That Which Bleeds (III)
The sun disappeared beneath the horizon, and the city of Misaki fell prey to the darkness once more.
The blaring liveliness of the day trickled out like blood from an open wound and dried out, leaving behind an empty, dried out husk.
It was at such times that darkness came to a life of its own. Away from prying eyes, creatures that defied human comprehension clashed against one another and after centuries of intermmitent struggle, one was finally laid to eternal rest.
Three people remained breathing: an inhuman monster; a monster who had just regained her humanity; and lastly, a human boy with eyes that could see things that no man should ever see.
This wasn't the end to their story. In fact it was just the first tentative step of a group that, in their later years, would make the creatures of the night quiver in terror.
But this is not that story, or even solely their own.
This is the story of three similar people. Three people who, like the others, were seeking something in the night.
People that would eventually make the night quiver at their passing just the same.
For the purpose of this tale, the entire cast can be divided into three categories: those who know, those who don't know and those who are unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of the things they were better off not knowing.
Yumizuka Satsuki was unmistakably part of the latter: a high school girl, average in every aspect, from grades to looks and everything in between.
How did such an average person come to be a vampire? It's a long story that can be summed up with the words 'foolishness of youth'.
Young people, everyone knows, are prone to making mistakes. Worse yet, they are prone to repeating them. As such, for the second time it her life, Yumizuka Satsuki found herself with her back to a wall and a blade at her throat. Some people, it seems, just can't get a break.
Isn't it sad?
There was a car parked in a dark alley in the middle of Misaki. There was nothing peculiar about the vehicle itself, except for the fact that it was stolen.
Safe from prying eyes, right behind his car, Shirou equipped his Mystic code and waited by the rear exit of Caren's hotel for the nun to be ready for their nighttime operations. An outfit with a long skirt, while appropriate for a nun wasn't exactly suited for moving rapidly and more importantly stealthily. Good thing she could see the wisdom of dressing appropriately, Shirou thought.
The poor idiot didn't know the first thing about that.
"I'm ready," Caren said, walking out of the door
"Good timing," Shirou replied while putting his bow and quiver into the backseat, his back turned to her. He closed the door and turned around. "I got us a ca -BUH!" The redhead promptly choked on his own saliva at the sight of Caren.
"Is something the matter?" the nun asked with an innocence that belied her amusement.
"You forgot the bottom part!" Shirou frantically waved his finger at her while covering his eyes with the other hand, forcing himself not to shout those words.
Caren looked down at her own outfit. A high collared, long sleeved, form fitting shirt with coattails... and little more. The lower part of her body was covered only by panties (or something that looked like them), pantyhose and shoes. The look was completed with a cap on her head and a crucifix on her neck.
"No, everything is in order," she said in a monotone voice.
"Are you insane?" Shirou hissed, still hiding behind his fingers. "Why would a nun go around looking like that?"
"It's easy to move in," she told him closing the hotel's door behind her. "Also, as you can attest for yourself, it is cause for distraction."
Shirou, begrudgingly, admitted to himself that she was correct. Not that it made him feel any better.
"Believe me," she continued, tone even, "I get no enjoyment from this."
Shirou peered through his fingers and stared squarely at her eyes.
"Really? I was under the impression you enjoy troubling me, Ortensia-san."
"... No. I would never do such a thing," the nun under accusation said, looking away with a shifty look.
"You might want to work on your lying skills," he sweat-dropped.
"Enough foolishness, Emiya-san. Let us go. The night is not getting any younger."
"Alright, but we aren't done with this subject."
The car sped away into the night with Shirou at the wheel. Looking at the road spared him the temptation of looking elsewhere. Where in the world could she have gotten that attitude, Shirou didn't want to find out. Curse her parents for bringing up such a devious woman.
A subdued sneeze rang out in a chapel nearly devoid of people.
"Coming down with a cold at this time of year, Kirei?" the King of Heroes idly asked as he swirled a glass of wine. "How undignified of you."
"I'll go see a physician if it keeps up," the priest conceded, wiping his nose with a handkerchief. He couldn't afford to be sick with a Holy Grail War about to begin. Having to pass on his duties and his amusement because of a common cold was not acceptable at all.
Still, why did she just come to mind? Unpleasant memories should not come forth unannounced.
There was almost no light in the building. The only sources were the moonlight and the computer screen in front of her.
Aihara Haruka was tired. It had been a very long day. The new exhibition needed to be arranged properly before being opened to the public. Historical artifacts required proper handling and care, but not so much as a hyperactive ten year old. By the end of the day, it was a wonder how she could keep her eyes open.
But at least she did things she loved to do and that included being both a historian and Kenta's caretaker. For all the kid's faults, he had a way of growing on people.
Now, if only his father saw it that way too. Haruka had a great deal of respect for Kenta's dad, but not as far as parenting went. It wasn't like she didn't understand where he was coming from, but still...
At least Kenta had her to watch over him. Not that he seemed to appreciate it in the slightest, that rascal.
She sighed. Her train of thought was completely out of focus. She could no longer concentrate on her work like that. Might as well call it a day.
She turned off her terminal, grabbed her purse and made to leave.
The museum was completely empty at that hour of the evening. All employees had left a long time ago and security was completely automated nowadays.
Thinking about it, that was pretty bad. Even with her car just outside she felt a little bit afraid with that serial killer around. Well, she didn't think a murderer would wait for a potential victim around a museum that had technically closed hours before just in case someone worked after-hours.
Haruka always prided herself on being a rational person, so that thought was enough to put her at ease. Well, that and the pepper spray she kept in her purse. A woman had to be careful, no matter the era.
-!
Haruka stopped mid-step. For a moment she thought she had heard something. ... No, her ears were playing tricks on her.
thump!
Or not...
'Calm down, Aihara Haruka,' she told herself. 'Someone left a window open. Wouldn't be the first time.'
Steadying her breath, she went looking for the source of the noise, promising herself that the next day she would chew out the person responsible for this oversight.
Shirou's discretely borrowed car, as he put it, pulled over by the sidewalk, engine sputtering as he turned it off.
"It should be right past the corner," Caren said, getting out and motioning for Shirou to follow.
In the end, the only known living person with a connection to the excavation was Shirata-sensei.
Thus, the duo agreed that the only thing they could do was to get their hands on his journals about the excavation, hoping to find a clue that would set them on a path to the murderer.
As such, breaking into Shirata's house at night was the way to go. It was for this reason that they traveled to the outskirts of the city in the middle of the night.
Shirata's place didn't have anything on the Tohno's mansion, of course, but it was evident that the esteemed professor was quite well off financially.
An old looking, western style building with two floors with a big garden and a pond stood before them. Nice enough, if not for the unkempt state it was in. The place had seen better days, obviously. In fact, the whole mansion looked like it needed a lot of maintenance. It didn't have quite the haunted look yet, but a 'for sale' sign on the sturdy metal gate wouldn't have looked out of place.
Then again, it wasn't surprising. A successful archeologist wasn't home all that often. Still, he could have at least hired a gardener. The place had the potential to be nice, if not beautiful. A pity to see it wasted like that.
"Any ideas how to get inside?" Caren asked, looking at the sturdy metal gate and the brick wall.
"As a matter of fact," the masked vigilante said. "May I?" Shirou asked, motioning with his hand toward her. Caren tilted her head curiously and nodded.
He wrapped an arm behind her shoulder and one behind her knees. A sudden burst of acceleration later they were above and beyond the wall, landing softly on the other side.
The moment they touched ground, they were on the move. Hollow footsteps echoed through the garden. Rustled grass and plants were left in their wake but otherwise they moved with the silent coordination of a unified purpose.
They reached the wall of the mansion and Shirou motioned for Caren to wait.
"Trace on," he muttered under his breath. "Structural Grasping, set. Reviewing blueprints, done. Trigger, off."
Caren tilted her head curiously, an unspoken question in her eyes.
"There's no one inside," Shirou explained. "There's an alarm but I can disable it easily."
"No one at this time of the night?" the nun asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"I'm positive. Come on, there's an unlocked window in the back."
After disabling the alarm by over-Reinforcing some of its components through the walls, they sneaked inside from the aforementioned window.
"Alright, let's take a look around," Caren decided, receiving an affirmative nod from Shirou.
Five minutes into their search and they both realized something.
"No one has been living here for at least a couple of weeks," the redhead concluded.
"I concur, but if Shirata-sensei hasn't been staying in his own home where does he go at night, and for what reason?"
"Hiding from something?" Shirou suggested.
"Or he has something to hide," the nun countered. "Let's see if we can find something about his current whereabouts."
They searched the first floor of the house as carefully as they could, but there was no clue as to where Shirata had been spending his nights and days.
"Emiya-san, come here for a moment."
Shirou closed the drawer he was searching through and reached Caren.
"Found something?"
"Don't you notice something out of place, Emiya-san?"
"No, dust aside everything appears to be in order."
"The walls, Emiya-san. Look carefully."
"What about them? ... You're right. All the frames have been removed," he noticed seeing the faint marks left on the walls. There were several spots where something used to hang, but they had all been removed. Even in all the other rooms on the ground floor the situation was the same.
"Here's a theory," he said, rejoining Caren in the living room, "Shirata-sensei is in the middle of moving out, and he's currently staying at his new residence. He only managed to move the easy stuff because he's busy with work or he plans to sell the furniture along with the house."
"A likely theory," Caren nodded." We'll consider it the best-case scenario. On that note, Emiya-san, in your experience how many times has best scenario turned out to be the case?"
Shirou breathed deeply, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest, as if trying to recall such a time.
"Point taken," he concluded, finding none. "Back to looking through personal stuff it is."
The ground floor turned out to be devoid of any relevant clues, and they moved to the first floor.
"I'll look through Shirata-sensei's study. See if you can find anything of relevance in any of the other rooms."
The study was moderately big, with shelves of books lining the walls. The place appeared to have been unused for more time than the rest of the house. In fact, it looked like it hadn't been in use for a decade, judging from the amount of dust and spider webs everywhere. Well, there was little chance to find something about recent facts in there, but in order to be really thorough about something, no possibility could be disregarded on hastily made assumptions.
Shirou sat at the desk and sifted through old notes, written in ink faded from time-nothing besides academic notes in there. He tried the drawers and found them mostly filled with junk. The last drawer however, was solidly locked.
"Ah hell, this is for your sake too, Shirata-sensei," Shirou said apologetically, forcing the drawer open with a crack of broken wood.
"Bingo?" he wondered picking up what looked like an old journal.
Shirou picked it carefully with his glowed hand and began reading through it.
It wasn't a record about an excavation. Rather, it was Shirata-sensei's personal journal, and by a quick glance at the dates, it was at least twenty years old and filled with sporadic entries to around twelve years before.
'Well, not exactly what I was hoping for,' Shirou mused sourly, flipping through pages of Shirata's neat handwriting.
'I start this journal in the event that I forget myself ever again,' it read on the first page. 'I don't recall anything that happened to me in the past fourteen years, assuming that's my actual age. Who I am, where I came from, all of that is lost to me. '
Shirou's eyebrows went up. He didn't know anything about Shirata being an orphan, or an amnesiac one for that matter. Not that it had any relevance to the investigation, but still!
He flipped forward, skimming the pages for useful information. As it turned out, Shirata was afraid of losing his memories again, so he noted down the most important events of his life. Although he seemed to have lived a successful and relative happy life, he was obsessed with finding his own past. His interest in history, it seemed, stemmed from it. Finding things long forgotten became his calling, although his own past kept eluding him.
There was then an entry date two years after the last, the longest span of time between one entry and another.
'I've been too caught up with the past,' it read: an abrupt change from his previous, powerfully driven speeches about finding the truth. 'I met someone today, someone different, and for the first time the future seems to finally hold something for me as well.'
Shirata Shizuo had fallen in love. The entries after that were even more sporadic. The young professor had something else to occupy his thoughts, it seemed.
Then things appeared to have changed sharply once more. Near the end of the journal the quality of the calligraphy took a sharp turn for the worse.
'She's gone,' Shirou read with some difficulty. 'He took her away from me. Unforgivable! Unforgivable! Unforgivable!'
A chill went up Shirou's spine, and he sat straighter in the chair, continuing to read.
'He looks at me with her eyes. His cries are driving me crazy. I have get out of here.'
There were more scrambled notes, difficult to read as they were written with an erratic hand.
'He grows with each passing day, looking more and more like her. He calls my name in the middle of the night. I can't sleep. It's becoming hard to focus during the day. I have to do something.'
Again the pages became jotted with nonsensical writings of 'not having a future' and 'only the past matters,' before it regained a modicum of sense.
'He follows me around. Everywhere I go in this house he comes after me. Except in here. He knows better than that. Even as I write I can feel him just outside the door, waiting for me to leave. I'll have to wait for him to leave.'
Ripped pages and more and more illegible handwriting. Stains of what Shirou thought to be alcoholic drinks marred the pages here and there. In the wake of his wife's passing, it seemed, the esteemed professor had returned to his old passions in some very bad company.
'I can't stay in here anymore. Everything reminds me of her. For the first time in my life I wish I could forget. I decided to leave, to stay away as much as I can. I took away all the pictures. He might have taken my future, but I won't give him anything else.'
Another pause of several pages.
'There's nothing I can do now but to confine him here. I'll arrange to have him watched, just in case. God only knows what he would do if I were to leave him unsupervised. No doubt he would get out and come looking for me again. I can't have that. Fortunately, I know the right person for the job. I won't return to this place ever again. There's nothing left here but sorrowful memories and that cursed thing. My work will keep me busy, at least. Hopefully busy enough that I won't think about her and the monster who took her.'
There was nothing else written past that point, and Shirou was left with even more questions than before. The journal was very old. Whatever this murderer, this... monster was had nothing to do with the recent excavation. Could they have misinterpreted the situation to some degree? Was there more than one monster? Or was it that the monster that had haunted the professor had finally found a means to get at him again? And if that was the case, where was this monster now?
THUMP! CRASH!
"Ah!" a cry echoed from the corridors.
"Caren!" in panic, Shirou bolted out of his seat and out of the room. If there were actually a monster inside this mansion...
"Over here," Caren voice called, sounding calm. She was standing at the end of a corridor, right behind a corner, looking completely unharmed.
"What happened? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she said, dusting her clothes. "I just tried to open this ladder to the attic, but it was stuck. It opened all of a sudden and I fell. Sorry if I startled you."
"It's okay," he sighed in relief. "On the other hand I found something that might complicate things," he told her, handing over the journal. "I'll check the attic while you read."
Shirou climbed the ladder and peered through the hole. The attic was dusty, as expected. There was nothing inside that drew the eye except... was that a photo album? He reached and grabbed it.
"Found something?"
"I might just have," he replied, climbing back down. "Did you know Shirata-sensei was married?"
"I know he's a widower, yes. His wife was listed as having passed from natural causes. Beyond that, I know little."
"Any other relatives?"
"I couldn't say. Our intel department looked through his family, but I wasn't forwarded anything of notice."
"Well, as it turns out, Shirata has a son," Shirou said, turning the photo album so that Caren could see the last picture in it. It was of a woman in a hospital bed, smiling at the camera while she held a bundle in her arms.
"Is this really Shirata's son, though?" she asked. "This journal doesn't seem to mention children at any point. And what's this about a monster living in here?"
"Your guess is as good as mine. I detected nothing unnatural in here. This house only looks creepy. All I know for certain is that there isn't anyone else in here beside us. Hasn't been for a long time."
"I agree on that front, but Shirata was scared of something."
"Scared? I think he was more resentful than anything else. We're missing a critical piece here, Ortensia-san. We must... huh?"
A piece of paper fell from the photo album. Shirou picked it up and turned it around. Three figures were pictured in bight pastel colors: two big and a smaller one. Each had a word written above them. Shirou read them, and felt the hair of the back of his head stand up.
Nothing. From the ground to the fourth floor there wasn't a single window or door that wasn't perfectly shut.
Maybe she was really hearing things, Haruka concluded, or maybe the noise came from outside in the first place.
Ah well, better safe than sorry.
She backtracked all the way to the entrance and was almost at the door when…
THUMP!
She stopped again.
All right. She definitely hadn't imagined that, and it definitely didn't sound like it came from outside the building.
Still, she had checked just about anywhere except... the basement.
'No,' she decided, 'I'm not doing this.'
On a scale from one to ten on Haruka's Scale of Creepiness, a dark basement at night complete with unidentified noises ranked a solid fifteen. No way she was setting foot in there.
THUMP!
But what if it was something like a valve from the heating system leaking? That could start a fire. A leak in the water pipes could raise the humidity in the building, ruining some of the artifacts. Was it worth risking because of her irrational fears?
The basement was the least dangerous place of all. It had no access to the outside, so it wasn't like anyone could have snuck in there. As an adult, rational woman from the 21st century, she couldn't allow superstitious fears make her overlook her responsibilities.
She sighed and turned around.
The door to the basement was locked, as it should be, but she had her own key just like for every other door in the building. Further proof that there was nothing to fear.
Of course the lights didn't work. How many times had she asked for the problem to be fixed? Four? Five? Did she have to do every small thing by herself in this place?
Haruka found the annoyance a far better companion than fear and she latched onto it like a lifeline.
Irrational as they might have been, her fears were no less scary.
She walked down the stairs in the dark, trying not to stumble over something and break her neck. God, if something happened to her in there, no one would find her for weeks.
THUMP!
All right, she was getting closer to whatever was making that noise. The basement was dark but it seemed that there was a source of light somewhere, because she could see a little bit in there.
THUMP!
Definitely getting closer, now. It was also getting brighter the more she went in.
... This was bad. Every cell in her body told Haruka to turn back the way she came while she could.
Curiosity and pride together won over her instinct, and she continued.
The heating room was in front of her. The door, slightly ajar slammed against it frame every now and then, making the noise she heard. The movement of air that caused it to swing was no doubt due by the different temperature in the two rooms.
Nothing to be worried about after all. As usual, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for any event. Somebody from the maintenance had been there and forgotten to close the door and turn off the light.
Making her worry over such ridiculous thing... they would hear about this come morning!
She opened the door to flick off the light and suddenly she wished she had listened to her instincts a few moments before.
Blood.
It stained the walls, the floor and even the ceiling. Pieces of flesh... human flesh and bones were scattered here and there. From a table the eyes, just the eyes, of a person stared at her lifelessly.
Her stomach churned.
'Run away,' her instinct blared. 'Run away, run away, run away!'
This time Haruka decided to listen. A pity that it was already too late.
She turned. Half a step into a mad run she stopped in place.
Ssh-zk!
A sharp feeling in her abdomen. Cold sharp metal puncturing her flesh. The pain didn't register for a moment over the absurdity of what she was seeing.
"Why?" she whispered, blood coming to her mouth as she did so.
Why was he there? Why was he doing this? Why to her after all she had done for him?
Why? Why? Why?
There was no answer to be found in those familiar, yet malicious eyes.
A drawing made by a child. An innocent image if not for the fact that it was the final piece of a much bigger, much grimmer picture. Three names, a single sentence.
'Mom.'
'Dad.'
'Kenta.'
Shirou shivered.
'He lost his mother when he was very young,' Aihara-san had told him, just the previous day.
'Did you see anyone with a wound like this?' Caren said, referring to the bleeding cut on her nose.
'I'm the ally of justice,' the boy told him boldly; the band-aid across his nose making him the sterotypical child and now suddenly assuming an entirely different significance.
Shirou almost heard the click of the last piece of the puzzle falling into place.
"Caren," he said, horrified. "I think I know who the person being possessed is. It's the boy. It's Shirata Kenta."
"Why?" she asked with blood coming out of her mouth. "Why... Kenta?"
He didn't answer, or rather he didn't hear. He was looking but not seeing. Moving but not acting. A marionette held by invisible strings, played by a dark cold hand.
She didn't know anything of this, of course. She only knew what she saw, and it was reflected in her eyes.
Fear. Pain. Betrayal.
"Please... don't," she begged and he really did want to listen for once. Instead, with a strength that didn't belong to a child, he twisted the black sword so that the blade was facing upward, severing the fingers she had instinctively curled around the offending metal. They fell on the floor with small thuds and rolled away grotesquely.
"Iaaargh!" she shrieked, trying to hold the sword in place. A futile effort. "Please... Kenta... please..."
Blood splattered on his face, but his expression didn't change in the slightest.
"Kenta... I... I lov…"
His arm moved upward. The blade followed, cutting through her intestines, then the ribcage, a lung, her heart, and finally coming out of the shoulder in a great spray of blood.
"Gghgghhhrll!"
It wasn't quite a scream-more likely just the sound of air and blood being forced out of her throat. Haruka's arms flayed about madly, her mouth gushed blood one last time and her eyes rolled in the back of head. All strength abandoned her and she fell in a pool of her own blood and entrails. She twitched about for a moment and then she lay still, never to move again.
Haruka's blood dribbled down along the length of the blade, still held upward, onto the hand of her unaware murderer.
He blinked, a bit of light returning to his eyes. Just enough to burn into his mind the image before him. His breath quickened. A tear formed at the corner of his eye.
A scream tore through the night.
"NEEEEEE-SAAAN!"
Satsuki lay on her bed at the Tohno mansion, wide-awake. Again, sleep evaded her; again, the hunger prickled at the back of her throat.
She used to read vampire novels, the romantic kind that most girls her age liked. Now, she swore to herself multiple times, that if she ever got her hands on a copy she would use her new strength to turn it into confetti.
She needed a distraction from this semi-reclusion. Shirou told her that when his business in Misaki was done, they would both go to his place in Fuyuki, where she would be free to move as she liked.
Satsuki was looking forward to it, although that wasn't the way she imagined moving in with a boy.
Speaking of which, hadn't they gotten pretty close, Shirou and her?
She didn't know what to think of that, honestly. At times it was very embarrassing. Sleeping in his arms, being seen naked, not to mention drinking his blood repeatedly and saving each other's lives; there was hardly getting any closer than that without... better not think about that.
But they were close, and with little to no embarrassment in spite of the circumstances. Shirou's presence was reassuring to the fledgling vampire. As the person who had any clue what to do with her, she clung to his every word. In spite of that, it didn't feel like Shirou was burdened by it, nor did she feel like Shirou cared for any recognition or repayment from her.
Tohno-kun always gave off a strange impression, a sense of something beyond human that kept her at distance. Shirou was similar in a way, but instead of pushing her away it drew her closer. A scary thought in its own right.
Still, she wondered whether she was blessed or cursed. After all, each time she felt hopeless and lost, there had been a knight in shining armor coming to her rescue. The price for it had been an unrequited crush the first time and vampirism the second. Hardly a fair deal, especially the latter, but if one considered the alternatives, wasn't she getting off light, somehow?
Hard to say... and a futile exercise in any case. She was bored out of her mind, that much was true.
She needed a distraction, badly.
Suddenly, Shirou's cell rang right beside her. The teen vampire nearly leapt out of the bed in surprise.
Unknown ID, it read on the display. Shirou left her his phone, in case he needed to call her and so that she could take any calls from home directed at him. He told her that he had explained her situation, so anyone who called would know why he wasn't the one answering his phone.
But the caller wasn't Shirou's place or any known number. At this hour, who could it be?
She picked it up.
"Yes?"
"Satsuki, it's Shirou. I need your help."
The frantic tone of his voice made Satsuki regret ever wishing for that distraction.
"What do you need?" she asked promptly.
"There's a phone in the corridor near our rooms. I saw a phone book there earlier. I need you to look up the number and address of one Aihara Haruka. Can you do it for me?"
"I'm on it, wait a minute."
She snuck out of her room, ran to the phone as silently as she could and hastily retreated back to her room.
"Okay, I'm back. Aihara Haruka, Aihara Haruka... got it!"
She read him the listed number and address, twice to avoid mistakes.
"Thank you, Satsuki."
"W-wait! Shirou what's going on? Are you okay?"
"Everything's fine. I just hope we find her at her place or else... what? What are you talking about?"
Satsuki heard chatter in the background as well as the noise of a running engine.
"Shirou?"
"Yumizuka Satsuki, I suppose?" a feminine voice asked.
"W-who is this? Where's Shirou?"
"He's right beside me, driving. As for me, I'm Caren Ortensia, an emissary of the Holy Church. I would like to ask for your cooperation."
"I object," she faintly heard Shirou in the background. "She doesn't need to be exposed to any more danger."
"It's not your call to make, Emiya-san. Besides, we are short on time. Listen, Yumizuka-san, would you be so kind as to give us your support? "
"I'm... I'm not sure."
"Your collaboration would make your standing with my organization a bit more, let's say, pleasant."
"If...if it's something I can do, then..."
"Good. This address you just gave us, I would need you to go there. I don't need you to do anything but to see if there's anything out of place. Strange movements of people or really anything that you would consider abnormal, then report it to us."
"Only that?"
"Yes, remain unseen and don't expose yourself to unnecessary dangers. If anything comes up, anything at all, retreat to safety and contact us. Are we clear?"
"Yes but... how am I supposed to get there at this hour? It will take me forever."
"Forgive my bluntness, Yumizuka-san, but you are a vampire now. You should be able to move around swiftly and unseen."
"Oh," Satsuski said, recalling her superhuman strength. "Sorry, I forgot about that."
"That's quite understandable. Now, I believe Emiya-san is eager to speak with you again."
"Satsuki!" Shirou called into the phone. "You don't have to do anything, you hear me? It's dangerous out there!"
"N-no. I want to help. I've only been a burden to everyone until now, so... I'm going to do it. Please don't stop me."
"It's dangerous, Satsuki," he reiterated.
"I know, but..."
"You don't know the half of it! Arcueid Brunestud is in town. She's the Goddess of vampires for all intents and purposes. She's one of the most powerful beings in the world, if not the most powerful in absolute terms."
"Eeeh?" she wailed, now genuinely terrified.
"If she sets her eyes on you there's no safe enough place in the world to hide, you hear? Stay right where you are and don't go out."
"I-I- I can't!" she cried into the phone. "Shirou, I can't! I'm scared to the bone, but somebody could to get hurt if I don't, right? If... If I just look the other way when I have the power to help, how am I supposed to call myself a human anymore?"
"... You are a far better person than I am, Satsuki," Shirou confessed. "I'm glad that I've gotten to know you. All right, listen up then: this is a recon mission; remain hidden at all costs, no matter what happens. At the first sign of trouble, you get the hell ou, are we clear? Call me as soon as you get to your destination; meanwhile Caren and I are going to the investigate the museum."
"Okay, I've got it. You can count on me!"
"I know I can. Stay safe, Satsuki."
Satsuki hung up and put away the phone.
She was scared. The rational part of her mind questioned her own sanity. She meant what she said. With nothing but time on her hands, she decided that she would make something good out of her situation. She had no desire to be a hero like Shirou was, however if she wanted to preserve that little humanity had left, she couldn't afford to look the other way.
But that wasn't the end of it. There was another side of her now. A part that felt at home in the darkness; that felt uneasy with hiding when she should be hunting.
Satsuki was aware of this part of herself and rightfully feared. However, she also knew that she would have to live with it, likely for longer than anything else.
For everyone's sake, it would be better if she learned how to get along with it sooner rather than later.
Mind made up, she snuck out of the window like she did before and rushed to the edge of the property. She stared at the tall wall; an obstacle that no ordinary human could hope to climb without aid.
Satsuki flexed her legs and flew past it with a single leap, landing on the other side on all fours.
Powerful, that's how she felt as of that moment. Her body was light as a feather, her muscles were relaxed but still supported her in ways they never did, or could, before being turned.
It was dangerous, she knew as much. Satsuki was naive in many ways, but she wasn't stupid. Power was a dangerous thing and she knew it.
It's wasn't like she had any prior experience with it, but she did read a bit and in stories power was a corrupting force. Perhaps it was silly, using moral lessons learned from fiction in real life but maybe not all that much, considering how parts of fiction turned out to be quite real. In any case, discretion was the better part of valor when dealing with the unknown. Such was the wisdom of a scaredy-cat.
Resolve made, she sprinted toward the city with long, fast strides. The place she was supposed to reach wasn't close. Even at her current speed she would need to take a number of detours to remain unseen.
Or would she?
In the first place, roads were things made by humans for humans. She no longer had the limitations that made roads necessary. If she needed to go somewhere, she had both the ability and the power to get there in a straight line.
At the end of the slope, Satuski accelerated instead of slowing down. The road forked, left and right, so she continued straight ahead, jumping toward the building in front of her.
She clung to the railing of the first floor balcony, and with both hands propelled herself upward to the second, repeating the act until she was on the roof.
She looked down, amazed by her own actions. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but not from fear or exertion, but rather from pure, child-like excitement.
Maybe, just maybe, being a vampire was a little bit cool.
Grinning, Satsuki set off toward her objective. If she were stuck with the downsides of vampirism, she would at least enjoy the upsides.
Saying that Emiya Shirou wasn't happy would be a huge understatement.
He had been in Misaki for a handful of days and things went from bad to FUBAR in spite of his best attempts. He'd be chewing on the car's steering wheel from frustration if he weren't in the middle of driving the damn thing.
To think that just a few hours before he was right there, with Kenta in his reach, and he failed to notice anything at all, enamored as he was with playing hero inside his head.
He told Kenta that one couldn't rightfully call themselves a hero if they ignored the plight of the people around them… he betrayed those words right as he spoke them.
Incompetent, utter failure.
What right did someone like him have to be a hero?
Useless! Years of preparation, both physical and thaumaturgical, and he neglected the thing that mattered the most: the importance of not looking away.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
What's the point of being strong if you can't even see what's in front of you?
"It's not your fault, Emiya-san." As if reading his self-deprecations, Caren tried to console him. "It's the limit of being human."
"I know," he replied. "Rationally, I know. It doesn't make it any easier to accept, though."
"You are already trying harder than most. Don't blame yourself."
"I have to. Even if you were right, I cannot afford the complacence of thinking I've done enough."
Focused on the road as he was, Shirou didn't see Caren's smile at his side.
"You are one of a kind, Emiya-san. I am glad that I've gotten to know you."
Mimicking the words he used with Satsuki earlier, Caren sought to tell him that he should give himself more credit.
Shirou didn't spare a single thought for that. In the first place, he cared neither for acknowledgment or appreciation. The only thing that mattered at any time was saving people. Either he succeeded or he failed. Just having tried, no matter of great the effort invested into it, was nothing more than an empty platitude that held no value whatsoever to him.
When it came down to it, no sane human being, regardless of how kind, selfless and heroic they were, could truly hope to understand Emiya Shirou.
Therefore, no amount of emotional support or approval could give him any respite from himself.
All he could do was push the car's accelerator even further and speed through the night, hoping to be fast enough.
Satsuki soared through the air, landing on a rooftop and immediately taking off for another.
The city was different than what it used to be, or at least it appeared different through the eyes of a vampire. She could tell where everyone was, not because she could see them but because she could feel them. Inside their homes, people shined like beacons to her sixth sense. No matter where they hid, she was sure she could find them.
Briefly she wondered if this was how monsters in horror movies always found where their victims were hiding.
Then there were other presences that burned much brighter than the others.
To her left, around the place where the park would be, there was a powerful presence, enormous and fearsome. Satsuki didn't know what that was, but if she were to bet on it, her odds would be on that Brunestud person Shirou warned her about. She'd keep a good distance from that one.
Then there was another source, but it was strange. It felt black and wavered wildly, like a flame trying to consume everything it came into contact with, but cold like a winter wind. Dark and twisted, a bit like the way she felt when she first woke up to her new nature.
It was nowhere close in power to the presence at the park; in fact it didn't hold a candle to it, but its maliciousness was on a completely different scale.
If she had to make a choice between the two, she'd rather run toward Brunestud. She would certainly be killed, but she didn't want to imagine what the black thing would do to her.
Not having to make that choice, she steered away from both. Besides, she had other things to do. Shirou was waiting for her to give him news and she knew that the longer it took her to call him back, the more worried he'll get.
Honestly, he worried and fussed so much that it was almost like he was her boyfriend...
No, that was a way too dangerous line of thought. She had more pressing concerns to worry about.
She leapt again toward her destination, but in spite of everything her thoughts drifted to more pleasant things.
Vampire or human, she was still a fifteen year old girl...
Shirou pulled the car to the curb on the opposite side of the road to the museum.
The building was silent with no trace of life whatsoever.
"Are you sure it was a good idea to come here instead of going to Aihara's place ourselves?" Shirou asked getting out of the car.
The list of places where they knew where to look for Kenta, before having to turn to a citywide search, was remarkably short. If he wasn't at his own home in the middle of the night, the only two other places they knew of were his caretaker's place or the museum.
At night, one would think to look for a child in the place where he slept, however they figured that if he was resting, and as such not being a threat to anyone, Satsuki could verify as much with relatively contained risks.
On the other hand, if he was not resting and his body was being used by the wraith, then the sprit of the blacksmith needed a place to exercise his foul craft.
In that regard, the museum was the best place to start. Deserted at night and conveniently stocked with the blacksmith's tools.
"Your concern is understandable Emiya-san," Caren answered, "but this is our best shot right now. I think I..."
"Caren?"
"He's here," she said flatly, turning her head to show the spontaneous cut that had just formed on her cheek. "Let's go."
"What? No. You won't get any closer than this. Your body is already showing symptoms..."
Caren sighed and dropped her head. She understood where Emiya was coming from. He, however, didn't understand her.
"Emiya-san, look at my body, please," she said, hands unbuttoning her shirt and revealing the skin underneath.
"What are you doing at a time like this?" Shirou hissed, more outraged than embarassed, pointedly looking elsewhere.
"Look at me, Emiya-san." Caren tone was firm and held no tone of teasing. Forcefully, Shirou turned to look.
Caren's shirt was open, breasts barely hinted between the folds of her clothes. Nonetheless, the brief patch of skin exposed under the streetlight was a crisscross of faint and less faint scars.
He looked away again.
"Forgive me," he said. "I let my personal concerns cloud my judgment."
"Don't apologize to me for being worried of other people's well being. Just know that I, like you, have decided to live my life for the sake of others."
"I get it," he nodded. "You know how far you can push yourself, so you call the shots. I'll be watching your back."
"The objective is, of course, to exorcise the boy, but in order to completely free the wraith we need the original blade. That is its true link to this world."
"Got it. Let's move, then."
Caren walked toward the entrance with Shirou following right behind, bow at the ready.
Tonight, they would put an end to a nightmare.
"They are here," said the man with glazed eyes in a mockery of his own voice.
"I knew it," the man replied. "From the moment I saw her, I knew that they'd come again. History has a way of repeating itself."
"Well then, let us greet our guests as they deserve."
Around them, three rows of armors on each side of the room stirred in response.
Satsuki slid to a halt on a rooftop, causing a few tiles to break under her weight.
"Oops!" she winced, looking at the damage she had caused. She wondered if the Church paid for collateral damage, or if they just pretended they had nothing to do with it.
She always had such silly, stray thoughts.
She slid down the side of the building, digging her fingers through the brick wall to slow her descent.
With the cover of darkness she ran to the end of the alley, looking left and right before darting across the road and past the wall of house.
She landed mostly silently on the other side, and there she remained crouched in the shadows.
One minute, two minutes, three minutes. Time went by but in spite of her focus she felt nothing coming from the house.
Surreptitiously, she approached the building, doing her best to stay out of sight.
Nothing.
In the surrounding houses she could tell there were people about, both awake and asleep, but this place was cold, empty.
She didn't knew how much she could trust this sixth sense, so she peered through every window on both floors only to have her suspicions confirmed.
The house was empty.
Well, that was anticlimactic. Not that Satsuki hoped differently, but... well, the novelty of suddenly being thrust into the role of the heroine gave her a small thrill.
None of that, now. She picked up Shirou's cell phone and called back the last number.
One trill followed another and finally the line went dead. She tried again and after a couple of trills she heard the line being picked up.
However, what she heard on the other end of the line wasn't a voice.
CLANG! SWISSH! THUMP! CLANG!
"Shirou? Ortensia-san?"
Muffled voices, muffled shouts. Grunts of pain and the sound of many heavy feet and then a finally shout.
"CAREN! Watch out!"
Then the line went dead.
Satsuki looked at the phone with dread, biting her lip.
She had done her part. This was beyond her ability to help.
Certainly, anything else besides going right back to the mansion was a very bad idea.
With anybody else, this conclusion would produce obvious results.
Yumizuka Satsuki, however, didn't have the best track record when it came to avoiding bad ideas.
Bad luck is often of one's own making.
Published: 02.25.15
Beta: RavingScholar