Chapter 1, Part 2
gate closing
the Last Admission

[ [ March 14
[ [ 12:32

"I think we're late."
Licking the tip of her finger and waving it in the air a little, a blonde woman in a leather jacket made a completely arbitrary assessment.
Although there wasn't a cloud in the sky, that only made the air all the brisker this time of year. The frigid bottomless blue that loomed up above was a far cry from the weather in Myanmar, but that hadn't stopped Momiji Musubi from wearing even less than usual.
At the time, she was mostly just excited, and hadn't really comprehended the meaning of 'eight degrees Celsius'.
That's fine, she'd figured, I'll just go for a jog if I get too cold.
Dragging the suitcase for both herself and the woman she was travelling with had made short work of that. She had a mind to hand off the thing to her - this was, after all, a master-servant relationship - but ultimately refrained.
"What are you basing that on?" she decided to interrogate instead, nudging a strand of pink hair out of her face with the back of her thumb.
"Nothing in particular," her companion replied. "Call it a hunch, I guess. Maybe I'm just assuming out of habit, since I'm usually late to this kinda stuff."
"Even public transportation can't save you from missing your appointments, huh?"
"I never miss my appointments. I just keep 'em waiting. Especially in unfamiliar places."
Amen to that, Momiji silently conceded.
She hadn't been in this country since she was young, and she hadn't been planning to come back here either. There were a lot of broken habits that she was trying to recall through the hazy friction between past and present. Even completely new customs were beginning to feel half-remembered at this point, a déjà vu of things she had actually seen before that occasionally made a fool of her. The constant revealing of tangled and malformed memories was starting to feel like a scolding from a parent.
That said, it wasn't bad to be back. She hadn't left because she wanted to, after all - she had plenty of tangible reasons to be anxious about being back in Japan. But it wasn't like hopping between the borders of neighbouring three countries every few years was the most stable way to live, even less so when she was in the boonies for most of it.
Kengtung and Fuyuki more or less occupied the same part of her mind for precisely that reason: brief windows of extravagance compared to her normal, meeker lifestyle.
"What is it?" her companion asked.
"Nothing," she shook her head. "Just thinking how nice the city can be."
"Wait, I thought you were in the middle of nowhere because that's where the leyline was."
"That doesn't mean that I wasn't already out there."
The woman recoiled at the thought. "Eesh. Sounds rough. I can't stand the countryside."
That figures, you sheltered little princess.
"Hey, don't look at me like that. The modern world is too convenient to settle for less."
It went without saying that people were shaped by their environment - even with knowledge from the Holy Grail, a Heroic Spirit's fundamental attitudes probably wouldn't change all that much - but Momiji couldn't help but think that if this Lancer had really lived in today's world, she would probably have been unemployed.
I guess what makes a hero really is relative to the era after all.
Feeling like she had made some kind of insight into ancient times, Momiji gave a shrug and began to lead the way to their destination.

Not too far away, a bird landed on a second-floor hotel balcony.
"Caster. The final pair is here."
Corvids were occasionally known to mimic human speech. They had both the intelligence and the vocal organs to do so.
"I keep telling you to stop calling me Caster…"
"If you raise an alternative that gives away less information, I will gladly switch to it."
But holding a conversation like this was, it went without saying, far outside the realm of an ordinary animal. There were, of course, talking animals of all stripes among the familiars of Magi, but Nils Herydir-Dragilaz had no aptitude for any of them - nor any need. This was a creature far more amazing than anything that one of his peers might have pulled out of a hat.
"Isn't 'Master' just fine?" he asked. "I mean, no matter how you slice it, I'm not the Servant here."
One thing that crows could not mimic so easily were human facial expressions, and so the bird's disapproving stare was somewhat uncanny to behold.
"Please take this seriously. Having summoned me, you are now Caster. I am merely your Noble Phantasm. Referring to yourself as the Master may be accurate, but it also tells our enemies far too much about who they are best equipped to target."
Nils silently conceded defeat. Ever since last night, his new feathered friend had suddenly become incredibly stern, and there were some debates that weren't even worth the energy. He couldn't complain too much. If Assassin really had started looking for things to kill, then the battle had well and truly started. There was no such thing as 'too cautious' at this stage.
"What's this about the last pair then?" he asked.
"Lancer and Master arrived by rail a few minutes ago. The strength of Lancer's karma is low, but she has a potent sense of Divinity about her," the crow recounted. "That was all I was able to ascertain at a glance."
Nils nodded.
"Yeah, don't hang out too long around a demigod," he sighed in agreement, leaning back against the rail.
There was no telling what kind of busted powers that a child of a deity would be carting around, even if they didn't necessarily come with the visual acuity of an Archer… No, even if she was a Lancer, there was no telling as to whether or not she equally qualified as an Archer. In fact, if she was from the Age of Gods, that was even more likely.
"No, it's possible that she is beyond a mere demigod."
The remark gave him pause, and he turned his gaze back to meet his summon's.
"How do you mean?"
"I wasn't able to quantify it precisely, but it's possible that her Divinity is even on par with my own," the crow explained.
"That's…"
"'Bad news', perhaps?"
He clicked his tongue. "Yet another opponent that my sword is gonna have trouble with. Everything I learn just makes me think that I came unprepared."
"You have no need to concern yourself with the tools in your arsenal. My one and only function is to expand your options."
Nils cocked a smile. "Well then, Mishima, it's probably about time we got started on that."
The bird hopped down off its perch, and the feet of a human being landed besides his. A dark-haired girl, almost the spitting image of the young man she had been speaking to, raised her sun-coloured eyes.
"Indeed we shall, Caster," she replied. "In that case, you should already know what your first objective ought to be."

Andri Vel Ordos was feeling a headache coming on. To be precise, she had been feeling a headache coming on for about twelve hours now, dangling over her like a taunting guillotine. When it really set in, it was going to be miserable.
Expanding one's senses was trivial for even an amateur Magus, so doing so hadn't exactly been a dire challenge for her. It should not have come as a surprise to find that, for she who specialised in sensory Magecraft, her eyes and ears already stretched to the farthest reaches of the city. Of course, to take in all of that information for a single human mind would have been madness beyond compare, but for an alchemist of Atlas whose bread and butter was information, increasing the number of things she could concentrate on was elementary. And yet, somehow, this was still probably the hardest she had ever worked in her life.
When faced with a large, complex problem, it was usually best to break it down into smaller parts and deal with it one piece at a time. That was where her talents lay, and the source of her reputation as the person who could contain and resolve any disaster. To monitor fifteen sites simultaneously was both firmly beyond her comfort zone and a total squandering of her true abilities. This felt like something she should have been able to leave up to a Mystic Code. She was willing to accept doing what she had to do here, but…
He's making light of us, isn't he…?
…the exchange on that balcony at the other side of the river was enough to test her patience.
"What's wrong?"
A voice dragged her back down to Earth, disrupting her focus. Andri snapped back into her seat like an ant on the wrong end of a rubber band.
The man sitting opposite her, clad in all the designer garb that would be expected from a minor celebrity, was giving her a concerned frown. His attention had been on her the entire time, even though he had been taking up the majority of looks from those around them.
A super-rich foreigner…
Maybe he's a movie star or something?
What's he doing all the way out here?
She could hear the fog of thoughts all around them whenever she chose to tune into them, and she couldn't deny that they weren't exactly randomly guessing. She had tried to at least match him in terms of her manner of dress, but she had plenty of doubts about whether she had succeeded.
She didn't dislike him, but the thought persisted. Of all the people I tagged along with, why did it have to be him?
She cleared her throat. "I apologise, Mr von Drang. I don't mean to go out of my way to stress myself out when you were kind enough to offer me lunch in the first place."
His frown only deepened, and he set his arm up on the wooden table. "I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about you. Even with the scuffle you started last night, we haven't even really gotten to the war proper yet, but you're still chomping at the bit here."
She shook her head. "Actually… Lancer seems to have just arrived."
His expression shifted to something inscrutable. "I see."
She could tell he was just trying to hide his excitement. He had mentioned that he was under no illusions about being able to fight a Saber, but hoped Lancer was a good enough sport to humour his wish for a duel.
If there was one thing that Sigmund von Drang had proven himself, it was a terminal optimist, but perhaps someone straightforward enough to qualify for one of the three Knights was of an equally lighthearted temperament as to take him seriously. After all, his own Servant was…
"In that case, it's probably time that Archer helped out a little, don't you think?" he suggested. "Assassin is as strong as any Knight in combat ability. You certainly lucked out."
"Perhaps, but we ought not push it too much," she replied. "Remember, I was supposed to summon Assassin because my Circuits aren't…"
"I know, I know. We ended up going a little over our budget after all," he said. "But if we're quick, then a few short bursts is all we need with two Servants this strong, and it'll be worth it."
She hoped he was right. "Caster is coming after Assassin now."
"Is Caster really in any position to be going on the offensive?" he raised an eyebrow. "Whatever happened to hunkering down on a leyline? Aren't they supposed to be Magi?"
Andri shook her head. "I can't say for sure what his situation is, but I have strong doubts that the summoning was standard, given that Caster is calling himself… No, I'll explain later."
While she already knew that she was the only participant in this war whose Magecraft was so preoccupied with the senses, and the Assassin who watched from the shadows was none other than her own Servant, she also knew that this was a good place to put a lid on things. Even if they were discussing strategy, some of those details were better left behind closed doors.
"Then, in the meantime," Sigmund said, gesturing in front of her.
"...Ah."
A large white bowl of steaming red was before her. Her sense of smell had been tuned to curses rather than chemicals, so she hadn't even noticed.
"I didn't want to bother you since you seemed deep in thought, but if we leave it too long, it'll get cold."
"H-how long…?"
"About a minute before I actually did. Since then."
Mortification struck right through Andri's throat.
"I didn't thank the waiter!"
"I did," he assured her, chuckling, "but if it bothers you so much, you can leave a little extra in the tip."
"You shouldn't tip in this country. It's extremely rude," she scolded, scooping up a carefully measured mouthful in the ceramic spoon and lifting it to her lips.
One second passed in silence as she chewed and swallowed.
A tiny ember had found an ocean of gasoline.
Andri almost dropped her spoon, her fingers bolting up to her mouth. "H-hot."
She felt tears welling in the corner of her eyes as they darted to find her water, and Sigmund gave a pained smile.
"I told you that you didn't have to order mapo tofu just because I did… Let's get something else for you."
"No, that's perfectly fine!" she insisted hastily. She wasn't about to squander what her companion had paid for. "I'll finish what I started!"
That was what she said, but by the time she had finished the whole dish, Andri had started to wonder if she had shed the blood of an enlightened being by mistake.

A representative of the esteemed Wodime lineage would never get seasick. Seasickness was not an issue. She was simply sick of the sea.
Oliphiaelé had decided to take her lunch on deck for a change, hoping that it would abate how cramped the inside of a boat could feel, but all that changed was that she could clearly see the skyline from here, mocking her from afar.
Her Rider wasn't a sailor, but had been somewhat preoccupied with the sea in life, and so she had taken the initiative of using her influence and getting the city's harbour closed for a month. She had assumed that a backwater like this would have been easily persuaded, but it seemed as though it was no different to any other town in how enthusiastic it was to keep its docks open, and she'd ultimately had to resort to brainwashing several people.
The amount of effort that it took to get here made it all the worse. She had been trapped on this stupid little dinghy, barely the size of a small yacht, for five days now.
She didn't look over her shoulder, but she called out to the Servant meditating behind her all the same.
"How long until your protections are done, exactly?"
"Sorry for the wait, kid─"
"Master."
"─but if I try to make landfall without proper preparations, I'm getting instantly bodied like you wouldn't believe. Japan is my one weakness. It's like a self-destruct switch."
Oliphaelé twitched, almost dropping her teacup. She became acutely aware, for a brief moment of lucidity, that she was going to be dealing with blood pressure problems later in life.
"Then why did you want to come by sea so badly?" she groaned. "We could have taken a flight all the way here instead of landing in Beijing."
Rider chuckled, standing up and getting to her feet. A sudden, violent gust came like a threat, and her mantle flapped like a flag in the wind. A lock of blonde found its way into Oliphaelé's mouth, and she irritably brushed it aside.
If either of the two so much as expressed the intention to move the boat toward the shore, this was the result: a wind that even Magecraft proved powerless against, getting stronger and stronger the more they merely thought about approaching. If they tried too hard, they would capsize and drown without a doubt.
"It'd probably be even worse for a plane, right?" Rider pointed out. "Sorry. It's so attached to my Spirit Origin that I can't escape it. You might have wrecked the whole city if you'd summoned me in Japan to begin with. The land wouldn't have anything to do with me back then either. I doubt the Mystery hasn't decayed already, but that wind is Kublai Khan's worst enemy. It's almost like a Noble Phantasm in its own right."
"You're telling me that you're the one summoning it then?" Oliphiaelé groaned. "In that case, just stop!"
"Trust me, I'm working on it, but it's like asking me to stop beating my heart so I don't risk an arrhythmia. Of course, I can do it, even without hurting myself, but it's going to take a while. My Magecraft wasn't designed for this, you know? Gotta look deep inside my own soul and all that jazz."
Oliphiaelé rolled her eyes, standing up. "Well, the problem is getting you to shore. In case you forgot, I already went there to close the harbour in the first place without any issues, so if you don't mind, I think I'm just going to do that again."
"Sure thing, kiddo," Rider sat down again, making a gesture to shoo her off. "Go have some fun on land. See the sights. Enjoy the food. Take in the culture you spent the whole trip here complaining about. Let me know if you need fire support when Assassin finds you or something. You know where to find me."
The words on their own seemed sarcastic, but the tone was of a genuine well-wish, and that made it all the more grating.
"I should hope so," the Magus replied as she stepped off the side of the boat, "since you're not exactly going anywhere."