The sound of trickling water echoed all around them, in the wide and empty tunnels of the water drain system under Fuyuki. Rider and Shirou had come here after their short excursion at the beach, getting inside through a manhole close to the harbor.
Rider followed Shirou who illuminated the path with a flashlight. As someone who fought blindfolded, she didn't need the light but her Master certainly did.
"Why are we here?" she asked, after following him silently for quite some time.
"During the last Grail War, Caster used these tunnels as his hideout," he replied. "He did some pretty nasty stuff down here that I'd rather not mention. Anyway, this place is both a fortress and a labyrinth so it's pretty suitable for hiding."
"I understand. That also does not answer my question."
"I was getting there. Since I'm a high profile target, and lots of people know where I live, I asked Caster to set up a hideout down here. We are almost there. Where was it again? Ah, right this way."
He ducked into a much smaller tunnel, in which they had to duck their heads to get through. After a few meters, they came upon a hatch. He twisted the wheel keeping it close and pushed it open with a groan of metal before slipping through.
Rider followed and she came up to a huge, empty water reservoir with a radius of several dozen meters and twice as high. That wasn't particularly remarkable in and of itself.
What was peculiar was what had been placed inside. There were two metal shipping containers which couldn't have gotten in there without being transported by Magecraft. The entire space was well lit by industrial grade spotlights, and there were even vases with some manner of climbing plants that were growing along the walls and made a canopy over their heads. They were sprouting some odd looking fruit too.
At the very center of the room there was a transparent cylinder full of a semi-opaque fluid, inside of which floated a human figure. Lancer's former Master.
"So this is where you have been keeping her," said Rider.
"Yeah. We figured she'd be safer here than at the house, since we can't afford to have someone looking over around the clock. No one knows about this place save for you, Caster and myself. The Boundary Fields keep away any ordinary person that might come down this way.."
Rider walked past Shirou and stood in front of the container. The short haired woman was still missing an arm, but the hole in her chest was smaller than Rider recalled it being when she first saw it.
"She's healing?"
"Yes. I'm not sure what's in that tank but her wounds are regenerating. Granted, it would all be useless if her Crest wasn't keeping her alive in the meantime. I guess being a Magus from a long line has some perks."
"Indeed," she agreed. "What are your intentions for her?" "What do you mean?"
"Do you have any use for her, once she's recovered?"
"Pretty sure I don't like the concept of making use of people. Anyway, she might be a Magus, but she's no longer a Master. The moment she's back on her feet it's up to her what she'll do. I have no say in it unless she makes herself our enemy."
"She was pretty lucky, all things considered," Rider observed. "I'm not sure how many other would have had the chance to survive getting her Servant ripped away and then falling into the hands of another Magus."
Shirou shrugged.
Of course he wouldn't think highly of what he's done. Helping people to him was as natural as breathing. Taking advantage of them would never cross his mind. But it still remained that if any other Magus had found the Fraga in that state, death would have been a much preferable outcome.
"Do you mind if I take a look around?" she asked.
"I brought you here to show you. Go ahead. Get a lay of the place." With his blessing she started poking her head around.
One of the shipping containers had four beds and a closet full of medical supplies, while the other one appeared to be a barebone Workshop. Truly the epitome of an emergency shelter for a Magus. Utilitarian to the utmost.
While she explored the Workshop container she found a suitcase. It was left open, and inside of it there was the indentation of some kind of firearm.
She completed her round and went back to the main area, standing in front of the healing tank once more. Shirou was busy rifling through some boxes.
"I didn't know you also used guns, Shirou" she said.
"Hm? Oh, no. I don't," he replied without looking up from what he was doing. "I mean, I could use them to the occasion. Dad trained me. I just don't find them to my liking. Not to mention that they are heavily regulated. I can easily ship a bow and arrows anywhere in the world without much problem, but try to move a firearms across borders and see where that'll get you."
"I'm sure there are ways."
"Of course, but ultimately I don't fight the same way as my father did. Our modus operandi are very different. I generally don't work well with firearms. That's all."
She nodded. In her mind she couldn't see Shirou ever using a gun. It just wasn't like him.
However, that begat the question... where did the weapon that used to be in that suitcase go?
Thump!
Rider took a step back from the tank. The person inside had opened her eyes and had slammed her fist against the glass.
"Shirou! The Fraga is awake."
Thump!
"What? How can it be? Caster put a sleeping spell on her."
Thump!
He rushed to Rider's side, while the Fraga kept slamming her first against the glass. "Hey! Can you hear me? Stop doing that. Do you recognize me?"
Her eyes zeroed on him. She mouthed a word.
'Emiya'
"That's right. Emiya Shirou. Your wounds aren't quite healed yet. If you break out now, you'll probably die. Please don't do anything reckless."
She looked down at herself, noticing the missing arm, as well as the hole still present in the middle of her chest.
'How alive'
"You don't remember? My friend found you and brought you to us. Caster put you in there to heal your wounds and linked your Crest directly into the leyline. Right now, all that's keeping you alive is that connection and this tank."
'Where Kirei'
"We haven't found him yet but he's bound to come out sooner or later. As long as he's a Master, he's got nowhere to run. Look, you really need to go back to sleep. I have no clue what fighting the spell will do to your healing process."
Her eyes narrowed, but as she touched the edge of her wound with her remaining limb, she understood that she was in no shape to protest or reject the treatment. Her life was hanging by a thread.
She closed her eyes, and the tension was released from her body. Apparently she had taken his advice and had gone back to rest.
"Well that was something," said Rider. "I didn't think a human could shake off one of Caster's spells."
"I heard that the Fraga have a peculiar Sorcery Trait. A remnant from the Age of Gods. Perhaps that's the reason."
"Hmm. She would have been a fearsome opponent. Perhaps we are lucky that the priest took her out of the fight."
"I'd rather face a strong opponent head on than a deceitful one like Kirei. Anyone can be beaten with enough preparation, but there's just so much you cad do to defend from a sneak attack."
Rider could see that. After all, Perseus cut off her head even though he was much weaker than her, because he was equipped with the right tools for the job. Strength was truly a relative concept.
"Do you think she would help us if she heals soon enough?"
"I'd like to think so, but she doesn't have any stakes in the Grail War now that she's lost her Command Seal. And frankly, I hope that once Illya opens up the Boundary Field the day after tomorrow, we'll finally shut the Grail down for good."
Rider nodded. However...
"Do you really think it's going to go that smoothly?"
His silence was telling. They both knew that at present they didn't really have any control of the situation. Every plan they made had run into a complication worse than the previous. There was such as thing as being hopefully optimistic and then there was being naive.
Shirou was not naive.
"We should go back now," he said. "It's getting late and we need to be able to move quickly if anything happens."
"Of course, Shirou."
They both left the hideout. Rider spared one last glance at the sleeping woman, wondering if the next time she'd woke up the world would still be the same as before.
Then she followed her Master out and closed the door behind her.
[br]
In an urban area the size of Fuyuki, there were only so many places a person on the run could hide, and only the most conspicuous spots would dawn upon someone that wasn't familiar with the city. Incidentally, those were the same places that regular homeless people tried to avoid. It drew too much attention to inhabit them.
Therefore it took Dojima only a few hours of asking around to hear about a strange woman living inside of the condemned houses near the harbor. Homeless people were wary of any new face, so they gave her a wide berth. They'd never know when the newcomer was just another person down their luck like them, or crazy and potentially dangerous junkie. Those who were there to stay would eventually get to know the local community, while the others would eventually wash out.
Armed with this knowledge he went to check out the place. If Shirou hadn't told him that she was harmless, he would have just turned the information to him and go about his merry way.
But like his young friend, he was compelled to do as much as he could to help. The reason why they went along that well, was because at their core they had the save kind of drive. Therefore if his support was limited to intel gathering and scouting, at the very least he would do a fine job of it. Before wasting Shirou's time, he would damn well make sure he had the right person.
Getting inside was trivial. There was a hole in the fence, and the back door lock had been busted recently, by the looks of it. At the very least, it was confirmed that someone had been living there recently.
He went inside, taking out a flashlight from his pocket. "Is anyone here?" he called out. "It's the police!"
No answer. There was no sound of anyone trying to leave in a hurry, so maybe she had already ditched this place.
"Ortensia-san? I'm detective Dojima. I just want to talk."
Dojima had no idea what kind of bullshit the nun was capable of, but he didn't believe she would be afraid of him. It might not have been the nun at all.
Teenagers did ran away from home every now and then, only to go back the moment whatever argument drove them away had cooled down a bit.
"Might as well check the place out."
There was still a chance he could find a clue of her whereabouts.
The house was dark but he had come suitably equipped. He took out a flashlight from his coat and his service gun. Just in case a junkie was hiding somewhere ready to jump him. It wouldn't be the first time it happened in his career.
He carefully checked the ground floor, but found no trace of recent human activity. There were no other breaches in the doors or windows.
Satisfied with his findings, or lack therefor, he decided to explore the upper floor. There was a wide staircase going up. The steps where mouldy and creaked under his weight. They'd better not give in or he might fall and break a leg.
That would be humiliating.
The stairs turned out to be sturdier than they sounded, and he made it safely to the second floor. At the top there was a corridor going both directions, each with several doors. All of them closed save for one at the end at one end of the corridor.
He hesitated. This was again like a scene out of a horror movie. He would go to check out that room and find it empty. Then something would jump out at him for one of the other rooms.
Worse yet, Now he knew that some of those things were actually real and he was involved with them. Still, in for a penny in for a pound. He didn't come here only to jump at shadows.
He squared his shoulders and advanced in that direction, but wisely decided to open and check every room on the way. No way he'd let himself be ambushed like a moron.
All rooms were empty and clearly had not been used in a long time. Except for the last one.
There was an old, mouldy-looking mattress with a dirty sheet rumpled on top. At its foot there was a duffle bag, which had its contents half scattered on the floor.
He approached to check and found several feminine piece of clothing. Chief among them was a nun's cassock. It was Hortensia's hiding spot after all. She was probably out doing her own business.
He'd better leave and tell Shirou right away before she caught him here and decided to bail.
He got up and quickly got out of the room, but when he got back to the corridor he found that he was no longer alone.
There was a person blocking his way. A tall figure wearing a long dark coat. A golden cross hanging by his neck, catching the light of his flashlight. Dojima recognized him at first glance.
"Good evening, officer," Kotomine Kirei greeted casually.
Dojima did the only reasonable thing.
He opened fire.
It wasn't just that he knew this guys was both a Magus and an Executioner. His instinct told him that if he didn't make the first move, he wouldn't get to make any other one.
One, two, three times he shot him.
He must have taken the priest somewhat by surprise with the initiative, because the sword that he threw at him nicked his side instead of piercing his chest.
"Gah!"
He fell backwards, clutching his side and dropping the flashlight at the same time.
This was it, the moment he would die. He had seen Mages fight. A fraction of a second was more than enough time to kill a man.
But surprisingly, his luck hadn't completely run dry yet.
There was a reason why it was forbidden to go inside condemned buildings and it wasn't just because they were private properties. Often times, they were in precarious state and risked crumbling on top of anyone so unfortunate to be inside at the time.
Or as in this case, to give in from underneath them.
When Dojima hit the floor, the old, worn out wood couldn't hold it anymore. There was a loud crack and the ground opened. Dojima fell even further, slamming his back on the first floor, knocking the wind out of his lungs and nearly the lights out of him.
He knew he didn't have time to lay there and catch his breath. He rolled out from under the wooden shards that fell on top of him and dragged himself away, ignoring the pain he was feeling. He needed to get out of there as fast as he could.
Unfortunately, he had lost the flashlight and he was disoriented from the blow he had taken. He wasn't sure which way was the way out.
Holding his wounded side to stem the flow of blood, he dragged himself away. Stumbling in the dark and with his head spinning, he hid himself behind a piece of furniture covered by a dust-laden sheet. If the blood loss didn't kill him, maybe an infection would.
He strained his ears but he couldn't hear any sound. He knew he wasn't safe yet. He was just being toyed with. Dojima wasn't a greenhorn. He had served in the JSDF and dealt with some of the worst people his country had to offer as a police officer.
However, all his experience amounted to in the Moonlit World, was to inform him how hopelessly outmatched he was. That didn't even count as a small comfort. All he could do was run.
Actually, he couldn't even do that. He had lost his only source of light and was stumbling about in almost near darkness. Until his eyes adjusted he couldn't tell where the exit was, and he could almost feel his would-be killer breath down on his neck.
"There is no need to hide, officer," said the voice from somewhere in the direction he had come from. It was calm and collected, with just the barest hint of amusement.
Dojima didn't answer. Instead he checked his revolver. He still had three bullets left in the cylinder. And then there was the other weapon in his coat, but that was his one and only ace. The moment he showed it, it would have to be for maximum effect.But right now, he didn't even know if he'd have the chance to use it.
"Perhaps I should have been more precise."
There was a pause, and a slight creaking of wood. The next words came from the opposite direction and much closer than Dojima would have liked.
"There is nowhere you can hide."
Dojima turned and fired his gun. He missed his target but the sudden flash gave him a glimpse of his enemy just before a sword went though his arm and nailed him to the piece of furniture that he was using as cover.
"Gahh!"
His gun clattered to the ground while his good hand tried to pry the blade from inside his body. It wouldn't budge. Now trapped and disarmed, he was absolutely no threat at all to his hunter who calmly stepped close.
Now standing above him, Dojima could see the face of his killer even with the faint light. "Ko...Kotomine."
The priest inclined his head, as if to acknowledge his own name. With a faint, mocking smile on his face. There was no hesitation or remorse for what he was doing to be found on his face.
The priest pulled out another sword from seemingly nowhere. Dojima tried to reach within his coat, but the thing he was looking for was pinned beneath his own body. Kotomine raised his sword, and all that Dojima could do was close his eyes shut.
"Noli me tangere."
Dojima opened his eyes just in time to see a red cloth wrap around Kotomine's body and bind him.
"I'm not familiar with the customs of this land," said the newcomer, "but I'm quite certain that killing in another person's home is at least somewhat rude."
Both Kotomine and Dojima looked at the petite figure approaching. She flicked on a light and bathed the room in warm light.
"Now. How about we have a nice conversation about manners, then?"
Somehow, Dojima didn't know whether he had been saved or fallen from the pan and into the fire.
[br]
Having to go around on foot was quite the hassle. Even a simple round trip to the closest store for groceries took hours, whereas public transportation would have only required minutes.
Unfortunately, Caren needed to keep a low profile, so she had to avoid crowded place as much as possible. It would be easier to blend in, for sure, but it also increased the chances of being recognized.
By the time she got back to her hideout with a bag full of prepackaged meals, it was already dark and only the artificial lighting provided any sort of illumination.
'Master. There is someone inside the building. I can feel human presences,' Avenger warned.
'Only humans? No Servants?'
'None that I can detect. So none unless it's Assassin.'
There was a good chance it was just a squatter like her. If any of the other Masters had come knocking at her door, they would have brought their own Servants with them. Not that they would have any reason to, since no one could recall she was a Master in the first place.
They could be Executors from the Church, but between the Shroud of Magdalene and her Servant, she had nothing to fear from them.
'Alright, let's check it out. Be on your best behavior. No violence unless it's unavoidable.'
"Why Master, I'm always on my best behavior," he replied sardonically. Truly, what was she thinking, asking a devil to behave?
She sneaked through the fence as usual, and made her way inside as silently as she could.
In that moment, three gunshots rung out, followed by a scream and the sound of a part of the building collapsing. Caren held her breath. No one in the Church used firearms. They were too loud and too ineffectual against the sort of things they fought against. However, there was strict gun control in Japan, and basically only the police had them.
Therefore, gunshots equaled law enforcement.
Any other situation, she would have got out there fast, but for the a police officer to be in her hideout and requiring to fire their gun, the situation couldn't be simple. She couldn't simply leave someone in danger and escape.
She went further in and peeked her head behind a corner and could faintly see a figure holding a blade about to strike someone on the ground.
She acted immediately.
"Noli me tangere!"
The Shroud of Magdalene answered the prayer immediately, rushing out from under her hoodie. It crossed the space and tightly bound the standing figure, causing him to topple on the ground.
Her Servant still hovered invisible behind her, thus she confidently approached the scene.
"I'm not familiar with the customs of this land," she said, "but I'm quite certain that killing in another person's home is at least somewhat rude."
She took out a lighter from her pocket and flicked it on. Two people she didn't expect would ever come in contact with one another were laying on the floor of her hideout. Whatever had transpired, it appeared that hiding would no longer be an option going forward.
"Now. How about we have a nice conversation about manners, then?"
At the very least, she could always count on her wits to keep her ahead of things.
[XXX]