Chapter 8: Hesitation

The course of another peaceful evening had Ilya lazing in her room as always. However, unlike ordinary days, there was another soul in her room to share in this brief moment of respite. The two occupants sat side by side, warmed by the nearby fireplace. The two cups of tea on their respective table were left untouched, but neither seemed willing to raise the now cold and stale drink to their lips. Instead, they simply seemed to settle for staring upon each other.

"This is a little awkward, isn't it?" the girl started with a small giggle, her face flushed in excitement.

The space within Ilya's bedroom was arranged to accommodate the very first guest to the Einzbern manor. The warmth of the fire and a soft childish laughter gave the room its usual homely atmosphere, but careful scrutiny would reveal a much more gruesome truth behind this seemingly innocent setup.

Under the facade of a childish gameplay was a real captive, bound and gagged. Yet, it was a setting that brought Ilya much delight, for here within the safety of her room the struggling form of Emiya Shirou could be seen. His two wrists securely tied to the armrest of her Victorian chair like a grim version of children playing house.

"So we are finally alone, Shirou. Talk with me for a bit."

For the first time, she had the chance to carefully observe the youth who had stolen her father away.

The ease of the successful capture that had taken place only a few hours ago surprised even her. While she believed him to be a fool, it was improbable to anticipate him being one to such a severe extent. Locating, convincing, capturing, none was to be of particular difficulty for he'd chosen to have wandered the city without the protection of his Servant.

While she might be guilty on the same account from time to time, her childish façade and mystic eyes made for a dangerous combination for those who slackened their guard. Apparently from the fact that he was now within her grasp, it was a fault he was most guilty of.

"What does it feels like to have your life in my hand?"

Running her pale hand across his defiant face to remove the mouth cover, Ilya giggled. The gratifying feeling of victory washed over her, coursing through the entirety of her small body. Here she was within the manor, gloating over the man tied and gagged inside her room, a product of her hard work, not of anyone else's but her own.

There was an unsettling air about her. The malevolent will of an adult hidden under layers of childish vivaciousness made for a disturbing combination. With two perched up ears, she waited for his reply, reaching for her inner magic energy as if teasing herself to the possibility of taking his life in this very moment.

But he never answered her question and his response was not made with fear or anger as she had anticipated. What she saw in his eyes was neither fear nor obedience, and it left her frozen to the spot

She could reach for her magic and end him in this room, absolving the grudge that had been bottled inside her for so many years. Yet, she couldn't find heart to follow through. A slight pang of hesitation soon clouded her original determination.

"..A girl like you shouldn't be joining this war in the first place," he said with a hint of genuine sorrow for her sake. Though with different phrasing, his words only convey the message over and over again. "It's just too cruel."

It was strange, all of it. She had him in her hands, helpless as a newborn babe. His life rested on her whim and no more than a small squeeze was all that was require to extinguish it.

"I'm not a girl…I'm an adult now." Growling in her throat, Ilya tried to shut him up with her glare, albeit without much success. That only made it all the more aggravating to see the look in his eyes as he spoke. It was indeed a mistake to grant him to opportunity to talk, for his words caused her hesitation.

Such a foolishly naïve person couldn't truly exist in this world. The boundary of selflessness could only be stretched so far and, when brought to such extremity, a man would have no choice but to revert to his selfish core. Yet, the very existence of this man before her seemed to be a living contrast to that very notion.

Shallow, naïve, and condescending, he didn't even know how the war itself was supposed to operate, yet where did he find the gall to teach her?

Either way, she'd won. It was her victory from any possible viewpoint. Yet, from where did her mental conflict originate? From where did the opposition emerge and manage to grow to this extent?

"Annoying! Annoying…! It's all just so annoying!" The conflict raging deep inside made her throw a small temper fit as a child would. A part of her conscience gave rise to hesitation and, in turn, hesitation caused inaction.

She clenched her teeth in frustration. Why was it that any encounters she had were bound to end with condescendence? From where did all of them attain the rights to preach to her about morality and idealswhen none of them had any idea what she went through in the first place?

Nevertheless, just why…Why was it that she couldn't make herself turn deaf ears to their words?

The questions were all too numerous and their answers were beyond the thick fog of unknowing that she could not pierce through.

"It's just too pitiful for you, Ilya…" He looked at her straight in the eyes, filled with such an irrational compassion, never wavering or wandering away. Within his voice, she found an unyielding determination, somewhat softened by idealism. His quality was one with such uniqueness that she'd only seen before in Emiya Kiritsugu. Indeed, it was no mistake to say that the two men bore an uncanny resemblance.

And it was thawing her frozen heart…

"So would you mind telling me why did you to kill me in the first place? Let's talk it out." Shirou remained firm in his stance. His conviction in resolving their difference was nothing short of genuine and his determination left no room for doubt.

Ilya could not stop her weaker self from succumbing to his presence and the story of her plight began to flow like water from sluice gate. Details of her life only told to selected few now being laid bare before this man, who was no more than a complete stranger…

The sound of wry laughter accompanied the gentle hand that stroked her head.

His condescending voice irritated her, making her feel bogged down by childishness.

Her thin arms pulled the man's sleeves in a desperate attempt to stop him from leaving.

Perhaps she would never be more than a helpless child to him, but she was no longer satisfied with helplessness.

"I'll go with you…I'll help," the child repeated, not knowing the meaning that her words entailed. "Really! I can fight!"

"That's not right, Ilya." His stern rebuke was somewhat softened by sympathetic eyes. "Your place is not within the theater of war. Your hands are not meant to be dirtied."

She frowned at his words and arguments were resting on the edge of her lips. Her youthful mind could not revolve around the notion. She could not force herself to understand why her father would want to fight and kill when it was obvious that he seemed to be in pain.

"We are fighting so that you would never have to fight…so that the world may never again knows evil."

The man's gazed lingered forlornly on his right hand, washed over by a wave of nostalgia and sorrow, but regret was never a part of the expression that twisted his face. Walking too far down this road of his life, he believed that his actions were justified…or at least he would like to convince himself so.

The girl fell silent in that short moment when her father seemed to have transformed into a stranger she barely knew.

He offered no further explanation, but the knowledge of the burden that he bore and the sin that he gathered eventually dawned upon her mind.

"It would be too sad, Ilya," the man mumbled, holding her tight. "It would be too sad for you to have to fight."

Part of her was swayed by his words and a part still remained haughty and unconvinced. Nevertheless, she knew that her feeble attempt to convince him had ended fruitless as the man continued along his path.

In her short life, filled with adoration and loving care from her parents, it was the first time that she was overwhelmed with such a wave of disappointment.

And there was no more she could do but to let him walk away.

With one hand in front as if grasping her lingering shadow, Berserker stood guard at the end of the main hallway.

Exhausted from defeat and dashed hope, the day went by quickly for him, after greeting him with a swift disappointment. Events transpired without his knowledge and outside the scope of his vigilance. As a participant of this bloody ritual, he was prepared for any threat that would approach Ilya, but there was little he could to do prevent her from walking herself into the midst of the warzone.

She insisted on her decision with unyielding forcefulness that he could not resist and neither was he heartless enough to allow her to march off toward certain death in the city. He could barely imagine how a girl of her lean stature would have fared against the other Servants, much less kidnapping a Master back to their dwelling. Still, as luck would have it, things seemed to have fallen in place with surprising ease on her side, such that he had not the opportunity to show himself after discretely trailing after her entire trek, only to stop and remain at the entrance hall.

He had not the heart to witness the remainder of how this gruesome play would unfold within the closed door of her room, partly because he hadn't the heart to witness the fruit of his failure, partly because he was entitled to the duty of a Servant. At the very least, he was determined to see the remaining task through.

Berserker gave a wry mocking laugh at his earlier optimism. After all, he did anticipate this outcome from the very beginning. He merely lost a gamble against overwhelming odds and, though vexing, there was no more to do than to silently accept defeat. Indeed, it now seemed apparent that his desperate opportunity for salvation had vanished with the sudden malice that seemed to govern the course of actions she'd adopted.

The sound of a commotion approached from the forest beyond, crossing through the distance with a swiftness that seemed to be impossible for all but beings whose very components were not of this world. No doubt, she would soon be here to reclaim what had been stolen from her.

"How commendable…so you deem that your labor should be continued regardless…"

The phantom lingered around him, although sharp disappointment and dashed hopes made its presence somewhat more tolerable. Without a lofty goal to be accomplished, there was no longer a need for him to struggle against the prospect of failure, but simply to wallow in a crushing wave of despair.

"Though I have failed to protect her innocence, I am still to safe guard her life. This is the duty that I shall not fail." His efforts in preventing her from repeating his mistakes might have ended as a wild goose chase, but even so he was determined to see her marching through the path of corpses to emerge as the sole victor of the war.

The front gate trembled, signaling him to cut off any impending emotion in the face of the duel that would soon be upon him. A flurry of blades struck like a roaring storm, breaking the reinforced wooden layer through to reveal a lone figure of the knight.

"Berserker…" Saber temporarily ceased her advance once she had come to realize his presence.

Descending the staircase one step at a time, Berserker kept his eyes trained on her movements and kept his stance ready to retaliate should she decided to be the one to initiate the offensive.

This time, however, such thoughts that no longer existed in Saber's mind. It was exactly because there was too much at stake that she could not afford to fail. Agitation and blind grasp on initiative had cost her dearly during their last encounter, blunder that she could not afford to repeat with Shirou's life at stake.

"Come then, Saber. Here's to our second duel."

"Do not think that the result will be similar to the last time, Berserker…" Saber narrowed her eyes, intending to completely erase the earlier disgrace she'd suffered at his hands.

"I shall make my judgment when our blades cross." Berserker concluded, similarly preparing for the duel with a stance of his own.

The air became fully charged with tension as the two warriors waited for the other to be the first to make their move…for a duel that would never come.

"Saber! Stop!"

"Berserker! That's enough!"

Two voices simultaneously called for a premature end of the duel as the two Servants simultaneously turned toward their respective Master.

Still frowning with displeasure, Ilya nevertheless beckoned Shirou to return to his Servant.

"You can have him back. I'm tired of playing around."

Needless to say, Saber was left dumbfounded at what seemed to her like a great windfall on her side. Nothing seemed to click together and the tide seemed to be reversed with a surprising ease.

Naturally, the knight's fair face was laced with concern and skepticism. Her mind wandered to various possibilities of plots and schemes that they unwittingly were a part of.

"Shirou, did she do anything to you?"

"I'm fine. We just had a talk." Though his face was somewhat ridden with fatigue, Shirou otherwise showed no sign of any other ails that might be plaguing him.

It was only after confirmation was properly given in his reply that Saber could allow herself to expel a breath of relief, although her suspicion did not waver in the slightest.

"Why, Ilyasviel? Why have you chosen to release him?"

"Hmph, I'm just not in the mood anymore." Taking a seat on the balcony railing, she cast an annoyed glance at them. "Just leave."

"Uh, yeah…thanks for that, I don't know how I should-"

"Didn't you hear what I said, or should I ask Berserker to chase you away?" Cutting Shirou off in the middle, Ilya grumbled and issued a threat of her own.

"No, that's quite alright. We'll just show ourselves out." With a nervous laugh, Shirou quickly excused himself. Adding Berserker to the negotiation table only made concession to her demand all the faster.

For a moment, it seemed as if she was ready to revoke her decision and order Berserker to track down the two escapees. Her lips parted and closed, but no sound was produced.

The conflict remained inside her, and the battlefield inside her mind was still smoldering, but it already seemed apparent which side had gained the upper hand. Berserker's gentle whisper was what pushed her beyond the tipping point.

"It is all good. Let it go."

"Hmm…" Making a quiet sound in agreement, Ilya stilled her arms and instead watched the scene with silent acceptance.

It was only until after two receding figures disappeared from the front gate that the mental strain had Ilya crumpled to the floor. Her knees buckled, no longer capable of supporting her own weight, and her dainty frame began quivering slightly with the rush of emotion.

She looked at Berserker with sad questioning eyes, longing for someone to affirm her decision and offer an explanation to fill the void that was growing inside.

"I hate him so much…but why?"

As a father, Berserker was gripped with a sense of both failure and pride. While he was grappling with his own past, the girl in his care had prevailed against the specter that threaten to subsume her conscience with malice, a victory greater than any of his feats.

"Don't, father…" Alas, this was one fight that would never go smoothly for Berserker. She occupied the small stretch between them, preventing his advance like a formidable rampart.

The phantom…the broken girl…the victim of his hands…

His very own daughter…

"Don't…" it hissed in the hope of frightening him away as before, but this time he was different.

He was emboldened by Ilya's presence. They empowered one another, sharing in strength, the father to his daughter and, in turn, the daughter to her father.

She had made her initiative, so it was now his turn to replicate her success. With a muffled grunt of effort, Berserker pushed the phantom out of his way. The sickly sensation of cold human flesh seeped in and spread through his right hand.

Yet, he pushed on, groping blindly through the emptiness until his hand landed on her. He grasped that light at the end of overwhelming darkness, a real shoulder with flesh, blood, and human warmth. It was an anchor that latched him to reality and dispelled the illusion from his mind.

"It's all your fault…"

Blood and death was no more. Before him was an ordinary girl who had been driven to tears by emotional turmoil. Concealing his mental strain and heavy breathing, Berserker gloated over his victory for fleeting moment.

"…You put a strange idea in my head…now I can't kill Shirou anymore."

Small droplets rolled down her cheek, compelled not by sadness but by regret and the unfulfilled anger that had been repressed for nearly a deçade. Her sobs echoed in the now empty hallway, but otherwise she did not raise an objection as Berserker's right hand gently stroked her hair.

"…I just can't do it anymore…"

"Revenge is not your nature, Ilya. Your hands were not meant to be dirtied. " This fatherly pride was a shield that allowed him to stand firm even under the phantom's hateful glare. "Your hands were not made to hold a sword, not against your family, not against anyone else."

"I'm such a child, aren't I? It was so close, but I can't do it…It was just so close."

"You've grown much to reach that conclusion." Berserker slowly shook his head. "I'm proud of you, Ilya."

"Mmm, you should be…It wasn't easy…"

It was only in this moment of vulnerability that she would allow herself to be soothed by such a demeaning gesture. In truth, she derived much comfort from his hand and pride from his compliment, but it was a secret that she would never tell a soul.

"I know…" he grunted in reply with an understanding that did not stem from any attempt to sympathize, but painfully derived from his own failure. Defeating the shadow of the past was no easy feat to accomplish.

For that, he had all the right in the world to be proud of her.

"Trust me, I know."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the new chapter. It's only a few chapters to the ending now. As always, any review or comments would be great!