Chapter 16: The Defeat of a Greek Hero
All that came out of Rin's mouth were pained grunts as Berserker squeezed her, not giving her room to even attempt to squirm out of his grasp. Saber raced towards the giant and slashed at him with Excalibur, but it had no effect. Berserker merely raised the fist still clutching Rin and punched Saber in the face, sending the knight flying.
"Saber!" Shira cried as he landed at her feet, his temple and lip bleeding.
"Come on, Berserker; hurry up and finish her!" Ilya ordered.
Saber stood up just as Berserker increased his grip on Rin. He ignored Shira calling his name again as he dashed at his opponent, forcefully striking him several times. But no matter how powerful the attacks were, Berserker could not be wounded, nor could Rin be freed.
Shira roved her eyes over the scene; she saw Rin trying to contain her screams, Berserker's emotionless face as he crushed her, and Ilya cruelly giggling. She saw as Saber continued fruitlessly slashing at Berserker, his attacks becoming more and more desperate even as his fierce expression remained unchanged.
"This has gone on long enough," she heard herself saying. "Let her go!"
And with that, Shira lunged towards Berserker, her bow raised. ("Shira, don't!" Saber exclaimed.) But before she could get close enough to hit him, Berserker lifted his frozen sword arm and knocked her backward, the bow easily smashing into pieces. Shira landed bodily on the grass, coughing up some blood.
"Shira!" Saber watched as the redhead struggled to her feet and went forward to Berserker again, holding her left, obviously fractured arm. "Don't be foolish; you have done enough. Stand back, Master!"
"I said let her go." Shira glared up at Berserker, as if that would be enough to save Rin. She ignored her injuries, ignored Saber's protests, and ignored the fact that she was now unarmed.
I need a sword, she thought a second time; she needed a sword so powerful that it could defeat Berserker. But reinforcement wouldn't do; if she was going to get a weapon to match the giant in front of her, it would need to be—
At that moment, the sound of a gust of wind reached Shira's ears. She turned around, and her stomach dropped as she saw Saber holding the glowing Excalibur, the wind of Invisible Air unraveling.
"No, Saber! Stop!" Shira shouted over the howling wind, her voice both angry and frantic. Damn it, didn't we just go over this?! Didn't he agree to not use his Noble Phantasm, no matter what?!
But Saber either couldn't hear her or was ignoring her. The winds grew stronger, the golden light of Excalibur could just barely be seen...and Shira's left hand was suddenly burning.
"I said stop!"
Shira's second Command Seal glowed and then disappeared. The wind abruptly subsided as the glow faded from Excalibur, leaving the sword invisible. Shira let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding as Saber stumbled forward, his head bowed; although the attempt to unleash Excalibur had weakened him, it was much, much better than the alternative.
"Why did you do that?" Saber demanded harshly, lifting his accusing gaze to Shira.
She glared right back at him. You already know why—because I'm not letting you disappear. What part of, "I refuse to let you sacrifice yourself," do you not get?!
Saber continued when Shira stayed silent. "I have to do this, Shira! It's our only option!"
No, it's not. The redhead turned away from her Servant. You can't use your sword in your condition. She closed her eyes, holding her hands out as if grasping an imaginary hilt. So I'll make one for you.
The image of Caliburn reappeared in her head. Her circuits hummed with mana. She was only dimly aware of Berserker charging forward. All of her mind—all of her being—was concentrated solely on creating this one sword.
Shira yelped in pain as her eyes snapped open. There, held in her burning hands, was the shining blade she had seen multiple times in her dreams, the weapon she needed to stand even the slightest chance against Berserker—Caliburn, the Sword of Assured Victory.
Saber stared on in amazement. "That sword was mine," he said. "How did she...?"
Berserker was now almost upon Shira, snarling and raising his frozen sword arm. With a yell, she dashed towards him and slashed at his unfrozen arm. The giant roared as his limb was severed from his body, but Caliburn broke like glass before Shira's eyes in that same instant.
She backed away quickly. My visualization must've been flawed if the sword broke that easily, she thought.
Berserker lumbered towards her, preparing for the finishing blow, but Shira was no longer worried about him. The only opponent she had to face was herself. The image of Caliburn had to be nothing less than perfect—not just the shape, but the entire craftsmanship had to be replicated without flaw.
Her eyes shut tight.
Initiate projection. A hammer went off in her head.
Judge the concept of creation. Her magic circuits flipped on at once.
Hypothesize the basic structure. Mana roared to life.
Duplicate the composition material. Saber called her name as the huge, frozen sword was swung.
Imitate the skill of its making. The sword being created blocked the attack.
Sympathize with the experience of its growth. She dodged the next swing.
Reproduce the accumulated years. Her sword began to glow.
Excel every manufacturing process. The fully projected Caliburn rose in the air.
Berserker charged forward again, swinging wildly. Shira parried the blow, the force of the giant's attack sending her falling to the grass. She used Caliburn as a crutch as she tried to get to her feet, her legs struggling to support her weight. I projected the sword, all right, she thought, but can I actually use it?
Shira looked up to see Berserker's latest swing. Barely a second later, Saber rushed forward, countering the attack with Excalibur before their opponent could cleave Shira in two. He backed away to stand next to her, and Berserker growled, running forward with his sword raised.
"Give me your hand," Saber said curtly, grasping Caliburn's hilt as well. Shira stared at him questioningly, but the resolute expression in his eyes was all the answer she needed.
Just as she wasn't going to let him die, he wasn't going to let her fight alone.
Berserker was almost upon them. Caliburn glowed brilliantly, and with great battle cries, Saber and Shira crashed the golden sword against the frozen weapon. The ice around Berserker's sword broke, the sword itself broke, and Caliburn stabbed fully through the giant's body.
A moment of tense silence passed; Berserker's eyes changed from red and yellow to black as the madness left them. Just then, Caliburn glowed once again, and Berserker was wholly engulfed by its light.
It only lasted two seconds. The light faded, and Shira and Saber pulled Caliburn from Berserker's body.
"So, Saber," the giant rumbled in a deep, gravelly voice, "that is your sword."
"Yes," Saber confirmed. "This is Caliburn. It was the sword in the stone that chose the king, lost for all eternity."
"But it is nothing more than an illusion created by that woman standing next to you—a legendary sword that will never exist again." Berserker paused. "I'm impressed; even the illusion is formidable."
Shira gave a slight gasp as Caliburn disappeared from both her and Saber's hands.
"I never thought a single blow from that blade," Berserker's body began to crumble, "could defeat me seven times."
And with those dying words, the Greek hero Hercules faded away like so much dust in the wind. Even the severed limb holding Rin vanished, and the black-haired girl gulped in some well-deserved air.
Shira gasped as blood suddenly rushed to her brain. She placed a hand to her head, stumbling as dizziness from using so much mana assaulted her senses.
"Shira." She felt Saber put his hand on her shoulder to keep her upright.
"I'm okay," she told him, and amazingly, it wasn't exactly a lie. Although her head felt like it would split in two, the rest of her injuries, especially her broken arm, were already healing.
Through her pounding headache, Shira peered across the clearing to where Ilya was. The little girl was staring at the exact spot where Berserker had stood only a very short while ago, completely heartbroken.
"How...how can Berserker...possibly be dead?" Ilya sounded on the verge of tears.
Saber's face hardened as he removed his hand from Shira's shoulder and readied Excalibur, but the redhead grabbed his arm before he could do anything else.
"No, Saber," she said firmly. "Ilya's not a threat anymore, not with Berserker gone."
Shira turned her gaze back to Ilya, who seemed to be unaware that she wasn't alone. For once, those wide red eyes weren't shining with childlike innocence or murderous intent, but clouded over with grief.
And despite everything, despite all the trouble Ilya had caused, the only thing Shira wanted to do right then was give the poor girl a hug.
"My lord."
The woman standing before him gave a curtsy, as elegant as everything else about her. Her pale golden hair fell down her back in loose curls, her long, turquoise gown brought out the blue-green of her eyes, and the silver ornaments at her wrists, throat, and fingers shone faintly in the torchlight of the throne room. There was no doubt that she was Arthur's half sister—when he looked at her, it was almost like seeing his reflection in a mirror.
Many men would have been struck dumb by her beauty, but Arthur merely regarded her calmly. "I welcome you to Camelot, Queen Morgan."
It was not long before he regretted those words.
Shira slowly awakened to see her bedroom's ceiling above her.
"Good morning, Shira," came Saber's voice from beside her futon.
The redhead grunted and blinked sleepily, not bothering to lift her head from the pillow. She only vaguely remembered the few hours it had taken to return to the Emiya estate, along with the argument that ensued about what to do with Ilya. Shira had insisted on taking her home with them, while Saber and Rin thought that was a terrible idea. Undaunted, Shira had picked up Ilya (who had passed out shortly after Berserker's disappearance) and carried her to the estate despite the protests thrown her way. After getting Ilya settled into a guest room, Shira went to her own room and was out like a light in no time at all.
"How are you feeling?" Saber questioned presently, turning his head away from his Master. "Are you well?"
Shira frowned, noticing how flat his voice sounded. "I'm fine, but what about you, Saber? Did something happen while I was asleep?"
"No, nothing happened. I..." he paused, "just had somewhat of a troubling dream."
"A dream?" Shira echoed curiously. "What about?" Did it have any connection to the dreams she'd been having?
Saber was momentarily silent, apparently wondering whether to tell her about whatever he'd dreamed or not. At last, he shifted his gaze back to her and said, "It was nothing important. Come, let's have breakfast."
Shira decided against pressing him; if he didn't want to tell her, that was his business. And anyway, breakfast was sounding pretty good right now.
She got up and headed to the kitchen with Saber; several minutes later, the air was full of the smell of frying Japanese beef patties. As Shira tended to the stove, she watched Saber gather enough dishes out of the corner of her eye. He hadn't spoken a word to her since she started preparing breakfast; his disposition wasn't cold, exactly, just distant and preoccupied.
There was little time for Shira to dwell on Saber's pensive mood before a yawning, bleary-eyed Rin entered the kitchen.
"Morning, Tohsaka," she said pleasantly, earning a mumbled greeting in reply as the older girl headed to the refrigerator.
"Ah, that's more like it," Rin commented, sounding much more awake after getting a glass of milk and taking a swig.
"You seem slightly more relaxed today, Rin," Saber stated noncommittally.
"Well, of course." Rin took another drink. "Now that Berserker's gone, we can all relax a little more. And now that you can replenish your own mana, Saber, you can easily take out the rest of the Servants alone."
Saber remained impassive. "Nothing is ever certain in war."
"You're just being modest," Rin said. "All that's left are your run-of-the-mill Servants; that should be no problem for the likes of King Arthur, right?"
Shira turned away from the stove to look at Rin in surprise. "You know about Saber's identity? When did you find out?"
"I had my suspicions, but I wasn't sure until yesterday," Rin answered. "After all, there's only one hero who can wield a sword of that caliber."
The redhead nodded vaguely, refocusing on cooking. It made sense, she supposed; she herself had realized Saber's true identity the night he killed Rider. Still, it was kind of strange to call him Arthur; aside from her dreams, Shira had heard her Servant be addressed only by his class name. To her, Saber was Saber, even with the knowledge of his true name; there was no real reason to call him anything else, and she suspected Saber preferred it that way.
"So, Shira," Rin began once the three of them had sat down for breakfast, "what do you plan to do now?"
"What do you mean?" Shira prompted.
"I'm referring to the dangerous little girl sleeping under your roof."
Oh, great; this conversation again. Shira dropped her knife and fork with a clatter. "Look, I already said yesterday—"
"Rin is right," Saber interrupted, fixing Shira with a cool glare. "Taking Ilyasviel into your home is insane. How can you even trust her?"
"She's a kid; I couldn't just leave her there," Shira argued.
Rin scowled. "That 'kid' tried to kill us about three times over! And she succeeded in killing Archer, too!"
"She can't hurt us anymore, and besides, I've said from the beginning that I'm not going to kill other Masters."
"So you're just going to forgive Ilya?" Rin demanded, her scowl deepening. "You're so damn soft, you know that?"
Shira bit her tongue to keep from snapping back. Tohsaka wasn't there that day in the park, she reminded herself. She just knows Ilya the Master, not Ilya the child.
"What are you so mad about, Rin?" The little girl in question walked into the dining room, apparently having eavesdropped. "All the Servants are going to disappear once everything's over. If a little thing like that bothers you, then you're not cut out to be a Master."
"Watch your mouth, you brat!" Rin snarled, pounding the table.
Ilya ignored her, opting to walk over to the empty seat beside Shira. "Wow!" she gushed happily as she sat down. "You set a place for me? Shira, you're the best!"
"Ilyasviel!" Saber spoke sharply. "Quiet yourself!"
The white-haired girl raised an eyebrow at him. "You actually talk like that at the table?" A small, amused smile appeared on her face as she picked up her fork. "My, what bad manners you must have."
"Shira, I cannot condone this," Saber informed the redhead sitting across from him. "Taking her in will do more harm than good."
"She's a kid," Shira repeated firmly. "And she's not a danger to us anymore, not when she's no longer a Master."
"That's not true; she is still a Master," Rin contradicted. "Don't you remember what I've told you? As long as you have your Command Seals, you're still a Master. The same goes for Servants; if they've lost their Master, they have a window of time before they disappear. If Ilya wanted to, she could easily make a contract with a stray Servant."
"But I won't." Ilya set down her fork, her voice now solemn. "I'm not going to team up with any other Servant." She looked down at her plate, some fraction of the grief she'd expressed yesterday filling her eyes. "Berserker will always be the only Servant for me."
It was just as Shira thought. She didn't know what kind of relationship Ilya had with Berserker, but it was beyond clear that, as ruthless a Master as she was, she'd greatly valued her Servant.
"But," Ilya perked up, all sadness forgotten, "if you happen to lose, Shira, I'd be happy to take Saber off your hands."
"Absolutely not," Saber said with all the dignity he could muster. "I have no intention of ever becoming your Servant."
Ilya hummed. "You know, that doesn't really bother me. The end result will be the same whether I win or you just protect Shira."
And with that statement, Ilya continued eating.
"Well, I still mind," Saber stated, abruptly getting back to the original topic. "Rin, I expect you to make Shira understand the foolishness of her decision."
"What?" Rin asked, coming out of a reverie. "Say that again."
"We were objecting to offering Ilyasviel sanctuary," he reminded her with a tinge of impatience.
"I don't see what the problem is," Rin said dismissively. "Ilya's at risk of being attacked by other Masters regardless of where she is, so she might as well stay here."
Both Saber and Shira stared at her, quite taken aback by her change of heart.
"Just two minutes ago, you were—" Shira tried to say.
"Great!" Ilya trilled, startling the redhead with a hug. "We're gonna have so much fun!"
"I still believe you are being ridiculous," Saber muttered as Ilya followed her exclamation with loud giggling.
"Go finish your breakfast, Ilya," Shira said patiently, trying to untangle herself from the excitable little girl's grasp.
The sound of clashing wood filled the air as Shira and Saber sparred in the dojo. They had been training for the last couple of hours, and surprisingly, Saber had not been as aggressive as he normally was. Although Shira was not necessarily landing any hits on him, the most the knight did was dodge or block her strikes; he never delivered any blows that would have sent her sprawling to the ground. What was more was that Saber's attacks seemed slower than usual, giving Shira time to either parry or evade.
After dodging yet another oddly slow strike, Shira rushed at Saber with her shinai raised. Almost at once, Saber struck her in the stomach, knocking the shinai out of her hands and sending her to the floor with a slight grunt.
Well, that's normal for a change, Shira thought as she got up, panting.
Ilya, who had been watching the match since it started, chose that moment to pipe up. "Is this really how you go about training? It seems to me that Saber's either going easy on you or just not in the mood to fight. Either way, he's holding back."
Saber's cheeks flared up in indignation. "I never hold back!"
"Actually, Saber," Shira began, "you are being more passive today. Is this a new training method or something?"
The blond opened his mouth, then closed it after a few seconds.
"You know I won't get any better if you don't come at me head-on," Shira continued. "And God knows I need to get better."
Saber was now looking uncharacteristically uncertain, his face still red. "You...want me to come at you head-on? But I...I could hurt you if I did that."
Shira frowned, confused. "You once told me that getting hurt is part of being a Servant. The same goes for sparring." Really, this whole conversation was strange. Here she was, telling Saber to be as merciless as he always was during training, and he was unwilling to do it out of a concern that he might hurt her? It was like they'd switched roles.
"You've never had a problem with attacking me before." Shira's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "This wouldn't have anything to do with me being a girl, would it?"
"No! No, of course not!" Saber insisted, shaking his head furiously. "I mean no offense; I only..." For once, he was at a loss for words. Shira had good reason to wonder about how he was acting. Before today, whenever they sparred, he had made sure to treat her no differently than he'd treated the newly recruited knights of his army, but now he found himself reluctant to be on the offensive. Even the blow he had sent at Shira's stomach to end the match was not dealt with quite as much force as usual, and the small noise of pain she had uttered as she hit the floor caused him to mentally cringe a little.
What he could not understand was why he was behaving like this.
At present, Saber set his mouth into a thin line. "Shall we have lunch now?"
Shira gave him a bemused stare, but agreed to his abrupt suggestion. Several minutes later, she, Saber, and Ilya were sitting on the dojo's floor, having sandwiches made from the meat left over from breakfast.
"You're a really good cook, Shira," Ilya said as she took another large bite of her sandwich, not noticing the bits of food on her cheek.
"Hey, Ilya, you've got—" Shira began.
"Allow me," Saber spoke up.
Ilya stopped eating as Saber grabbed his napkin and reached over to her. Both girls looked on, slightly surprised, as Saber gently wiped Ilya's face.
"There." Saber pulled back. "Now your face is clean."
The white-haired girl gingerly touched the spot where Saber's napkin had been. "Why'd you do that? I was under the impression you hated me."
"Instead of holding a grudge against you, Shira found it in her heart to let you stay in her home," Saber said. "It was compassionate of her to do that, so I suppose I can show you some basic courtesies as well."
His voice was neutral—not exactly cold, but not exactly warm, either. Still, it was a step up from Saber's earlier hostility towards Ilya, and Shira was glad for that.
The day dragged on; that evening found Shira in the bathroom, undressing and wrapping herself in a towel. She opened the door that led to the bathtub—and gave a violent start as she realized that the tub was not only full of water, but also occupied.
By Saber, as naked as the day he was born.
"Oh, my God!" Shira cried, tearing her gaze away from her Servant's unclothed body to stare out into space, her face unnaturally hot. At least I have a towel on this time. "I'm sorry; I—I didn't think you'd be in here."
"No, I'm the one who should be sorry." Saber kept his eyes averted from Shira as he spoke. "I should have realized you would wish to bathe after that last workout. But please, do you mind waiting for a few more minutes?"
"Uh, no, it's no problem," Shira replied. She was about to leave when Saber's voice stopped her.
"I apologize for having you see me like this." He sounded ashamed, hollow. "My physique is not terribly becoming."
"What are you talking about?" Shira thought Saber was acting strange before, but this took the cake.
"I do not want you to see my body, Shira. What woman would ever think such weak, underdeveloped muscles pleasing to look at?"
Shira whirled around. "Saber, that's—" She wanted to say he was being stupid, that he was wrong and that she never much cared for huge, bulging muscles on guys anyway. But her voice died in her throat as she took in the sight of him. He was very lean and wiry, yes, but his arms, legs, and chest still had a certain firmness to them.
Slim, but strong; not unattractive in the least.
...But was now really the best time to talk about Saber's apparent body image issues? Shira mentally shook herself, realizing she'd just spent the last five seconds checking out her Servant, and turned to face the door again.
"Okay, then; I'll just let you finish."
As soon as Shira left, Saber sighed and sank deeper into the water so that less of his body was visible.
Well, I suppose we are even, he thought dully, feeling much more exposed than he had before Shira walked in. He decided to be done with his bath and get dressed as quickly as possible.
"Nothing seems to be broken," Rin said as she examined Shira's arms later that night in the former's room. "That was a powerful projection spell you conjured up; I still can't believe you did it."
"Neither can I, honestly," Shira admitted.
"You used your own mana to duplicate Saber's sword," Rin continued, sitting on her bed, "but we all know how inaccurate the human imagination can be. You could never reproduce it completely, so it's really just a half-assed form of magecraft."
Shira nodded mutely.
"And projection uses up a lot of mana; if you were to truly imagine Saber's sword, the amount of mana it would require would be beyond your capacity, practically suicidal." Rin paused before going into the next topic. "By the way, Shira, how much of Excalibur's history do you actually know?"
"Excalibur?" Shira repeated. "Well, I know that it's basically synonymous with King Arthur. It was supposed to be indestructible and able to cut through anything."
Rin raised an eyebrow. "I see. So you don't know about Excalibur's scabbard?"
The redhead frowned. "What does the scabbard have to do with anything?"
"The legend says," Rin stood up, back in her lecturing mode, "that as long as King Arthur had the scabbard in his possession, he would never bleed. Any wound he sustained would heal instantly."
This just made Shira even more confused. "But if that's true, how did he die?"
"According to the legend, Excalibur's scabbard was stolen," Rin told her.
"That'd explain why Saber doesn't have it," Shira concluded. "He's certainly lost a lot of blood since this War started, after all."
"Actually, he should still have it." Rin furrowed her brow. "The Grail system summons Servants from the Throne of Heroes, getting physical manifestations of both the Epic Spirits and their Noble Phantasms. And a scabbard that can heal virtually anything would undoubtedly be a Noble Phantasm."
Rin was sounding frustrated at this point. "In other words, Saber should be invincible."
"But he's not," Shira said, realizing what Rin was getting at. "And if Saber doesn't have the scabbard with him, where is it?"
The only reply she got was Rin letting out a huff, irritated that there was no apparent answer.
"You are still awake, Shira?"
Shira jumped slightly, interrupted from her attempt at projecting Caliburn by the sound of Saber's voice. She looked up to see him standing in the shed's doorway, as expressionless as ever.
"Oh, hey, Saber," she greeted. "I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd get some magic training done."
"Do you do this every day?" Saber inquired.
"I try to." Shira shrugged. "It's kind of a daily routine that Dad drilled into me." When the knight didn't respond, she decided to change the subject. "Um, Saber, you said this morning that you had a dream."
"Servants do not dream," Saber informed her. "What I saw was your dream; your memory, to be exact. Masters and Servants are connected even on a spiritual level; if their bond is strong enough, they can catch glimpses of each other's pasts."
So that's why I've been having those dreams about Saber, Shira thought. Out loud, she asked, "What was the dream about?"
"It was about an enormous fire. You and I are a lot alike, Shira, so your mistake is obvious to me. I know what will become of you if you go down this path."
"What mistake?" Shira wanted to know. "I want to save lives and champion justice, just like my dad did."
"Precisely, and that is your mistake." Saber didn't give the redhead time to form a response. "Shira, you have an unhealthy tendency towards self-sacrifice. You are always willing to put yourself in harm's way without giving any thought to your own life."
He had once been as idealistic as her, only to have it broken. Shira wanted to save everyone—not just the majority, everyone—and that ideal would shatter in the face of the simple reality that not everyone could be saved. If someone was saved, it usually meant someone else would die.
Could Shira handle that? Saber wondered. Would she be able to cope with the knowledge that her ideals are impossible? Or would it be enough to break her spirit?
"It was that fire that shaped you," the blond stated after a long pause, "and you've carried the memory of it for a decade. You told me that it was not an easy thing to live with."
"It's not easy at all," Shira agreed, "but the fire's already happened. There's nothing I can do to change it."
Saber continued to stare at her. Yes, there is. It might be imperative for me to obtain the Holy Grail, but you need it just as much as I do. It was surely no coincidence that I was summoned by you, Master.
"Saber?" Shira hedged.
Her Servant snapped out of his musings. "I should turn in for the night. Don't stay up too late, Shira."
So saying, Saber left, leaving Shira alone in the shed.
Author's Note: I find it kind of odd that, in canon, it doesn't seem to occur to Rin that Saber doesn't have Avalon with her. She concludes that Saber's invincible if the legend of Avalon is true and gets upset about being wrong about Saber's mana levels, but never stops to wonder why she doesn't have Avalon on her person. It kinda becomes moot in Fate after the conversation about Saber being summoned from her era instead of the Throne of Heroes, but still.
In summary, Shira takes a level in badass; Berserker gets beyond pwned; Shira dreams about Saber meeting Morgan le Fay, AKA Cersei Lannister with magical powers (and if you know what I'm talking about, congratulations, you get a cookie); Ilya is quite happy to stay with her Onee-chan; Saber's become a blushy, awkward dork around Shira and doesn't know why; Shira and Saber engage in part two of The Bathing Incident; and Rin and Shira decide to form an impromptu Tohsaka-Emiya detective agency.