Chapter 17 - Her Ally
(Published: 12.23.12 - Beta: RavingScholar, Zaralann)
"How is the Magus Killer related to this case?" Jun asked, frowning.
"What do you know about Emiya Kiritsugu?" Waver asked, oscillating a glass of whisky in his hand, causing the ice to clink against the container. "Besides that he was killed in action, I mean."
"Ruthless, efficient," Jin replied. "He never screwed up a job unless there were extenuating circumstances that couldn't be accounted for beforehand. A real Pro if I ever saw one. Almost a shame he kicked the bucket. Could have taught a few newbies how to be an asset instead of a liability. I agree with my wife, though. How does he relate to this?"
"Emiya Kiritsugu wasn't the man most people believed him to be. No doubt he was everything you said…but there was more. He had an ideal that he pursued most of his life."
"An ideal?" Jun inquired.
"To save as many lives as possible," Waver explained. "Every job the Magus Killer took had the explicit purpose of saving as many lives as possible, either in the short or the long run. He never took a job just for the money, never killed a target if their death didn't mean someone else got to live longer because of it."
"Wait," Jin interrupted, holding up a hand. "Are you saying that he was trying… trying to be a hero?"
"Pretty much," Waver confirmed. "No mistake, he was a monster like few others before him. He didn't care who his targets were, didn't care if they were guilty or completely innocent of every conceivable sin. Age, gender, religion weren't a factor to him unless they were relevant to the mission. If in exchange it saved more lives than he took, he killed them without a second thought. He killed his own father because he experimented on a village, turning the residents into Dead Apostles and their spawn. He later killed his mentor by shooting down the Dead infested plane she was trying to land on the Hudson river."
"That's sick," Jin said. "How do you know of this?"
"My family took quite the interest in him after the Fourth Grail War, since he was the one who killed my predecessor and destroyed our family Crest in the process. Surely karma is having its laugh now," Waver said cynically. "Here we are, back where everything started, trying to regain the thing we lost by prying it from the legacy of the very man who first took it away from us."
"I can certainly see a connection there," Jin agreed. "However, there is yet no tangible proof of Archer being the son of Emiya. To begin with, his only known living relative is an Einzbern homunculus. Do you believe he had a son outside of his marriage?"
"It wouldn't be that much of a surprise, but that's hardly relevant," Waver said, brushing aside the question. "What matters in this case is the goal of our target, not the Magecraft. What we have here is an unregistered Magus, apparently making use of his Thaumaturgy to pursue an objective that is far too similar to Emiya Kiritsugu's, and he happens to do so in the last place where the Magus Killer was seen alive."
"What you mean to say is that Archer isn't necessarily the inheritor of Emiya's Magecraft, but rather of his ideals? I can see a connection, but the modus operandi is far too different if your information about the Magus Killer is correct. I still find it a little far-fetched, by the way," Jin said with a frown of thought. "I met the man personally, and it never crossed my mind that he could be like you describe him. His eyes were far too cold for a man that cared about strangers."
"Still, there are too many coincidences for us to ignore," Jun pointed out. "Besides…"
"Besides?" both men asked together.
"… There is just one Emiya living in Fuyuki according to the phone book: Emiya Shirou. Here's the address."
"Well," Waver said after a moment, "that simplifies matters. Check this guy out. If there's any indication he's a Magus, then we've got our Archer. Do not approach him until we can estimate how much of a threat he is. If he learned anything from the Magus Killer, then he's bound to be dangerous"
"Understood," the husband-wife pair replied, and they begun gathering the things they needed to carry out their assigned task. It was night, and there was no better time to spy on someone without being noticed.
Waver remained in the hotel. There was no need to expose himself at this stage. If this boy, Shirou, turned out to be a Magus, Waver needed to come up with a suitable plan to approach him. He considered contacting the elders to update them on the recent development, but he already knew what they'd say: kill the son of the Magus Killer.
Waver didn't have any personal grudge against the deceased Emiya, especially if he considered that it was him who had landed Waver his position and noble title. He had even less against his son. The boy hadn't played any part in the drama that was the downfall of the first El-Melloi.
Sure he was a liability to the secret of Magecraft, but how much of a liability was he really? For years his father performed his tasks in the mundane parts of the world, and never once did he come close to exposing Magecraft to the world.
In light of his revealed origins, Waver was sure that Archer had to be absolutely aware just how many people would die if he screwed up and caused the Clock Tower to intervene. Unless he was absolutely incompetent, he wouldn't jeopardize the secret and force the Association to perform a Purge.
That being said, Waver still had to make sure that he didn't have any knowledge or, or at least any intention to reveal the deal Guilford had with the El-Melloi. There was also the matter of the missing Crest. In the case of Rule of Blood, its particular adaptive trait made it possible to pass it down to just about anyone regardless of parentage with the previous owner. This unique trait made it so that it wasn't the Magus that received the Sealing Designation but the Crest itself.
Vincent Guilford used to be one of the most likely candidates to receive the Crest when its previous owner decided to pass it down. However, when he found out that he wasn't going to receive it, but another Magus would, he killed both its owner and the prospective inheritor and then fled from the Association, gaining a Sealing Designation both for the murder and for having stolen the Crest from the Clock Tower.
If Waver managed to retrieve it, his status within the ranks of the Association would no doubt increase, and if he played his cards right upon his return, he could very well solve the El-Melloi's issue of being without a Crest.
Of course, that all depended on Archer's willingness to cooperate. If at all possible, Waver preferred the path of least violence, but if the teenager proved to be unreasonable and unwilling to part with the Crest then, well… extreme measures would be required.
But there was no reason to worry about that now. They still had to establish without a doubt whether the only known Emiya in town was actually a Magus or not. Everything else came after that.
With that out of his mind, Waver relaxed in his chair and took another sip from his drink, musing idly about the circularity of life.
Shirou woke up with a yawn a bit later than usual. He hadn't managed to sleep much the previous night, not with the nightmares and his conversation with Ca…Medea to think about. Not to mention the sound of her muffled sobs reaching him in his futon despite her attempts at keeping quiet.
Shirou knew that calling her by her name would have an irreversible effect, causing the status quo to change in an unpredictable manner. Originally he had intended to wait a bit longer before revealing his knowledge of her identity…but something happened the previous night, a connection was made between the two of them. Shirou had capitalized on that opportunity without even thinking.
Even if they still spoke to each other by hinting at things rather than openly stating something, last night Shirou felt that their guard against each other was considerably lower than it ever had been up to that point. He didn't know if it was because they had found some common ground in each other's unspoken burden, but he felt compelled to speak nonetheless. So he let out the secret he had been keeping since… well, since the very first day.
Yes, he knew from the beginning who she really was, even if his conscious mind didn't quite process that information until much later, when he stopped and considered things carefully. He knew in the same way he had discovered Tsubame Gaeshi: through a blade.
"Rule Breaker," he whispered softly, closing his eyes. In the darkness behind his eyelids, Shirou could see it more clearly than he ever could in reality. He had caught only a glimpse of it the night he killed Guilford, a purple glint in the dark night that cut the ties between an unwilling Servant and her Master.
The serpent-like blade, cursed with blood, tears and regrets was burned into his mind in every detail, even those that the naked eye couldn't perceive. Its composition, forging process and accumulated experience were clear for Shirou to see.
He didn't quite understand how he did, but through the blade he was able to see its connection with its owner and the twisted history they shared. To his conscious brain it was just information, broken down and listed in a way that he could comprehend. However, while sleeping his mind stopped giving a rational sense to the onslaught of knowledge that was Rule Breaker and he just saw things that he wasn't supposed to.
Her past, her burdens...her sins.
He felt ashamed for knowing such things. It was much worse than seeing her naked. It was like staring at her very soul regardless of her desire to share that knowledge. Frankly, Shirou would have preferred to keep it to himself, if only to not make her feel exposed and uncomfortable around him.
Still, he knew that keeping silent wasn't for the best in the long run. From what he knew of her character by their past interaction and the knowledge that came with Rule Breaker, Shirou was aware that Medea was probably thinking about ways to exploit their unspoken alliance and that she was ready to discard him at her earliest convenience.
Anybody else would have been appalled, disgusted by the way she considered him disposable after all he had done for her…anybody else but not him.
He never really cared about himself to begin with, not where other people's happiness and well-being were concerned. In fact, if the situation called for it, he was more than willing to lay down his life for her at a moment's notice, so he wasn't really bothered that she was planning to use him as a human shield.
If she wanted to live and not hurt innocent bystanders in the process, then Shirou had no qualms with dying for her. He preferred not to, obviously, but he didn't really care so long as somebody else got to live in exchange.
Of course, this complete disregard of his own well-being was what had worried Kiritsugu until his dying day. Distorted, Kiritsugu used to call him, and Shirou admitted that the man was probably right. No normal person would willingly throw away his life for a stranger, and Shirou had given this concept much thought over the years. However, no matter how much he dwelled on it he never reached the conclusion that it was wrong for him to do so.
There was nothing wrong with wanting to help others. No matter what other people said there was nothing wrong with it, and more than everything else that belief was the single most important thing that made Emiya Shirou able to live with himself. Truly, it was the only way to balance his Sin of Living.
He knew, rationally, that as a child he didn't have the power to help all those people. He couldn't even help himself much less somebody else. Still, he selfishly sought survival by disregarding the people dying around him, even as they tried to save others only for those others to die a few moments later.
Even if no one in the world would blame him for it, Emiya Shirou couldn't forgive himself. It just wasn't possible, because doing so was equal to denying his own self. The only thing he could do was keep atoning, day after day, saving life after life even if it meant losing his own in the process. He was born again from that fire for the sole purpose of preventing such tragedies from ever being repeated.
Therefore he knew; he knew better than anybody else how Medea felt. He had found something in Kiritsugu's smile…something that gave him purpose, a way to balance the weight of his burdens.
But she hadn't. In her darkest time no one smiled at her, no one reached out for her. No one tried to save her.
Shunned by everyone, made into an unwilling scapegoat for other people's sins, she lived the only way she knew: manipulating, backstabbing, betraying. No more. Even if he would fall by her hands later on, Shirou would be the person to believe in her to the very last moment. To give her the opportunity she had been seeking all along.
If Kiritsugu was right and saving someone - truly saving someone - meant more than letting them live another day then this was it.
The past couldn't be changed, the sins couldn't be erased…but so long as she wanted to atone then the future was yet to be determined. If Shirou had anything to say about it, she would find her salvation.
Medea stirred awake. It was an unusually slow process for her, whose dreams were constantly haunted and to whom awakening represented a respite from the nightmares.
Not last night. Tired and emotionally drained, she crawled into her futon and fell into a slumber so deep she couldn't believe it. There were no dreams of any sort, just a peaceful lulling darkness that was free of thoughts. It was a novel experience. Waking up more rested than she ever had before, Medea realized that for the first time in a long while she didn't know what to do…and she was surprised to find that didn't scare her in the slightest.
She slipped out of bed and changed into her clothes, stepping out of her room and into a bright new day filled with promises.
She frowned…okay. Now that was too much even with her newfound levity. She wasn't some naïve little girl. The world was still as ugly as ever. She had just found something -someone- not entirely worthless. It was bound to happen sometime. Yes, cynicism suited her much better. She felt more comfortable with taking things with a grain of salt. It spared her many bitter disappointments, and she had experienced enough of those to last a lifetime or two.
But still, hey, she never once thought the day would come that someone would know who she really was and not spit in her face, before she extracted their guts and force-fed it to them for the gall of doing such a thing, of course.
Wasn't that absolutely wonderful?
Not being judged, she meant, not force-feeding people their own warm entrails. That was mildly amusing at best. Too much blood involved and all the screaming got boring after a while. Cleaning the stains away from her robes afterward was always a mess, even with Magecraft and…Err. Yes, she was happy and she wasn't used to it. Her mind was unable to stay focused on anything, making her almost feel dizzy. It was like being a little drunk.
So, seeing how thinking straight was downright impossible she decided not to. For once in her life she would try not to plot every single step ahead and just go with the flow. She knew it was what most people did every day, but to her mind it was a new and thrilling experience.
She skipped more than walked, following the appetizing scent of breakfast she had grown accustomed to being greeted by in the morning. She stepped into the room and her eyes immediately snapped to the kitchen, where the red haired Magus was… staring right at her.
"Ah…good morning," he said in surprise, like he didn't expect to see her there. "Did you sleep well…Medea-san?"
Her name rolled out of his mouth after a moment of hesitation, echoing in her ears almost like a foreign word. She wasn't used to hearing it pronounced without venom and… was that a hint of blush she saw on his face?
Wait… was he feeling embarrassed for being privy to a part of her life she hadn't shared with him? And what was that warmth she felt spreading on her cheeks as well? Oh, Gods… was she blushing too? She felt the urge to cover herself, to summon her robes and hide behind the safety of her hood.
No, no, no. That was absolutely undignified. She would not be embarrassed like a teenage girl found in a compromising position. Not at all.
"I-I-I slept well enough," she said with no little difficulty. Stuttering was definitely the first step to be regal and dignified. Way to go, Medea.
"Ah, uh… Good. Breakfast will be ready in a minute so please have a seat," Shirou replied, sounding as awkward as she felt.
She nodded and almost dove to the table, placing herself with her back turned to the kitchen so that he couldn't see her face. She needed a moment to regain her composure.
Okay. Breathe in, and breathe out. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. She was an adult and even if she was ashamed of many things she'd done in her lifetime, she wasn't being judged for them. Not in this place and not by him.
She managed to calm herself just in time for him to join her at the table. Only then she noticed that there were plates only for two.
"Sakura-san and Taiga-san won't be joining us this morning?" she asked, with a normal voice this time.
"No," he answered with the same tone, having recovered from his earlier embarrassment as well. "Sakura had an argument with her brother over the frequency of her visits so she won't come as often anymore, and Taiga had a teacher's meeting early this morning so she couldn't come either."
"I suppose that is the reason why Kuzuki-san hasn't come to train you this morning as well."
"Yes. I don't like to slow down my training but I can't say that some rest isn't appreciated once in a while. I heal fast but his blows still hurts, you know?"
"I can imagine," she chuckled. "So it's just the two of us, then?"
"Pretty much," he confirmed and then started eating.
Just the two of them, huh? Now that she thought about it, they had almost never been alone in the house. Sakura and Taiga came by practically every morning and the latter lounged about every evening until it was time to retire for the night. It was surprising that Shirou had the privacy to practice his Thaumaturgy at all.
Speaking of Thaumaturgy and all things spiritual, she couldn't help but wonder how he'd found out her real identity. She didn't think she had said anything that could have set him on the right track. Even if he had tracked the etymology of the word Megissa back to Greece, she certainly wasn't the only person in the history of that country deserving of such a title. There was the possibility that Guilford had written it down somewhere, but the man wasn't so much of a fool as to put on paper one of the most important secrets a Master could have. There was just no benefit in doing so and everything to lose if it fell into an enemy's hands.
"How did you know?" she decided to ask halfway through breakfast. There was no need to specify what she was talking about. Shirou looked up at her and then looked away only to return to stare at her after a moment.
"I'm not sure I can explain it myself," he said after a moment. "You know… I've been dreaming of swords almost every night since I can remember."
"Of swords?" she asked, not quite getting how this related to her question but allowed him to elaborate nonetheless.
"Yes. I used to not think much about it since it never really troubled me, but… Do you remember the night we met? When I killed Vincent? How I killed him?"
"Of course," she nodded. How could she forget that? "It was a magnificent technique the likes of which I had never seen before, even in my era."
"Yeah. Funny thing is…neither had I."
"I beg your pardon?" she blinked.
"I'd never even heard of a technique called Tsubame Gaeshi, much less developed or used it, before that night," Shirou said, his serious face devoid of any hint of joking.
"But… certainly you jest. A technique like that cannot be made on the spot under such circumstances. It was too refined to be the product of instinct."
"I know," he nodded. "I didn't make it up, I found it. In the sword."
"Found it… in the sword?"
"Yes. I'm not sure how this works and I found about it that very night but… when I see a blade I can tell everything about it. The materials, forging process and accumulated experience, its history if you want, are recorded in my brain without flaws."
"Its…history? Then…"
"Your Noble Phantasm," he continued, "is Rule Breaker. Its power is to cut all Magical Contracts: a nullifier of all Magecrafts. It was given you by the gods when they forced you to… I'm sorry. I know everything. No, rather I saw everything."
"You saw… what exactly?" she choked out.
"When I sleep I see the memories of your past as if I were there when they happened. I see the things you were forced to do with it and the things you did afterwards of your own volition as well. I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to pry into your life."
Medea didn't say anything. Her throat was too dry to form words. He saw it? All the shameful things she did? The blood she spilled, the people she killed, the sins she committed? All of them?
"Since…when?"
"Since the very beginning, I guess. Not consciously, but I never once asked myself who you were because I already knew within me."
For a long minute the only sound was the ticking of a clock. She processed his words, unable to make sense out of them, completely incapable of finding a rational motivation. Finally, not having been able to find an answer by herself she was forced to ask, afraid that his reply would shatter even further the convictions upon which stood her entire existence.
"Then why…if you knew it all along…" Medea tried to swallow. "If you knew the extent of my crimes, then why did you welcome me into your home? Why have you supported me? Why have you trusted me?" she demanded to know, glaring at him. Confusion easily turned into rage and it was focused entirely on the young man in front of her, who withstood the full wrath of a Heroic Spirit without flinching, strong of his resolve.
"Because nobody else ever did," Shirou said, confident in his simple phrase that made Medea freeze entirely.
"W-what?"
"Did they? Did someone ever even try to give you a chance at redemption? Was there even a single occurrence when you weren't made into the villain because it was convenient? Even those who knew didn't do anything." There was anger in his voice. Not anger directed at her, but at those faceless people he was referring to. "Even the man for which you were forced to sacrifice everything turned his back on you as soon as had something to gain from it. No, nobody ever gave you the chance to be something but what they made you to be."
"I-I-I…," she stuttered, unable to deny the truth of his words.
"Then I'll be that person," he continued. "I'll be the one to believe in you even if nobody else does."
"Why are…why are you doing this for me?"
"Ten years ago," he sighed, "Emiya Kiritsugu forced his Servant to destroy the Holy Grail. The resulting explosion caused a fire that claimed the lives of over five hundred people. I was there when it happened."
"What…?"
"Emiya Kiritsugu isn't my real father. I have no recollection of who my parents were or even who I was before that night. The only thing I can remember is walking through the flames, making my way over the burned corpses, ignoring the pleas for help of the people around me."
He licked his lips, his gaze distant and haunted.
"I died that day, I know I did. I… was fine with it. I had already lived longer than everybody else by denying them the same salvation I sought for myself. I selfishly kept walking forward when everyone died, left and right, often in order to allow someone else to live only for those they saved to die a few moments later. I paid them no mind and I knew that I was tainting myself by doing so, but I didn't care. Then, I finally fell and prepared myself to die like the rest of them, when…Kiritsugu found me. He was so overjoyed at being able to save even a single life that he was crying in happiness. I was saved. I, who did nothing but ignore the pain of everyone else, was saved."
"Then yesterday night you…"
"Yes," he nodded. "In a way I can understand how you feel, but I have been luckier than you ever were. Someone saved me, giving me a chance to live and a way to atone for my sin, but you… you were never given the same opportunity. For this reason, even if no one over believed in you, even if you made an enemy out of the entire world, I will be your ally. No matter what happens I will save you. I swear it."
Medea was at loss for words. Certainly there had to be a mistake. An ally…for her? Not someone to join forces with to achieve a common goal, wary of an imminent betrayal, but someone who stood by her side for no other reason than to aid her?
That had to be the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Truly, did this boy's foolishness know no boundaries at all? A mere human declaring that he would save a Heroic Spirit? She should have laughed in his face and been done with him right there and then.
But Medea didn't laugh. In fact she could hardly form words anymore. Clutching her skirt tightly she looked down, hoping that her bangs would hide her watery eyes. Rendered speechless by his proclamation, she said nothing but gave a brief nod. Her shoulders were shaking and a few tears fell from her eyes and onto the back of her hands.
He gave no sign of noticing her predicament, but she knew that he couldn't have possibly missed her reaction from so close. She didn't thank him for his oath and he didn't seem to need it. She didn't even question the origin of the tissue suddenly resting on the table in front of her. Without compliments or words of gratitude she used it to dry her eyes and nose, recomposing herself.
When she finally looked up her plate was filled with food again. Shirou had resumed eating without a word and without once looking at her in a small attempt to preserve her pride. She almost snorted at his pathetic attempt at being considerate when he had just destroyed all the convictions and beliefs that had defined her both in life and death.
Truly, he had to be the biggest idiot in the history of idiocy worldwide, but that…that was something she could live with. Without noticing her own smile, Medea resumed her breakfast silently, though she couldn't really pay any attention to the delicious flavors in her mouth. She was too busy savoring the new, nameless warmth slowly spreading inside her.
"So it's confirmed?" Waver asked the Chinese couple.
"Yes. It seems you were correct" the man confirmed. "It's subtle and we wouldn't have found it if we weren't looking for it specifically, but there's no doubt. There's a Bounded Field around the property."
"And so we have found our culprit," Waver said in satisfaction. "Any indication about the nature of his Magecraft?"
"None that I could discern from the Bounded Field itself," the woman explained, " but I believe we should proceed with caution. The ward was probably made to detect intruders, but it could just be the trigger to activate a more serious defense."
"Furthermore," the man continued, "not many Magi are able to erect a Bounded Field that can't be immediately be perceived by others. We should consider him a serious threat unless proven otherwise, if being the heir of the Magus Killer wasn't reason enough."
"I agree," Waver nodded. "I would rather take a nonviolent approach if possible, but it's better if we're ready for anything. Set up a watch around his house and tail him without alerting him of your presence when he leaves. I want to know what he does, when he does it and with whom he does it. One way or another, we aren't going to leave without that Crest."
"Understood," they confirmed. They then began to schedule their watch over the Emiya boy.
The drawing of a Runic Circle was a long and painstakingly precise task. Even for a genius like Tohsaka Rin, there was no way to avoid the many hours spent on her knees and elbows with a brush in her hands, carefully drawing every single line.
No, it wasn't absolutely necessary to be insanely precise but for superior efficiency it was better to do everything to the letter. Even if the Grail itself did most of the procedure, Rin didn't feel like leaving anything to chance, not after everything that had already happened. She had to make up for the loss of her jewels in every possible way.
Still, her knees and elbows hurt, just like her back did. It didn't help that she was in that time of the month either, but she couldn't afford to wait for it to pass. The day of the summoning drew near, and sometimes it happened that a flaw in a circle wasn't evident until it was complete. That was, in fact, the third time she had started from scratch.
So she cursed under her breath as she drew, ignoring her aching body and promising to revisit all of her pains on the first Master she came across during the War. Oh yes, she would definitely carve the meaning of pain onto the first unfortunate fellow to cross her path on the battlefield. Someone would regret that she had to go through all of this; she would make sure of that even if it was the last thing she did.
Somewhere in England a phone rang. One, two, three times before the receiver was picked up.
"There's a development," the male voice said in a heavily accented English. "It might interest you."
"Do tell," the elder said in response, knowing that if he was hearing it from this person instead of Waver, then it was likely something interesting that the adopted Magus didn't want him to know yet.
"We found the last Emiya."
"…Bring me his head," he hissed after a moment of silence. "No matter what the cost."
"What of Lord El-Melloi? He might not agree with that course of action."
"If he becomes a nuisance, disable him. You should be skilled enough to do it without doing any lasting damage. I certainly pay you as if you were."
"Understood," he replied evenly.
"What of the Crest? Did you find it?"
"We haven't been able to verify its integrity, but there is no reason to believe he bothered to take it from the corpse of Guilford only to destroy it later."
"Your primary objective is still retrieving it. I'll be expecting regular reports from you. Keep me updated."
"Yes sir," the man replied before hanging up, leaving the elder alone with his thoughts.
Emiya, Emiya, Emiya. That name was a curse that even after ten years made bile rise to his throat. The name of the lowly Japanese Magus who had dared to destroy centuries of painstakingly accumulated Magecraft with the mere pull of a trigger of a gun.
A gun! As if his crime wasn't heinous enough, he insulted them by doing it with a product of the modern age. Had the man no shame at all?
But he didn't stop there, did he? Not satisfied with taking away their legacy in the most horrifying manner possible, he had the gall to die before they could extract their revenge on him or the rest of his blood. The only living relative, an Einzbern Homunculus, was safely behind the wards of her family and even at the apex of their influence the El-Melloi could never demand retribution from them, especially not after they declared Emiya persona non grata.
But now… now things had changed. Another Emiya had been found. Another bearer of that cursed name. He would pay. He would undoubtedly pay in blood for the crimes of his father until not a single drop could be found in his veins.
That thought brought a smile to his face. Soon the scores would be settled, and the El-Melloi could return to their status among their peers.
Soon. Very soon.
Adachi was feeling rather disappointed. He spent days trying to discover what was so special about Tohsaka Rin, but he couldn't come up with a definitive answer that could justify a wealthy man going to such lengths to have her.
Oh, she was special enough; he could recognize that. He wasn't much into young girls but he could definitely say that she was a cut above the other teenagers in her school. A little investigation revealed that she was the school idol, which didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was the girl's sharp instinct.
In spite of what he led his colleagues to believe, Adachi could be subtler than most. If he wanted to tail someone without being noticed, he very well could. Not so much in the case of Tohsaka Rin.
He tried to follow her in public, mixing in with the crowd or looking at her by sitting at a different table when she entered a local establishment. However, every time he turned his eyes on her, there she was, staring right back at him with those piercing eyes of her.
In one instance, he was following her from several meters back. He was sure he was distant enough for her not to notice him, but when she disappeared around a corner and he followed after he almost ran into her. She was just standing there, waiting for him to show up. She knew he was following her all along and ambushed him. What kind of girl knew that she was being followed and set up an ambush for her stalker?
In the end he was forced to show his badge and make an excuse for following her, saying that they were still looking for the person behind Kazama's kidnapping and that they were keeping an eye on all of her closest female friends. She seemed to relax after that, but not by much.
Anyway, from that day on he stopped following her, resorting to long-range telescopes and microphones to keep track of her. Still, from time to time, when he was spying on her from half a block away she turned around and stared back, like she could see him from several hundred meters away.
Damn, that girl creeped him out, and coming from one who had the hobby of stalking and prying into other people's secrets, that was saying something.
Regardless, Adachi knew that there was something odd going on. Dojima had to be onto it as well if his current paranoid streak was any indication. He didn't know what happened to his boss as he refused to even hint at the subject, but the already ironclad detective had become even more buttoned up.
So yeah, Adachi was disappointed by the lack of results. Nonetheless, he was still excited. There was something big going on and he could swear that the Tohsaka girl was right in the middle of it. It never dawned on him that if he weren't such a twisted individual, then he would have been an awesome detective.
In spite of what people thought of her, Taiga was sharp as a knife, especially where her ward and her students were concerned. She certainly was a tad on the childish side and prone to overreact to things that most people would simply disregard. She knew, but she didn't really care; it just made her the charming young woman that she was.
Still, she was anything but dumb. She said nothing because she had no definite proof, but she had a concrete suspicion that her little brother Shirou was the infamous Archer that everyone was so interested in lately. Oh, he thought that he had everyone fooled, the idiot, and Taiga could admit that he had been good enough to avoid suspicion for such a long time. Yet, that he actually thought he could escape her notice forever was sheer madness even for her.
She said nothing, but she knew. She knew that and many other things as well.
For instance, she knew that something must have happened that morning between Shirou and Megissa. There was an awkwardness between them that hadn't been present before. She could tell by the way they always seemed not to meet the other's eyes.
Tch, count on Shirou to put on the moves when she wasn't around. Didn't he have any consideration for his Onee-sama? What about her entertainment? She demanded to have her fair share of his embarrassment! She just knew something juicy had happened, but try as she might she couldn't coax it out of them without being obvious about it.
Poor Sakura, she thought. The girl had nurtured a crush on Shirou for years now, probably since the first day they met, and here came a complete stranger swooping her away from the focus of his attentions. Perhaps she should encourage him toward the younger girl somehow? It wasn't like she had something against Megissa, even if Taiga was sure that the foreigner was hiding something from her. She was, after al,l a person in a difficult situation who had found in Shirou the help she needed. Taiga wouldn't bur surprised to find that it was a calculated move on Megissa's part.
The foreign woman's carefully masked detachment of the past few days gave Taiga enough reason to be wary, and this sudden development with Shirou could have been the final warning if not for the fact that Megissa was smiling, genuinely so, even at Taiga; this despite the fact that they had barely had a few polite conversations before.
Yes, Taiga didn't know what happened between Shirou and Megissa, but it seemed to be a good thing so far. She would refrain from taking a position in defense of her little brother for the time being, if only because she trusted Shirou's judgment even if she didn't show it most of the time.
After a surprisingly uneventful dinner, Shirou and Medea retired to his Workshop. The Servant had finished cataloguing her deceased Master's things and was now scribbling down some ideas for a number of low ranked Mystic Codes she could craft with the material at her disposal.
She didn't get much work done, though, as her attentions slipped often to the teen Magus sitting at his desk with his back turned to her while he typed on the wondrous thing that was his computer.
They hadn't spoken much after breakfast. Shirou had left for school immediately after and didn't return until late in the evening. That left Medea with much time to think, but with no previous experience whatsoever on what to do.
Her ally, he called himself. She didn't know what to make of it. Try as she might she could no longer predict the outcome of her strategies, mostly because she could no longer envision throwing him away when convenient. No mistakes, she was still the very jaded person she had always been, but she had found something she never believed to exist and there was only one of those. That made it - him – invaluable. She just couldn't discard him like a cheap resource, could she?
So, if she couldn't afford to lose him, then she would have to turn him from an expendable resource to an asset. Therefore, she couldn't afford to disregard his shortcomings when it came to his own Magecraft.
"Shirou-s… Shirou?" she called, willingly ignoring the use of suffixes.
"Hm?" he replied, not removing his eyes from what he was working on.
"Undress."
"Excuse me?" he asked, turning around to look at her with slightly widened eyes and a crack in his voice.
"Undress," she demanded, standing up. "Right now."
"N-now wait just a moment," he yelped. "What is this all about?"
"I need to examine your body and I can't quite do that with your clothes in the way, now can I?"
"I s-suppose not, but what for?"
"I must determine the reason for your ability to understand swords as you do. If it's not something you developed on your own, then it must be a natural talent. I intend to figure how it works and how to use it to our advantage."
"Uh. I never thought about that," he said after a moment.
"You didn't?" she blinked. "Shirou, do you realize that if you can determine everything and anything about a blade just by looking at it, then you can know the identity of every Servant and their abilities without them even revealing their Noble Phantasm beforehand? It's probably the greatest asset we could ever hope to have. How could you not realize that by yourself?"
"I'm sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, scratching his chin. "To be completely honest I had a lot of things to worry about. Between the media hunting for me and trying to hide that I'm a Magus from Tohsaka on top of my training with Kuzuki-sensei, I didn't really have much time to dwell on it. Every attempt I made to discover more on my own in the past few days didn't give consistent results, anyway."
"You… experimented on yourself without results… and didn't think to ask me about it?" she asked with a hint of anger in her voice.
"Well… in my defense, I didn't know how to approach the subject with you without revealing… you know, that I knew about you. And besides…"
"What?" she asked curiously.
"I didn't choose to be your ally because you could help me advance my Magecraft. I'm not like Guilford."
"Oh," she said sitting back again, her anger deflating as fast as it rose. "Of course not. … Shirou?"
"Hm?"
Leaning on her chair she reached out with a hand to his face and…
*Flick!*
"Ouch!" he yelped, holding his abused nose. "What the hell was that for?"
"Shirou, you're my ally, right?" she asked, ignoring his demand for explanations.
"Of course I am," he replied, still rubbing his nose. "That's what I said, isn't it?"
"Then don't coddle me," she snapped. She appreciated his concern and the consideration for her feelings, but she wasn't some pathetic little woman unable to take care of herself. She was the prideful princess of Colchis and a Heroic Spirit feared not only for her ruthlessness but also for her abilities. He might have moved her in a way no other ever did, but that didn't mean she was about to become someone to be protected from all things.
"If you truly are, then that means I'm also your ally in return," she continued, crossing her arms over her chest. "And allies help each other out with things they can't do by themselves, don't they?"
"You're right," he replied with a smile. He held out his hand for her to shake which she did, but when her slender fingers wrapped around it her smile turned a little feral and her eyes gleamed with malice.
"Now, undress."
"Eeep!"
Thankfully for Shirou, Medea didn't need for him to be completely naked. He just had to expose his torso so that she had enough surface area to paint a number of circles over his back and chest. Still, the feeling of her feminine finger sliding over his skin in a lightly dancing motion had a not indifferent arousing quality that he couldn't just ignore.
It took all of his willpower as a Magus not to squirm under her touch and not to shiver when her warm breath washed over his skin. Seriously, was she doing it on purpose? She had been drawing on his body for well over fifteen minutes now, but it had taken less time to cover several square meters of walls in Guilford's mansion with runes.
He didn't disregard the thought that she was teasing him on purpose. He had caused her to cry two times in less than twenty-four hours, and while he thought they were a positive sign he was starting to think she was getting retribution for hurting her pride as a Heroic Spirit. And besides, reforming or not, she did have a mean streak worthy of a Witch that Shirou didn't think she was willing to give up anytime soon.
"It's done," she said standing behind his back with a hand placed between his shoulders. "Now trigger your Circuits and let Prana flow normally."
With practiced ease the hammer of a gun fell inside his mind, and twenty-seven pathways hummed to life in the recesses of his soul. For an indefinite amount of time he simply gathered Mana from the saturated air of his Workshop and forced it to run into his Circuits, creating the refined energy that Magi used to actualize their Mysteries.
"That's enough," she said after a while and Shirou unplugged his Circuits. "Tell me Shirou, are you perhaps an idiot?"
"Hey, I might not be the sharpest knife around," he admitted, "but what did I do to warrant that title now?"
"What's your Element, Shirou?" she asked patiently, but tapping her foot in annoyance.
"Uh…I don't know?" he asked, sounding sheepish even to his ears.
"Exac- Hey! What do you mean you don't know?"
"How many meanings are there to 'I don't know'? Ouch!" he cried. "Quit pinching me."
"Are you trying to tell me," she hissed into his ears, "that you have been practicing Magecraft for close to ten years without even knowing what your Element was?"
"It couldn't be helped," he yelped out. "Kiritsugu was laying low back then. He couldn't get the materials he needed to perform the ritual without alerting the Magic community that he was still alive and active. The curse of the Grail had destroyed most of his Circuits too, leaving him as a cripple as far as Magecraft goes."
"And you continued to practice Magecraft even under such circumstances?" she asked in disbelief. "If I hadn't just determined that your Element is actually Sword, my money would have been on Idiocy."
"Can Idiocy even be an Elem- Wait," he blinked. "Sword you said?"
"Yes, it shouldn't come as a surprise, all things considered."
"But… can such a thing as Sword even exist as an Element to begin with?"
"It's the first time I've seen it myself," she replied. "Technically every Concept can be an Element, but most are too distant from Humanity to belong to a person," she sighed. "I guess that means you don't know your Origin either."
"No, I don't. What is it?" he asked looking at her. She gave him a long hard stare, but said nothing. "Well?" Again she said nothing. "What? Oh. Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."
"I'm not kidding at all, Incarnation."
Incarnation, she called him. A person that was born with aligned Element and Origin. It was a rare occurrence even in the world of Magi, and Shirou's case was even more so. Being the Incarnation of an exceedingly rare Concept was probably enough of a reason to receive a Sealing Designation or at the very least to be regarded by other Magi as a test subject rather than a fellow practitioner.
"I suppose that would explain a number of things," he said after a while.
"It would," she agreed. "Your nature by itself is almost enough to explain your incredible ability to sympathize with blades to a degree I didn't believe possible. If we combine that with your proficiency with Structural Grasping, I daresay we have figured how you do what you do."
"That's good," he nodded.
"It is," she agreed calmly, then her expression frowned and she turned toward him a raging gaze of barely restrained fury. Her hair was swirling around as if caught by a strong wind. "Now, would you mind explaining to me exactly why in the name of Hades you have a damned Noble Phantasm conceptualized inside you?!"
"... Ah! I forgot about that."
"You for-," she choked out, nearly stumbling at his stupidity. "You forgot? How can you possibly forget about having a Noble Phantasm existing inside you? What is it? Where did you get it? How long have you had it?"
"Uuuh," he moaned, trying to back away from her. "It's Avalon. It was the Catalyst Kiritsugu used to summon the King of Knights as his Servant in the last war. So I guess it's been inside me since the conflict ended."
"The King of Knights? You have…Avalon of all things inside you? Not just an Artifact but actually a portion of the Fae World?" Medea looked at him for a long moment. The non-existent wind stopped abruptly and the Servant slumped into her chair with an exhausted sigh.
"You know," she said after a moment, face buried in her hands. "I should probably forget all about this war and retire somewhere distant, spending my time doing all sorts of experiments on you for the rest of your natural life."
"That… doesn't sound really good for me," Shirou said, eyes still wide.
She glared at him. "Do you realize that you are probably a unique and unprecedented combination of factors that many would kill to get a chance to run experiments on? I don't think there was ever somebody so close to the concept of Sword without actually being one. Not only that, but you have been exposed for years to the Magic of a Sword-related Artifact made by the Fae. As you are, I could probably use you to make…"
"What?" he asked in a whisper, afraid of what she could do with him as a base material. He didn't think she'd act on it or else she wouldn't be telling him, but still…
"Say, Shirou," she said looking at him with a gleam he didn't like one bit.
"Yeah?"
"How do you fare with Projection Magecraft?"
Half an hour later Shirou was holding in his hands a copy of Monohoshizao, and his head was pounding painfully. The Projected sword lasted barely a few seconds before shattering into a shower of sparks. It only looked like Monohoshizao and it had nothing else that made that sword the unique piece that it was.
"It's a major success," Medea declared nonetheless.
"You think so? That thing wasn't even remotely close to the real thing. Trust me, I know. It had only it's appearance and base composition but lacked everything else."
"Is it now?" She smiled. "And what if I asked you to Project Avalon?"
"Are you kidding? How do you expect me to Project something like that? Not only it isn't a Sword so it's already out of my range of my Element, but it hardly even classifies as an Artifact. It's more of a concept that anything else."
"You can't say that until you try," she reproached. "What do you have to lose anyway? The circle I've drawn around you prevents excessive build-ups of Prana into your body so you won't even accidentally kill yourself in the process."
"Fine," Shirou huffed, "but don't blame me if something goes wrong."
"Oh just give it a try already," she waved off his concerns. "Who's the legendary Magus between the two of us?"
"And who's the 'unprecedented case of Incarnation' that even a Magus from the Age of Gods has no experience with?" he retorted.
"Okay, now you're just nitpicking. Do you want to get stronger or not?"
"I really don't understand why you're so convinced that I can pull it off. There is no way that a human being can do something as outlandish as replicating a Noble Phantasm. Ah, fine. What's the point of arguing anyway?"
"Good boy," she smiled condescendingly.
Shirou snorted but closed his eyes and focused. For several long moments he searched his mind for the image of Avalon that he knew so well. When he found it, he half opened his eyes again.
"Trace. On." he said to himself.
The image formed in his mind. He reached for it, trying to grasp every detail and to drag those into the mass of shapeless Prana that he was trying to create. There was something missing though, like it was too big to simply push out in one go. He had to break it down somehow.
'Judging the concept of Creation'
- I am the bone of my sword. –
In front of him the air simmered, twisting in preparation.
'Analyzing basic structure and components'
- Ir*n is my b*** and ***** is my Hea**-
Blood rushed to his head, pounding madly against his temples in an attempt to escape the pressure he was putting on his body. Nonetheless he continued. An outline similar to a grid appeared in front of his eyes but he didn't notice it. His gaze was enraptured and turned inward.
Unseen, beyond the distant horizon, great gears turned in a gargantuan motion that shook the sky. The smell of fire and steel reached his nostrils.
' Duplicating the composition materials'
Pain like he had never known surged through his body. Still, the gears turned, whether because he was unable to stop or because he didn't want to, he couldn't tell. By all rights he should have stopped, his twisted but still existing sense of preservation crying out for him to halt the process. However, the distant spinning gears and the thundering hammer hitting steel beyond the horizon sang to him not to, and he could not resist their call.
'Imitating the skill of its making'
Blood dribbled down Shirou's nose. His Circuits flared, burned, sizzling under his skin like hot wires. Yet the hammer fell and fell again, relentlessly shaping, tirelessly forging.
'Sympathizing with the experience of its growth'
The empty grid started to fill, a translucent figure hovering in mid air. Not quite there, and yet not missing entirely: the partial manifestation of a Concept that wasn't supposed to exist.
Violation, violation, violation. Like with all products of Magecraft, Gaia pushed against it, denying its irregular existence. In this case, it was an alien entity even in its original form in the eyes of the World.
'Reproducing the accumulated years'
Gold and Blue. The scent of distant grass under the sweet spring sun filled him entirely. An endless stretch of green opened before him…the promise of a place without strife, without sorrow, without tears.
It wasn't something meant to be seen by the eyes of man. The gears turned, spinning fast. Too fast. Burning. Burning. He was burning from the inside.
'Excelling every manufacturing process'
-Un****** B***e W***s!-
Information overload. Deny! Deny! Deny! Shut down all processes!
Blackness.
Medea reached out and grabbed Shirou's head before it hit the floor. For a moment the thought of having actually pushed him beyond his boundaries and having killed him filled her with dread.
A quick scan revealed that he had just passed out from the strain, but there was no other damage. Even the blood from his nose was caused by a minor increase in his internal pressure. She sighed in relief and let out a breath she didn't know she holding.
What was she scared about? She knew he was in no condition to harm himself. The circle she had drawn had the explicit purpose of limiting the amount of Prana that could be generated in a certain amount of time, slowing down every process taking place within its boundaries and cutting them off long before they could harm the user. The chances of a mistake on her part were so small that they were not worth being considered.
But the chance wasn't zero, and that was enough reason for her to worry.
Nevermind. He was fine and unhurt. In fact, it seemed he was already waking up if his groaning was any indication.
"Medea?" he called out.
"How are you feeling Shirou?"
"Been better," he said after a moment. "Tell me you've got the plate of the truck that run over me."
She chuckled. "If you're capable of making such bad jokes, then you're better than I thought."
"Yeah," he agreed. "But I was right. It was impossible after all."
"I beg to differ," she said smugly, pointing a finger in its direction.
Shirou's breath stopped short at the sight.
Resting on the floor, not even half a meter away from him, was Avalon. His eyes could tell that it wasn't a fake. For a moment he felt the need to Trace himself and see if the scabbard was still inside him as well, but he could feel it without having to.
A perfect replica. Not only in its structural meaning but a true mirror of every concept it incarnated. That couldn't be possible. It shouldn't be possible. But it was, and he had done it.
He had somehow made the impossible possible. Something that everyone believed to be impossible he had just made real. It was unrelated to that other thing, but it was enough to make him euphoric.
"Ah!" he choked out, "ah ah ah ah!"
"Shirou? You didn't hit your head did you?"
"No, no," he replied. "I'm just… this is great!"
"Well, frankly it is," she admitted, probably not understanding the depths of his enthusiasm. "This exceeds even my expectations. It's perfectly the same, isn't it?"
"Yes. I can't even understand how that's possible. A replica shouldn't match the original. It should at the very least suffer from some degradation, but that's not the case. And it's lasting. How long has it been? Five minutes already?"
"Almost ten," she replied eyeing the artifact. "This is really better than I had initially estimated. Well Shirou, I guess we found your talent, after all. Perhaps… perhaps we are more suited to each other than I first thought."
"What do you mean?"
"You have a talent for Creation, Shirou," she explained. "A rare talent if I do say so myself."
"Creation?" he tilted his head. "I didn't create anything. I just… carbon copied something that was already there. I…. faked it."
"Yes, yes," she replied with a dismissing wave of her hands. "This definitely counts as a forgery, but even forgery requires talent in Making. This certainly changes everything."
"Everything how?" Shirou asked curiously.
"My Magecraft isn't something I can teach to modern Magi," she began. "It's just too different. They would have to unlearn all they know and start from scratch. You, on the other hand have very little development aside from Reinforcement, Alteration and Projection, so you could probably learn to use it faster than anybody else."
"I sense a 'but' coming," he quipped.
"You're an Incarnation," she continued. "That is both your limitation and your talent. You'll never be proficient in any branch of Magecraft that doesn't involve blades at some point, and to my knowledge there is only one field of Thaumaturgy that has any application with those at all."
"Which is?" he asked.
"Item Creation, or rather… Mystic Code Crafting."
"Mystic Code Crafting? You can't be serious," he scoffed, shaking his head. "It's probably one of the most valued branches of Thaumaturgy nowadays. Along with Bounded Fields it's the only branch where-"
"Where the resulting accumulated knowledge isn't necessarily inheritable and usable only by a blood relative, that's correct. It's an application of Magecraft that doesn't have the same restrictions as all other branches, but that's only the surface in your case. Like we have just demonstrated, you're able to instantaneously grasp and reproduce any Mystery that is presented to you in a shape that bears a strong connection to the concept of Sword."
"You can't possibly mean-"
"That we can jumpstart your learning curve and create Mysteries worthy of the Age of Gods so long as they are blades? Yes, that is exactly what I mean to say. You'd better prepare yourself, Shirou," she said reaching out to caress his cheek, causing him to shiver. "I'm a very, very demanding teacher and I don't like to be disappointed at all. If you don't meet my expectations, then you will be punished."
Yep, she had the whole 'Evil Witch' thing down pat. Attractive as hell, mind you, but evil. That was the first time Shirou asked himself if he was perhaps in way over his head. It was one thing to fight a Heroic Spirit but surviving an attractive female one as his self-proclaimed teacher in Magecraft?
Yeah: way over his head.
XXX
A/N.
Well, I suppose I could have made this chapter longer and more eventful but it would have required more time to update and in order to set up the mood for a fight would have taken too long without a break of sort.
This is also the last time in a long while where Medea will be seen crying. Seriously, she's a Heroic Spirit not a crybaby. She might have had her moments but this is it. Now it's about time she goes back to her usual evil self we all have learned to love and hate.
Anyway here's another chapter and just in time for Christmas too. So, ho-ho-ho people, this is my gift for you. Enjoy it. Or not. Either way I'm expecting a shitload of comments as my Christmas gift so you'd better damn well REVIEW! And don't forget to praise RavingScholar for editing this chapter in no time as well.
Happy holidays!