"So, did you have fun, Archer?"
Tokiomi lounged in his chair. No other verb was appropriate. His eyes were closed and he was seeing the city of Fuyuki pass beneath his gaze as Archer leapt and bounded through the night.
"Not particularly, Master. I entered that engagement with the intention of confirming two facts, and left it with three more than that.
"Oh? Do tell."
"As you saw, I confirmed the identities of Saber and Lancer. Rider exposing himself was merely a bonus. More importantly, I saw their combat capabilities, and have witnessed the extent of Lancer's techniques," He paused for breath. "Additionally, I have begun a psychological warfare campaign on Saber and her surrogate Master, primarily focused on pointing out her mistakes and the fact that she is constantly leaving her false Master vulnerable."
Tokiomi held his expression neutral.
"And the wisdom in this is . . ?"
"Saber is, without doubt, the most all-around powerful Servant. I can handle her in single combat without extreme danger, but a carefully timed and applied Command Seal would easily tip the balance against me. By exposing these flaws and preying on her subsequent insecurities, I can create a more paranoid environment in which Saber is less likely to put her Master in a position where she could suggest the use of Command Seals to the greatest effect."
Tokiomi steepled his fingers in thought.
"You seem to harbor less distaste for the Command Seals than I'd expect from a Servant."
"The Command Seals are a tool. I am a tool. For the greatest, most efficient result, a proper cooperative invocation with the Servant following the momentum and spirit of the command will achieve results beyond the conventional limits of possibility. In layman's terms, they can be used as chains, or three opportunities to break the rules of the world."
"You've given this a lot of thought, I see."
"If Lancer's Master had commanded him to Kill, or Finish me, or Win, or anything along those lines, I would be dead. As such, he was a complete fool."
"Hmm. Taking that into consideration, he was indeed. A question, though: why didn't you kill Saber's true Master when you had the chance?"
Archer smirked slightly.
"Because if you had wanted him dead, you would have said so. That, and as you may have noticed, Saber's true Master was about to attempt an assassination on Lancer's Master which I found prudent to assist."
"I did see that. It's the reason I held my tongue. Unbecoming of a Mage, though." He suppressed a shudder.
"Unbecoming, perhaps. Unconventional, certainly. He is the least predictable Master with the most powerful Servant."
"Oh? How modest of you."
Archer smirked again.
"We just happen to have the most powerful Master and the least predictable Servant."
"My. Now I'm being flattered, it seems."
Archer raised an eyebrow.
"Doubtful. You have enough raw prana stockpiled in gems in this building to blow it and us sky high. Since you actually know how to focus and wield that prana, I don't want to imagine how big a blast you could conjure up if you put your heart in to it."
"I like to think I have a bit more style than just explosions."
A pause. Archer nodded and shrugged.
"Be that as it may, have no doubt, Master. Power is only part of the equation. As an, no, as the honorable knight of legend, Saber can be trapped in a cage of her own forging by her own ideals and ethics. I simply need to provide her the steel. Lancer is much the same."
"Not very heroic of you, though."
"As I told Lancer earlier, Master- today, I'm just a man."
They sat in silence for a bit, Tokiomi sipping his drink.
"Though, I was worried about one Command that might have come from you after I made it down to the ground." He landed on a low building with mirrored glass windows, and prepared to revert to spirit form.
"Oh? What might that have been?"
Archer smiled at his reflection, assumed his best posture, and dramatically flourished one arm.
"In the name of the Holy Grail, I command you: Act with the proper elegance expected of a Servant of the Tohsaka Family." He even reinforced his vocal chords for the appropriate booming reverberation effect.
Before Tokiomi could voice a response, he was no longer connected with his gem. He sighed, got up, and went to bed.
"Pff."
Elsewhere, Kotomine made a small amused sound as he watched through Assassin's eyes. He was jogging through the streets as well, focused on his personal hunt.
'Hitting' the ground after leaping off the building, Archer repressed a sigh.
He either bought most of that, or simply didn't care. In any case, this is the point at which we see just how smart Rin's father really is. If he takes anything of what I said to heart, this War is as good as won. If he makes other less-than-ideal suggestions from a traditional mage's mindset, I'll need to be on edge for pride-induced stupidity.
Not that I'm inexperienced in dealing with that.
Saber alone, I can handle. Rider alone, I don't know. Lancer is a problem. Thankfully, Kiritsugu is in the business of solving problems. Time to see what he's up to.
He continued his search of the city. He was in the commercial district, where the hotels and shopping centers were located. The previous day he had placed a few phone calls on a hunch and discovered that one of the known participating magi was staying at a hotel here under his own name. After the earlier battle, he knew it was Lancer's Master.
Honestly, Saber seems easier to provoke than I remember. For now, I need to confirm Kiritsugu is moving against Lancer and identify Caster.
"Tch." Archer scowled as he remembered something unpleasant.
Rider keeps Waver with him at all times. He cannot be sacrificed. If I conflict with Rider I will need to confirm the boy's safety. He is . . . absolutely instrumental in events to come to pass many years hence. Events which may not need to occur if I move correctly.
He caught a glimpse of a shabby coat and messy hair.
Perfect.
He landed on the ground and followed in spirit form.
He watched during while Kiritsugu rapidly engineered what was looking like a terrorist bombing. As Kayneth had apparently taken an entire floor of the hotel he was in, this proved to be a relatively efficient way of smoking him out, if not outright finishing him. Archer observed without interfering, a question in his mind to which he didn't know what answer he'd prefer.
As the packets were attached to support columns, he walked around the underground parking garage and memorized the placements of the explosives. After leaving, he assumed physical form out of sight and proceeded to structurally analyze the building.
Total demolition with a minimum of collateral damage, yet maximum lethality. This . . . this is exactly the kind of thing I tried to stop all my life. What are you doing, old man?
He had kept a bead on Kiritsugu outside, and stayed within (reinforced) hearing range. When he heard the bomb threat get called in, he smiled. The guests evacuated, and the plan became clear to him. His smile lasted throughout the detonation of the building, but faded when he heard Kiritsugu mutter:
"I'm getting soft."
Archer tried to reconcile that statement with these actions and the current situation. On some level he knew he was desperately trying to avoid coming to a particular conclusion, but as everything added up he knew it was unavoidable.
This guy . . . thinks like me. Willing to sacrifice to save the maximum number of innocents. If the goal on the line was an omnipotent wish granting device-
His empty heart filled with bile.
His fist clenched.
Then any act, any sin is justifiable on that path. No sacrifice too great.
But he knew something Emiya Kiritsugu didn't. It was vague, and buried behind centuries of postmortem memories and decades of living ones, but one simple fact stood up in his mind and refused to back down.
It's futile. The Holy Grail of Fuyuki will not grant any wish of salvation.
Cursed with his new perspective, Archer rebuilt his mental gameboard from Kiritsugu's perspective.
On it were one king,
one knight,
and countless expendable pawns.
He had followed Kiritsugu from the scene of the bombing to a building under construction that had a good overlooking view of the area. The sounds of gunfire erupted from an upper floor. Kiritsugu rushed upstairs, but Archer halted in the lobby. He manifested his armor, stood, and waited.
"I am the bone of my sword."
Inside him, the 'bubble' of Unlimited Blade Works floated closer to his 'surface.'
After some more combat sounds, Kiritsugu appeared at the bottom of the elevator shaft, wounded Maiya in tow. He moved her out into the lobby and froze.
Archer smirked at him.
"Well, I was going to offer an alliance to the guy that tried to blow up Lancer, but it seems you couldn't even do that right." Sure enough, the magic signature he could easily 'smell' from this distance spoke of some kind of great defensive measure. Kayneth still lived, and with him, Lancer. "And now here you are, helping your wounded . . . mistress? Or should I say pawn? You couldn't protect your wife, you couldn't assist your Servant, and you barely managed to save her."
Kiritsugu was utterly still.
"So, here I am reconsidering my offer. I mean, I know I have you in an awkward position and all, but the most damage I could really do to you is make you waste a Command Seal to summon Saber here, then run away with my tail between my legs. I'm sure she'd be amused.
Kiritsugu's hand twiched.
"That said, I figure even if you're not worth teaming up with, I can at least give you a free piece of advice. Abandon the War. Forfeit your Command Seals. Do so, and I will guarantee your life and those of your women. Go back to Germany, give Acht my regards, and live in peace.
Silence.
"The Fuyuki Grail will not grant your wish. No salvation will come from it. You waste your life, and the lives of all you care about. Go home. Go back to Ilya."
At this, Kiritsugu's eyes hardened.
Ah, damn. Oops.
"I refuse."
"I see. A pity, then."
All at once, a dozen various swords manifested in the air, hovering behind Archer.
"If you insist on seeing through your futile dream, then I will at least save you from yourself."
He raised a hand.
"Emiya Kiritsugu-"
Tokiomi Tohsaka dreamt.
He dreamt he was an empty young man, whose already-dead heart was now completely hollowed by the loss of the one who understood him the best. It wasn't even a merciful, sudden loss. It was a year of wasting away, forced smiles, vomited meals, failing organs, and untold suffering, ending only in
mundane death. No justice at all for the frail creature that had already experienced untold suffering even before its body betrayed it. Its final words were both blessing and curse, echoing in his mind from that moment until the very end.
"It's okay, Onii-chan. You were already my hero. Now someone else can have a turn."
It was a punctuation marking the end of the beginning of his life.
The next years were a blur of preparation. His other friend, the one that understood him second best, supported him as best she could, but she could never get too close. Her glorious talent and fiery enthusiasm were directed in a way he could influence. He chose to have her help him with a particular task. If not to save someone in particular, then to prevent anyone from suffering that fate ever again.
There was a machine. A magical machine, fueled by tragedy that produced suffering. He had been its victim, as had his father before him. He decided he would see it dismantled. He would do it to save the nameless, faceless people of the future before they could even become victims. His fiery friend
was his co-conspirator, his collaborator, and eventually, his lover. They pulled every string. They used every connection, spent every last coin. Allies appeared. Expertise, skill, and power.
Finally, the day came. The day to break down the machine. As they approached its hiding place, violence erupted.
Violence turned to battle.
Battle turned to war.
The machine produced suffering, but professed to grant wishes. Some listened to its whispers, and were seduced. Others were mere puppets for the listeners, and were deployed as a counterstrike.
One such puppet came in the guise of one the pair knew very well. It was powerful, far more powerful than it had any right to be. He had watched, helpless to assist and unable to act. His fiery Valkyrie faced off against her blackened and twisted counterpart, but couldn't bring itself to land the finishing blow. She weakened. His mind became hard steel. He had come to a decision. He had stepped forward.
"You . . . choose me?" The thing said.
Its defenses fell.
Its powers waned.
It opened its arms.
He walked into its embrace, projected a glowing blade, and impaled its heart. It fell, and died. The blade vanished, he walked to his friend, helped her up, led her away.
The machine fell without further help from them. They returned home and licked their wounds. However, he had a mission to fulfill. A dream to reach, a path to walk. He finally understood what was required, had gained the last piece. He had also learned that his friend would be a liability on the field of battle. He knew what had to be done.
He had one more person to save today.
She had cried, and he hadn't said much.
She had raged against him, verbally and physically, for what he had done, and he held his tongue.
When she had no energy left with which to batter him, she just asked,
"Why?"
"Because it saved the maximum number of lives possible. I finally understand, now."
She looked up, a haunted look in her eyes. In a tiny, uncharacteristic voice-
"Understand what?"
"You can't save everyone. There will always be a sacrifice. I had mulled over it, tried to find a way around it, but eventually came to the conclusion that the most innocents can be preserved by sacrificing a smaller number of them." Succinctly, clearly.
"You . . . don't regret it at all?" Almost scared, now.
"Of course not. It was the correct decision. The conflict ended immediately afterward. The chaos stopped." A small, satisfied smile.
"How . . . how could you say that while smiling?" She had asked variations of that question numerous times in the past few hours, but this time she was looking him in the eye with her haunted gaze.
"Because of all the good I did. That's all I need." A sharp intake of breath.
"That's just . . . she, she was . . ." Stammering.
One more push.
He leaned back and put his arms behind his head.
"Honestly, I don't see what your big deal is. I mean, can see why my reaction seems inhumanly cold, she was a good friend to me before she stopped coming by, after all. But what was she to you, anyway? All I know is, it seems like to you she was just some underclassman girl that was incredibly jealous that it was you and not her bouncing around on my dick."
Silence, and stillness.
Over the edge, now for acceleration.
"Honestly, if she let jealousy and rage consume her that much without saying a word all this time, she deserved what she got."
She stood. He wanted to hug her.
Suddenly, without the normal grace or elegant anger he was used to, she walked to the door for the last time. He wanted to stop her.
She sniffled, and turned to face him for the last time. With every fiber of his willpower and being, he maintained the smug, self-satisfied expression on his face.
She recited the last words he ever heard her say, and felt them sear themselves onto his very soul.
"Just, you, just d . . . d-d, D-"
" -drown in your ideals, and DIE!"