AN: I apologize if any waterworks are shed here. I just workshopped a story about a dog being euthanized and got my Madoka story workshopped in return, so, I'm in a teary mood?

Fate/Far Side: Origami Blades

Interlude

White Lily

"Thou, clad in the Divine Trinity and of the Seven Heavens, remove thine self from the rings of restraint.

Guardian of the balance!"

Shirou opened his eyes, glanced to Rin.

The dark-haired witch shrugged, giving him a sympathetic curl of her lips. "There's a connection, though it is still faint."

With a deep sigh, Shirou turned his eyes to Saber. The woman sat opposite him, as regal as ever, hands in her lap and head bowed slightly.

She too opened her eyes, though hers went first to her Master. "Yes," Saber said, "I can detect prana through the connection, now."

"It might just be faint because I'm a pretty bad magus," Shirou admitted.

Rin was the one to shake her head at that. "No. Now that we have your stupid habits taken care of, the circuit I can detect is fine, if a little dusty, so to speak." She shrugged. "To be honest, I think that might just be one of the reasons the connection was so bad to begin with, because your regular circuit was dormant. The flow now should improve just like the ease in which you activate your circuit."

Shirou gave Rin an askance glare. He thought he could detect a backhanded complement in there somewhere, what with refuting his "bad magus" statement, but she sure obscured it. And so gleefully, too. "You're sure about that."

She pursed her lips to a frown. "Like I know for sure! I really can't understand anything about your magic, you dope. Everything is backwards and upside-down from where it should be!"

"Rin," Saber said, "please, do not be angry. Shirou and I are both very grateful for your help."

Rin crossed her arms and leaned forward; Shirou leaned back onto his hands, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. "And are you?"

Shirou nodded furiously. "O-of course I am, you idiot! I just thought you'd know is all, it's not like I know any better!"

With a huff, the girl relented, pulling back and out of Shirou's personal space—giving the boy distance enough to take a breath. "Alright. Then, I'll leave you two to figure out what you're gonna do next. And be warned!" she grinned, "now that Berserker is out of the way, you just know that Archer is going to be ready for a fight." She sighed. "Though it isn't like we defeated him alone, so, I owe you that much, at least."

Shirou nodded again. "Really, thanks, Tohsaka."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and looked away. "Yeah, well, get on with it. I'll be out in the living room."

Shirou watched as Rin pulled herself up from the floor of his room and slid the door closed behind her as she left. He then turned his gaze back toward his Servant, who stared at him carefully, like he was suddenly in possession of a dangerous weapon. "What?"

"I…do not know," Saber said, looking away. "Perhaps it was a byproduct of being 'summoned' when I am already present."

"What?"

"Shirou, you said you did not know about the Holy Grail prior to having Rin explain it to you, correct?"

Shirou nodded. He felt like he was just being a reactionary a lot, lately. "Yeah, that's right."

"Perhaps…" Saber sighed. "Perhaps it is nothing, but, I felt like, when you were performing the ceremony…" She fidgeted in place, looking down at her own hands now. "Perhaps it is nothing."

"No," Shirou sounded almost accusatory, "if it's bothering you, we should talk about it now. So we know what we're going to do about the others, if it comes back to fighting." He of course understood it would, but he liked to hope and dream that he could talk down the others that would come up; even though Illya had not been talked down, now that she was Servant-less, she seemed completely disinterested in further battle.

"I wonder…if it is not something, a remnant, because of the previous war," Saber admitted.

Shirou nodded once more. They had talked a great deal as she lay in bed, debilitated by the use of her Noble Phantasm, and he had learned much about her ambitions—including the ones that had been denied previously, by his father. "Go on."

"I think I saw your past, like you saw mine."

He eyed her carefully, not exactly surprised. He had long ago considered that where he could see her past in his mind's eye, in his dreams, it was entirely possible that the opposite was or would be true. Servants may not dream—Rin had explained as much—but Shirou knew that he was far from a regular Master, and Saber was far from the average Servant, in more ways than one.

"I saw the fire," Saber said, "your earliest memories."

"And?"

Saber looked reluctant to continue, though not out of any kind of fear. Her eyes were pitying, sympathetic. "What you see is something nobody should burden themselves with carrying," she said.

"What I see?"

She met him with a frank stare. "I can tell, Shirou, the kind of person you are. It is not something you put behind you in any fashion. You may not think of it constantly, but it is a constant within your heart."

It was not like he could deny it, Shirou knew. It was a constant, just like everything else about that time. The fire, the death and destruction, his emptiness—

His salvation.

"It's the only place I know," Shirou countered. He gave her a sincere look, one not of joy, or of pain, of comfort or despair, but all wrapped in one, a smile despite sadness, a curling at the corners of his eyes despite acceptance. "Is that it? I mean, knowing my past really doesn't do much, besides even the score between us. Only fair, isn't it?"

Saber frowned. "That is not the point." She looked back down to her own hands, the blue skirt around her legs bunching up between her fingers. "I owe you apologies, Shirou—both to you and to Kiritsugu, as well as one in Kiritsugu's name."

"I don't understand."

"I think, seeing your father, I understand a little about why he made the choices he did. But, more than that…we both have done something terrible to you. I think we are both very responsible for making you as you are."

Shirou grinned. "So, what, now I'm a bad thing?"

"That is not what I meant!" she said, fiercely, no hint of embarrassment from his joke; instead, she seemed angry at the very notion. "Shirou, everything he did to save you, I understand, and I approve of…but by saving you, we have both put a very unreal burden upon you! What you seek is not something that can be found! What Kiritsugu wanted and gave to you…it is something not even Kiritsugu could know. There is nothing there, Shirou. No perfect world, no saving everyone. And I am sorry, because you should not live in exchange for only pursuing an ephemeral dream."

She was before him now, no longer a king, a knight, or a Servant; she was a person, a warm touch, her hands on his shoulders as if to beg forgiveness of him. He wished he could explain to her things he just could not vocalize, could not find the words to. It was okay, there was no fault to be had anywhere, people die and people live, and he had accepted that much, at least.

He did not understand her part in it, though that was ultimately unimportant to the grand scheme of things: he was grateful, and that was that. She needed no forgiveness from him. "I make that choice, every day, and it's my choice to make," Shirou said. "If everything else is a fake, it doesn't matter; so long as where I started is real."

She was gone.

Once more, someone else had died, and he had lived.

The sound of the battle had moved off down the street, and even Rin looked somewhat at ease, though she too stared down at the space Saber had occupied, her eyebrows crested downward in regret.

"Shirou," Illya started, her tiny hands at his shoulder.

The boy looked up from his lap, though instead of meeting the girls' eyes, he peered up at the Servant in black and red. Tears marred his vision, making the figure before him seem less human and more like a blur in his head, a figment, no more real than that which had passed from his hands and now lay empty before him.

"This is what happens when you cling to your ideal, Shirou Emiya," Archer said. "You will forever only know suffering if you persist in placing others before you."

"Archer!" Rin hissed, glaring back to her Servant.

Shirou blinked past the blurriness, his hands too occupied with the tiny keychain Illya had pressed into his palms. He wanted to refute the strike of words, wanted to stab back with everything in him, but—

The sound of curses, then taunts filled the air; it seemed that one of the unwelcome guests had somehow eluded the other.

"And if," Shirou started, his voice hoarse, "if I said I still want to save others, even though I know I can't alone?"

Archer's gaze turned away, back toward the general direction the battle had taken foot to. "I would tell you you're an idiot." The paired swords formed in his hands, and he glanced about. "Rin, he's going to circle back here."

Rin blinked up at her Servant. "Huh?"

"The one with the mask. He plans on returning." It was not Archer who answered, but Shirou. "Illya was his target, after all." He pulled himself up onto his feet, though both Rin and Illya flinched, seemingly thinking he would just topple over from the emotional blow just dealt to him. "We should get out of here."

There was no signal for another attack—the blades just flew in without warning, without even making a sound. Archer spotted them in time, though, and he planted himself before the group, deflecting aside projectiles, four, five, six of them, all landing at his feet. The black knives of the Assassin Servant.

"Get moving," Archer said. "I have some unfinished business with this one, anyway."

"But, Archer," Rin started, looking torn.

The Servant in red kept his eyes fixed in the direction of Assassin, the white mask now barely visible amidst the pale evening sky. It wavered in place atop the opposite wall, waiting for the perfect chance to strike, watching for the return fire one of the Archer class could send his way.

But…

"Understand that sacrifice, and maybe I won't have to worry," Archer said.

Rin glanced to Shirou, watching the boy as he seemed to shudder at the words, seemed to somehow become both more vulnerable and more intense at the same time. He wavered momentarily in place, then took Illya by the hand, motioned to Rin.

The three of them took off.

"Like it would be so easy—" Assassin said, leaping in their wake—

Blades rained from the sky, a wall of blades to block his path, to force the white mask back. Though he effortlessly avoided their strikes, Assassin was out-maneuvered from making another leap after the kids as they fled, each step backpedaling him onto his heels. He landed in the garden only to have a sword fly at him from the south, but when he leapt north a blade flew into his path and he had to move laterally. Four, five, six blades—until he was right back where he started.

"Like it would be so easy," Archer said, the faint hint of a smirk even within the words themselves.

Assassin leapt upward, back atop the barrier wall surrounding the Emiya estate—

Seven blades crashed into the wall from behind him, and Assassin dove unceremoniously into the dirt to avoid being struck.

"Mongrels belong on all fours in the dirt," Gilgamesh said, landing about the Phantasms he had shot. "You're barking if you think you can escape my sight."

Assassin glanced to the Servant in gold, then to Archer, and though his mask concealed any expression, it could not shield the long sigh that came from beneath.

Even with the panting as they ran for their lives, Shirou, Illya, and Rin could make out the cacophony that rang out behind them.

And yet, even past the din of battle, even stronger than the scraping of steel and the groans of the earth—

Still, a deep, resonant voice could be heard.

"I am the bone of my sword."

They made it to Enzou, to the mountain where Ryuudou Temple lay.

"Why…here…again?" Shirou asked, panting.

"The barrier," both Rin and Illya answered in tandem, briefly glancing at each other, then at Shirou. "It weakens Servants if they pass through anywhere but the stairway," Rin further elaborated.

Shirou caught his breath, peered into the forest. "Should we hide out in the middle, then?"

"Actually," Illya said, "there's a tunnel system beneath that should be even better. Not only do you have to figure a way through the barrier, the cave is cramped and using Noble Phantasms would be more difficult."

Rin looked at her funny, but Shirou cut off any kind of argument the two might start up. "That sounds great, but would Archer know about this place?"

"You speak as if that faker could actually help you."

They turned to the sound of the voice, though the shiver that went down all three of their spines simultaneously already told them what they needed to know. Gilgamesh strolled toward them, once more in his fur-lined coat rather than the golden armor, as if to remind them of how little a threat they were.

He sneered when they caught sight of him. "You look as if you thought you could even run from the danger, like that pathetic Assassin did. I suppose mutts are only good for barking and running."

Shirou backed the girls up behind him, toward the stairway, never once turning away from the golden-haired Servant. "Tohsaka," he said.

"No," she ground out, "he's gone, just a second ago."

Shirou's eyes narrowed. If Archer had been defeated, it apparently was not by this Servant at all; not even Gilgamesh could have made it to them in the span of a few seconds. Ultimately, it did not matter, the more pressing issue: "Then both of you get going."

"But Shirou—" Illya started.

He shook his head. Saber was gone. Berserker as well. Archer apparently too. And Shirou was certain that Assassin had to have been taken out between Archer and this Gilgamesh. But there was still no sign of Lancer past that initial night, and both Rider and Caster were still unaccounted for. The war was still on, and Shirou knew that if any of them were going to survive this, he could not risk Rin or Illya in a battle with this one at all.

It fell on him.

"You're crazy," Rin said, though she was already pulling at Illya's arm, trying to make the tiny girl budge from her place next to Shirou.

"Don't they say that the gods look after fools?" Shirou said.

"The gods are crazy too."

Gilgamesh halted, a few meters of distance separating them, seemingly amused as they plotted amidst themselves. He raised a hand, and that golden light formed beyond his shoulders. "Finished with your schemes?"

"Shirou—" Illya started again.

"Go!" Shirou shouted.

A snap of Gilgamesh's fingers.

The sound like miniature explosions, of flight breaking the sound barrier sounded out like the starting pistol of a race. Blades flew at them, into them—

Shirou deflected a handful aside, paired white-and-black swords in hand. Rin and Illya charged up the stairs, then jumped past the shrubs into the foliage beyond.

"Knight-in-shining wannabe," Gilgamesh said, sneering once more, "you think your fakery can compare to my treasures?"

"Only one way to find out," Shirou said.

It rained death.

Steel meant to kill, blades meant to take life. They came down at him like rain, and each brought the threat of eternity. Shirou blocked what he could with the paired scimitars, though with each burst from the gate, he would retreat a dozen steps, trying to put distance between them, even as Gilgamesh advanced.

Shirou blocked one, grimaced as another cut into his side, cursed as Bakuya shattered in hand, forcing him to project another. He stepped back further and further, knocking back another sword, then barely had time to cross the blades before his body as a spear careened into him; twin swords broke, and he was cut again, hardly managing to twist out of the way of being impaled completely. He stepped back again, and his heels dug into the first step to Ryuudou, and he fell to his haunches.

"You now have two things that belong to me," the golden Servant said. "Even if you begged for mercy now, I would hear nothing but the dying throes of a mongrel."

Death stood before him, guaranteed, this Servant somehow so exponentially stronger than all others. If a normal person could not hope to face a normal Servant, this extraordinary one was beyond anything, any kind of hope.

Yet…

"Understand that sacrifice, and maybe I won't have to worry."

The man in red had said that, had spoken it with the first words of sincerity that did not reek of scathing anger and cynicism.

It didn't matter. This time, any time. Be it the giant Servant who roared like a monster, the shadowy Servant that had nearly taken his heart, this golden Servant with his endless stores of Phantasms…

Every night, lancing the feeling of hot iron into his spine. Or fire raging through Fuyuki.

Death always stood before him.

Others continued to save him, keeping that death from ever reaching him.

Then—

If he could ever face it himself, with nothing else in the way—

No.

The pain was receding, the cuts in his side and belly, his raw knuckles, cut face…all of them seemed to lighten, seemed to fall away from his mind and body.

Not alone…

He clasped the keychain tightly, swore he felt warmth emanating from it. It pulsed, as if alive, as if full of pumping blood, and he thought, he swore—

I am here. You are not alone.

—a voice came from within.

"Now give me what is mine, mongrel!"

Draw it, Shirou—!

Gram, Houtengeki, Kusanagi, Durendal, Caladbolg—they shot out after him, faster than he could possibly move to avoid, faster than a mere human could hope to survive—

"Trace, on!"

And were repelled by the radiance of a promised victory.

Excalibur waved through the air in a perfect arc that sundered each and every blade's path that came for Shirou, sending the numerous Phantasms tumbling aside. Gram spun in the air, Caladbolg cracked, three blades were completely cut into halves.

The golden Servant's eyes bulged, his teeth clamped together in a snarl no man could hope to match. If the fury of a king was to be feared, the fury of a god-king that reigned over even other kings was enough to burn the air about them. "You sully her with your commoner hands?"

Shirou raised Excalibur, placed it like a shield to ward off the growing light as the Gate of Babylon was opened further.

"If I said I still want to save others, even though I know I can't alone?"

The Servant in red had said it was foolish to pursue, that heroes were singular entities.

But still, Shirou understood. Alone, he certainly could not accomplish anything. He had not even managed to survive his birth, his existence, by escaping that fire alone. Another had saved him.

And even as the voices of those that had died haunted him, pressed him away from that place, to that distant horizon he was certain he would never reach—

The place you carry with you…I can see it now, truly see it.

He nodded. Certainly, of all things, that was not a fake.

That origin was truth, and even if the future from that point on was ever distant, and hazy for that distance—

What lies beyond must also be truth.

If I can see it, then…

So could he.

"Know your place, faker!" Gilgamesh roared, and death rained down from the golden gate.

Know your place, Shirou.

He knew it. He always knew it. It was the one thing, for certain, he did know.

"I am the bone of my sword."

Interlude, White Lily, End