3: Special Delivery
"Do you really plan to walk around the city and wait until someone attacks us, Master?"
"Yes. What's wrong about it?"
"Nothing in particular. But it's almost dawn," the Servant noticed flatly; his voice deep, monotone and cold, like a frozen lake. Indeed, the eastern parts of the sky above Fuyuki had already brightened up, announcing the arrival of the sun. "Should I burst out a bit to lure them to us?"
"No need, Saber, you're splendid enough already."
A small purr was his only response; it remained unknown, if the Servant felt flattered or rather embarrased by the praise.
His Master, a little girl in an elegant, violet costume, giggled at this reaction. She resumed the stroll through the sleeping streets, chirping cheerfully under her nose. White hair floated behind her like a veil. Under the faint moonlight it resembled liquid silver.
As soon as the girl approached the nearby building, shadows around her thickened, then slowly took shape of more or less humanoid figures, made of dirt, rocks and magic. Twice as tall as an average man, but significantly wider at the shoulders, the constructs moved clumsily towards the Master of Saber, trying to surround her from all sides.
"See? It worked." The girl smirked, proud of herself. Red lines of Command Seals were shining through her skin, when she checked the surroundings, trying to detect more hidden enemies. "Meh, they sent only golems, how boring. Make it quick, Saber."
"Understood."
The Servant materialized obediently next to his Master - a tall individual, wearing simple, dark armor with spiky pauldrons and greyish cape. His face remained hidden under the helmet, only two-colored, short hair and eyes, shinning with cold, icy blue, proved that there was a person, not a machine, behind this minimalistic outfit.
"Preparations complete. Engaging the enemy."
With those words, the Servant launched himself between the golems and his Master. He did not even try to manifest his sword, just punched his way through the gathering of foes.
When the space aroud him became too crowded to his liking, Saber reached for one of his weapons at last. A simple dagger, tossed in the air and punched towards their enemies, changed into a blue, energetic missile. It pierced through three golems at once, turning them into a pile of rubble.
Soon only two last constructs remained on the provisional battlefield. Saber waited for them, approaching from behind. He was standing still, as if moving around to face them would hurt his dignity.
Perfectly chosing the timing, the Servant hit the nearest enemy with his elbow, knocking it out with disturbing ease. Then he grabbed the fallen golem, efortlessly as if he was lifting up a tennis ball, not few tons of rocks and magical components, and tossed it towards the last standing construct. The power of his throw crushed the golems into each other... and to the ground, literally melting them with the asphalt.
"What a waste," the Servant said, wiping the dust off his cloak. "Pretty anticlimatic, too. Though, the quality of these constructs was outstanding, I must say."
"Caster?"
"Most likely."
"Hmm." The girl glanced at the scattered remnants of the golems, restraining herself from yawning openly. To think they were walking around all night only to end the first round of the Grail War with such a boring display... "So they wanted to take a look at you first. Cowards have wasted their time, then."
"Indeed." This time Saber sounded, like he was smirking proudly under his mask. Whoever was watching them tonight, must have been utterly disappointed. Saber dealt with this small inconvience of an ambush swiftly, without showing his face, sword or any secret fighting technique. "Shall I carry you home, Master? You look sleepy."
"Mhm. Let's go back." She stretched out her hands to him, almost like a small child demanding a piggyback ride. "You promised to tell me about your travels, remember?"
Something warm flickered in the Servant's eyes, when he picked the girl up and jumped to the nearest roof, disappearing from sight into the dawning sky.
The last thing Shirou expected to see the next morning was a delivery man, waiting for someone in the corridor of Hojo's kingdom.
The stranger was looking around rather curiously, which didn't seem odd for anyone, who had been allowed in here for the first time. Sterile, cold spaces, devoid of style or any sign of personal touch, screamed 'science, do not disturb' from miles away.
The weirdest part about the intruder was him actually standing there. Professor used to be picky, when it came to employers, even more with one-time visitors.
But this one had evidently made it through the security at the entrance, so Shirou was not going to question it.
"Are you looking for someone? Maybe I can help."
"Oh, yes, that would be so kind of you!" The man greeted him with unusual, warm enthusiasm. There was something suspicious in his reaction, in big grin and purple eyes, smart and mischievous. His long, almost white hair was tied in a ponytail and stuffed under a work cap. Shirou couldn't recognize the company logo - who on earth would call a delivery service 'Avalon' and put flowers all around the name? "I have a package for 'Shirou'. No other details or clues, sadly, just one word and an address. Do you know, where can I find him?"
Shirou frowned. Had he ever received a package or a letter in his entire life? From whom, if his family had been long dead and forgotten, no more than shadowy silhouettes without faces in the back of his mind. And all the things ever ordered for him passed through Hojo's hands first.
Still, no one had ever said it's forbidden for Shirou to personally pick up packages, even highly suspicious ones.
The stranger waited patiently for an answer, so bright and polite, it felt unfitting to the cold, empty - why empty at this hour, huh? - corridor between the first floor laboratory and the main office. His smugness seemed... otherworldly to Shirou, for some reason he couldn't comprehend.
What had happened recently, to make him so nervous and paranoiac?
"That's me," he blurted out at last, shaking off irrelevant doubts. What would have Professor said, after discovering that his precious specimen couldn't handle a simple delivery?
"Really? Wonderful!" The stranger smiled even wider than before. His eyes resembled two rounded lines right now. "Such a convenient coincidence, won't you say? Here, may it serve you well."
With a playful wink, the man pushed the package into Shirou's hands, redirecting his attention to it.
A small box, so light it seems empty, the boy noted after short examination. No clues about the sender's identity, no description of contents, just a name written hastily across its surface.
"Thank you," Shirou replied after a moment, remembering about good manners. "Should I sign something or...?"
But when his gaze moved up again, the delivery man was already gone. Only a sweet smell, like if invisible flower petals were floating around, lingered in the air where he'd stood just a second ago.
Shirou remained still for a while, looking around and scanning the surroundings with his sharp senses. He detected no word, no sounds of footseps, no alarm near the entrance. Weird things kept happening to him recently... or maybe he was slowly losing his mind?
The package in his hands was the only proof that he was not hallucinating. Clinging desperately to that thought, he opened the box.
"A ring?"
Shirou was turning the mysterious trinket in his fingers, examining it closely. A simple band of silver with a big, bright stone, most likely an adamant. It looked very old, yet carried no signs of tarnish or any other damage. When Shirou focused hard enough, he could feel traces of... something.
Well, he could say 'magic', but it would trigger Professor's rage, and that meant another medical examination being more painful than necessary.
Speaking of Hojo... Shirou hastily looked around, like if he was expecting to be watched from the shadows or security cameras. Was it another test? Who had this thing delivered to him, father Kotomine or Professor himself?
Faced with more questions than answers, Shirou decided to ignore the problem for now; he stuffed the ring into his pocket and proceeded to the laboratory. He had promised his caretaker new blood samples, after all.
"Master. You're really not a morning person, are you?"
Tohsaka slowly entered the living room, yawning all the way. She stopped in front of the table, probably lured there by the wonderful aroma of freshly brewed red tea, and looked around.
"Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" She winced after finding the clock with still sleepy, blurred eyes.
"You deserved rest after the training." Assassin nodded several times to his own thoughts, sounding proud of his Master's progress. "Mm-hmm. Strong legs, good reflexes. But to keep up this pace, your body must regenerate."
Not sure, how to react to his words, a bit too insolent for a praise to her liking, Tohsaka only muttered something incomprehensible under her nose and took a seat, channelling as much of her inner dignity as she could.
It worked, probably, because the Servant let Rin enjoy her breakfast in peace, until she decided to resume the conversation.
"You still think about that shadow near the church?"
Assassin hummed in response, deep in thought.
"I've never heard of a Servant like this one before... if it was a Servant at all. There was something alien and violent about it."
"A Berserker then?"
"Maybe. First a distortion near the Temple. Then a suspicious Servant appears. And that unusually gifted young man visits the priest shortly after. These things may be connected, Master."
Tohsaka rolled her eyes.
"This again? Did Shirou really impress you so much?
"He detected me."
"Nonsense. It would require a top tier mage to notice you, or a special Servant skill. Maybe a mystic code."
"He looked straight at me in the church. That was no coincidence." Seeing Rin's disapproving gaze, asking him, why had he been so stubborn about it, Assassin shrugged. "All I'm saying is that we should be careful around that... acquaintance of yours, Master."
Tohsaka remained silent, just crossed her legs and took another, long sip. Assassin let himself enjoy the view, sure that she was considering his advice right now. He stayed like that for a while, with his chin rested on his hand, relaxed, content and not intending to hide it.
Rin, on the other hand, tried hard not to stare openly in his green, hypnotizing eyes. Was Assassin even aware of his own handsomeness? Of course, he'd been great at gathering information and infiltrating, after all. Then why he kept staring at her like that? When a shade of hot red colored her cheeks, the girl cleared her throat, reminding herself of proper Tohsaka behavior and elegance.
"I told you to call me whatever you want, and you still insist on 'Master'," she blurted out accusingly, as always, when trying to hide embarrassment.
"I'm just used to serve, must be that." He chuckled, even though not all memories of his former lord were pleasant. "So... do you still want me to investigate the commotion near the Temple?"
"Yes, but we will go there together. If a mage or a Servant damaged local ley lines, it's my duty to take care of..."
"Sheesh, no need to explain yourself." Assassin waved his hand dismissively, making Tohsaka wonder - again - how someone this carefree could master such a difficult fighting style. "As long as you restrain yourself from jumping into a volcano, I'm fine."
This time, however, Rin was not going to give ground in their verbal fencing.
"Or maybe I'm taking you with me, because I want to see you in battle at last," she provoked, wearing the most vicious 'red devil Tohsaka expression' she could think of at the moment. "You won't bring me the Grail just by smooth-talking everyone and fooling around, you know?"
"Oh-ho? Have I just heard a praise?" Contrary to Rin's intentions, Assassin's grin widened. "To admire a scoundrel like me? I would never have guessed that you're into picaresque stories, Master..."
"I..." This was certainly not what she meant! "Shut up."
His soft laughter followed Rin all the way back to her room.
Shirou hadn't felt so worn up by the medical examination since his last enhancement almost a year ago. Had Professor tried to bleed him dry or something?
Sure that he would never know the truth behind suspicious behavior of the entire laboratory staff today, Shirou sighed. He had learned the hard way that Hojo was a kind of person, who would rather talk to himself than answer a question. And distracting the man, when he was busy basking in the results of his work, was the worst possible idea.
So Shirou only listened, trying to make any sense of his caretaker's mumbling... and failing miserably, as always.
"The last injection has reached excelent potency. I see, I see. Replication processes triggered by the proximity of the donor, latency still unknown... This looks promising. He will be so pleased with you!"
Shirou must have passed out not long after being dismissed from the lab. A hot meal and touch of a pillow were enough to make him drift away into heavy sleep without dreams.
How unusual. He never needed much rest, let alone let himself laze around for almost an entire day.
But the screen of his phone could not lie, showing almost midnight. And a message from father Kotomine, ordering him to come to the church tonight to deal with some urgent matter.
Sighing heavily, Shirou prepared to leave.
The stroll itself was nice and quiet. Too quiet, maybe. Still, Shirou appreciated the calm breeze on his skin, the dim moonlight peeking from behind the clouds. The road leading directly to the church was broad and empty, with only few lamps close to the gate of the cemetery.
Shirou stopped, when one of the lamps buzzed several times and went out, as if shaking of the ground cut off its energy source. The wind here smelled of iron. Then the boy heard strange, metallic sounds, followed by noises of shattering stones and... growling. It seemed that someone was fighting on the road not so far ahead.
Shirou proceeded with caution, sneaking from shadow to shadow, trying to take a look at the commotion without being noticed. Indeed, two warriors were fighting on the road, their moves too fast for an ordinary human to follow, strength of their blows tearing the pavement apart. One was surrounded by a black mist, the slit of his helmet bursting red, his attacks powerful and chaotic. The other methodical and calm, cold, icy-blue, like the elegantly shaped sword he wielded. Shirou found the contrast between those two quite fascinating.
A white-haired girl was observing everything with a bored expression; her hands clasped behind her back in a relaxed pose, as if the violent swordfight was not an unusual thing to witness in the middle of the street. She frowned all of a sudden, then looked straight at Shirou. It seemed that he wasn't as undetectable as he thought to be.
Shirou clicked his tongue in irritation, reaching for a sword that wasn't there. He never brought his weapons to the streets, even at night, to not attract unwanted attention. Not that he ever needed them... until tonight, apparently.
The warrior covered in shadows jumped away from his opponent and stopped moving, before turning towards Shirou. Even though from afar he was just a faceless mass of dark energy and metal, the boy could feel a threatening glare on his skin. Something red flashed beneath the helmet, a wild growl cut the night air.
The white-haired girl tilted her head at this unexpected outburst of rage.
"Is this...?"
"An illusion spell, yes." Saber returned to his Master's side, materializing a pair of glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting them in place. "Cast by a top-class specialist, no less."
"Where is he?" The girl looked around angrily, trying to detect the enemy mage, who had the gall to mess with their fight. A spellcaster this strong was a much more dangerous enemy than Berseker, she concluded.
Shirou could hear them talking in the background even from such distance, but failed to catch individual words. He had more serious problems at the moment. Like a raging mass of moving shadows, charging right at him with a weird, long weapon in hand.
"Why are you... Gaaah!" A punch the boy received instead of an answer made him realize that reasoning with this thing... beast... creature was pointless.
Having his back pressed to the railing, Shirou took the next blow on his forearms, just like with father Kotomine last night. And, just like back then, it was a really bad idea. It must have been a miracle that Shirou's bones did not break yet. The pain was annoying, though, slowing the boy down and forcing him to depend mostly on his legs.
Angered by the failure of its last attack, the black mass pushed forward with even more force. Shirou pushed back, writhing in an attempt to escape from the grip.
The railing crashed under their combined weight. They fell together on the grassy field down below, entwined into a shadowy ball of growls and groans. Shirou managed to break away eventually, rolling on the ground as far from Berserker as he could.
Back on his legs - and in defensive stance - again, Shirou took a brief look at the surroundings. A flat field, no cover in sight. Outmaneuvering this particular opponent here would not be easy.
Forget the sword, I could use a shield right now.
As in response to these thoughts, mysterious bruises on his hand burst with fiery red.
It was not a good moment to get distracted, though. The shadowy beast was about to charge again.
Running away now is pointless anyway. Shirou narrowed his eyes, ready to meet Berserker head on no matter the consequences. Unfamiliar heat, some kind of a battlelust he had never experienced before, rushed through his body, sharpened the already inhuman senses, boiled the blood. Low on his knees, the young warrior prepared to jump. Bring it on!
Good. Accept it. Embrace it.
The voice, like a whisper in the back of one's head, resonated from within rather than the outside. It felt like tickling within Shirou's veins, gave him strength he wouldn't even expect to possess.
"Aaaartttthaaaaa...!" Berserker rushed forward, growling like a madman he was, zigzagging all the way in flashes and energetic bursts, supposed to confuse the enemy.
Shirou remained concentrated enough to see through those attempts and launched himself into the air right before the upcoming strike. He did not try to dodge to the side or back, though, just turned slightly and landed a kick to Berserker's stretched out arm, hoping to knock away his weapon.
All he got as a result was annoyed growling and a blow from the side, that threw him few meters back.
What's wrong with this creature?! Shirou wondered, rolling on the grass again and feeling like a punching bag for the first time since his endurance trainings few years ago. His speed was good enough and reactions adequate, so why he couldn't deal any visible damage?
Bruises on his hand burned again, more painful than before, reminding him to stay focused. About time to avoid another, nearly fatal, swing. Shirou narrowed his eyes, thinking intensively. The shadows around this dark knight, flashes of red and blue... it was some kind of condensed energy, right? Probably the creature itself was made of it, too. One word to describe it crossed the boy's mind and he almost laughed at the thought.
Magic, the word Professor Hojo despised, to the point of banning the use of it in the entire building.
Shirou's thoughts went back to the ring in his pocket and the mysterious disappearance of a delivery man. Magic could explain all these events and still sounded better than descending into madness...
But how to damage a creature made of it? Maybe he needed a special type of weapon?
Not caring in the slightest about his opponent's dilemmas, Berserker dashed at him again. Shirou leaned forward, strong on his feet and ready to dodge, but something unexpected held him in place.
A flash of gold, like particles of light, gathering in front of his eyes, formed a small, armored silhouette. Short blond hair waved in the outburst of unnatural wind, two darker strands on the opposite sides of her head made the girl look like a good-natured puppy. Eyes in the color of calm sea were focused on the enemy before her. With an oddly looking lance in one hand and a shield in the other, she almost effortlessly blocked the dark knight's attack.
"That's enough, Sir Lancelot. I won't let you hurt an unarmed bystander again!"
Such a small girl, almost a child, yet she bravely withstood Berserker's blow and did not move back even an inch. Was she a summon? - Shirou wondered. Professor had taught him about summons once, but claimed that they required the use of Materia, impossible to obtain in this 'pathetic, undeveloped place'.
The black warrior bounced helplessly off the girl's shield. For a brief moment he only stood there, with the weapon - was it a pipe from a cut down lantern he had grabbed at some point? - raised above the head and attention focused on the freshly materialized Servant.
Even that second of hesitation was enough for Shirou to launch an attack. Cursing silently the lack of sword again, he jumped to the broken railing behind Berserker's back and bounced off it will all his might, gaining speed. First his heavy boot, then entire body crashed with Berserker's armor.
This, quite desperate, surprise attack did not visibly damage the opponent, yet was enough to knock him off balance. Next swings of Berserker's weapon missed as well, when Shirou kept persistently pummelling the armored warrior, targeting mostly the joints.
He's a though one, the boy thought, gritting his teeth. Was there even a chance to wound this angry mass without a blade?
Shirou's new ally did not waste time either. The golden-haired girl adjusted the grip on her shield, leaned forward and rammed into Berserker from the other side.
"Don't worry, Master, we will get through this. Off we gooooooo!"
Avenger almost winced at the sight of a raging knight, currently exchanging swings with a sword-using hero, recognized by the Grail as 'Saber'.
What weak creatures called 'madness' could be a mind-opening state, the beginning of a fascinating process of gaining true power. A freeing experience, letting an individual realize their own potential.
The black Servant, however, had lost all control, reducing himself to a growling mass of regrets and self-loathing. With, most likely, only his fighting skills unaffected by the curse of his class container, a 'fallen hero' of this planet was nothing more than a blind weapon.
Power without purpose, how pathetic, Sephiroth thought, disgusted. He could not stand looking at the creature, finding its very existence both repulsive and annoying.
The other warrior could just smash Berserker, if he wanted to. As a swordmaster himself, Sephiroth could see it clearly - Saber barely even went on the offensive, responding to each blow with exactly the same amount of force he'd been attacked with. He kept prolonging the duel and teasing the other knight on purpose. Not for training or his own satisfaction, though. Not to tire Berserker either. If Avenger was about to guess the true reason behind this tactic, he would say that Saber intended to lure his opponent's Master out of his hideout.
Sephiroth doubted, that a trembling teenager, crouched behind one of the gravestones, was worth putting up such show. A book in his shaking hands looked like the only connection with Berserker he actually had. True mastermind of their 'team' must have been hiding elsewhere.
Or maybe Saber's Master, the Grail's puppet, as pure as she was fake, just wanted to toy with the enemy mage for a while? She had that cruel look about her, despite an appearance of a small child.
It didn't really matter. All of them felt so small and unimportant to Avenger, when the main actor had finally arrived to the scene.
Oh? A weapon in body, mind and spirit. Appropriate. Still, even the finest blade needs sharpening first. And a skillful wielder.
Sephiroth smirked at the last thought. The part of him implanted into the puppet had already detected its master and called for their reunion.
The sword has awakened. And now it has been also given a shield. How curious. Is Hojo even aware of what he's created?
And what this walking mass of complexes tried to achieve anyway? Force Avenger into a new vessel and gain control over him?
Or maybe it was a gift of sorts. A bargain. An offering to appease the angered deity.
If so, Hojo would be disappointed. No force in this or other worlds could quench Sephiroth's wrath.
