Chapter Nine

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Saber had a memory from the last battle that she and Lancelot had fought side by side in, and a very distinct piece of that memory was an image of Lancelot standing on their field of victory, presiding over the fields of the dead, as he watched the dawn rising over the distant hills. There was no sound except the hollow echo of the wind, Briton's banners snapping in it.

Then Lancelot had looked over his shoulder at Saber and smiled. And Saber had smiled back. In that moment, she had thought to herself, There is nothing that can break this bond. I am glad that I have at least one person in my life who is the closest thing I will ever have to a friend.

Saber held that image in her mind now, staring at it like one transfixed by a photograph, her heart a riot of joy and grief. Lost in such ruminations, her mind was slightly clouded when she heard a voice call, "Saber." A very sweet and gentle voice.

Her ears pricked up, and she looked round, a little bemused, and found Irisviel had joined her in where she was sitting on the roof of the storehouse back at the abandoned Japanese domicile they were now based in.

"Huh?"

Irisviel smiled at her. "Lost in thought, are we?" she teased.

Saber blinked, and then the present came back to her, and she found herself suddenly fretful. "Wait…Irisviel! What're you doing up here? You should be resting, shouldn't you? You still don't look all that well." If she were more willing to be openly honest about it, she'd have added, "Actually, you look a little worse than you did before."

But Irisviel was beaming, bathed as she was in the silver moonlight from above, as she titled her face up to look at the luminous orb hung above them. "That really is breathtaking," she sighed. "I just had to come and see for myself. Especially since you were up here too." She looked at Saber again. "You had this curious air about you."

Saber frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you seemed almost…fey," Irisviel told her, her cheeks coloring a little (though not in a way that made her look all that much healthier or any less peaky). "I was intrigued. I wanted to see if I could still talk to you like a normal person." She giggled lightly. "It seems I can."

"Oh. I see." Unable to help herself, Saber smiled a little at this. "Well, I assure you, I'm no fairy. Fairies, you see, are wicked, deceitful things that like to mess with human beings' minds."

"Mmm. Nowadays though, fairies have been made a little prettier and a little sweeter than they were before. Being fey isn't so bad as it used to be."

"Well, in that case, I think between you and me, you are more the fairy than I am."

They shared a laugh and looked up at the moon again, together.

"That aside, you really should be getting some rest."

"Well, I would, but I have a feeling that Kiritsugu is going to contact us. I want to be ready when he does."

"What gives you that feeling?"

"Just that I know he has this way of working tirelessly through things. Between you and me, he wants this War over and done with as soon as possible. I don't know all that much about how he fights, but he's seen war in the past—regular, mundane, human war—and from what I've read, nothing like rest exists in things like that. Only illusions of it."

Saber looked at her companion and tilted her head to one side. "You really do know him, don't you?"

Irisviel shook her head. "Not really. No, let me rephrase that. I…do and I don't. I do know that. I know what he wants, what he dreams of, what feelings he holds so close in his heart and tries so hard to protect, lock away from the rest of the world so no one can see, but I don't know…how he really works. The most I know was that he was a killer for hire—they called him 'The Mage Killer', after all, and that wasn't without good reason. As far as who he killed, all I ever learned was that they were heretic mages committing unsavory deeds. And that was good enough for me."

"You were never concerned with how he made those kills then?"

"I know that it involved him working from the shadows, like he's doing now. So, I didn't really feel I needed to know anything more than that. Besides, he wouldn't have told me even if I asked. He doesn't like talking about that part of himself with me."

Saber didn't miss the hint of wistfulness at the end of her words. And while Irisviel appeared satisfied enough that Kiritsugu's reason for doing what he did was to eliminate evil for the sake of good, Saber had other ideas. His intentions may have been noble in their own way, but she had a feeling that the way he worked undermined all of that. The fact that he preferred working from the shadows was enough of a red flag to her that something about him, something deeper, didn't sit right with her.

She had this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that threatened to turn into something that would nauseate her.

Even so, he had somehow earned Irisviel's love. That much was clear. And truth be told, she thought it a rather beautiful thing. A solemn beauty, like that of the moon.

Her thoughts briefly drifted back to Guinevere, and to Lancelot again, only for her reverie to be interrupted again by another voice.

"Saber! Madam!"

Saber and Irisviel both looked round and saw Maiya had joined them on the roof. To Saber she seemed like a shadow incarnate.

"Maiya," she said.

"I've just gotten a call from Kiritsugu," Maiya informed them. "He's discovered the hideout of Lancer and his Master."

Though Maiya's eyes were as unreadable as ever, Saber felt something faintly sinister about them, and caught just the merest whisper of…blood. Which made her wonder for a moment where Maiya had been the whole time Saber and Irisviel had been down by the Mion River. When Maiya had come to tell them that trouble from Caster was brewing there, she'd gone off in her own car while Saber had taken Irisviel with her in the Mercedes.

This time it was no different. When Saber hit the ground after helping Irisviel down from the ladder propped against the side of the storehouse, Maiya was already off, jumping into her own car, leaving Saber to take Irisviel with her in the Mercedes again, with only Maiya's info to rely on as far as finding this location where supposedly Lancer and his Master were hiding out.

Although this didn't sit well with Saber either, she was compelled to obey her Master's orders. And in any case, she had to agree that if this was a means to get her and Lancer together so they could finish their duel, then now was the time to do it, while all other Servant-Master pairs appeared to be down for the night.

It was supposed to be some kind of building site, more than likely abandoned than being a project that was mid-construction. To Saber though, when she saw it, she felt like she'd stepped into the ancient ruins of a long-forgotten city. It had a funereal feel to it, sepulchral, and she half-expected ghosts to appear from the shadows.

For a moment, she thought one had, when she spotted a tall and lithe male figure emerge from beneath the skeleton of a single-storied building held up only by support columns. But then the otherworldly light of the moon resolved the man's image into that of Lancer, who had a guarded air about himself. He looked slightly vulnerable too, carrying only the one spear.

"It's just like Kiritsugu said," said Irisviel in the front passenger seat beside Saber.

Saber wasn't really of answering Irisviel or not as she put the brakes on the Mercedes and shifted into "park". Her eyes were fixed on the approaching Lancer as she stepped out of the car.

Lancer stopped, seeming to have just realized that it was her. "Saber…." He furrowed his brow. "What are you doing here? How did you find this place?"

Saber tried not to avoid his questioning gaze as she responded to his query. "My ah…sources…told me about this place." She felt even more uneasy with how less-than-friendly the set to Lancer's golden eyes were.

Then he said: "It would seem…that my Master's lady has gone missing. You…wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No, not at all," said Saber, nonplussed, but she was glad that Lancer seemed to believe her.

"I see," he said, and hefted his spear, redder than blood, even in the light of the moon washing out all other colors. "Then I assume," he went on, "that you've come here so that we might finish our duel from the beginning?"

"I have," Saber answered him. "Everyone else will be recuperating after the battle with Caster tonight. I figured…this would be an opportune time for us to face each other one last time in honorable combat."

At this, Lancer finally smiled that smile of his, his brow relaxing. He shook his head, regarding Saber fondly. "Ah King of Knights…I must admit that it is your sense of honor, still shining bright in a world so dark with deceit and betrayals of trust, that brings my heart peace. Especially in this moment."

Saber smiled back at him, the knot of her discomfort loosening slightly. "Yes. As does yours."

Beside her, she heard the click of the front passenger door of the Mercedes open and the crunch of gravel as Irisviel stepped out of the car and joined her.

Lancer assumed a fighting stance, lifting his spear up at the ready. "Shall we dance one last time then?" he invited, a little more of that handsome, charismatic magic shimmering off of him.

"Gladly." Saber stepped forward, further out into the open, donning her armor in a whirl of silvery, light-as-air mana. She held up Excalibur, assuming a fighting stance as well. Once again she had the blade of her sword concealed behind the veil of Invisible Air. "I am ready, Diarmud...come and get me," she coaxed, feeling the old beast of blood-lust uncurl from its slumber and stretch out her claws eagerly towards the sun.

Lancer's expression was beyond eager, and it sparked something in Saber's heart, quickening its beat.

"Very well then, Saber…prepare yourself: I come for you!"

And the two of them leapt towards each other and met in the middle, sword clashing against spear with a great metallic clang that rang in the lonely little building site. It seemed fitting that such a legendary duel should take place in so humble and insignificant a place, but then, Saber supposed, any place for a duel to take place could be considered just that. Just another part of the world that would inevitably absorb the footfalls that would echo into eternity.

And, one to learn from her mistakes, Saber was more wary of how Lancer used his spear, even if it was now his only one. At the very least, she had the advantage that he could strike her no more cursing blows. But to compensate for this, she did Lancer the courtesy of refusing to use her left hand, as if it still didn't work properly.

They traded blow for blow, coming together and then springing back, circling each other before coming for each other again. So equally matched they were that it was difficult for one to do anything like corner the other, or send the other back into a retreat. Saber dodged the jabs from Lancer's spear and then swung up her blade, striking a blow that Lancer only barely blocked. Even without employing the use of her now-working left hand, she was holding her own handily against him, as before, when they first met.

Something soft settled inside her as she kept her green eyes locked with his golden ones, beneath all the bays for blood roaring inside of her. Her heart thundered in her chest at how bound the two of them were by their shared enthusiasm for this battle, enough that she had the feeling that neither of them really wanted to finish it. For this moment, Saber could have stayed this way forever, without any regrets.

Even so, the next time they leapt back from each other, Lancer put up his guard and used the momentary pause between them.

He frowned at Saber again, but this time out of confusion.

"Saber…you're not using your left hand?"

Saber felt her face grow warm, just a little. So he'd noticed.

She straightened and gave him a proud grin. "I do not believe that I would truly be engaging honorably in this duel if I did not refrain from using that which should have been useless to begin with, were it not for your sacrifice. I would not insult what part you played in Caster's defeat, as dear a cost as it was to you, by exploiting it here."

Lancer dropped his guard for a moment, blinking, clearly taken aback. And then he smiled, this time with a strange sheepishness, as though it were too much for Arturia Pendragon to address him with such humble reverence. His cheeks even colored a little, and he seemed much more youthful for it.

"Saber…you truly are king of all knights, aren't you?" Then he pointed at her, puffing out his chest. "Pride is in the blade of chivalry! Saber…I am truly glad to have had this chance to meet you."

Now it was Saber's turn to be taken back, but her cheeks colored again too, and she nodded, approvingly, amiably. "And I you, Lancer."

And then they came at each other once again.

Saber lost herself even more to the beast within her that cried for blood, but not in the way where she fell into a frenzy of hacking at her opponent until she could make him bleed. It was more like savoring the taste of blood yet to come, fervent with anticipation of the duel's climax. In fact, it reminded her of the way she and Guinevere had made love, when she'd been granted that unnatural power to change her sex so that she might father a child as Briton's king. She could even let go of the guilt that normally followed, given the child that had resulted from that union, that poor, cursed Mordred.

Yet just as she was thinking this, she felt a savage wind blow through her, the same savage wind that had done such on the day she ran Mordred through. For a flickering moment, she was back on that bloody field underneath that hellish sky, watching the life recede from Mordred's shocked eyes before death was triumphant.

Only this time, it was the life in Lancer's eyes—in Diarmud Duibhne's eyes that was sputtering, and instead of by Saber's hand, it was by his own that he'd been struck.

Saber staggered back as if she had been the one to strike him, appalled, staring as Lancer stood there, looking quite as perplexed to find he had flipped the bright red Gáe Dearg around and run himself through the chest with it, even as his own blood pooled at his feet in flowers that were an even darker shade of red.

Two silent crimson tears spilled, one down either side of Diarmud's face, as he realized the unforgivable horror of it, before he coughed up a spray of blood…the kind of cough that was scraped, harsh, gurgling, deep from the back of the throat…from the lungs….

Then a voice spoke up from the shadows—spoke as if the shadows themselves were speaking—a quiet, emotionless, unyielding voice.

"You, Kayneth El-Melloi, will use your remaining Command Seal to compel your Servant to commit suicide."

And there appeared Kiritsugu, with a frightened and crippled, wheelchair-bound man beside him cradling a wounded and unconscious woman in his arms. It was all Saber needed to put together that the man in the wheelchair was Lancer's Master, and that Kiritsugu there…he had somehow forced Lancer's Master to use a Command Seal that would force Lancer to take his own life, leaving Saber with a sickening sensation, one that made her feel as hollow as a used puppet.

The beast of bloodlust shifted inside of her, turning into one of true wrath. It prowled restlessly in her heart, striking her through with a desperate desire—just for a moment—to turn her sword on that bastard who dared called himself her Master.

But it was Lancer who cried out in rage and anguish, even as he was dying.

"You want it so badly," he gnashed, sounding nothing like the Lancer Saber had briefly come to know, but more like a demon of vengeance. "You all want the Grail so desperately…you…would bring such shame upon me and yourselves in order to do it?! I will never forgive you…I will never forgive any of you!"

He whipped his head around, and Saber saw the terrifying look of anger on that face, as tears of blood flowed from Lancer's eyes—eyes that now seemed to burn demonically red from the depths of damnation itself, as more blood he had coughed up ran down his chin.

"All I wanted was a chance to uphold my honor as a knight…and you've stolen that! You've stolen that from me!"

Few things had ever frightened Saber before, but this was one of them, especially in the way Lancer so clearly accused her in having a hand in this.

Overwhelmed with guilt such as she had not felt since Lancelot's departure from Camelot and Mordred's death, Saber lowered her eyes to the ground, unable to speak, to say a word. Her shame was beyond words.

"May the Grail be tainted!" Lancer threatened, his words boring into her, even as she didn't look at him directly. "May the wish it grants bring nothing but despair and destruction…and then, when you've fallen into the searing pits of hell, you will be haunted by the rage of Diarmud…!"

The cry of his name echoed on the air, as at long last he dissolved into nothingness with one last painful gasp, spear and all, leaving nothing but his spilt blood behind.

The solemn, terrible, ringing silence that followed was then broken by the voice of Lancer's Master, quavering and weak as it was.

"So now the Geass binds you?" he asked, seeming to address Kiritsugu.

Saber ventured to glance up at Irisviel, and saw that she was staring at her husband, at the man she loved, with open, trembling, and vulnerable horror, which didn't help the fact that she looked even paler than she had earlier.

"Yes," Kiritsugu was saying to Lancer's Master, taking out a cigarette and shaking it out of its pack. "I can do no harm to either you, or Sola." Then he lit his cigarette and took a drag on it, blowing out a breath of smoke as all went quiet again.

And then—

The night snapped in two, and then again, and again, in quick succession, as Kayneth gave a cry, coughing up blood the way Lancer had as he seemed struck repeatedly from behind.

Though Saber couldn't confirm it, she knew it had to be Maiya, firing off shots from some high, hidden place. She thought briefly of all that practice that young woman had been doing in the garden of Einzbern Castle, and felt queasy again, along with her anger burning hotly anew inside her.

Eventually Lancer's Master had been shot through so much that he fell forward out of his wheelchair, and both he and the woman in his arms tumbled to the ground. From the stillness of her, from the emptiness of her eyes and the way blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth, it appeared that she had died pretty much instantly.

The man however was not so lucky.

Bloodied and riddled with bullets, his legs useless, he dragged himself forward by his arms toward Kiritsugu, begging him to kill him.

But Kiritsugu stood there, not even bothering to look at him, quite impassive as he went on smoking his cigarette.

"Sorry…but my contract with you forbids me to."

There was an almost smug, smirking edge to Kiritsugu's voice as he said that, and the temperature in Saber's blood rose to boiling. She ground her teeth and gripped Excalibur's hilt, before she stepped forward with a satisfying rush of defiance and with one high swing she brought the blade down and decapitated the poor creature that dying man had been reduced to, showing him the mercy that Kiritsugu refused to.

But even then, Kiritsugu Emiya didn't give her even the merest of glances.

As silence filled the void again, Saber turned away from her Master, beyond ashamed, and went to stand at the opposite end of the Mercedes, with Irisivel standing between them. Well, leaning back against the car with her arms folded, but still, at least she was capable of keeping on her feet.

That anger pulsed and thundered in Saber's heart, her vision red with it.

No.

This was more than anger.

Saber was pissed.

However, before she could say anything, Kiritsugu actually addressed his wife. In a tone that was curiously softened at the edge.

"Ah…I just realized…Iri…this is the first time you've ever seen how I kill."

He almost sounded sorry.

Almost.

Damn him.

Her ire boiling over, the words spilled out before Saber gave them any forethought.

"Finally I see the lowly beast that you truly are, Kiritsugu…" she growled, her hand shaking as she gripped the hilt of Excalibur. "At first…I trusted in Irisviel's words…that despite everything you at least had a noble goal of bringing the world salvation…that even if our paths differed…we could still tolerate each other's existence on some level because of what we both wanted from the Grail…. But now…now the thought of yielding such a precious thing to the likes of you…the thought of it sickens me…."

"Please, Kiritsugu," Irisviel pled softly. "You owe Saber an explanation for your actions."

But Kiritsugu's answer was utterly unapologetic. Dismissive, even.

"There's no point in explaining myself to a killer who uses things like honor and glory to justify her killing. A knight cannot save the world. But let her go on being wrapped up in her delusions. I'll have no part of it."

"They are not delusions!" Saber snapped, fists clenched, whipping around as the air turned hot with her anger. "How dare you insult the noble notion of chivalry to my face? You monster! The taking of a life, even in battle, must have ideals! Otherwise the very fires of Hell would consume this world!"

Her voice strained, her teeth ground, the King of Knights realized at this very moment that now she could scarcely believe that she had ever so much as considered that the heart Kiritsugu Emiya held in his chest was anything like a kindred of those that beat in the chests of other, true Heroic Spirits. With every action he took in this war, he openly spat in their faces with cold contempt.

And here, he wouldn't even look her in the face. He just tipped his head back as he exhaled another stream of smoke, giving a mirthless laugh that was more like an inhuman rasp. A rasp that shook Saber to her core, rattled her cage like nothing had ever been able to before.

"Do you hear that Iri?" And then he did turn to her, though he still spoke to his wife instead of to her, even as he pointed at her, almost accusingly, his lit cigarette between his forefingers, his eyes that burned and yet were still so fiercely cold. "Our 'Heroic Spirit' over there seems to think a battlefield is better than Hell. What a joke! A battlefield is Hell. There's no hope to be had on one. It's nothing but unspeakable despair…."

His eyes drifted briefly to the ground as his words tailed away, but Saber, momentarily stunned, didn't miss the genuine feeling in her Master's voice. Whatever he was, those words had contained the purest form of anger and disgust she had ever heard in a person. Whatever he was, there could be no doubt at least in her mind that the cruelty of the world truly filled Kiritsugu Emiya with the kind of hungry rage only found in those who starved for justice.

And it was clear in what Irisiviel said next that whatever she'd said about not really knowing something like this side of her husband, she could respond to it as if she did…because it was true, after all, that she and Kiritsugu were bound by more than just love…it was something even deeper and more sacred than that.

"Kiritsugu," she asked in a small voice, "do you force Saber to endure such humiliation…because of your hatred for the Heroic Spirits?"

"Not at all. Personal feelings don't enter into it."

And Kiritsugu actually gave his wife a contrite, albeit brief, glance before he addressed Saber once again, giving one last drag on his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and crushing it underfoot.

"No matter how many wars come to an end, another begins, while others drag on and on and on. And when all is said and done at a battle's conclusion, it's nothing more than a soulless crime we call 'victory', paid for by the pain of the defeated. But humanity, you see…has never realized this…because in every era a dazzling hero has arisen to blind the people with their beautiful legends."

Though he didn't say it outright, it was clear to Saber in the way he spoke, that he had been one of those people who'd been "blinded", as he put it. Perhaps it was in the way he'd referred to heroes' legends as being…beautiful. Truth be told, he handled that word, "beautiful" with the reverent gentility befitting the word.

"So you see…Saber…" he went on, his voice hardening again, "…this honorable warfare you maintain, is nothing more than a beautiful legend. No…a lie is a more fitting term…and the only truth here is that in order to break this endless cycle, I must use the cycle itself. I accept the world for what it really is, and will be as cruel and violent as I must in order to save it from itself. I care nothing for things like honor and glory. Such fantasies are of no use to me in what I must do."

Despite everything, the conviction in his words was nothing short of admirable, a stubbornness that mirrored her own, if Saber was being honest with herself. It was in this way that she had to concede to herself, for a moment anyway, that he had a point.

The world was cruel.

And full of people who were cruel.

And for all of his ruthless frigidity, deep down Kiritsugu was a man who fought fire with fire, because in a way, there was still a fire inside him, that relentless, tireless drive. He wanted the world to be better than this. He wanted to be better than this.

That was where this heartless killer before her and the man who had laughed while playing with his daughter in the snowy forest…the man to whom Irisviel had given her heart, and who had, whatever anyone else might think, had given his heart to her in return (though he had probably told her at first he had no heart to give her)…that was the converging point, where these two seemingly separate entities became one, and managed to reside within one person.

Before she knew it, she felt herself soften toward him, swallowing a hard lump that had risen up in her throat.

Because something else had just occurred to her then.

Something that compelled her to reach out to him with her own heart.

"Kiritsugu…" she started, only for Kiritsugu to abruptly turn from her again, bristling, no doubt, at the kindness in her tone.

Even so, she pressed on.

"Kiritsugu, don't you see? If you do evil to stop evil, you will only perpetuate the cycle you claim you long to break. But at least…I see in you now…a fragment of something left behind from the man you truly are. Except…that you were betrayed…in the end. Though I can't know what that was, I see the sparks of a longing for justice that burned bright inside of you long ago. A desire you've held in your heart for a very long time. Am I right? Perhaps even since you were no more than a young boy, you felt an innate wish for justice in the world, desiring it more than life itself. Simply a kind person who had no wish to see others suffer."

That dream she'd had of Kiritsugu as a boy, caught in that awful fire full of Dead Apostles flashed for a moment in her mind's eye. The way he had cried, his pleading eyes saying, No, please…don't let me die this way…!

And then she said:

"I'm right, aren't I?"

But that seemed to touch a nerve, for the moment she asked this, Kiritsugu turned on her again, cold, dark eyes burning, nostrils flaring like some savage animal that had a mind to charge her and crush her beneath him, to tear her apart even. Saber didn't flinch though. She had seen that look before.

Lancelot had looked at her that way, when she'd found him and Guinevere together, right before he'd stormed off and she never saw him again.

If she were being honest with herself, she deserved, in some small way, to be looked at like that.

Even so, she felt no fear, did not flinch. For that one breath, the two of them stared right at each other, angry sparks spitting invisibly between them…before fizzling out.

And then all that rage in his eyes burned away, diminished even, and his gaze fell again. The smallest amount of sadness crept in, giving Saber just the merest flicker of a despair that appeared to weigh upon his shoulders constantly…a despair that thus far he'd done well to keep hidden.

A despair he kept out of sight, and being the beast that he was, the sort of beast who would snap his jaws at anyone who tried to show him pity for seeing it.

Well, save perhaps for Irisviel, who regarded him as pitiably as anything. It was heartbreaking to watch, actually.

"It doesn't matter," he told them both quietly. "I will win the Holy Grail and save the world. I will do so with whatever method gives me the greatest chance of success. I will make certain…that the blood I shed in Fuyuki will be the last that humanity ever sheds…so…if I must stain my hands with every evil to do so…I don't care. If it will save the world…then I take on that burden gladly."

Of that, Saber had no doubt at all.

So she had nothing at all that she could say to that.

Maiya had driven up quietly behind them in a pickup truck, and now that she'd arrived, Kiritsugu took it as his cue to take his leave of them, and move on to whatever new task in this war he had set for himself. Indeed, it was as Irisviel said, he wanted to push through this War as quickly and efficiently as possible.

He gave Irisviel one last wan glance of farewell before he went around and yanked open the front passenger door of the truck and climbed inside of it. Saber's mind went on swirling with thoughts of all that had just passed between them as she and Irisviel watched the vehicle turn and drive off back the way it had come, with Maiya at the wheel and Kiritsugu curiously slouched rather resignedly beside her.

And then Irisviel said, in an alarmingly weak voice: "Kiritsugu…has gone now?"

"Um…." But before Saber could properly answer, her lady charge was pitching forward in an unmistakable dead faint, her body haloed by the breaking light of dawn as she was falling…falling…falling….

"Irisviel!" Saber cried, letting Excalibur slide from her grasp as she dropped to her knees and just managed to catch Kiritsugu's wife in her arms. She turned her over, cradling her against her chest and examining her, her heart pounding at the sheen of sweat on the young woman's brow, the ghost-whiteness of her skin, the feeble shallowness of her breathing.

"Irisviel…hey…come on…don't do this…." Saber's voice broke, giving Irisviel a little shake, as that lump rose up in her throat again, and before she knew it she had tears in her eyes, and her heart was breaking quite as much as Irisviel's heart appeared to have been breaking for her husband. She was back in that dark forest, finding Irisviel run through and bleeding out.

This time though, things seemed even more hopeless than they had then. And this time, Saber didn't bother trying anymore with anything like gruff encouragement. She just held Irisviel in her arms, her face streaked with tears that shined against the sweat and grime that clung to her skin. And she just let herself cry, not just for Irisviel, but for what had happened to Lancer too…he hadn't deserved a death like that, and even if she hadn't had a hand in it, she felt by proxy that she was responsible for how it all played out.

She felt like a fool, and after so many years promising herself she'd never be fooled again.

"Damn it," she growled, teeth ground.

And then, a quavery voice whispered in her ear: "Magic circle…you have to…place me…in the…magic circle…the one we drew…in the storehouse…."

Saber sucked in her breath and drew back, but Irisviel had already passed out again, limp once again in her arms. She sniffled, for a moment acting like the child she used to be who'd cried over things like scraped knees in the courtyard during sword practice, or when she'd lost control of the first horse she'd ever learned to ride and gotten thrown clear out of the paddock, breaking her collarbone…the first bone she'd ever broken in her life, and certainly not the last. Even in those times when she'd held comrades of hers in her arms as they died, she hadn't been able to cry like this.

Still, Irisviel at least, for the moment, was still alive. And she was counting on her.

She wiped away her tears with the back of one hand and then gathered Irisviel up as she rose to her feet, carrying her like the damsel in distress that she was right now.

"It's okay, Irisviel. You just hang in there…I'll take care of everything."

And she reverted into the black suit that served as her street clothes, and carried her lady charge to the Mercedes and tucked her in the back seat, and then drove the both of them back to the abandoned old house in Miyama Town.

The cries of seagulls floated on the morning breeze, more of them gathering about the tiny speedboat, sitting all alone in the middle of the ocean. It had left New York City's harbor miles and miles behind it, and the birds themselves were quite unaware of the violence that was about to burst through the sky above them, as their only concern was catching the early morning fish in the first light of dawn.

The young man, meanwhile, was a few years older than he had been during the fire on the island, and in that time he'd gone through a serious growth spurt. He was not only taller but leaner too, his muscles showing toned through the white shirt he wore underneath a black, unbuttoned shirt. Even so, he was still a bit younger than the man he would become. He was in between the boy and the man.

Not for long though.

He spoke to a woman through a headset, and though he didn't say it so much in words, it was clear by the look in his eyes that he was clinging to every word she spoke, as though each of those words were precious to him, more than he could ever say himself.

"Did I really show so little promise as a student?" he asked.

There was a crackle on the other end of the mic, and then a woman's voice—and even though she spoke from another space, she appeared as if she were right there, speaking to Kiritsugu face-to-face as she sat piloting a distant aircraft full of Dead Apostle ghouls.

"Far from it," the silver-haired woman answered him coolly, "on the contrary: you showed a lot of potential." There was a sliver of pride in her tone, and the corner of her mouth quirked upward, and there was something about her that suggested this was a bit of a rarity.

"Too much potential, actually," she added, and sounded a little sad.

"What do you mean by that?" young Kiritsugu asked, trying to sound light about it as he set about assembling a rocket launcher on the deck of the boat.

"The ability to pull the trigger…regardless of your feelings…is a skill most killers take years to develop. You, on the other hand, had that skill from the very start. It's quite a gift." Then she sighed, looking just a little bit guilty. "But doing what you're talented at isn't always what you should do…and it won't always bring you happiness either." Then she gave a mirthless chuckle. "Ordinarily, teaching a boy like you is the father's job but…well…I sort of…took that away from you."

"So…you think of yourself as my father?" He was trying to make a joke out of it, but something was off.

Yet the woman laughed, as if she understood what he was trying to do. "I'm a full-grown woman, you rude little jerk, you could at least call me 'mother'," she shot back at him.

In only the way a mother would.

The corner of Kiritsugu's mouth twitched into an almost smile. A whisper of that man who would laugh while playing with his daughter in the snow, a whisper of the boy he used to be.

"I don't know about mother," he said with a sly sadness.

"True," the woman admitted, gazing off into the rosy pink sky, the dawn shining behind her as she flew that plane over the ocean, to where Kiritsugu was waiting for her on the boat. "I never once coddled you the way I suppose a mother would. Still…." A tired resignation settled over her, even as she still smiled. "You know…maybe I'm just getting too old for this game."

Kiritsugu made the final adjustment on the rocket launcher he was setting up and stood, bringing the mic on his headset a little closer to his mouth. He seemed almost earnest now, underneath everything. Charged, yet calm at the exact same time.

"Okay. Then…if you quit this job, what would you do with your life instead?"

"If I quit working?" The woman shook her head, and even if he couldn't see it, the love in her eyes, it came through in her voice. "I guess after that, the only thing left for me to do…would be to start acting like a real mother, I guess."

Kiritsugu lost his smile as she said this, and his eyes filled with something. Not with tears, but just the same, they were swimming now with an unbearable sadness.

Without breaking his gaze from the sky, from the plane that now approached overhead, he hefted the rocket launcher onto his shoulder.

Settling it there and peering through the scope, even as he made the final preparations to shoot, he said, hoarsely, "Natalia…you…are my real family…."

And then he fired.

The plane above burst into flame and smoke upon the small missile's impact, but the woman still had that smile on her face even as she was engulfed in fire and death.

The blooming flower of smoke that was left behind in the aftermath of the explosion in the sky sprouted bits of smoldering, burning debris that fell and crashed into the sea…but other than that, the craft had been utterly obliterated, along with every living thing inside it.

A craft full of Dead Apostles…whose landing at an airport could've spelled destruction for an entire populace…and the woman called Natalia probably would've joined them sooner or later.

As if letting himself feel the weight of this, and what he had done to resolve this oncoming crisis, Kiritsugu let the rocket launcher fall and clatter, and he himself dropped to his knees. He was smiling again, but it was a mirthless and painful smile, and his eyes were still swimming, even a little wakeful, like he'd come out of a trance of some sort…yet a trance that he had been fully aware of.

"You see that, Shirley?" he murmured. "I killed someone again. Just like I did my dad. I didn't screw up this time like I did with you. I saved…an awful lot of lives…." His voice started to shake, and then it cracked, as he spoke in the voice of someone working hard to convince themselves of a lie. Or, not so much a lie, as something they didn't really want to believe, or accept. "If Natalia had landed that plane…who knows how many people…would've died…?" He hunched over as his head dropped, propping himself up on the palms of his hands. "So I…Shirley…."

In that one name, was a desperate plea.

Kiritsugu shook and shook as he curled further into himself, and then something broke and he suddenly reemerged and threw back his head, screaming at the sky.

A scream that shattered the soul, because it came from his own shattered soul. A scream that sounded from the depths of deepest despair…a scream that echoed the first scream of anguish ever uttered by the first human being to understand that the world could be so cruel it hurt.

The scream that gave birth to the man they would call the Mage Killer.

Saber opened her eyes, not at all surprised at the tears streaming down her face, because in the dream she'd been crying there too. And her sleeping self had reached her in the real world, where she'd been crying in her sleep.

"Good God," she whispered in the gloom of that little stone storehouse where she'd been slumped against the wall. Hastily she thumbed away her tears and sat up straighter. "Good God…what the hell…?" She shook her head and sniffled. She took a couple gulps of air as she looked up at the dark ceiling. "No wonder…."

He had come to learn just how broken the world was, and he had wanted to fix it, even before he knew how truly broken it was. But then the world broke him, and so…he would break, and break, and break, until everything could be rebuilt again…into something happier.

Not just for the sake of people, but also for his own sanity.

Just thinking again of that moment, when he'd taken down that plane after wishing that woman farewell, and then screamed in the agony that it had caused him. Her heart caught in her throat, thinking that if she'd been forced to kill, say, Sir Ector, who had been the closest thing to a father she had ever had, would she have managed to keep herself from breaking the way Kiritsugu hadn't been able to keep himself from breaking? And the only reason he'd had to kill her…was because he'd made a vow to save as many lives as he could. How unfair it was, that in order to that, he had to sacrifice those he held most dear? Who wouldn't want to make a world where things like that didn't have to happen after all of that?

Though Saber was still disturbed and disgusted by the methods her Master used, she felt her loyalty to him renewed, the pact she had made with him still binding them, and felt right in her decision to continue to honor it.

After all, someone had to keep the light of hope burning. And she'd always been pretty good at that. It was one of the few things about her time as a king that she'd truly been proud of.

She glanced over at where Irisviel, Kiritsugu's wife and mother of his child, and Saber's charge, slept soundly upon the healing glow of a pulsing magic circle that was slowly restoring her health. This woman who would stand by that man, even if everyone else in the world hated him.

A man like Kiritsugu was too much of a lowly beast to deserve that kind of unconditional love, and yet…that didn't mean he didn't need it either.

Saber absently chewed on a thumbnail as she thought. Reflected on how seeing that younger Kiritsugu roar at the indifferent heavens reminded her so much of the despair she'd felt at her own death, when she'd slain Mordred, and knelt, mortally wounded herself, on that desolate hill of battle, surrounded by so many other dead.

Then she heaved a sigh, quit chewing on her thumbnail and stood with a groan, brushing the dust off of her smartly cut black suit. As she went over to where Irisviel lay and knelt down next to her, reaching over and brushing back a few strands of silver hair, she managed a smile, if a sad one.

"Don't worry, Irisviel," she promised, the light of the magic circle casting her face in its bright, white-blue light, "whatever's happened, and whatever's going to happen…I shall remain…your and your husband's faithful Servant."

Yet inside, her heart still shuddered from the dream she had had that had glimpsed once more into Kiritsugu's past, and from the last hateful glare Lancer had given her before he'd died, and how much it and the glare Kiritsugu had given her as well both eerily reminded her of the way Lancelot had before he'd stormed off and left both her and Guinevere behind…of the way Mordred had seethed at her before the two of them had engaged in the final duel that would kill them both…

…and add to that how this mysterious illness appeared to have taken over Irisviel's body, slowly weakening her, a heavy foreboding stirred in the pit of Saber's stomach, and gave her the briefest of self-doubting pauses, as Lancer's final curse came back to her.

That bad feeling that things were about to get really ugly, really fast.

Even so, she had to be ready for when that time came. And were anyone there to see it, they would've been shaken at the fierce, leonine glint in her jade eyes.