this is the first fanfic I've put on the net.
Well, I'd first like to wish all my readers a happy New Year! Just to be clear, I've decided to focus on this fic for the foreseeable future. I'm going to try for somewhat shorter chapters with a higher update rate, at least that's my intention anyway. Whether or not it pans out is another matter altogether.
For the most part it seems that my Christmas Omake went down quite well. The household dragon seems to have gained quite the following, enough that I'm thinking about adding it to the main storyline. I don't think it will be happening too soon, not given the current plot I'm working with, but I have a few ideas as to how it could be introduced.
On another note, the first season of Fate/Stay Night Unlimited Blade Works has come to an end. Granted it was very well done, but I imagine I'm not the only one to feel a bit put out that they ended it on that kind of note.
SPOILERS.
For the most part this chapter is focused on character interactions and thoughts. I wanted a chance for Shirou and Illya to actually talk a bit with the others. Apart from their false story back in the early chapters neither of them has shared any of their history with anyone else. Admittedly my plans went a little awry, though I think it turned out alright.
Since this chapter is a little light on the action I decided to include an Omake with a small fight scene in. My Harem user Shirou has proven to be extremely popular, so I decided to write a second instalment of his misadventures, I hope it proves entertaining.
Once again I would like to offer my Beta thanks for his support and excellent advice. Believe me without his help this chapter wouldn't be nearly as pleasant a read as it is.
Chapter Twenty Six: Sea, Surf and Sand
The island was fairly sizable, large enough that there had once been a small fishing community living there in decades past. The small village where they had once lived was gone now, the only signs that it had ever existed at all being a few crumbling structures that had been mostly swallowed up by the island's jungle as it slowly reclaimed what humans had once taken from it.
Being an island formed from the volcanic activity of the area the vast majority of it was composed of what was essentially a mountain rising up out of the sea. Apart from some flat areas, such as the beach, the former village and a few other places, the whole place sloped upwards to a peak that was covered in the natural jungle native to all the islets in the region.
If seen from above, an observer would see that the island was roughly crescent in shape, arcing round to form a natural bay edged with a length of golden beach sand. The yacht had sailed into that bay and dropped anchor about thirty or so metres out where the water was still deep enough for it to comfortably wait.
From the small ship the only modern structures that could be seen were a small emergency outpost, which had been built there so that anyone who ended up there after being shipwrecked or thrown overboard would be able to contact the mainland, and the large cabin that had been constructed by the tourist company that had recently purchased the island.
However neither of these was of any great interest to Emiya Shirou, at least not at the moment. What was of far greater import to him was that the sun was bright and hot above him, the sea was cool and clear below him, and that currently the only thing he was wearing was a pair of swimming trunks.
"Cannonball!"
A blur of white and pale lavender shot past him and leapt off the back of the yacht. Shirou barely had time to register the wind of her passage before a great splash of water shot into the air with enough force to reach him. Not that he minded, all he had on his feet were sandals, and he hardly minded getting those wet.
Illya surfaced, her face dripping sea water and her mouth stretched in a grin that would not have looked out of place on a jack-o-lantern. Of course the next instant her face screwed up as the taste of the salt water hit her. Treading water she tried to keep her mouth above the water even as she spluttered and hacked.
For a moment the eighth Campione simply stood there and enjoyed the sight, which had the same vaguely relaxing quality as watching a kitten tussle with a ball of yarn, but then decided that some action should be taken. Though she was currently swimming strongly Illya was still a ways out into deep water and if anything went wrong she was far enough from the beach to be in danger.
It took him only an instant to kick off his sandals and to dive into the water so that he came up next to his adopted sibling. There was a brief moment of shock as the warmth of the bright sun was replaced by the cool depths of the ocean, but the sensation quickly passed as he kicked at the water and came up beside Illya. For her part the white haired girl had apparently managed to get the sea water out of her mouth because she was no longer pulling faces.
"Race you to the shore!"
Shirou didn't wait for her to answer before diving underwater again and striking out for the beach. When he came up he could hear the splash of Illya coming up fast behind him, but didn't turn to look. Naturally he didn't put his full strength into his efforts, even if all he used was reinforcement magic he'd still be able to outpace an Olympic swimmer at their best. Instead he took a more leisurely pace, one that meant he'd be staying close enough to Illya to be able to help if anything went wrong.
As it turned out though, nothing went wrong, in only a couple of minutes they reached the shallower waters and were able to stand in the waves as the currents about them moved the sand beneath their feet.
"So, how do you like the sea so far?"
Shirou broke the silence as he glanced down at his white haired adopted sister. Though to him the water was only a bit more than waist deep that was more than enough for it to be lapping at Illya's chest. She was still grinning, but as she noticed his attention she tried to look serious.
"The water tastes yucky."
The Emiya heir felt a smile tug at his own lips at her response, and he did nothing to try to suppress it. The way she had said it, as though it were some deep truth that she had attained only after exhaustive and intricate research was just so at odds with her adorable appearance in the swimsuit and with her hair wet and tousled from her exertions that he just couldn't help it.
So he did the first thing that came to mind.
Sweeping his arm around, his flattened hand hit the water at an angle sending a sheet of water flying through the air and splashing down over Illya. For a moment there was a sort of stunned silence as she just stared at him, then, with a squeal that was half indignant and half joyful, she threw up her own arms sending her own cascade of seawater flying back at him.
The next few minutes blurred together for Shirou as he and his adopted sibling pelted each other with wave after wave of splashed water. With his larger arms and greater strength the King of Steel could easily move more water and make larger splashes, however Illya had the advantage of seemingly boundless enthusiasm as well as all the frantic energy of a child that was at the beach for the first time. Determined not to be outdone she thrashed about in the water almost like some sort of crazed octopus. His grin never fading Shirou found himself slowly driven back towards the beach by the incessant onslaught of flying water sent his way by the Einzbern heir.
Still, he didn't go down easily, after all where would be the fun in that? Even as he was pushed back he tried to reply in kind splash for splash. Given how Illya was grinning just as widely as he was as his retaliatory waves clashed with hers it looked as though she was pleased that he wasn't giving in at all easily.
The turning point came when Shirou took another step backwards and his foot came down on a clump of seaweed that had been clinging to the sand below him. As soon as his weight came down on it it slid to the side as though it had been a banana peel sitting in a puddle of oil. He had just enough time to let out a yelp of surprise before his foot went out from under him and he found himself tipping over backwards.
Being the sweet and kind adopted sister that she was Illya decided to help him in his fall by using both arms to hit him with the biggest wave that she'd managed yet. His balance broken and his defences swamped the god slaying King went down beneath his treacherous sibling's assault just as a natural wave swept down to join the attack.
He was smiling the whole time.
Preening with her 'victory' his adopted sister followed him into the shallower water. For a short time the two of them just sat in the shallows, the waves gently lapping about their outstretched legs as they enjoyed the sun on their skin and the scent of the ocean. Back at the yacht they could see the backmost compartment opening and one of the large inflatable dinghys come out. By the looks of things Yusuke was the one directing the thing, and he seemed to have a number of other things backed into the craft with him.
"Do you feel better now?"
Illya's question took him a bit by surprise. Was he feeling better?
Yes. Yes, he definitely was. He felt less . . . burdened, as though he'd been dragging some insufferable weight that had finally been released. Letting out a sigh he allowed his body to flop backwards so that his back landed in the surf and his head rested on the sand. As the waves went out he felt their current play with his hair as it flowed by. Idly he noted that his hair was getting a bit long, longer than he could remember ever letting it get, not that that was saying much given that he'd always kept it pretty short.
"Heh . . . the sun feels nice."
It wasn't a reply, but even so Illya smiled in response and let herself fall back into the surf as well. It was a nice gesture, but probably not one of her better ideas, since she was smaller than her adopted brother the next wave that came in washed over her completely rather than flowing around her. Coughing and spluttering from the seawater that had gotten into her mouth and up her nose the snow haired girl sat up so sharply she sent droplets of water flying through the air.
After a bit more time clearing her airways of saltwater Illya stood in the surf and turned on her adopted sibling, who had been watching her struggles with a certain degree of amusement.
"Right, on to the next bit!"
The declaration was delivered with the kind of absolute authority that many a monarch would have envied. It was a tone that implied there could be no other outcome other than total obedience. Of course the fact that the one doing the ordering was a cute young girl in an ornate swimsuit with a bit of seaweed sticking out of her long white hair at a comical angle did detract from it somewhat. Still, Shirou grinned and got up as well.
"So what do you want to do now?"
"We are going to build a sandcastle!"
Like some old testament prophet Illya pointed to a strip of flat beach free of any washed up driftwood or seaweed.
"That might be a bit hard . . ."
Even as he made the comment the eighth Campione was mentally going over all the 'blueprints' for Tracing that he had stored in his memory. Unlimited Blade Works might be ideal for storing weapons, artefacts and other tools of battle, but when it came to mundane things like chairs and bookcases Shirou had to rely on his own recollections of the simple patterns he'd learnt via structural analysis.
Well . . . that was irritating. Why was it that he had at least three different types of spades and shovels that had managed to gain the status of Noble Phantasms but not a single mundane hand trowel? Once he'd mastered structural analysis Archer had used it almost instinctively on just about everything whenever he wasn't in a combat situation and had the prana to spare. It had been a sort of training for him, and as such he'd analysed a great many mundane objects as part of that practice.
But apparently even though he had scanned some sort of highly advanced blender/processor kitchen device he had never taken the time to analyse a simple seaside bucket and spade.
By the looks of it though Illya was thinking along the same lines as he was and had managed to take steps in advance. With one arm she waved to where Yusuke's dinghy had settled aground on the beach and where he was unloading it of its cargo. Seeing her looking over his way the resurrected accountant waved and held up a brightly coloured orange plastic bucket with the handle of a sky blue plastic spade sticking out of it. It only took his adopted sister a moment to shoot over to the dinghy, seize the seaside implements and return to his side. Given how she was almost vibrating in place with eagerness it wasn't hard to see that she was excited at the prospect of playing in the sand.
"Do you have ay idea how to build a sandcastle?" Shirou asked as they started to walk down the beach to the spot Illya had indicated earlier.
"Ummm . . . not really. Do you?"
Of course she didn't, she'd lived her entire life up in northern Germany. She'd seen lots of snow but had never encountered sand before, at least not like on a beach. For his part he didn't really have much experience with it either. Though Fuyuki had been a coastal city the geography hadn't lent itself to beaches and the harbour had been lined by pebbled shores rather than sand. What experience he had gotten with sand structures had been in the sand pits of the local playgrounds before he'd outgrown them. Mind you, the few sandcastles that he'd tried to build had all looked more like crumbling mounds of rubble than anything else.
"No, not really."
There was a pause as Illya thought about that.
"How hard can it be?"
-()-
"Oh, this is heavenly!"
Manaka couldn't help but smile at Kaida-sama's declaration as she leaned back on the deckchair and languorously sipped at the chilled soda in her hand through a straw. The Miko-Hime was currently clad in a somewhat modest white bikini and was enjoying the warmth of the sun as it shone down. The deckchair she was resting in, as well as the other half dozen lying about the beach, had been brought from the yacht aboard the motorized dinghy driven by Yusuke. He'd also brought other things, including an ice box filled with various sodas sitting in frozen water to keep them chilled. It was this, at least in Manaka's humble opinion, that was the most decadent and welcome luxury available. In the hot weather and with the salty wind blowing in off the sea thirst was something that grew quickly. Having chilled drinks ready and waiting to aid with both the thirst and the heat . . . now that was sweet opulence on a beach.
For her part the witch fighter was wearing a one piece suit that was a slightly rusty red with the words 'Got a Secret' in purple across it. Unlike her friend Manaka wasn't sitting in a deckchair, but had instead spread a large towel across the sand and was lying on it. As with Shirou-sama and his sister the pair of them had swum out from the yacht rather than taking the dinghy and had spent a fair bit of time playing in the water before coming out.
It had been an absolute pleasure for both of them, a chance to completely relax and have some fun. By the time they'd both grown tired of diving in and out of the water, splashing about and generally acting like children, Yusuke had already unloaded the dinghy and was now resting in a deckchair under the shade of a beach umbrella. Not wanting to disturb him Kaida-sama had suggested they simply get their own chairs and relax, a proposition her bodyguard hadn't had any trouble with.
"Agreed, if I'd known that holidays like this were a benefit to serving Shirou-sama I think I would have been a great deal less reluctant when you proposed entering his service."
Perhaps that hadn't been the right thing to say, even as she uttered the words the Committee field operative felt the atmosphere shift away from its previously light hearted state. There was now something else, a tension that hadn't been there before.
"Manaka, do you ever . . . regret following me into Shirou-sama's service."
Kaida sounded oddly timid in her question, her normal energy subdued.
"I . . . I know that you only did so because you followed me, because you were my friend. Do you ever regret it? Do you ever wish that you hadn't followed me?"
The question was so unexpected that Manaka was actually a bit taken aback. Was that really what her beloved charge thought? Did she really think that her bodyguard had been hiding some sort of resentment towards her for leading them into their current circumstances?
"Kaida-sama . . . Kaida-chan, I've never blamed you for anything, let alone for dragging me into our current roles." Manaka took a deep breath and gestured with one arm, a sweeping motion that took in the beach, the yacht and a big chunk of the island. "All this . . . I really don't have a problem with it. I mean, sure, back when we first started working for Shirou-sama I wasn't exactly thrilled. I've spent most of my life training to be one of the best, and then you go and sign us up to be maids. I'm pretty sure you can see where that wasn't where I'd planned to go."
The witch fighter paused for a moment, taking the time to reassure her friend with a companionable smile.
"Yeah, I really wasn't happy those first few days, not with how Asuka was riding us to be perfect at everything or how Illya-chan kept on trying to hug us."
Yes, those first few days as maids had not been easy to deal with, the sight of the eighth Campione's sister staring at them and occasionally drooling slightly had been especially disconcerting.
"But things improved, our King came to trust us more, he accepted us at his side when he went into battle. We fought to protect his sister and were acknowledged by him as more than mere servants. We're . . ."
She paused for a moment as she realized she wasn't entirely sure of just what they were to their King. They were definitely more than mere subordinates, of that she was certain. But to call them friends didn't feel right either. King Shirou had trusted them, of that there was no doubt. They had taught him many mystic arts and spells, and he had been an attentive and respectful student. Trust was not an issue, so then what was it?
There was a sense of . . . distance, as though despite the trust he had in them their King was still not letting them all the way in. Yes, that felt right. Though Shirou-sama had been willing to trust his back to them, to regard them as allies and comrades, he still hadn't let down some final barrier. No, not a final barrier, that was something he would only do to those most intimate with him, those that already lived in his heart.
But there were other barriers, ones that he should have let down for them, but never had.
Or . . . that had been how it seemed. As she thought about it Manaka's thoughts drifted back to the trip here, back to when her King had proposed 'fishing' with magical explosives, back to when he'd been cooking up the fish they'd caught, back to the simple pleasure he'd seemed to experience as he served the food he'd cooked. That hadn't been the calm and charismatic King that had hosted the now legendary Banquet of Kings. That hadn't been the impossible and seemingly unstoppable warrior that had taken on two of his fellow God Slayers and defeated them with mortal magic that defied the laws of the world.
No, that had been . . . who, who had it been? Back then her King had seemed so much more approachable than he'd ever been before. There hadn't been the sense of majesty or power about him, there had been no calm dignity or overwhelming presence. He had just been another boy, one her own age or a little bit younger. There had just been . . . Emiya Shirou.
The realization made her blink. She'd never really thought of him as anything other than the overwhelmingly powerful figure that had frightened her so much during their first meeting. Since then she had come to know him as more than simply that, he was also surprisingly kind with his power, protective of his sibling and both loyal and thoughtful to those that served him, but even so he remained that overwhelmingly powerful monarch in her mind. To her that had been the only image she'd ever really had of him, as though he had sprung into existence from the ether fully grown. The idea that he'd ever been a child or a baby, that he'd once been in diapers or had a father who scolded him, had honestly never occurred to her.
But that was what he was showing them now. Even as the thought ran through her head Manaka glanced down the beach to where her King and his sister were trying to build a sandcastle. Trying being the operative word since neither of them seemed to have any particular skill in the activity. What they had put together looked more like a mountain that some incompetent architect had tried, and failed, to carve into a fortress. Rough ramparts ran along the top, but had collapsed at random intervals or simply fallen away completely. Something that might have been the beginnings of a tower had collapsed sideways and now resembled a miniature landslide more than anything else.
Yet for all the trouble they were having with their attempt both of the mismatched siblings were grinning widely as they forged on.
Yes, seeing this part of her King, this more human part, did ease her fears and doubts. What was perhaps even more important was that he was letting them see it. He wasn't hiding it or making any sort of show, he was simply being himself for them. There wasn't any guard or façade, no mask or persona. This was Emiya Shirou, pure and simple.
"You know . . . I think we are friends."
Wordlessly Kaida raised her soda can in a toast.
-()-
Shirou sat back in the sand as he glanced at his watch. 4:30 in the afternoon, still hours until the sun went down. It'd been about two hours since the yacht had arrived and the fun had begun, enough time for him to have managed to work up an appetite once more. Trying to build a castle worthy of the Einzbern heir had taken quite a bit of energy.
And been entirely unsuccessful.
The architectural abilities of himself and his adopted sister were about on par with his talent for discussing hyper-string quantum physics, in other words to pretty much non-existent. Ah well, it had been fun to build.
As the tower on the castle collapsed once more Illya sat back on the sand and scowled at the construct as though it had somehow betrayed her.
"Nnnnnn, this is harder than it looks." She declared, her cheeks puffing out in irritation.
"Maybe if we tried something smaller?" Shirou suggested as he held up a sand mould that would have produced a small and simple little castle with minimum difficulty.
"But I wanted to build a proper one!"
The white haired young girl was pouting quite visibly now, but even so the edges of her mouth were twitching as though a smile was threatening to break out.
"Well, we tried at least," Shirou gestured at the mound of sand that marked the sum of their efforts. "That was fun at least, right?"
Looking at his adopted sibling the eighth Campione felt a frown touch his face as a thought occurred to him; Illya's skin was normally quite fair, almost pale. But right now there was a definite hint of red to it.
"Hey, you did put some sunscreen on, didn't you?"
Illya actually froze in place for a moment, then slapped her forehead in a rather comical manner.
"And that was on my list! I can't believe I forgot all about it." Glancing down at herself she saw that her skin was definitely a bit rosier than it should have been. "Come on, I'm sure Yusuke had some packed with the other stuff."
A moment later found the pair of them next to the dinghy's cargo with the child-like Einzbern sorting through it as she tried to find what she was looking for.
"Aha!"
With an exclamation of triumph Illya pulled out a small white rucksack with the image of a cartoon fox waving a magic wand sewn onto the back. As she checked through the various pockets and sections, of which there were many, in search of her sunscreen Shirou decided to voice a curiosity.
"What did you mean about a list?"
"Oh, I came up with a list of all the stuff I want to get done during this holiday." His adopted sibling explained.
"What did you come up with?"
"Uhhh . . . here you go, take a look." Reaching into one of the pockets she'd already searched through Illya handed him a folded up piece of paper. Having passed it to him she went back to wrestling with her pack as she tried to find something else. A slightly amused smile on his face Shirou opened the folded paper looked down the short list detailed there.
Swim in the sea.
Play volley ball.
Have a seaside bonfire.
Build a sandcastle.
Get a tan.
See if I can find a coconut.
Have Shirou rub suntan lotion on my back.
Watch fireworks at night.
Have a picnic.
An . . . interesting number of choices. Two could be ticked off right now, and the others shouldn't be too hard to deal with. Idly he tried to imagine Illya with a dark tan, and for some reason found that whenever he did so he also imagined her hair as being a very pale lavender instead of her normal snowy white.
He didn't have much time to think on that too much though, because at that moment a cry of triumph rang out across the beach as his adopted sister held aloft the tube of suntan lotion that she'd finally found. Grabbing a free towel Illya spread it out on the sand and laid herself face down upon it. The back of her swimsuit left her shoulders and spine bare, but as he picked up the suntan lotion Shirou realized a slight problem.
"Umm . . . Illya, you're already a little burnt, I don't think sunscreen will help at this point."
"Oh, don't worry about that." There was a brief glow under her skin as her magic circuits activated and prana flowed through her. The next moment the red faded from her skin and her natural whiteness was restored.
Once again the young King of Steel was reminded of just how superior a magus his sometimes childish adopted sibling was. Something like that, such casual self healing, was normally only possible for extremely high ranked magi or through the use of a powerful mystic code. Her doing it so easily was a rather forceful reminder that she had been one of the Einzbern family's trump cards to win the fifth Holy Grail War.
Wait, a thought had just occurred to him.
"Illya, you just healed up your sunburn, right?"
"That's right onii-can." Illya's reply was a cheerful one.
"And you can do that any time you want?"
"Uh-huh."
"So . . . you don't actually need any sunscreen. You just have to be a bit careful with your healing and you can get a tan without risking getting a burn."
"I . . . guess." She sounded a little unsure now.
"So then, why am I doing this?"
In response to his question Illya craned her neck round so she could glare at him over her shoulder, and it was quite a malevolent glare.
"It's on the list, so you are going to do it so I can tick it off as done. Now get to it!"
"But-"
"NOW!"
For a moment Shirou considered protesting further, then he decided that it just wasn't worth the headache. Squirting a bit of the pale brown cream into his hands the eighth Campione began to carefully apply it to his sister's back as she made appreciative noises. As he did so he glanced around the beach and noted where several small piles of driftwood were located. Yes, those could easily be gathered together to make a single large pile that would light up into a nice bonfire. That plus the fireworks he'd seen and the food that was waiting could cross off another couple of things from Illya's list.
-()-
Tiamat stood in the shade of a tree and watched the antics of her host playing with his sister and his servants relaxing about him.
She found herself unusually torn in her feelings. On the one hand she felt that such childish activities were beneath her, no matter how reduced she was she remained a goddess after all. On the other hand it would have been an opportunity to spend more time with her host, a chance to grow closer to him, to gain more of a rapport with him.
However despite the compelling reasons that she had to go out there and join them the goddess of chaos found herself hanging back. There was something, a vague feeling of . . . something unnameable that caused her to pause.
This wasn't a time for her, not yet. This was a time for the young King to enjoy himself with his family, to heal the wounds that still marked his heart. In time there might be a place for her there, but for now she needed to keep her distance.
Yes, later it would be her time to speak to King Shirou. When she finally told him the truth of what had taken place while he had been under Venus's control. But until she did so perhaps it would be best to keep her distance from her host and give him some time to prepare himself.
With a sigh Tiamat turned and started to walk deeper into the small jungle that overgrew this part of the small island. How exactly had things come to this? She was an incarnation of the primal essence of chaos, the living embodiment of the wild waters that had once covered the world before the lands had come. Once she could have simply chosen the man she wanted and not even the haughtiest King upon his throne could have denied her, could have resisted her. Now she was-
Aaaagghhh! This was ridiculous! When had she become some weak spined milksop that spent more time pining after her glory days than she did living in the present?! Yes, she was a shadow of her former self. Yes, her powers were far reduced from what they had once been. Yes, her beauty, though still beyond mortal compare, was no longer the enrapturing elemental force it had once been!
SO WHAT?!
She had spent centuries, millennia even, trapped in the childish form of a Divine Ancestor. She hadn't wasted time mourning her diminished state then, no, she had acted! Reduced though she from her full divinity though she was she was still far more than she had been then. So why was she giving into melancholy and inadequacy now? She was better than this, she was a goddess! No, she was Tiamat! That was enough on its own to justify her faith in herself.
She was no longer walking though the undergrowth now. Her steps had firmed and her stride had gained purpose. The branches of trees and tangles of vines that blocked her path seemed to shy out of her way in the face of her suddenly renewed vigour.
Yes, she now saw where she had been going wrong. The joy of regaining her power had made the pain of her betrayal and the crippling of her divinity that much worse. The sudden shift from one extreme of emotion to the other would have been enough to drive a mortal insane, and though she was a goddess the Mother of Dragons had not been immune to the wounds it had left upon her heart.
King Shirou's words of encouragement and his offer of shelter had been enough to keep her from falling into despair. For that matter her repeated contentious meetings with Guinevere had had much the same effect, the polite enmity between them stoking her inner fires rather than letting them die out. But even so she had been hurt, and so had spent far more time brooding on what she had lost than she would normally have done.
Well enough of that! She had her divinity, reduced though it might be, and she had regained some of her Authorities. She was no victim for the world's whims and she would not be a victim to her own despondency.
Glaring at the trees about her, as though they had somehow been responsible for her recent depressed state, Tiamat drew herself up. King Shirou had come to this isle to rest his spirit and heal his heart. He had also come here to enjoy himself and to relax; even from here she could hear the laughter of his sister and his own answering mirth.
Perhaps it would be wise for her to follow his example? She was a goddess of the sea, so why wasn't she taking full advantage of her proximity to the ocean? To be sure it would be beneath her dignity to engage in the childish pleasures that his sister was leading the young King into, but perhaps there was something else that could entertain her.
The ocean was vast and there were beasts in the depths. Even if she could not find one she could always create one with the powers she had regained.
After all, what was the point of regaining her divinity if she did not occasionally play god?
-()-
Though his bones and muscles had been enhanced to a level of durability that would have made a Servant proud Shirou still found that he was able to feel tiredness. He didn't feel exhausted, if needs be he could have kept this up for hours yet, but even so there was a definite sense of fatigue creeping up on him.
By his side Illya was still practically bouncing up and down with barely suppressed energy, her eyes fixed on their opponents.
Kaida and Manaka stood across from them, a net hung between two poles running in between them and the Emiya siblings. Both of them were in their swimsuits and made for a sight that just about any guy, and quite a number of girls, would have found extremely pleasant to take in. However Shirou's attention wasn't focused on their looks, rather his eyes remained riveted to the ball in the black haired Miko-Hime's hands.
So far the volleyball game that had been raging on at Illya's request had been surprisingly even. Kaida might be only mediocre when it came to sports in general, but she was energetic and enthusiastic enough to make up for it. Manaka, on the other hand, was extremely athletic even before you brought her magic into the equation. Once she started using it she was a veritable demon with the ball.
In opposition the adopted siblings were being pushed. To be sure Shirou could easily keep up with Manaka if he used Reinforcement, though he wasn't using his Authorities in the name of fairness, but even that wasn't quite closing the gap.
The game had been fun so far, while Shirou was familiar with a foot based variation of volley ball called sepak takraw, this hand-based one was somewhat new to him. He was getting the hang of it quite quickly though, battle honed reflexes more than making up for a lack of experience.
For her part Illya seemed to be doing the lion's share for their team, but for the most part her success was due to her own liberal application of self augmenting magecraft and overwhelming enthusiasm. The small snow haired girl shot back and forth like a snow hare on a caffeine high returning the ball again and again. Early on Shirou had decide that he'd let her play the part of the 'star' and he'd simply be support, a role that Kaida seemed to have fallen into as well.
Quite simply the game had devolved until it was more about Manaka and Illya trying to beat each other than anything else. Shirou and Kaida were more supporters than anything else, on occasion they were able to stop the ball, but then their partners would immediately take over.
Now it all came down to this, both teams were tied for points, so the next to score would be the victor. As the witch fighter and the Einzbern hair tensed for the final exchange the eighth Campione glanced across and met Kaida's eyes.
The Miko-Hime was flushed with exertion and seemed to trembling slightly with exhaustion, however despite that, there was a small grin on her face and she was clearly ready for another round. How could he do any less? Granted he wasn't having quite as much fun as the girls, but even so he could still put at least some effort into it, right?
Manaka moved and the ball was in the air. Okay, she'd tossed it up, so that meant that she was going to try for a spike, if that was the case then he could intercept it. He might not be too good at his own serves, but if he could stop it then he could bounce it over to Illya and she could make the return. Of course if Kaida's bodyguard tried something different then he'd need to improvise, not something he'd been having too much success with so far. Maybe if he attempted to-
PWWARK!
With a sound vaguely similar to a large chicken burping the volleyball exploded into scraps of rubber. Apparently being used as the plaything of several individuals operating at superhuman levels had been too much for the poor thing and it had simply given up the ghost.
There was a moment of silence as the remnants of the ball fell to the ground. For his part Shirou was simply waiting to see how the others reacted, but by the looks of it Illya was slightly shocked by this turn of events, almost as though the ball had personally betrayed her by expiring.
"I think that counts as a draw then," Yusuke's cheerful voice broke the bemused atmosphere, "Now then, who would like something to eat?"
"AH! The picnic!"
It was at that point that the young Emiya noticed the hamper at his servant's side. It was quite large and could easily hold enough food to feed everyone in their small party. The only odd thing about it was the large sticker that Illya had slapped onto the side, a brightly coloured cartoon pony of some sort. For some reason Shirou couldn't help but feel that it was giving him the evil eye.
Oh never mind, he could worry about that later. Right now the thing of far greater importance was the large fish sandwich that Yusuke was pulling out of the hamper. The eighth Campione's stomach rumbled at the sight, food that he knew would be damned good because he'd prepared it himself. The sandwich had been made using the leftovers from his earlier barbecue so that nothing would go to waste.
By the looks of things he wasn't the only one to have managed to work up an appetite. Even as he took a step towards the tantalizing food he was overtaken by a trio of blurs that rushed right past him before he could even think of taking another step.
"Oh, there's a ham sandwich in here!"
"I want the cheese and lettuce one!"
"Is there any of Asuka-san's rice in that container?"
"If there is then I claim it!"
"What about-"
"Hey, that's-"
"MINE!"
There was a certain fascinating quality to the scene unfolding before him. In rather the same way that a particularly horrific car crash could hold one's attention hostage Shirou found himself oddly unable to look away from the sight of the trio of girls descending upon the contents of the hamper like a swarm of locusts. In short order each of them seized some sandwiches, fruit, juice boxes, a few rice balls and at least one sweet pastry each. He was jolted out of his stunned fascination by the realization that if he didn't do something soon then there might not be any food left for him to take.
As it turned out though, there was still plenty of food left to be had. Clearly whoever had packed it had anticipated that fun on the beach would be good for working up an appetite. In short order the small group had settled down on the large towel that had been spread over the sand like a picnic tablecloth.
"Oh, that was good!" Illya declared as she swallowed her last mouthful. To further emphasize her point she let herself fall backwards so that she was lying on her back.
"Quite right, Illya-chan," Kaida said, gesturing with the half eaten ham sandwich that she held. "A wonderful setting, excellent food and marvellous weather, it's hard to imagine it being any better."
"Yes!" The snowy haired girl agreed as she snapped up into a sitting position and nodded her head energetically. "It's so different from the castle! Mama would have . . ."
Her voice trailed off into silence as the joy on her face likewise drained away. For his part Shirou didn't say a thing, instead he took advantage of his spot next to her to reach out and gently squeeze her shoulder. He knew how much speaking of her mother hurt her.
He still didn't have the complete story, though that was mainly because Illya only knew the version that she'd been told by her family, a version that she was sure was at least heavily biased if not a complete fabrication. What he did know was that his adopted sister's mother, Irisviel Von Einzbern, had been a homunculus created by the Einzbern family to serve as the vessel to the Lesser Grail during the fourth Holy Grail War. Things had taken an unexpected turn when the magus that the clan had contracted to serve as their representative in the War ended up falling in love with her and marrying her. In time Illya had resulted and could remember both her parents leaving for Japan in order to win the Holy Grail.
Exactly what had taken place there wasn't known to any living since all witnesses to the final acts of the War were dead. All that was known was that Emiya Kiritsugu had won the Grail and then destroyed it rather than claiming it. Given what Shirou and Illya had seen of the monstrosity within the sacred cup it was hardly difficult to understand why, but what had happened to Irisviel and why Kiritsugu had not returned for his daughter was still something of a mystery.
Personally Shirou was pretty sure that it had only been his adopted father's failing health that had kept him from coming back to Illya. Given the lies that she'd been fed in regards to him it didn't seem unlikely that she'd also been misinformed about her father. Most likely it hadn't been a case of him not trying, as it had been a case of him not being able to.
Whatever the case might be the loss of the anger that his adopted sister had nurtured for so many year had revealed a buried pain that had still not yet healed over. At least there seemed to be some improvement though, as Illya had begun to live, as opposed to simply existing. She was gaining more good memories to balance out the bad ones she accumulated through her life.
"Ah, so then . . ."
The voice was low, barely audible really, but it was loud enough that both the adopted siblings heard it, loud enough that the melancholy quiet of the moment shattered like glass.
Kaida almost recoiled as the gazes of the two snapped to her. Neither of them was outright hostile, but there was the sense that she had inadvertently intruded on a moment that had been intensely personal despite the open nature of the setting.
"Ah . . . I-I'm sorry . . . I-I just . . ."
Shirou glanced back at Illya and saw her face harden for a moment. Then her shoulders slumped slightly as the irritated tension went out of her.
"It's okay. Mama wouldn't have wanted me getting angry at friends over it anyway."
There was a definite note of bitterness in her voice as she spoke the last words, the sadness and anger of a child that had been denied her mother. Once again silence descended upon the group, only to be once more broken by the black haired Hime-Miko.
"W-Would you like to talk about it, Illya-chan?"
The offer was made hesitantly, but there was a strength behind it that was at odds with the tone.
"Do I look like I want to talk about it?" Illya asked, a clear note of irritation and anger starting to creep into her voice
"It helps; talking to others can help with the hurt."
"I don't want to!" the response was too swift and childish for the Einzbern heir to have given it any thought. It was merely a knee jerk reaction, a declaration without thought or reason beyond a primal desire to avoid pain.
"I know what-" Kaida began, but was cut off as Illya twisted in place to glare at her.
"Is your mother dead?!" The question was a demand almost snarled, there was such venom behind it.
"No, bu-"
"Then how do you know what it's like?! How do you know how it hurts?! Mama never came back! She was just gone and she never came back! If your mother's alive then how do you know how I feel, how do you know how much it hurts?! HOW CAN YOU-"
"AT LEAST IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT SHE DIDN'T COME BACK!"
The declaration was shouted back at Illya with such unexpected force from the normally quiet Renjou that it completely cut off the young girl's angry tirade. A hush fell across the beach as Kaida glared down at her clenched fists, her breath suddenly heavy as though she had just run a race. In an action that mirrored how Shirou had offered comfort to his adopted sibling Manaka placed her own hand on her friend's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.
Kaida closed her eyes as though fighting back tears, then opened them again and gazed at the stunned faces about her.
"It's easy to forget, isn't it, the reason I wear gloves all the time?" As though to punctuate her statement she waved one bare arm in the air before her. "A year ago I would have been terrified to go out to the beach, it would have been so easy to touch someone or for someone to grab my hands. Here though . . . well, what do I have to be afraid of? Manaka-chan's got spells to keep herself safe, Illya is so much stronger than me that she doesn't have anything to worry about, Tiamat-sama and Guinevere-sama have nothing to fear and Shirou wouldn't even notice. I don't have to be scared here."
It took the eighth Campione a few seconds to realize just what it was that the Hime-Miko was talking about. Her second ability, the gift over which she had no control, Soul Purification.
In all honesty he had pretty much forgotten about it. Since there had been no incidents, and the power was overshadowed by the more impressive nature of the Dragon's Roar, the trait that prevented her from so much as casually touching a normal person with her hands had slipped his mind.
"Kaida-sama, you don't have to-" Manaka began, apparently slipping back into her more respectful form of address due to the severity of the situation, only to be silenced as her friend raised her hand in a warding gesture.
"Thank you, but Illya-chan needs to hear this."
Turning the black haired Hime-Miko faced Shirou's adopted sister. For her part Illya seemed to be something of a deer caught in the headlights. The notion that her pain wasn't unique, that there were others who had been hurt as badly or even worse, was not a thought that had really occurred to her. Oh, she had been aware of it on a purely intellectual level, but the simple fact was that Illya didn't have enough real life experience with others to really understand it.
"You know about my Soul Purification?" Kaida asked, and was answered by a silent nod from the Einzbern heir, "My mother wasn't a Hime-Miko, she was a regular shrine maiden at one of the temples that are run by the Committee. That was where she met my father, one of the members of the Renjou family. They fell in love and then later I was born, but unlike her I was a Hime-Miko. Because of that I had to be raised in the temple, but even so she was always coming to see me, even when times were busy or difficult.
"But even as she kept coming she seemed . . . different. She was more tired, more drained, but even so she kept on coming to see me. Then one day . . . she didn't show up."
It was no hard thing to see the pain written across Kaida's features, but she was continuing regardless.
"There was an accident, a car that went out of control. Everyone says that mama saw it coming towards her, but she didn't move. They all said it was as though she was just too tired to move even though she needed to. She survived the hit, but when she was in hospital she just went to sleep and never woke up. There was nothing wrong with her, her body was fine and everything had mended. She just never woke up.
"It wasn't until later, after my Soul Purification was discovered that we understood what had happened. You know I can naturally purge someone of any maligned influences, like curses or possession?"
As the others slowly nodded their heads she continued.
"My mother wasn't possessed, all there was in her for my power to try to purify were the natural darknesses and small evils that are natural to the human soul, and that was what it attacked.
"We all thought she was just pushing herself too hard, that she wasn't taking enough time for herself. But that wasn't it; she was so tired because the balance of her spirit was degrading. As I corroded the darker aspects of it that were intrinsic parts she was losing . . . drive, her desire to live, to experience. She still loved me, still loved my father, but she was losing the desires and hungers that are so much a natural part of you that they help provide the simplest of motivations."
Kaida's face was oddly strained, as though she were only just holding back a flood of tears.
"I . . . I guess that's why she never woke up. She'd never gone more than two days without seeing me, and every time we were together she'd always hold my hands. It was a game between us, a private gesture between us to show how much we cared. Papa would always pick me up and hug me instead when I was little."
The pain on her face was bittersweet now, eyes slightly misted as she looked into the past.
"It was two years before we worked out what had happened. After she went into her coma I just didn't like to touch others, it brought up memories that hurt. Then, when I was recognized as the temples Hime-Miko, another Hime-Miko who had attended the ceremony was able to sense something.
"My father, Papa, he just couldn't handle it. He'd loved my mother, more than anyone else I've ever seen. She'd been his world, his sun, his stars. He loved me too, but when he found that I was the reason she was in a coma . . . he just couldn't handle it.
"He left. He sent me a letter telling me why, that he still loved me even though he couldn't bear to look at me. He took an assignment out in Africa to determine if a new Campione had arisen there. That was nearly nine years ago, I've not seen him since."
No-one said a word as Kaida paused, her eyes cast down and her head slightly bowed so her long black hair fell forwards to veil her face. Then she looked up and focused first on Illya and then on Shirou, her eyes flicked to Yusuke, but then tracked back to the siblings.
"Apart from Manaka you're the first ones I've ever told this." Her eyes fastened onto Illya, "So yes, I do know something of what it's like!"
The snowy haired girl didn't reply, at least not out loud, she simply nodded her head slowly and focused on the ground before her.
"It doesn't have to be now, not if you don't want to," There was more gentleness in the Hime-Miko's voice now, her earlier grief and anger having faded. "Just remember that I'll be happy to talk about it if you want to. You don't have to hold it all in."
Out across the ocean the sun began its descent.
-()-
Guinevere had decided to forgo joining Sir Shirou and his small court down on the beach.
It had been a difficult decision, especially since the notion of merrymaking in the surf and playing with the sand held a distinct appeal to her, but it had been one she had forced herself to follow through upon. If she wanted to further strengthen her association with the eighth Campione and secure his aid for her plans to resurrect her beloved King then she needed to present herself as more . . . mature.
Her eternal youth was not something that she normally considered to be much of an issue. Indeed, most of the time her childish appearance was an asset since it led even Heretic Gods to underestimate her. To be sure her form did dictate her personality to a certain degree, since despite her many years of experience and the vast knowledge and power at her disposal; her childish nature was not entirely feigned. However despite that she normally had more than enough control and cunning to either overcome it or turn it to her advantage.
But with Sir Shirou it was proving to be more of a hurdle than she would have preferred. Her appearance had landed her in the same mental space as his sister, though to her irritation her place in that particular hierarchy was squarely below the white haired mage girl. Still, even that wouldn't have been too much of a problem, since with time and care she could have used that position as a platform to forge a different, and hopefully equal, relationship with the King of Steel. No, the real issue was that Tiamat was acting in much the same way as her, but due to her far more mature appearance she was able to exploit an entirely different vector of approach.
Not that she expected her host to swayed by something so simple as a physical seduction. Loathe as she was to admit it his heart was apparently fully devoted to this 'Sakura' girl, enough that he'd been able to escape Venus's Authority. Something so blatant as an offer to bed him by the fallen goddess was doomed to failure, of that she was quite certain.
The problem was that Tiamat was neither reckless nor foolish. She had been one of the oldest Divine Ancestors in the world before she'd regained her divinity, an act that itself should have been impossible. For more than two thousand years she'd avoided death or capture while working towards her goal, never stopping, never surrendering. When looked at from that perspective it was far easier to see her as the threat that she really was.
She would not make the mistake of trying to force her way into Sir Shirou's heart through petty seduction. No, she knew that with someone like the Emiya heir an entirely different approach was needed. Guinevere had already seen the signs of her planned route, the respectful gestures, the increasingly informal exchanges. The Mother of Dragons was aiming to not become the King of Steel's lover, but rather to first become his friend.
It was a simple but brilliant strategy, and quite probably the only one that could yield any sort of success. It was impossible to enter Sir Shirou's heart as a lover, that was a given fact. However if one could become a friend then it was possible to slip past his defences, at least in part. Once that was achieved then it was not impossible that the relationship could in time be deepened, strengthened until it became something else. A full assault was doomed to failure, but a protracted campaign had far more chance of being successful in the long term.
Not that such a thing mattered to her, of course.
It wasn't as though she'd spent hours awake in the middle of the night staring up ceiling and working out ways to worm her way into her host's heart. Those had merely been theoretical exercises of course. Just her trying to analyse how someone like Tiamat, or those maid agents from the local magic society, might have gone about ingratiating themselves to her host.
That was all . . .
Really . . .
(Dear child, are you aware that your cheeks are flushed red as apples?)
The voice of her dear protector came from the small spring that she was standing next to. At this point, as it ran down hill, the water had found a natural basin and formed a small pool amidst the stone and earth. Since the water in it was constantly flowing the basin pool was crystal clear and still enough to reflect the sky above it like a mirror. As such it was more than enough for her protector knight to use as a means of communication.
"Guinevere thinks that Sir Knight is taking entirely too much fun in teasing her!" the Witch Queen declared with a huff, her cheeks blowing out adorably to highlight her displeasure.
(That may well be,) 'He' allowed, though she could hear the smile in 'his' voice, (But is it not those that we love the most that we inflict the gentlest of cruelties upon? If that is true then whom but my most beloved charge might I cheerfully torment thus?)
It was strange, having the vitality of her dear protector restored as it was had proven to be both a joy and a headache. In the centuries since 'he' had undertaken the spell that allowed 'him' to partially manifest upon the mortal plane without fully descending from 'his' legend Sir Lancelot had become increasingly lethargic. 'His' energy, 'his' drive, all of these had been slowly eroded over the centuries by the immense pressure 'he' had shouldered in order to protect the maiden of the Holy Grail. That 'he' still had 'his' old personality at all, rather than it having been leeched away by the dilution of 'his' nature, was a testament to the will and power of the Knight of the Lake. 'He' had become increasingly focused upon the simplest aspects of 'his' identity, the knight that charged and the knight that protected. All else had become faded and distant.
Now, due to the sword that had been lent to 'him' by the King of Steel, much of 'his' lost nature had returned. There was 'his' old teasing, 'his' curiosity, and of course 'his' good natured meddling. That brought a small smile to her lips as she thought about it. Though not one for mischief or play Sir Lancelot had been able to cause considerable chaos and merriment with a few well intentioned, but ill fated, words. The results of such occasions had been able to bring a smile even to the face of her normally somewhat taciturn King.
It was a pleasure to have 'him' fully restored, but at the same time 'he' was a great deal less biddable than 'he' had been for the last few centuries. In a way it was oddly appropriate that 'he' should be returning to himself at this point, when she was now so close to bringing about the return of their beloved King.
Without thought her left hand unconsciously fell to her side where she could touch the contents of the small pocket that had been cunningly woven into the side of her dress. Within was a disc, one forged from an alloy of gold and iron, and roughly the same size as Guinevere's small fist. She had no need to look at it, the memory of its surface stood out in her mind as though etched in fire. Its faces were engraved with various angular scripts that were reminiscent of a pair of swords standing side by side.
This was the Arrowhead Discus, an Authority, or rather the remnant of an Authority, one that had been imparted upon her by the Strongest Steel, the King who Manifests at the End of the Era. It was a power that allowed her King to capture the essence of his fallen kin, other gods of Steel that had been vanquished, and resurrect them as his 'weapons'. Though the power of the Discus was useless to Guinevere she had served as a dutiful servant to her sovereign and had collected the power of two separate gods to be ready for her King's return.
Of course, the essence that she had gained from Perseus had not been complete, not since a large portion of it had been usurped by Sir Shirou to form the Authorities that he had gained from defeating the hero god. Still, the power of her lord had been sufficient to capture the remainder of the Heretic God's power and to store it away. Later she had left the artefact to capture the essence of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven while she had gone to deal with Mordred. Even as she had met with her host for the first time her king's Authority had absorbed the power of the Monkey King before an Authority could be usurped from him.
(Ah, my beloved child, this knight sees that you are thinking of our King. Has the research that you were conducting yielded the fruit that you sought?)
"Sir Knight . . . Guinevere believes without a doubt. It is certain that our lord the 'King of the End' lies dormant somewhere in Japan. The information left behind by my kin Asherah only served to confirm Guinevere's suspicions, at some time in the past great conflict swallowed this land and as a result our lord was called forth to quell the strife. The gods that fled from him were led by the hero god Susanoo to the Netherworld in order to cease provoking him with their Heretic actions. Once they were gone our King fell back into his dormant state and in fear of his might they took steps to ensure that his sleep would be undisturbed. Other Heretic Gods of Steel that have manifested upon this land have been suppressed with his aid, and the dragons that are our king's natural enemies have likewise been vanquished before they can disturb his slumber."
Guinevere gazed down into the pool of water as she explained her suspicions in detail.
"Even the Great Sage Equal to Heaven was put to use through the Great Wizardry of the Dragon and Snake's Seal . . . I had become suspicious ever since I learned of its existence. Unless something important was being concealed, there was no need to undertake such a monumental operation."
(Come to think of it, that was the place you visited earlier.)
Lancelot's "voice" replied softly.
"Yes. I believed then that there might have been a possibility of the sealed Great Sage Equalling Heaven being the 'King of the End' in some different form, in order to ascertain if he was truly the master we anticipate, I attempted to learn more through the use of my wounded kin and our alliance with her Eminence."
(However, that Monkey King turned out to be a divinity quite different from our dear master.)
"Yes, though Guinevere was unable to take much time to observe him due to her preoccupation with Mordred's battle with Sir Shirou I was able to determine that he was not some aspect of our King. However there was some connection, that is why I have stayed on this land to investigate, based on clues the deceased Asherah obtained from the Kuhoutsuka family."
(Truly? This knight thought you might also have tarried here for so long due to your enjoyment of a certain Devil King's company. He has proven himself to be a fine ally; if he could be brought around I have little doubt that our King would welcome him. He might derive some joy from the novelty of meeting one of Pandora's children that he had no need to battle to the death.)
"I . . ." the child-like Witch Queen paused as a number of emotions chased each other across her face. Embarrassment, shame, desire and a sort of sad longing, all of them flashed by and faded before she shook her head. "No, though Guinevere wishes it were otherwise she knows that Sir Shirou would never kneel to our king. Even if he were to accept that there was no conflict between them he would not stand idly while our lord went to battle with the others of his kind. Both King Kusanagi and her Eminence Luo Hao would stand against him, and Sir Shirou would not desert them."
Her hand stroked the medallion through the fabric of her skirt.
"Conflict between our beloved King and my host is an inevitability, but I hope that my King shall heed my words and spare Sir Shirou after he is defeated. Unlike other God Slayers he does not rampage or throw the world into chaos, so such a boon may be granted."
(Oh? You have such faith that our King will be victorious against the one you yourself named the King of Steel, the one that wields Excalibur, a blade near its equal and an entire world of Steel?)
"Do not jest with me Sir Knight," there was an odd note of sharpness in Guinevere's voice now, "Though Sir Shirou is a mystery with a great deal of power at his calling, our King is still the Strongest Steel. He is a divine being without equal in this world, one who has exterminated the rampant God Slayers that have plagued this world for century after century. Excalibur is his sword, and it will serve no other, not in the end."
Perhaps her protector sensed how the subject was one she was uncomfortable with, or perhaps 'he' was simply curious, for whatever reason 'his' next question gave her the opportunity to leave the topic.
(Then what conclusions have you come to? Do you know where our King sleeps?)
"Not completely, though the knowledge that Guinevere uncovered has confirmed many of her suspicions. I have discovered that some elements of the Committee that ministers to the magical world in this land has forces that are responsible for some unknown mission. It stood out when compared to their other operations, so I decided to pay a visit before returning to witness the battle against the Monkey King; it was only after I returned that Mordred confronted me."
(Hmm, if the purpose is unknown then one can conclude it is 'deliberately concealed', right? And if it is concealed then that must mean that there is a reason for it to be so.)
"It is just as Sir Knight says. Such efforts cannot be without a reason, and it is known to us that this land was the last upon which our King trod. It has all confirmed my suspicions, and now Guinevere knows that the site of our lord's slumber is connected to the city in which the two Kings of this nation live!"
With one hand the golden haired immortal child gestured out to the sea in the general direction of the Japanese mainland.
"From here all that is needed is for us to narrow down the possibilities until only the right answer remains. Then the Grail shall fulfil its purpose and we shall once more be able to see him once more."
From the reflection in the pool of water Lancelot stared up at 'his' charge. There was anticipation on her face, but there was also something else, a slight hesitation that hadn't been there a few months ago.
Hmmm . . .
(Dear one, this Knight has a request to make of you . . .)
As she turned back to face 'him' the Knight of the Lake began to outline the idea that had only just occurred to 'him'.
-()-
Shirou lay back on his bed and felt the cool air of the evening slide over his bare arms. In all truth it wasn't very late yet, outside the sun was only just setting and the sky had only one or two stars showing. But despite the relatively early hour the Emiya heir had decided to retire early.
His belly was still full from the large sea side picnic, so a supper hadn't been really needed, and nobody else had made any real objections. It would seem that a combination of the warm climate and the exercise from all the activity on the beach had left everyone a bit drowsy. Off to one side Illya was lying somewhat sprawled across her camp bed, one leg hanging over the side while one of her hands sleepily scratched at her midriff.
His adopted sister had insisted on sleeping in his room tonight, claiming that even though it wasn't on her list 'staying up late to talk with onii-chan' was one of her wishes for this holiday. Well, that might have been the case, but as soon as she'd collapsed onto the camp bed Illya had been out like a light, now he rested and watched the light fade as he listened to the sound of the sea, the last calls of the gulls, and the quiet mumbling as Illya half snored and half argued with herself as her sleeping form tried to get comfortable.
For his part Shirou found himself feeling oddly contented. His muscles had the pleasant ache of a day of solid activity and his lips could still taste the salt on them despite the shower he'd had earlier. He'd written to Sakura about today's events in his journal just before going to bed, and for the first time in days he felt . . . at ease.
His brow furrowed slightly as he tried to analyse his feelings.
It wasn't that he didn't miss Sakura, that feeling still sat heavy in his heart. Rather it was that for the first time in far too long he didn't feel . . . what? It was hard to put into words, even if it was in the privacy of his own head. There was an urgency that was now absent. No, not an urgency, that wasn't quite the right word. Perhaps . . . dissatisfaction? Well, that seemed a bit closer, but still not completely right.
It was a sense that had been hovering about at the back of his mind ever since he arrived in this dimension. A feeling that he wasn't doing enough to get back to his lover, that his actions were wrong due to his lack of progress. It had been there when he'd been working on his defences, when he'd fought Mordred, when he'd organized the Feast of Kings. It had even been there when he'd ventured into the Netherworld as part of his experiments to try to get home. It was always there, a feeling that he wasn't doing enough, that he was being somehow disloyal to Sakura by not being at her side NOW.
Guilt, was that it? Was this guilt at not being able to be at her side as he'd promised her that he would be? But if that was the case then why had it been gnawing at him so much more since the incident with Venus? The last few weeks it had been as-
-Her words were hot in his ear, urging him on, ordering him to greater efforts, telling him that he was hers, that none others could have him, that she and she alone would feel his-
-though it was always on his back.
But now though, now things were a bit different. He felt . . . unburdened, as though for the first time his heart had listened to his head. He needed this, this opportunity to relax and recharge. This wasn't a betrayal of Sakura or an admission that she was unimportant to him. If he wanted to get back to her he needed to take this time to recover, otherwise he'd never be able to make progress.
The frown faded from his features and was replaced by a small smile.
Today had been a good day. He'd cooked, he'd had fun and he'd spent some time with Illya. The bonds with his friends were growing closer too, and that was something to be grateful for. Yes, it had been a good day.
The question now, though, was what would happen tomorrow.
His smile widened slightly as he turned to lie on his front as his cheek sank into the fluffy pillow. He knew there were still some items left on his sister's list. He supposed they could work on those.
-()-
The sun was setting into the sea and turning the formerly blue green ocean a vivid orange. Above the water the few thin clouds that had gathered in the cool of the approaching evening were coloured a deep red. Ever so slowly the sun lowered itself until its dimming form touched its own reflection and then gradually disappeared beneath the horizon. All in all it had been a magnificent sunset, the kind that could make a man feel that there really was some great artist that created each and every sunset individually.
Unfortunately at the moment nobody was paying too much attention to the beautiful sight.
Of course, when one was an immortal such sights as even this marvellous sunset must grow somewhat stale after the first few hundred years.
"So . . . that is the vessel that the young King used to get here?"
His companion's question brought the voyaging god out of his contemplations as she gestured out towards the mortal built ship that floated in the small isles harbour.
"Indeed, though I suppose you could call it more of a floating palace than a ship. Bah, such a fragile thing would never have survived the journey back from Troy; it would have been smashed to splinters by the first storm we came across."
"Oh? Is that some faint hint of jealousy I hear in your voice, brave Odysseus? Too be sure yours is a vessel that has traversed the world and conquered every ocean it has sailed upon, but still surely a mighty warrior clad in steel can admire the beauty of a delicate maiden wearing silk."
To emphasize her point the goddess of the dawn leaned against the deck's railing, the light of the setting sun highlighting her own loveliness despite her metal limbs.
"Beauty can be appreciated, but not when it serves only to hide such foolish weakness." The hero god paused for a moment as he absently stroked his short beard, "Though . . . there is something to be said for travelling in such comfort. A decent privy would make the company of one's followers far more bearable on a long voyage."
"That was hardly something that you had to share with me," Circe commented, a look of distaste flitting across her features, "but perhaps we are avoiding the matter of greatest import, what shall we do next? Our quarry drifts before us and is unaware of our presence; do we strike now whilst he rests in the arms of Morpheus?"
Odysseus paused for a moment, his gaze fixed upon the distant yacht in same way that a general might regard a castle he had to take.
"They are unaware of us?"
"My spells conceal us from their vision. The Handmaiden of the god of Steel and the fallen goddess might both have skill and power, but even in my wounded condition this goddess remains mightier then either of them and my skills are at least their equal."
There was pride in the wounded goddess's voice, but there was also a certainty that the hero god felt he could trust. Circe was one of the oldest of magic users, a goddess whose deeds had survived millennia. If she thought that they were secure then he was sure that such was the case.
So, that left him with options.
"No," he said slowly, "it would not serve for us to attack immediately. As I have told you this young child of Pandora is . . . unusual, even for his kind. Also if we were to attack now then his allies would rise to defend him. We are stronger than they, but Guinevere is guarded by the Knight of the Lake, and weakened though she is Tiamat is no force to be dismissed. Even the mortals that surround the God Slayer are worthy of some notice."
"Fufufufu, surely you jest. A brief spell and they shall be mere swine and livestock, hardly an inconvenience to our intentions."
"The Devil Kings can offer their divine protection to their followers, if they have the right Authorities," He reminded her, "A single mortal, however talented, is of little concern. A handful of such imparted with divine protection by one of Pandora's children . . . that is a different matter.
"We shall wait and watch. At some point he will be separated from them, or they from he. Then we can take steps to ensure they cannot aid him when I face him at a time of my choosing."
"You spoke of his strength and yet you are ready to face him so certainly?"
"I might be wary of facing him directly, but I have no intention of making this a fair fight."
The smile upon the god's lips was not a kind one. It was the smile of a soldier that had survived the battlefield many times and knew that war, true war, was not a duel, with rules and honour. A fight, a true fight where only one would live, was one without rules, codes or restraint. Guile and trickery were as much weapons as swords and armour, and they were weapons that he knew well.
At a mental command the course of his vessel changed and they began to open distance with the yacht.
Patience, that was the key. The path to freedom was there before him, he must not allow greed and impatience to snatch it away.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
OMAKE: A Snack of the Harem!
Godou was familiar with the unusual side of life. Given that in the last few months he'd not only met several gods, but also killed them and become a Campione in the bargain, he'd thought that he'd moved beyond the point where most things could shock him.
The current events were proving that he might have been a bit on the premature side in regards to the assumption.
Granted, his day hadn't been what one could call normal so far, not with his date with Erica, the sudden appearance of Ena, getting dragged off to the Netherworld, meeting with Susanoo. The high point of the whole mess had been when, after being defeated by Erica, Ena lost control of the divine sword she held and was enveloped by the transformed body of Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi. Of course, he hadn't had too much time to consider the full absurdity of the situation, not when the huge sword blades that served as the divine weapon's arms were swinging at him with full intent to leave him in several bits on the road.
Still he'd had a plan, such as it was, use the Raptor to rescue the trapped Hime-Miko, then use the Boar to defeat the rampaging sword. Granted it hadn't been the most sophisticated of plans, but it had possessed the virtue of simplicity.
Then there had been a sudden cry.
"FOR SHIROU-SAMAAAAAA!"
Godou had barely had time to stare wildly around for the source of the war cry before a burning comet impacted on the side of Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi's metal form. There was a groan of metal and the huge form of the steel stumbled sideways, the thick and stubby nature of its legs keeping it from toppling despite the veritable crater blasted into its side
In the next instant the comet was ascending into the sky once more and the seventh Campione could see that it was actually some sort of chariot, one pulled by four horses and wreathed in an aura of crimson flames with a black edge to them. The vehicle was galloping through the air as though it had a perfect right to be there and was being driven by a tall black haired beauty wearing archaic Greek armour.
He just had time to blink in confusion before a second comet impacted on the form of Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi. This time it was white and resolved itself into the form of . . . a Pegasus?
"Fear not fair maiden! My gallant Master has ordered your rescue, and as such this heroine has come to save you!"
The words were spoken by the white clad young woman riding on the winged horse's back. Her blonde hair was golden in the street lights and the grin on her face was that of a warrior on the battlefield. In a single movement she reached down and with one hand pulled the naked Hime-Miko out of the metal mass as though she had been some sort of cork.
"Eh, has Ena been rescued?"
The Seishuuin heiress sounded honestly confused as she was pulled across the Pegasus' back and carried to safety. Well, that might have been the plan at least. As it turned out the transformed divine sword was less than pleased to have its former wielder stolen from it, and retaliated by swinging one huge blade of an arm at the winged horse.
The divine mount proved to be every bit as agile as its legendary counterpart though, and banked sharply to the side, opening sufficient room that the blade whistled by without even grazing a feather. Unfortunately the same motion jostled the mortal girl enough that with an exclamation of surprise she fell off.
However it wasn't cold concrete that received her as she fell, rather it was Godou's speeding from that hit her sideways and sent the pair of them into an uncontrolled, but at least survivable, tumble.
"Owwww," Ena moaned as she sat up, "That wasn't fun, now where . . ."
"ENA-SAN!"
The outraged cry came from the approaching form of Mariya Yuri, whose eyes were wide in shock and her cheeks flushed red as she took in the scene before her.
A naked Ena was sat upon the recumbent form of the seventh Campione, her hips straddling his waist and her hands on his chest to balance her. As the situation became clear to her the black haired Hime-Miko's arms jerked up to cover her bosom. Only as soon as her arms were there she realized that left her . . . lower parts exposed to the slightly concussed Devil King who was now starting to stir as he recovered his wits.
In short, it was a rather amusing spectacle.
"See onii-chan? I TOLD you that it really did happen!"
"Exactly, this proves that anime wouldn't lie to us!"
Seeking to look at just about anything other than the naked beauty sitting on him Godou turned to see the source of the rather odd observations.
It was . . . twins? Two identical young girls stood on either side of a tall red haired young man about Godou's own age. What struck him was the look of almost martyr like suffering on the newcomer's face. For a moment the seventh Campione felt a distinct kinship with him, then he was once more distracted as something started to happen.
A small cyclone of azure lights began to swirl just before the red head, each was the size of a grain of rice but as bright as the bulbs of a Christmas tree. For a moment they danced in the air, then they came together to form a silhouette. There was a brief flash of light and then the light fade to reveal . . . another Ena?
And she was also naked.
"Ah, this is not how Ena planned to enter her new King's service, but at least she now knows that he has seen all of her."
"HEY! Who are you, and why do you look just like Ena?!"
"Obviously I am the Ena that has entered the service of King Shirou. You can serve Godou-sama while I serve my king. That way we can serve both the Kings of Japan at the same time!"
The new Ena answered the original's question as she stood, apparently unconcerned by her nakedness, and enthusiastically pumped one arm to emphasize her point. Godou couldn't help but notice the . . . interesting things the movement did to her chest.
"Ummm . . . perhaps we should concentrate on that large fellow?"
The red head, 'Shirou' wasn't that what the new Ena had called him, spoke out as he took off the coat he was wearing and slipped it around the form of the naked girl before him. The query caused the Kusanagi heir to blink as he realized that the sudden arrival of not one but two naked Enas had managed to get him to forget about Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi, at least temporarily.
"So, another Campione has appeared before m-"
Whatever the divine sword was going to say was cut off as a veritable barrage of swords impacted upon its form. The majority of them broke on contact, but even so the sheer force and suddenness of the onslaught actually sent the transformed blade stumbling back a pace.
"You know . . . I was asleep when this mess started. It was the first good sleep I'd had in ages, and just for once I had the bed to myself and didn't have to worry about sharing it with anyone. Do you have any idea how hard that was to do?! I worked it out you know, it cost me half a metric ton of ice cream, and when I say that I mean it. HALF . . . A . . . TON! That's what it took to get one damned night's sleep without interruptions!"
It was at that point that Godou noticed that the red head's eyes were almost worryingly bloodshot and his eyes were ringed with dark circles. Quite simply the newcomer had a slightly . . . unhinged look to him.
"What- How can you have such Ste-"
Once again another barrage of swords cut off whatever Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi was about to say. But this time rather than stumbling back once more the metal giant released a roar, one that sounded like tearing metal, and swung its arm in an arc aimed to bisect its tormentor.
Shirou made no move to dodge; indeed he didn't even seem to acknowledge the attack's existence. Godou tensed, readying himself to act, but then something happened.
Rather than the swirl of blue lights that had formed Ena's doppelganger a brief pillar of black and red flame flared into existence between Shirou and the oncoming blade. It was only there for an instant, then it faded and the huge sword arm struck.
Or at least it tried to.
As the black fires disappeared they revealed a new figure standing beside the red head, shielding him from harm.
She was tall, just shy of six feet in fact, and her figure hit him like a sock full of live fish. The seventh Campione had a certain familiarity with beautiful women, be they the classic beauties of Yuri, the vivacious loveliness of Erica, the fairy-like appeal of Liliana or the mature glamour of Lucretia Zola. However even after such exposure he had to admit that this woman was in a league of her own.
She had . . . very, VERY generous . . . that was to say . . . Oh, damn it! He should at least be able to think it! She had huge boobs! Her figure was only just shy of obscene in its lushness, but though it skirted the edge it remained solidly on the side of beauty. Clad as she was, in nothing but a strip of red rags over her chest and some sort of red sheet about her hips and legs, there was much of her to be seen. Her skin was completely covered in tattoos, and there was something . . . odd about them.
They seemed to squirm under his gaze, even as his Campione gift of languages tried to translate them for him they almost appeared writhed and twist before his eyes. They weren't actually moving, not really, but there was something else there, something he'd never encountered before.
All of this went through his mind in a second, adrenalin spiking through his blood and accelerating his senses, but his thoughts then screeched to a halt as he realized what he was seeing.
Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi's huge blade arm had come to a halt as surely as if it had tried to cut into the side of a solid flint stone mountain. However rather than multiple tonnes of steel-hard stone the blow had been arrested by the upraised hand of the tattooed woman. Her hand now gripped the sword's edge, and though blood dripped from her hand her grasp was firm. Even more unnerving was the way that the metal that touched her was blackening and corroding at a visible rate. The steel giant let out a strange keening noise, and it took Godou a moment to realize that it was a groan of pain.
"You dare try to harm Shirou-sama?"
The question was spoken softly, but there was an intensity to it that had the seventh Devil King tensing and adjusting his grip on Ena so that he could move at a moment's notice.
Black fire flared up about the woman once more, but this time the red edging was different. It wasn't brighter, nothing so mundane as that, rather it was hungrier; it smouldered in a way that evoked thoughts of corpses burning in coals. There was something . . . wrong about the black fire, as though something that should not exist dwelt within it rather than a simple chemical reaction.
Ame no Murakumo no Tsurugi screamed!
There was no other way to describe it; the tortured metallic sound that echoed forth as the eldritch fires washed over it was loud enough to force Godou to clap his hands over his ears and high enough that in the distance he could hear the shattering of glass. Even as the arm she'd held melted into a twisted and blackened ruin the tattooed woman advanced implacably upon her foe.
"You shall not touch my Master; you shall kneel at his feet and SERVE!"
The last word was a roar as the transformed divine sword toppled over like an axed tree, the black flames washing over it in a wave, burying it beneath their darkness.
"Angra . . . please don't say things like that. You make me sound like some dark lord out to conquer the world, and I really don't want a repeat of the virgin sacrifice incident."
There was weary and slightly defeated tone to Shirou's words, as though he knew he was doing nothing more than banging his head against a wall, but doing it anyway out of a long suffering sense of obligation.
In a single motion, one that seemed oddly practiced to Godou's astonished eyes, the terrifying woman dropped into a prostrated position before the young man she had declared her master and held up . . . a dog collar with a chain lead attached?
"Of course Shirou-sama. Clearly I need discipline and command! Please, make me wear this and treat me like your bitch!"
A new form started to take shape beside Shirou, this time that of a beautiful young girl wearing somewhat abbreviated samurai armour, but despite the spectacle the seventh Campione found his attention drawn to the face of the one he suspected to be a fellow Devil King.
He almost looked like he was going to burst into tears.
Or demented laughter.
. . . Maybe both?
