Chapter 160

His positivity was quickly fading as he walked towards the dojo, his palms sweaty while the muscles on his body started throbbing in anticipation of the beating they'd receive. Saber's blows were already carved into him by the end of the first day, and he was sure that no matter how much he tried to forget it, some part of his subconscious would always remember the suffering she had inflicted on him, though it was for his own good.

Passing by Caster, he greeted her as he usually did, but she only replied with a passing nod and walked past him quickly. It looked like she was lost in thought about something. Had she given him a strange look as well?

Well, there wasn't much he could do about it, he didn't want to think about the consequences if he stood up Saber, though he did want to ask Caster what was going through her mind. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he continued walking towards the dojo.

Sliding open the thin screen door, the first thing he saw was Saber kneeling on the floor, the tatami mats that were omnipresent throughout the rest of the temple replaced here in favour of red pine boards for the floor, dark blotches appearing randomly on the light ochre rectangles, the surfaces shining from polish, though it was evident on how worn they were from frequent use, since the monks used it for both martial training and meditation as well. During this particular time period though, it was free for them to use exclusively, and it was definitely not because Saber had scared them off after demonstrating her prowess.

Saber was in front of the wooden plaques with Buddhist inscriptions, large words engraved on them with flowing script that calligraphy classes in school were supposed to teach them, though Shirou had never gotten the knack of it. Wooden practice swords adorned the walls to the left and right of the walls, along with the wooden staves that were more often used by the monks, the handles as worn as the floor.

Bowing her head slightly, with her eyes closed, she seemed to be meditating in the dojo. With her knees tucked neatly alongside her calves beneath her thighs, the black tights covering her legs allowing the barest hint of her toes to peek out, their outlines traced by the diffuse sunlight coming in through the shoji screen walls. Motes of dust danced in these shafts of light, surrounding her and making her figure more ethereal as her blonde hair caught the light and shimmered, fine strands of gold fit to adorn the crown of a king.

Shirou couldn't help but stop and stare for a moment at the entrance, spellbound by her appearance. Compared to what he had seen in the dream, she had matured so much, though she apparently still had a lot more room to grow if what they had seen of the other Servants was applicable to her. Still, as she was right now, she more than enough to steal his breath away.

Sensing her Master's presence close by, she opened her eyes and turned her head slightly in his direction.

"What's wrong Shirou? You can come in."

His face flushed a bit even though it wasn't like he had done anything wrong, but he came in all the same, slightly reluctant to leave his position by the door. Saber stood up and took up one of the wooden practice swords placed on the racks next to the plaques, holding it in one hand loosely as she waited for Shirou to pick his.

"Today we'll be continuing our training the same as before. Are you ready Shirou?"

Shirou could only gulp and nod as his hands closed around the wooden handle of the shinai when he heard her words, stomach turning a bit though he'd already set aside some time for his breakfast to properly digest so that he didn't throw it back up when he got in the stomach later.

Focus!

Psyching himself up, he did best to swallow his apprehension and walked towards the spot he always started in when he sparred with Saber, just half a sword length out of her reach. Standing directly opposite each other, he assumed the traditional kendo stance he had been taught by Fuji-nee, sloppy though it was. Lifting the sword with both hands, he looked Saber in the eyes, remembering the dream last night and his own experiences in their last fight.

"I'm ready Saber."

Saber seemed to sense something different from his eyes, her eyebrows slanting as the emerald irises narrowed in response to his unusual vigour in this practice session. Lowering her stance, she took up her usual posture and tightened her guard, legs ready to pounce forward at any moment. If he felt serious, then she was going to respond in kind. It would be an insult towards him if she reacted in any other way.

Without even a word of warning, she went on the offense, a white blur as the blouse pressed flat against her body from the air crushing it against her skin at the speeds she was moving at.

Shirou barely had time to think as he adjusted his grip on the shinai, tilting it slightly to the side just in time to intercept the sudden blow, his muscles tensed and stiffened in order to take on the kinetic force.

*DOK*

Shirou wasn't blown of his feet per se, but the shock travelling through his arms was enough to shake up his muscles hard enough that they loosened, his entire body feeling the tremors as his knees became weak just from sustaining that one blow, his entire body sinking noticeably lower in that instant. He had kept his jaw loose with his teeth clasped together to avoid accidentally biting his tongue if he clenched them in the effort, and he could feel them chattering as the vibrations travelled up his arms and into his head.

Then it vanished, just like that.

With the force pressing against his shinai vanishing, he suddenly felt himself moving forward as his own momentum worked against him, throwing him off balance as his remaining force propelled him forward, his body moving of its own accord as his feet stumbled forward in awkward steps.

His instincts flared, and he converted the unwanted movement into a clumsy dive and roll forward as Saber's sword struck the floor with a crisp and clear smack, his head barely escaping her wrath as he dropped and rolled, his butt feeling the wave of air from that swift downwards blow kiss the back of his pants.

His hands were already twisting around and bracing for another one before he was even standing up, his knee still on the ground as he turned and intercepted the blow coming from Saber as she caught up to him one bound, her tights somehow enduring the friction against the floor and not ripping with her sudden stop.

*SHI-*

Having to block on such short notice, his block was bound to have shortcomings and openings. If Saber had decided to challenge it directly, his arms wouldn't have found enough strength to block it, and he would have been hit by his own shinai, the awkward twist of his body and arms preventing his muscles from exerting the power necessary to hold her off. As it was, Saber chose to shift her trajectory, a slight twist on the blade producing a complete swerve on the tip of the blade as it passed just around his guard and hammered against his ribs.

"Kah!"

"Again."

Removing her sword from his torso, she stepped back and went back to her original position, taking up the same stance she had started with, her eyes holding no mercy or compassion for him at all. All there was in those green pools was the determination to teach her Master how to survive.

Shirou stood up in response, though he winced when he stretched the muscles as he back straightened, the ribs protesting against his movement. It was already far more gentler than most of the hits he'd sustained last time, but it was still a heavy blow for him.

If he gave up after just this much, he wouldn't be called Emiya Shirou though.

Trusting Avalon to keep him going, he stood opposite Saber once more, mimicking his own stance from earlier as well.

"HAA!"

…

It felt like time had lost meaning, or rather that the meaning had been beaten out of him as the session continued. The injuries accumulated, lactic acid burning into his muscles as sweat flooded out of the pores of his skin. If it was summer, he would be maneuvering in his own pools of sweat dripping from his body. With the winter chill hanging in the air though, only a few droplets stained the floor. Time and time again, he fell to his knees, slammed on his back, sat on the ground, keeled over or was sent stumbling backward, his hands desperately spinning the blade, his eyes darting everywhere in search of a way to strike back, to no avail.

The sun was already hanging in the sky, though the clouds had started to cover its radiance, when the session came to its midpoint.

Lowering her shinai, Saber took a step back from Shirou as he lay on the floor after his latest defeat, only his chest moving as it rose and fell with each breath he took.

"Let's have a short rest."

Going to the corner of the room, she picked up two bottles of water and a towel prepared beforehand,

Saber walked over to Shirou, who was still recuperating, his body wrung through the training until he didn't even have the energy to sit up. Kneeling next to him, she pressed the towel on his forehead, placing the bottle next to his head as it settled on the floor with a soft tap.

They shared a moment of silence, Saber taking a courtesy sip of her own bottle as Shirou lay there, his eyes wide open, but his body unwilling to move.

"Shirou, I can just pour it into your mouth if you can't get up."

He immediately sat up, though a flash of pain surged through his body.

"Ah, I'm fine, thanks Saber."

A pained smile on his face and his trembling hands as he opened the bottle were the only indications of the suffering he was enduring as he downed the water, gulping it like a man lost in the desert.

The towel was halfway soaked through as he finished drinking the water, not drinking too much so that he didn't get a full stomach. Neither of them spoke to each other, simply resting their body and minds in that short interval between the frenetic activity they were experiencing.

The break ended when Saber stood up and picked up her shinai again from where it was resting on the ground, taking up the same position as usual in front of the plaques.

"Shirou, it's time."

By now, his body was loosened up enough that he didn't feel particularly nervous, his mind already slipping into a focused state of concentration to face off against Saber. Placing the towel and bottle to their respective positions, he picked up the shinai that had been wrenched out of his grasp from his last defeat, his eyes clear and his hands steadier. Avalon worked its magic, soothing the bruises and the marks on his skin, with minor injuries such as these easily dealt with, though for him to fully recover he'd need a good night's sleep as well to wash away the fatigue and give time for Avalon to purge the injuries.

As the practice resumed, Saber couldn't help but feel a little bit impressed by Shirou. On the first day, he had been defeated after the first blow for almost three hours, unable to put up anything more than a half-hearted block or a mistimed dodge that ended up with a painful smack on various parts of his body. By the end of the first training sessions though, he had managed to at least dodge one or two strikes, his perception of her moves improving by a massive margin when compared with how he was starting out. Yesterday, he was able to prolong the average time of their fights to around seven or eight seconds, with the longest one lasting fifteen as he rolled and dodged desperately with a luck parry included in as well.

The blows and pain that he endured carved into his body the instinct to survive, eah strike teaching him the consequence of his actions, showing him the gap between his opponents and himself. If it was mortal combat they were in, he would have died hundreds, no thousands of times already against Saber. The one-in-a-million chance of him beating Saber was just that, a one in a million chance that had yet to occur, and would most likely never occur even if he continued to fight for a million times in this dojo against Saber.

But because he knew he couldn't beat Saber at all, his body honed his instinct to survive, his will to defeat her one day, impossible thought it may be, burning inside his body and telling them as long as he survived the next second, the first glimpse of the road to victory could appear. No matter how many times he fell, his hope never faded, and deep down the desire that his foster father had given him refused to back down in the face of the insurmountable mountain that was Saber.

"I'll become one for you. Leave your dream to me."

For this reason, even though he was only improving by seconds, even if it was only ten seconds with which he could stand against a Servant holding most of her strength back, he would not falter. He would not be discouraged, or acknowledge that it was useless. He knew it could be useless, but even so there was always the chance that those ten seconds he could buy would become crucial in the future. If he had given up against Lancer, he wouldn't be alive right now. If he stayed at the school after being healed, he would have died again and thrown away the life that his anonymous saviour had given him. If he gave up in this hellish practice against Saber, who knew what the consequence would be in the future.

Stubbornly, he clung, his vision darkening sometimes with a heavier blow, his legs feeling like they would crumble at any moment, the handle of his shinai slick with sweat as his ribs, chest, stomach and back burned, but he persisted. Slowly, bit by bit, instinct was shoved into his body with each hit, his mind growing a little sharper, his movements a little smoother, his reactions a little faster. Though his improvement could be measured in milliseconds, it was still a definite improvement.

If he couldn't win right now, he'd keep fighting until he did.

Still, it wasn't like he wasn't frustrated. His feelings simmered within him, a burning desire to improve in leaps and bounds, to be able to fight alongside Saber and Caster, to at the very least be as capable as Souichirou-sensei. The strength that had been given to him, that he relied on every fight, was leaning on them the only thing he could do?

The smoldering emotion in his heart that he wasn't aware of grew as the session dragged on, his instincts growing as he continuously fought against Saber over and over. Like a glass that spilled once it was full, it was inevitable that that would happen.

With a swift flourish, he was once again disarmed like so many times in the past, though it had taken significantly longer than before, almost a full thirty seconds. The shinai descended, a blurry nut brown line that bent, with a white tip that was poised to smack onto his shoulder blade, his shoulders also in the line of attack.

The world flashed, the image of her movements and sword exploding in his mind, filling it until there was nothing else. Grasping at straws, his instincts screamed at him to survive, his body automatically doing what it needed to.

I can't die!

"Trace. On."

Saber could see his lips moving, but the words were spoken in the heart. A resounding click echoed in his head, Circuits that were once dormant now filling up with energy, viridescent lines of mana that now flowed freely in Shirou's body thanks to Caster.

*Kok!*

*Shwip*

Saber jumped back, her eyebrows raised as her mind gasped in disbelief, though her face remained calm with her battle 'mask' in place.

Without knowing it, without even thinking, he had traced the practice sword he had seen last night and brought into the future, copying her movements that he had seen her repeat over and over in that forest clearing, her vigorous form burned into his memory.

It was a clumsy replication at best, with loose footwork and sloppy execution. In addition, his body's state made it even worse, a poor copy that would embarrass even the childhood Saber.

But it was enough to make Saber retreat for the very first time in their practice sessions, sensing that something was off with Shirou all of a sudden. The appearance of her old practice sword made her widen her eyes even more, recognition sparking at the sight of that familiar shape and grain patterns swirling on the surface.

"Shirou…"

Coming to his senses, Shirou realized that he was holding the practice sword of last night's dream. With a start, he dropped the sword, the weapon returning to nothing as he stopped maintaining its existence. Backpedaling, his feet carried him to the door of the dojo.

"I'll um, I'll go to the toilet Saber."

Saber did nothing to stop him as he left, a peculiar expression on her face as she stared at the spot on the floor where her practice sword of old had rested a moment ago.