It's been a while, oof. My health hasn't really improved so updates around this speed are probably going to be the norm, but I hope it was worth the wait for you guys? I had a lot of fun writing the POVs for this one, especially since we've got our first Servant interaction established.
03
Day One: Afternoon
Matsuo
"This is just outright gruesome."
Matsuo took a long, much needed drag of his cigarette. "It's a crime scene, Kirigaya," he drawled. "They're meant to be gruesome."
Detective Hanako Kirigaya scowled at him. "Fuck off, Ueda," she growled.
Even with the short banter exchanged between them, he couldn't deny how true her statement was. This was gruesome. He'd seen a lot of crime scenes in his career, but this had to take the cake for how simultaneously messy and meticulous it was presented. Blood all over the floor and walls, bodies in varying states of mutilation mixed in the middle.
All children, Matsuo noted with a shudder. He lifted his shoe to his knee and crushed the cigarette against the sole. Cases with underage victims were the worst.
There was at least one survivor among the children, already being loaded into an ambulance with an aunt or something hot at his heels. Matsuo had to wonder just what caused the grievous injuries all over young Daichi Oshiro's body, just how he'd survived such an attack without bleeding out so far. It was unnatural, Matsuo had initially thought. But the tingling against his shoulder and the gaze that followed him everywhere served as small reminders that not everything was as simple, as cut-and-dry, as they used to be.
Matsuo breathed sharply through his nose as he walked over to his car. This was a lot of paperwork to fill out, for sure. He really wasn't looking forward to juggling this case and a Grail War.
Lord Shiro.
He froze midway through opening the driver side door. The voice still wasn't entirely familiar to him, naturally, but it was more being called by his brother's name that startled him. Matsuo wasn't even aware he and Shiro still looked so alike as adults.
My apologies, Lord Matsuo, the voice tried again. Matsuo resumed entering his car and wasted no time pulling his phone from his pocket. It was easier to pretend he was in a call with someone—less people assuming the worst of him, less mages recognising him talking to a Servant.
"It's fine, Assassin," Matsuo sighed. He tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder before reaching over to his glove compartment for his notepad. Assassin never really spoke much unless it was important, after all. "What's up?"
He pressed the pen to the paper, ready to write down his notes in the shorthand only he seemed to know how to decipher.
The house you were called to had trace amounts of mana that were not attributed to the bounded field surrounding it. I believe a Servant may have played a part in the murders.
"A Servant? You sure?" Matsuo began listing the other Servant classes, then put little asterisks next to the ones he assumed were best suited for smaller scale destruction such as this. "Didn't the field or whatever keep them out?"
Not unless they were explicitly forbidden entry, Assassin went on. May I make a suggestion, Lord Matsuo?
"Hm?"
Unless this Master and Servant have brought innocents into the Grail War, it is right to assume that the Master is connected to the Oshiro family in some way. If we do not receive word of a rogue Servant, I suggest investigating the Oshiro family for possible Masters.
Matsuo wrote down the Oshiro name as carefully as possible. It wasn't a bad idea, honestly. He had the resources to investigate, and no one would question why he was looking into a family that had just suffered a slaughtering. It was, without a doubt, the best mundane way to go about the Grail War without drawing attention from other Masters.
He flipped the notepad closed and hummed affirmatively. "Sounds good, Assassin," he agreed. He shoved the notepad back into his glove compartment. He was going to be busy tonight, that was for sure. "Pretty sure we've had the name appear in a vehicular manslaughter case once, too. Wouldn't be surprised if it was connected."
A vehicular manslaughter case?
"Yeah." Matsuo plugged the keys into the ignition and waited for the engine to turn over. His car rumbled to life, but he didn't dare drive away just yet. That would be illegal, after all—and Matsuo was too exhausted to deal with a lecture from his superior about being reckless, despite not actually being on the phone. "Eldest son of the old man that was killed today. He and his wife got into an accident. Son died, his wife was pregnant at the time and suffered a miscarriage. Happened a few years ago, but apparently the wife left the country shortly after her recovery." He let out another hum. Matsuo pretended to hang up his phone and put the car into gear. "Might do me some good to look into her, see if she knows anything about what happened today."
Yeah, he told himself as the Oshiro property slowly disappeared from sight. Maybe Katerina Oshiro could shed some light on a few things.
"Assassin."
Yes, Lord Matsuo?
He turned onto the street that led to the station quickest. If someone connected to the Oshiros was a Master, it'd pay to not waste any time figuring out who.
"I want you to keep an eye on Daisuke Oshiro. He's the sole survivor of the attack, so I'm betting he either escaped the Master alive or he struck a deal with them. Report to me anyone who visits him in hospital, and don't engage unless I say so. Understand?"
Matsuo could practically hear the smile from under Assassin's skull-shaped mask. Of course, Lord Matsuo.
Casval
He was in for quite the encounter, that was for sure. Casval hadn't anticipated any happening a mere day into the War, but he supposed he couldn't complain. He had faith in Lancer's abilities, and the fact that she'd found the Saber so soon—with their Master simply wandering around, unarmed—seemed to be fate. After all, who better to take out the best of the three Knight classes than another of the same class?
Saber hasn't revealed themself yet, Lancer reported. Casval clicked the top of his pen open and closed. Lancer had been following the duo for some time now, ever since mid-morning, but still Saber refused to come out of hiding. Casval couldn't help wondering what the Servant's plan was, remaining hidden while their Master fled to a nearby playground.
He turned for the map of Fuyuki pinned to his wall and revised what he knew so far. A sighting of Berserker in the modern side of the city, plain as day to even children who'd walked past; Archer quickly fleeing Lancer's sight—entirely, it seemed—as soon as she'd detected his presence in a marketplace; now Saber and their Master, hurrying over to one of the less populated playgrounds in the older part of the city. Casval moved the small magnets he'd assigned each Servant accordingly, until finally he had a clearer picture of Lancer's easiest target so far.
Saber will be the best to observe first, Casval decided. They'll be more concerned protecting their Master, if they're the only Servant you've found in the same vicinity as their Master.
Naturally, Lancer agreed. She didn't sound disappointed in his decision, but not impressed, either. I'll continue to follow. Perhaps Saber is an agreeable sort and will allow me a chance to spar.
An excellent idea. Until such a time came, however, Casval was determined to get at least something written down in his notes.
Describe to me what you know in the meantime, he said.
So began Lancer's explanation, sharing her notes with Casval while he logged it all into his notebook and made certain to detail even the smallest of things. He wasn't one for profiling others, really, but there was only so much Casval would do on his own—Lancer had proven that as soon as she'd been summoned. If he knew the weaknesses of the opponents, knew how to appeal to them and adapt to their personal tastes and limitations, he had the upper hand. As a Faust that was the most important thing he could have—that, and the Mystic Eyes that would prove to turn his opponent's magic against them.
Casval read over each page once Lancer was done. It wasn't the neatest in the world, but it was enough for him to understand what he was up against as soon as he chose to act in the coming days. Lancer went silent, then, and Casval was left on his own to revise his opponents' perceived weaknesses.
Saber
Appearance unknown.
Master is around late teens, early 20's; female.
Unarmed, do not appear to be retreating to a home base.
Notes: Master's command spells located on hand; shaped like a tower.
Berserker
Large in stature, effects of Mad Enhancement yet to be seen.
Master is assumed to be untrained and inexperienced.
Unarmed and inactive. Further investigation recommended.
Notes: Master most likely entered the convenience store Berserker waited outside of. Dedicate time to staking out the store.
Archer
Little known about appearance—dressed mostly in green, though only a cloak was visible at the time.
No sign of a Master. Assumed Archer is keeping an eye on the city like Lancer.
Most likely has Archer-typical traits. Proceed with caution.
Notes: Can erase presence entirely? Noble Phantasm? May prove to be the wild card of the War. Currently holds highest danger level.
Casval clicked his pen shut and sucked in a deep breath. It would have to do for now. All he had was speculations and more questions than before, but at least it was a start he knew other Masters hadn't found quite yet. Well... Perhaps save for Archer's Master. With total presence concealment, there was no telling how much that particular pair would know by now.
Going out for an investigation of his own couldn't hurt at this point, he figured. It was common knowledge that most, if not all Magus families sought to reach the Swirl of the Root—but unless they directly conferred with the Church, managed to sway the overseer, there was no knowing which of seven families had a chance for such a dream to come true during the Grail War. With so many Tohsakas and the Einzberns vying for a place in the War each time it occurred, Casval wouldn't be surprised if his own family was overlooked this time around.
Free reign to go for a simple walk and gather whatever information he deemed important.
He supposed that was a good start, too: Investigating the Einzberns, perhaps even finding out if they've readied a vessel for the Grail. Casval's knowledge of the human body, of necromancy, probably wasn't something they didn't know themselves; however, there was no harm in seeking to ally with them and getting the upper hand in the War.
And if they rejected him... Well, he'd get to that if it became a problem. His family name was attached to the creation of a homunculus just like the Einzberns, after all. He was certain the mere existence of Mephistopheles was enough to convince them he was worthy of their time.
Casval pulled his white lab coat over his shirt and made quick work of putting on his gloves. No one would see the command spells, no one would assume he was anything other than a doctor off-duty for the day.
He was just as hidden as Archer.
Saber
"Are you alright, Master?"
Evangeline nodded silently up at him. Saber couldn't help the small sigh of relief that escaped him. The Servant had been following them since they'd gotten breakfast, never slowing their pursuit, and for a while Saber had feared underhanded tricks would come into play. He had feared he would lose his Master in the same vein he had lost his king, and he truly wasn't sure if he could handle such a failure a second time.
But Evangeline stood by his side, partially hiding behind his cloak as the sky began to turn red with the afternoon sun dipping into the horizon. She was safe and sound, and he was more than certain defending her would be easier without so many distractions surrounding them.
The playground was not his first choice for a place to fight if it came to it, but it certainly posed enough of an obstacle course that even their pursuer had to be extra careful as well.
He quickly motioned for Evangeline to hide within a nearby gazebo, its low roof and high supports the perfect place to stay out of danger and remain out of their pursuer's sights. She ducked behind one of the supports and for a moment Saber swore he spotted something small move behind her—ginger and furry, up unnaturally on its hind legs—but he was left with little time to ponder it as the Servant revealed themselves.
Saber moved his gaze to the row of monkey bars blocking a curving slide. The first thing he noted was the gender of his opponent—a woman—and the sight of the crimson spear in her hand, tucked harmlessly behind her body, sent him into a flurry of questions. A Lancer? How many Lancers seated among the Throne of Heroes were women? If not a Lancer, then what? Saber asked himself these things as he slowly stepped over the long plank separating the playground's wood chip ground from the park's luscious grass. Saber made certain that his cloak would not get in his way, discarding it without a second thought as he summoned his sword. A plan, but beautiful, sword; one the Servant may assume to be his Noble Phantasm.
It was an assumption Saber hoped turned the fight to his favour, should one break out.
"Saber, I presume?" the Servant called. She walked along a few bars before stopping just a few bars shy of the slide.
Saber continued to walk along the wood chips. He was set on taking stance by a swing made from rope and half a tyre. If he could use it to distract her, perhaps he and Evangeline could flee...
"Correct," he replied. "Am I to assume you are Lancer? Forgive me if I'm wrong," he added earnestly. She may be a potential enemy, but she deserved respect all the same. Decent courtesy from her fellow Servant.
She smiled at him and nodded. The lance was twirled in her hand as she brought it to her front. "Aye," she said. Lancer barely moved an inch from her spot as Saber finally took his position. Amusement flickered across her expression at the sight of him. Saber calculated more theories to himself, possibly overanalysing the simple look she'd given him—but it was dangerous to overlook the possibility that she was a Heroic Spirit of considerable legend in favour of thinking her overconfident.
Lacer bowed to him, low and slow, from atop the monkey bars. Saber blinked, considered his options, but ultimately returned the favour. If she were truly overconfident and dishonourable, she would've lunged for his Master by now. As much as he was trying to protect the teen, Saber wouldn't deny that he'd left her an open target on the off chance that Lancer's Master wanted to fight him.
"I have a request, Saber," Lancer said smoothly. She pointed the tip of her spear at him. Saber didn't bother with a response, certain she would indulge herself regardless. "I would like to spar. My Master has no interest in hunting anyone down currently, and of the Servants I have seen thus far today, you have the least information to go on."
"You seek to gauge my power?" Saber set his feet to a shoulder-width, gripping his sword tighter with his silver hand.
"Selfishly, perhaps," Lancer agreed. "I do prefer finding one I deem worthy in this War rather than remain in the shadows and slowly pick off my opponents. Many chosen by the Grail to fight in these Wars come from mediocre legends, inflated only by time and the egos of storytellers."
A test of strength? No, it couldn't be just strength. Strength alone didn't deem one "worthy" in most legends, and Saber was sure Lancer followed such an ideal.
"I see," Saber said. He raised his blade and completed his stance. "An odd request, given our circumstances. But I shall accept. On the off-chance we may become allies for a time, knowing each other's strengths may prove useful."
Lancer hummed amusedly. "How opportunistic," she teased. "In the more likely case we fight again to the death, we will be better prepared for the other's tactics. Perhaps even their Noble Phantasm."
And with that Lancer launched her spear in Saber's direction. It flew steadfast towards his chest, a killing blow if he wasn't quick enough—perhaps worse if her spear had some other effect hidden within—and out of desperation Saber cast aside his sword and threw up his silver arm. The spear scraped along it harshly as he slid as far out of its path as he could; the spear's tip tore through the robe under his armour, danced dangerously close to his skin.
The spear pierced the half-tyre and sent it flying. Saber backed away and lunged for his sword. He couldn't let Lancer get to her spear again, not with precision and power like that behind a mere toss. Saber dared a glance back up at the monkey bars, at the general area she may have been in the time they'd moved, but all he saw were flashes of purple. Lancer was fast.
He looked up just in time to see her hovering above him, mid-flip and tracing the air above Saber's head with her finger. Mundane eyes would not have seen the Rune she inscribed in the air. They would not have even known she'd used a Rune at all, assuming her a Servant who had fire in her legend. But Saber saw the Rune. He recognised Sowilo. And he had a very quick decision to make.
The air around him grew humid, a crackling emitting from the Rune and taunting him with a fate he wasn't eager to live out. He dug his heel into the ground and abandoned all thoughts of his sword. It was just a plain sword. It was not the weapon that would win him a battle with Lancer. Mustering as much strength as he could, Saber pushed himself back in the direction of the monkey bars—effectively switching places with Lancer, he thought idly.
Fire erupted where he once stood, and Saber counted himself lucky that the large explosion, turning the wood chips beneath to warm ashes, only managed to harm his leg. Saber rolled along the wood chips as Lancer landed gracefully atop the tyre swing. He watched her pull her spear from the swing and regard him with an almost bored expression. To her right was his sword, ripe for the taking in order to disarm him, and she took that opportunity without hesitation.
Lancer huffed at the weapon, weighed it in her other hand. "How mediocre," she said to herself. Lancer threw aside his sword carelessly, her disappointment more than obvious in her stance. "You hoped to win a match against me with a mere rapier?"
He bowed his head once—not to agree, but to concede to her point. "Tis a rather ordinary sword, I shall admit."
Saber! Are you okay?
Saber exhaled slowly and rose to his full height once more. Lancer was probably more than aware now that his arm was sturdier than his sword.
I'm fine, Master. And you? You're not injured?
No... Please be careful Saber. Don't... Please don't use your Noble Phantasm, if you can help it.
As you wish, Master. Lancer only wishes for a simple spar. I will make sure it does not escalate.
He was grateful that Lancer waited during their pause. Had Saber been attacked in the middle of his exchange with Evangeline, Saber would more than likely have faltered. Appeasing his Master and fighting at once was not something easily done.
"My apologies," Saber said. "Shall we continue?"
Lancer watched him for a moment. She was silent, almost as though speaking with her own Master, and she more than obviously appraised him as the seconds ticked by. Saber held his breath as he waited. There was no telling what Lancer's Master may have been saying to her, and there was only so much trust to place in Lancer's description of them. Interests could change at the drop of a hat, depending on how fickle a person was.
"Hm," Lancer responded eventually. But it wasn't directed at Saber—it was almost to herself, a decision she'd made on the spot. "Well, then."
Lancer dropped to the scorched area beneath her and took stance. Saber did the same, readying his silver arm to deflect the strikes of her spear. Seconds passed, an agonising wait to see who would make the first move. Lancer balanced her spear in one hand, and with the other she reached out to the space beside her.
Another Rune? Saber dug his heel into the wood chips again. She wouldn't use the same Rune on him twice, would she? True to Saber's lingering doubt, Lancer didn't inscribe another Rune into the air. No, she laid her hand open and, as though taunting Saber, slowly called forth another spear. Identical to the one she already wielded, more than likely just as dangerous.
Lancer lunged, both spears ready to strike. Saber jumped back as far as he could, landed atop a seesaw as Lancer pursued. She landed on the opposite end, momentarily launching Saber into the air; while she adjusted her footing and prepared to follow, Saber summoned his sword once more. Bolts of crimson homed in on him, ready to strike him down proper this time. Saber threw out his silver arm to catch one spear, and with his sword he prepared himself to parry.
The harsh scrape of his arm and the spear colliding sent a chill down his spine. Saber and Lancer descended, until finally he felt his feet touch the ground and his bearings returned to him. His sword barely kept the other spear from striking him, its tip nicking his armour this time, and he barely had time to push the spear further away before the blade of his sword snapped in two.
Saber wasn't used to fighting barehanded. Knights of the Round were honourable, fought with weapons rather than their fists, and he was no exception. But he wasn't facing a Knight of the Round, nor someone who shared his sentiment. Saber swallowed his pride as a knight and snaked his silver arm around the spear in his grasp. His wrist locked in place as the nook of his elbow tucked the shaft close to his torso, and with all is might Saber threw the spear to his right.
Lancer went flying with the spear, surprise evident on her face. Her grip slipped from her weapon, leaving it in Saber's hands, and she allowed herself to be flung in the direction of the spiral slide. Now she was back to one weapon, Saber thought with a hint of relief. Perhaps this would be enough to satisfy her curiosity. Perhaps this would convince her Master to consider allying with Evangeline rather than eliminate her from the War.
Long legs balanced carefully on the slide before Lancer finally looked back over at Saber again. The disappointment from earlier was long gone, replaced by an almost... familial expression. Approval, but not the authoritative kind. No, Lancer's approval seemed almost friendly. Proud.
"Your arm," she said, pointing to him with her spear. Saber twirled Lancer's other spear in his silver hand before planting it into the ground by its blade. "It is unorthodox, but I've yet to see a weapon—perhaps even armour—quite like it, capable of simply grabbing my spear without suffering ill effects."
Ah, he'd been right then. Lancer's spears were more than just sharp—there was something hidden within, perhaps a curse or poison that assisted in taking down her enemies.
"I take back what I said earlier," Lancer went on. "You're no longer mediocre. You've yet to earn a place among those I deem worthy, but for now take pride in knowing that you've impressed me."
He released a relieved breath. It was over, then. Saber relaxed his stance and released Lancer's other spear. It disappeared, leaving behind only a small dent in the ground where it had pierced.
And then it was back in Lancer's hand, and she was readying herself for another strike.
"If you survive this, perhaps you will be worthy."
She was in front of him before a second even passed. Saber barely had time to breathe as he watched the spears glow, watched them fold and contort to impossible angles that made it impossible to fend even just one off. Excitement was clear in Lancer's eyes as she thrust forward—Saber barely had time to move just a step to the right, to make sure the spear pierced his shoulder rather than his heart.
It was excruciating. Saber was forced into the air, suspended by just the wound in his shoulder, and everything within him burned. He willed his arm to move, to remove the spear before the second one struck, but his prosthetic simply trembled in place with each effort he made.
Master! Saber called out in a last desperate effort. Please flee! She's going to use her Noble Phantasm and I've no idea how far her range will reach!
Mere feet below him, Lancer hoisted her spear over her shoulder. "Gáe Bolg," she started.
Saber felt his heart sink as the spear pulsed to life, ready to strike.
As Lancer threw the spear with all her might, she finished calling its name with a decisive, "Alternative!"
For a fleeting second Saber could feel the Grail calling him back to the Throne of Heroes. He could see the spear piercing his heart, delivering a death far worse than his first and a failure he may never recover from, no matter how many Wars he'd be summoned to in the future.
All he saw was red. Red, the colour of his king's blood on the battlefield. Red, the colour of Lancer's delighted gaze glued to him like a hawk. Red, the colour of the spear closing in on him as it prepared to join its twin.
By order of command spell! Saber, teleport to my side!
And then the red vanished. Saber felt as though he'd surfaced from a deep lake, breathless as sweat clung to his skin and the wound left by the spear in his arm met open air. Wind whipped around him, flicking his hair into his face every so often. He gasped desperately for air and looked high and low for just a smidgen of a clue to where he was.
He saw red, marked on his Master's hand in the shape of a tower. Two command spells safely available to Evangeline, one fading away until finally it resembled only a mere bruise.
Saber relaxed back against the warmth she'd summoned him to. Whatever was carrying them through the air, away from Lancer and her Noble Phantasm, it was safe. Evangeline was safe.
"Forgive me, Master," Saber wheezed. Evangeline collapsed on top of him, almost hysterical as she wailed in tune with the powerful winds.
"Just hang in there, Saber!" she begged. "I'll get us somewhere safe and you can rest up, okay?"
Truly, Saber thought, Evangeline was a considerate Master.
